Japanese houses don't have central heating. They use space heaters. Old Japanese houses had a square fire hole recessed in the floor. I kind of wish we had a fire place.
The problem with kerosene space heaters is that you can only use them when you are home. When you get home from work, it will be the same temperature as it is outside. You can't really run them while you sleep, so when you wake up it might be just above freezing in your apartment. At least, that's the coldest it has gotten so far.
I'm asleep in my bed and I'm slightly worried about the pipes freezing. This is an adjustment.
I'd never have expected a cultural adjustment to come from the way I heat my house. It isn't a big adjustment, it is just one of the unexpected things that you don't think about when you move to a foreign country. And the fact that the amount we spend on kerosene at the gas station is so much cheaper than what we would spend on natural gas in the US is nice.
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
Saturday, December 4, 2010
Onomatopoeia
Onomatopoeia are words that sound like sounds. You would think that they would translate well from language to language. If that's the case, try taking the test below. Translate the sounds into the English equivalents. I'll do the first one. To see the answers, highlight the text.
pushin - snap
tonton - knock knock
buu - beep
gon gon - ding dong
fura fura - wobble wobble
chirin chirin - ting a ling
gohon gohon - cough cough
hikku - hic
musha musha - munch munch
kan - crack
pon pon - pop pop
riin - ring
kashan - crash
kii - squeak
pashaa - splash
gagagaga - rat-tat-tat
pachi pachi - clap clap
goku goku - gulp gulp
How many did you get right? Isn't it interesting? If I can find a list of animal sounds, I'll do those as well.
pushin - snap
tonton - knock knock
buu - beep
gon gon - ding dong
fura fura - wobble wobble
chirin chirin - ting a ling
gohon gohon - cough cough
hikku - hic
musha musha - munch munch
kan - crack
pon pon - pop pop
riin - ring
kashan - crash
kii - squeak
pashaa - splash
gagagaga - rat-tat-tat
pachi pachi - clap clap
goku goku - gulp gulp
How many did you get right? Isn't it interesting? If I can find a list of animal sounds, I'll do those as well.
Thursday, November 25, 2010
Blog Apathy
I know I haven't been updating much. I've got a bad case of blog apathy. I usually don't have a lot of free time, so when I do have some down time blogging is usually far from my mind. I'll try to keep updating the blog, but don't expect it to be every week. Sorry.
On an interesting note, last weekend we went to Aomori City. At the city museum they had an exhibit from Ghibli Studios. It's a famous animation studio, started by Hayao Miyazaki. He is a little bit like the Walt Disney of Japan, but I think I prefer his movies to Disney's. They are aimed at a little bit older audience. If you can find My Neighbor Totoro, Porco Rosso, or Kiki's Delivery Service I would suggest watching them. Those three are a good starting point.
Anyway, we went to see the museum exhibit. All it was was framed story-boards from his movies. He writes and directs the movies. He also draws the first draft of the art for each scene with animation notes.
For me, it was one of the memorable experiences here. Great animation isn't magic; it starts with a person who has an idea, paper, and colored pencils. Out of such simple materials comes the vision for great stories. Seeing it all effected me enough that I've been picking up a pencil and drawing. There is joy in creating. Sometimes I forget that. Imagining and creating something outside yourself can create a lot of joy and well being within yourself. Maybe now I'll start finding some creative hobbies. I hope you have some too.
On an interesting note, last weekend we went to Aomori City. At the city museum they had an exhibit from Ghibli Studios. It's a famous animation studio, started by Hayao Miyazaki. He is a little bit like the Walt Disney of Japan, but I think I prefer his movies to Disney's. They are aimed at a little bit older audience. If you can find My Neighbor Totoro, Porco Rosso, or Kiki's Delivery Service I would suggest watching them. Those three are a good starting point.
Anyway, we went to see the museum exhibit. All it was was framed story-boards from his movies. He writes and directs the movies. He also draws the first draft of the art for each scene with animation notes.
For me, it was one of the memorable experiences here. Great animation isn't magic; it starts with a person who has an idea, paper, and colored pencils. Out of such simple materials comes the vision for great stories. Seeing it all effected me enough that I've been picking up a pencil and drawing. There is joy in creating. Sometimes I forget that. Imagining and creating something outside yourself can create a lot of joy and well being within yourself. Maybe now I'll start finding some creative hobbies. I hope you have some too.
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Convenient Stores
Imagine convenient stores being separate from gas stations. How often would you go in?
I'd say just about never, unless you lived next door to one. Maybe that is why there are so many in Japan. If there is always nearby you are prone to go.
Japanese convenient stores have one huge plus. I really hope American convenient stores and utilities get organized and do this to. Here, you can pay all of your utility bills at any convenient store. Only our cell-phones require another method of payment. It really is nice to pay bills in cash. When all the bills come, I just grab my cash, walk to Sankus (the Japanese approximation of "thanks") and pay my bills. The cashier scans the bar codes. I hand him the money. He stamps each bill, tears the receipt stub off of each one, and away I go.
It is strange getting gas and not being able to run in and grab some honey roasted peanuts and a fountain drink, neither of which are worth making a stop for, especially when they don't have fountain drinks. The convenient store prices for bottled drinks are about 50 cents higher than from vending machines, which are often just outside. Vending machines are so ubiquitous I'm not sure why you would by a drink in a convenient store.
On my daily fifteen minute walk to school I pass 8 vending machines that I can think of off the top of my head. No, make that ten. There everywhere and in random places. Driving through the countryside, there might be vending machines where two county roads intersect. Walking through backstreets, there might be vending machines at the end of a dead-end alley.
Now if I could only pay my bills at the vending machine behind my apartment, I'd be set.
I'd say just about never, unless you lived next door to one. Maybe that is why there are so many in Japan. If there is always nearby you are prone to go.
Japanese convenient stores have one huge plus. I really hope American convenient stores and utilities get organized and do this to. Here, you can pay all of your utility bills at any convenient store. Only our cell-phones require another method of payment. It really is nice to pay bills in cash. When all the bills come, I just grab my cash, walk to Sankus (the Japanese approximation of "thanks") and pay my bills. The cashier scans the bar codes. I hand him the money. He stamps each bill, tears the receipt stub off of each one, and away I go.
It is strange getting gas and not being able to run in and grab some honey roasted peanuts and a fountain drink, neither of which are worth making a stop for, especially when they don't have fountain drinks. The convenient store prices for bottled drinks are about 50 cents higher than from vending machines, which are often just outside. Vending machines are so ubiquitous I'm not sure why you would by a drink in a convenient store.
On my daily fifteen minute walk to school I pass 8 vending machines that I can think of off the top of my head. No, make that ten. There everywhere and in random places. Driving through the countryside, there might be vending machines where two county roads intersect. Walking through backstreets, there might be vending machines at the end of a dead-end alley.
Now if I could only pay my bills at the vending machine behind my apartment, I'd be set.
Sunday, November 7, 2010
Gas
One thing that you take for granted when you are around your native language is gas pumps. Next time you buy gas, imagine not understanding any of the words on the pump.
Here, the gas stations vary. Many are full service. Simply tell them how much gas you want in liters or yen, and they'll pump it for you. They also wipe your windows and give you a damp rag to wipe the interior of your car while the gas pumps.
Other stations are self serve. Some of them are pay-at-the-pump and some require that you go in the office and pay. One thing that is interesting about Japan: convenient stores are separate from gas stations. I have no idea how there can be a convenient store on every corner, except that they are more convenient than American convenient stores (more on that another day).
When you first visit a gas station, you have no idea what type it will be. Inevitably, whichever type you think it is, you'll be wrong. You'll think it is self serve because none of the staff are outside, you'll hop out of your car, and then be ushered back in when an attendant rushes out.
Or, as happened to me earlier this week. You'll think it is a pre-pay and try to put cash into the receipt slot. The self-serve stations all have touch-screen pumps. I know the symbol for cash, and I can read the katakana writing for credit card. When you select the cash option, then it lists options for how much you want to pay. I selected 5,000 yen, knowing I would get some change back. I hit the button and tried to slide my cash in the slot. It didn't work. I was confused. I tried again. An attendant hurried over and explained that you pay afterward. I'm sure it made that girls day. Over dinner with her family she got to tell them about the dumb foreigner who tried to shove fifty bucks in the receipt slot.
I wish I could tell you that was the only idiotic thing I've done trying to get gas, but it isn't. Just two weeks ago I was at a pre-pay self-serve. I told it I wanted to put in 2000 yen worth. I put the green nozzle in my car and...nothing happened. How annoying. I hit cancel, got my change and tried again. Same thing. Just as I was starting to get frustrated, ready to get my change and leave, an attendant came over and pointed out that I had the wrong nozzle. Thank goodness there is always someone around to witness me acting like a moron.
In retrospect, maybe the problem isn't with the language barrier or the gas pumps...
Here, the gas stations vary. Many are full service. Simply tell them how much gas you want in liters or yen, and they'll pump it for you. They also wipe your windows and give you a damp rag to wipe the interior of your car while the gas pumps.
Other stations are self serve. Some of them are pay-at-the-pump and some require that you go in the office and pay. One thing that is interesting about Japan: convenient stores are separate from gas stations. I have no idea how there can be a convenient store on every corner, except that they are more convenient than American convenient stores (more on that another day).
When you first visit a gas station, you have no idea what type it will be. Inevitably, whichever type you think it is, you'll be wrong. You'll think it is self serve because none of the staff are outside, you'll hop out of your car, and then be ushered back in when an attendant rushes out.
Or, as happened to me earlier this week. You'll think it is a pre-pay and try to put cash into the receipt slot. The self-serve stations all have touch-screen pumps. I know the symbol for cash, and I can read the katakana writing for credit card. When you select the cash option, then it lists options for how much you want to pay. I selected 5,000 yen, knowing I would get some change back. I hit the button and tried to slide my cash in the slot. It didn't work. I was confused. I tried again. An attendant hurried over and explained that you pay afterward. I'm sure it made that girls day. Over dinner with her family she got to tell them about the dumb foreigner who tried to shove fifty bucks in the receipt slot.
I wish I could tell you that was the only idiotic thing I've done trying to get gas, but it isn't. Just two weeks ago I was at a pre-pay self-serve. I told it I wanted to put in 2000 yen worth. I put the green nozzle in my car and...nothing happened. How annoying. I hit cancel, got my change and tried again. Same thing. Just as I was starting to get frustrated, ready to get my change and leave, an attendant came over and pointed out that I had the wrong nozzle. Thank goodness there is always someone around to witness me acting like a moron.
In retrospect, maybe the problem isn't with the language barrier or the gas pumps...
Saturday, November 6, 2010
Census
I'm sure people think we're crazy for moving to a country where we don't speak the language. I'd reassure those people that for the most part you can adjust to daily life. It's the special events you have to watch out for.
Have you ever wondered what a Japanese census form looks like?
Those are the directions. If we hadn't had our Japanese tutor, I don't know what we would've done. I was able to figure out one question on the whole census (which made me very proud, by the way). The rest I stared at in wide-eyed disbelief. I'm pretty sure filling in random bubbles would've been a bad idea on an official census, but without help, that's all we could have done.
One of the small things that is was a pleasant surprise was seeing the envelope.
Vertical writing seems so cool. It is amusingly foreign, at least until you try to read a book. It is really hard to keep track of what line you are on.
Have you ever wondered what a Japanese census form looks like?
Those are the directions. If we hadn't had our Japanese tutor, I don't know what we would've done. I was able to figure out one question on the whole census (which made me very proud, by the way). The rest I stared at in wide-eyed disbelief. I'm pretty sure filling in random bubbles would've been a bad idea on an official census, but without help, that's all we could have done.
One of the small things that is was a pleasant surprise was seeing the envelope.
Vertical writing seems so cool. It is amusingly foreign, at least until you try to read a book. It is really hard to keep track of what line you are on.
Monday, November 1, 2010
Weddings
Last week I talked with a teacher who is getting married soon. It reminded me that Japanese weddings are different from western weddings in one specific way.
American style ceremonies are very popular here. Unlike in American weddings, it isn't traditional for guests to bring a gift. No, here guests are charged to go to the wedding, usually around $300. Around half of that price is returned to them in the form of a gift from the bride and groom.
I think it is an interesting custom. It pays for the wedding, and provides money for the new couple, and--hopefully-- the guests feel appreciated. It also cuts down on people who barely know you trying to shoehorn themselves in on the guest list.
American style ceremonies are very popular here. Unlike in American weddings, it isn't traditional for guests to bring a gift. No, here guests are charged to go to the wedding, usually around $300. Around half of that price is returned to them in the form of a gift from the bride and groom.
I think it is an interesting custom. It pays for the wedding, and provides money for the new couple, and--hopefully-- the guests feel appreciated. It also cuts down on people who barely know you trying to shoehorn themselves in on the guest list.
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Ramen
The weather turned cold and windy this week. It'll be in the forties tomorrow. Tonight after taiko practice we stopped for ramen. Miso ramen is delicious. Boiling hot soup and gyoza are a warm happy thought.
Hot soup on a cold day is always comforting. Luckily we picked a country that loves soup. And they serve soup in bowls large enough to bath a German shepherd in. Seriously, how do Japanese people stay so thin when they can eat so much? I'm pretty sure one bowl of ramen could feed at least three people. But, when in Rome do as the Romans do, so I try to eat it all. I fail miserably. One stomach can't hold that much.
Oh well. At least we can have delicious ramen whenever we want. Mmmmm.
Hot soup on a cold day is always comforting. Luckily we picked a country that loves soup. And they serve soup in bowls large enough to bath a German shepherd in. Seriously, how do Japanese people stay so thin when they can eat so much? I'm pretty sure one bowl of ramen could feed at least three people. But, when in Rome do as the Romans do, so I try to eat it all. I fail miserably. One stomach can't hold that much.
Oh well. At least we can have delicious ramen whenever we want. Mmmmm.
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Fall Colors
Sorry I've been slacking.
Why don't you kick back and enjoy some photos of the fall colors. We drove into the mountains with a friend to celebrate having been here for six months. Japanese mountain roads are something else. They often choke down to one lane with traffic trying to go both ways. As if that wasn't stressful enough, huge tour buses also use the mountain roads. For some reason last Sunday there was a lot of traffic. It wasn't a nice relaxing drive, but it was worth it to see the colors in the Japanese mountains.
And last but not least, you can see where people carved their names in a tree. In Japanese. That was a strange thing to see.
Why don't you kick back and enjoy some photos of the fall colors. We drove into the mountains with a friend to celebrate having been here for six months. Japanese mountain roads are something else. They often choke down to one lane with traffic trying to go both ways. As if that wasn't stressful enough, huge tour buses also use the mountain roads. For some reason last Sunday there was a lot of traffic. It wasn't a nice relaxing drive, but it was worth it to see the colors in the Japanese mountains.
And last but not least, you can see where people carved their names in a tree. In Japanese. That was a strange thing to see.
Friday, October 15, 2010
One Piece
Japanese pop culture was never even on my radar before this year. Sure, I'm a huge nerd, but I had still never been interested in manga, anime, or j-pop. Japanese pop culture would've been on the top ten list of things I didn't care about, right between Olympic curling, and the grand duke of Luxembourg.
It turns out anime is pretty cool. Kelli and I are watching a show called One Piece. It has been running since the '90s. There are nearly 500 episodes. We've watched about 30. It's difficult to describe (a) without making it sound weird and (b) without making me sound weird. Think Pirates of the Caribbean and you'll have a good idea.
We'll start watching Fullmetal Alchemist soon. I'm reading the manga right now and I'm hooked. I wouldn't recommend either show or manga for kids. They both deal with pretty difficult themes and are violent.
Little did I know that moving to Japan would feed my nerdy-ness. I'm picking up whole new genres of nerd obsession. It's always good to try new things.
It turns out anime is pretty cool. Kelli and I are watching a show called One Piece. It has been running since the '90s. There are nearly 500 episodes. We've watched about 30. It's difficult to describe (a) without making it sound weird and (b) without making me sound weird. Think Pirates of the Caribbean and you'll have a good idea.
We'll start watching Fullmetal Alchemist soon. I'm reading the manga right now and I'm hooked. I wouldn't recommend either show or manga for kids. They both deal with pretty difficult themes and are violent.
Little did I know that moving to Japan would feed my nerdy-ness. I'm picking up whole new genres of nerd obsession. It's always good to try new things.
Sunday, October 10, 2010
Dragonflies! It works!
So, the brown dragonflies can be hypnotized and picked up! I'll post some pictures later today. Also, it seems that it really is only the brown ones that will fall for it. The red ones (the only other color available yesterday) would take off as soon as they saw you coming.
Speaking of seeing you coming, walking around waving your finger in a circle isn't exactly a good way to blend in. My first attempt at dragonfly bamboozlement was next to the road. I walked toward the dragonfly resting on the fence slowly, with my finger moving in big, slow circles. I got within a foot before it took off. At about that time I heard a car go by behind me. From a car, no one would be able to see a dragonfly. All they would see is a big, white foreigner hunkered down, creeping towards a fence waving his finger in a circle. Had a red dragonfly landed on my face at about that time, it would've been very well camouflaged. I'm not sure why they let me go out in public.
Especially because after we went to the park and made some dragonflies dizzy, we took pictures of spiders by the road. We could get really close to them and get some good pictures. On the other hand, they were very active and made us jumpy. A couple of foreigners crouching down, taking pictures of who-knows-what and getting startled had to make for a head-scratcher.
We also saw a snake eat a frog. It was a pretty eventful day.
Speaking of seeing you coming, walking around waving your finger in a circle isn't exactly a good way to blend in. My first attempt at dragonfly bamboozlement was next to the road. I walked toward the dragonfly resting on the fence slowly, with my finger moving in big, slow circles. I got within a foot before it took off. At about that time I heard a car go by behind me. From a car, no one would be able to see a dragonfly. All they would see is a big, white foreigner hunkered down, creeping towards a fence waving his finger in a circle. Had a red dragonfly landed on my face at about that time, it would've been very well camouflaged. I'm not sure why they let me go out in public.
Especially because after we went to the park and made some dragonflies dizzy, we took pictures of spiders by the road. We could get really close to them and get some good pictures. On the other hand, they were very active and made us jumpy. A couple of foreigners crouching down, taking pictures of who-knows-what and getting startled had to make for a head-scratcher.
We also saw a snake eat a frog. It was a pretty eventful day.
Monday, October 4, 2010
Six months
Today marks the completion of six months here in Japan. It's been a wild ride.
I've learned a brain-ton (2,000 know-pounds to the brain ton, for those of you who aren't aquainted with units of knowledge). I've learned about being a teacher. I've learned about being a husband. I've learned some Japanese. I've learned how to drive on the opposite side of the road.
The pressures and difficulties of living abroad either temper you or break you, I think. Thankfully, I feel like I'm being tempered (he-he-he. Wheeee. Wahoo...Oh, maybe I snapped).
If someone asked me to recommend living abroad, my recommendation would take the form of a TV commercial for a prescription drug. It would open with beautiful scenes of rice fields, and cherry blossoms. Scenes of castles, zen gardens, and temples would play in the background while the narrator speaks.
"Do you suffer from mundania? Is the humdrum of daily life getting you down? Then maybe Living Abroad is right for you. Living Abroad will awaken that dormant sense of wonder. Living Abroad will infuse life with new energy. If you've been longing for something new, Living Abroad might be what you need. Ask your doctor about Living Abroad. Probable side effects include frustration, loneliness, isolation, confusion, stress induced premature baldness, discombobulation, bewilderment, indigestion, diarrhea, and/or constipation."
So, if your thinking about living abroad, 3 out of 4 gaijin (foreigners) recommend it.
I've learned a brain-ton (2,000 know-pounds to the brain ton, for those of you who aren't aquainted with units of knowledge). I've learned about being a teacher. I've learned about being a husband. I've learned some Japanese. I've learned how to drive on the opposite side of the road.
The pressures and difficulties of living abroad either temper you or break you, I think. Thankfully, I feel like I'm being tempered (he-he-he. Wheeee. Wahoo...Oh, maybe I snapped).
If someone asked me to recommend living abroad, my recommendation would take the form of a TV commercial for a prescription drug. It would open with beautiful scenes of rice fields, and cherry blossoms. Scenes of castles, zen gardens, and temples would play in the background while the narrator speaks.
"Do you suffer from mundania? Is the humdrum of daily life getting you down? Then maybe Living Abroad is right for you. Living Abroad will awaken that dormant sense of wonder. Living Abroad will infuse life with new energy. If you've been longing for something new, Living Abroad might be what you need. Ask your doctor about Living Abroad. Probable side effects include frustration, loneliness, isolation, confusion, stress induced premature baldness, discombobulation, bewilderment, indigestion, diarrhea, and/or constipation."
So, if your thinking about living abroad, 3 out of 4 gaijin (foreigners) recommend it.
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Hypnotizing Dragonflies
A student of mine told me that you can hypnotize dragonflies. That is a succinct summary of a much longer conversation.
Join me on a wild trip down Tangent Lane, where I'll distract us from the main topic for a few minutes to --hopefully-- entertain both of us. If not, at least I'll be amused.
Living in a foreign country can be very fun. Conversations are like a wild mix of Taboo, charades, and blank staring. Speaking with Japanese people usually involves partial sentences and gesturing. For some reason I never have my dictionary on me, so life is much more complicated. There is a complex ratio that describes whether a conversation is fun or hair-pulling stressful.
[time available + (difficulty of concepts - vocabulary)] X immediacy ^ importance = amusement level
And that equation is scientifically tested. I pulled it out of a research paper titled "Living in a Foreign Country: Sanity's Breaking Point." It has many other fine equations such as the function to calculate the rate at which patience is exhausted based on the number, volume, and proximity of advertising kiosks in a department store. One thrift store has so many loud kiosks all near each other playing different music so loud it obliterates the minds ability to focus. Only theoretical physics has numbers small enough to describe how fast patience was exhausted.
Anyway, back to my original tangent.
Conversations such as "You can hypnotize dragonflies," over the course of fifteen minutes are quite fun. On the other side of things, you have the "You've been pulled over for a reason you can't understand and the policeman wants information from you that you can't provide and it is 10:30 at night and you still have a commute to deal with," conversation which is not fun at all.
So, to summarize fifteen minutes of partial sentences, gestures, laughs, and astonishment, you can hypnotize dragonflies. You wave your finger in a circle in front of their face. We're not sure exactly why it works, but the theory is that because they have so many eyes, trying to follow your finger makes them dizzy. Once they are good and dizzy, they will step onto your finger (or land on it if you are such a skilled dragonfly charmer that you can bamboozle them in mid-flight). They will sit there quite contentedly for several seconds before they fly away. Oh yeah, and it only works with the brown ones.
I can't wait to try it. I found out about this right before the weather got too hot. All the brown dragonflies disappeared and only the black and yellow striped ones were still around. Now the brown ones are everywhere. If I get a chance to catch a dragonfly I'll definitely let you know.
I know all of you will try too. I'm picturing all of you crouched down wiggling your fingers at something and the image has me laughing out loud.
Join me on a wild trip down Tangent Lane, where I'll distract us from the main topic for a few minutes to --hopefully-- entertain both of us. If not, at least I'll be amused.
Living in a foreign country can be very fun. Conversations are like a wild mix of Taboo, charades, and blank staring. Speaking with Japanese people usually involves partial sentences and gesturing. For some reason I never have my dictionary on me, so life is much more complicated. There is a complex ratio that describes whether a conversation is fun or hair-pulling stressful.
[time available + (difficulty of concepts - vocabulary)] X immediacy ^ importance = amusement level
And that equation is scientifically tested. I pulled it out of a research paper titled "Living in a Foreign Country: Sanity's Breaking Point." It has many other fine equations such as the function to calculate the rate at which patience is exhausted based on the number, volume, and proximity of advertising kiosks in a department store. One thrift store has so many loud kiosks all near each other playing different music so loud it obliterates the minds ability to focus. Only theoretical physics has numbers small enough to describe how fast patience was exhausted.
Anyway, back to my original tangent.
Conversations such as "You can hypnotize dragonflies," over the course of fifteen minutes are quite fun. On the other side of things, you have the "You've been pulled over for a reason you can't understand and the policeman wants information from you that you can't provide and it is 10:30 at night and you still have a commute to deal with," conversation which is not fun at all.
So, to summarize fifteen minutes of partial sentences, gestures, laughs, and astonishment, you can hypnotize dragonflies. You wave your finger in a circle in front of their face. We're not sure exactly why it works, but the theory is that because they have so many eyes, trying to follow your finger makes them dizzy. Once they are good and dizzy, they will step onto your finger (or land on it if you are such a skilled dragonfly charmer that you can bamboozle them in mid-flight). They will sit there quite contentedly for several seconds before they fly away. Oh yeah, and it only works with the brown ones.
I can't wait to try it. I found out about this right before the weather got too hot. All the brown dragonflies disappeared and only the black and yellow striped ones were still around. Now the brown ones are everywhere. If I get a chance to catch a dragonfly I'll definitely let you know.
I know all of you will try too. I'm picturing all of you crouched down wiggling your fingers at something and the image has me laughing out loud.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Religion
One major difference living here is the number of churches. They're almost as rare as Shinto shrines in southern Louisiana. Whenever you see one it is surprising enough to point out.
Religion doesn't come up often in conversation or in the news. Today I was pretty surprised to see a story about Christianity on the main page of Japan today. It's a pretty cool story.
Religion doesn't come up often in conversation or in the news. Today I was pretty surprised to see a story about Christianity on the main page of Japan today. It's a pretty cool story.
Monday, September 27, 2010
Mood Swings
The weather here is definitely having mood swings. This summer was the hottest summer in 100 years.
In a conversation with a student I found out that the nightly low temperature during the first week of September was the same as the daytime high last week. I went from sweating like crazy from the effort of sitting upright to shivering because I wore short sleeves. We went from using the AC to using the heater in two weeks.
The past two weeks have been extremely rainy too. I thought the rainy season was in June and July, but I guess it got lonely so it came back for a visit. I'm wondering how all this rain will effect the harvested rice that is supposed to be drying...
In a conversation with a student I found out that the nightly low temperature during the first week of September was the same as the daytime high last week. I went from sweating like crazy from the effort of sitting upright to shivering because I wore short sleeves. We went from using the AC to using the heater in two weeks.
The past two weeks have been extremely rainy too. I thought the rainy season was in June and July, but I guess it got lonely so it came back for a visit. I'm wondering how all this rain will effect the harvested rice that is supposed to be drying...
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
New Camera
You may have noticed that there are a lot more pictures on the blog lately. My old Canon camera from 2001 was starting to poop out and it didn't have drivers for Vista/Windows7. Until I got the new camera I had to take pictures with Kelli's camera, download them to her computer, copy them to a USB and then put them on my computer. That was a little too much work.
I'm not the sort of guy who walks into the store, looks at the cameras, and then picks one. I have to shop, look at reviews, consider, read some more reviews, ponder, then look for the best price. Once I had narrowed my choices down to two Panasonic cameras, I went to K's Denki to look at actual cameras.
Sometimes, I feel a little bit like Eeyore. To be more accurate I feel like Eeyore if his last name were Murphy and he wrote a law describing why a flipped coin has a 50% chance of landing heads up and dropped buttered toasts has a 100% chance of landing buttered side down. Sometimes "anything that can go wrong will", and "of course it happens to me."
Panasonic used to release all their cameras in Japan with Japanese and English menus. The key phrase in that last sentence is "used to." Until this year in fact. Yes, the first camera model year not to include bilingual menus was 2010. I felt like Eeyore Murphy Simpson. D'oh!
Panasonic decided to sell the same camera with 4 languages for a slightly higher price and call it an international model, which made me mad. Not to mention no one even keeps it in stock in our town. I bit the bullet and bought a camera with Japanese menus.
How's that working out for me? Let's just say, thank goodness all the menu options have little icons.
I'm not the sort of guy who walks into the store, looks at the cameras, and then picks one. I have to shop, look at reviews, consider, read some more reviews, ponder, then look for the best price. Once I had narrowed my choices down to two Panasonic cameras, I went to K's Denki to look at actual cameras.
Sometimes, I feel a little bit like Eeyore. To be more accurate I feel like Eeyore if his last name were Murphy and he wrote a law describing why a flipped coin has a 50% chance of landing heads up and dropped buttered toasts has a 100% chance of landing buttered side down. Sometimes "anything that can go wrong will", and "of course it happens to me."
Panasonic used to release all their cameras in Japan with Japanese and English menus. The key phrase in that last sentence is "used to." Until this year in fact. Yes, the first camera model year not to include bilingual menus was 2010. I felt like Eeyore Murphy Simpson. D'oh!
Panasonic decided to sell the same camera with 4 languages for a slightly higher price and call it an international model, which made me mad. Not to mention no one even keeps it in stock in our town. I bit the bullet and bought a camera with Japanese menus.
How's that working out for me? Let's just say, thank goodness all the menu options have little icons.
Monday, September 20, 2010
Rice Harvest
When we arrived in April, it was planting season for rice. The tiny little bundles of seedlings have now grown thirty inches tall and drooped over under the weight of the rice.
We were very surprised to see how rice is harvested.
Bundles of rice are tied together with straw, then tied to posts. I'm not sure, but I think it is to let the rice dry.
In most fields the posts are then covered with netting. Again, I'm not completely sure why, but I think it is to keep the birds away. The farmers of the field above have had the field covered for several weeks. Most fields are not covered before harvest, so I'm not sure why the did it.
This field makes it seem like so little rice for such a big field. I wonder how long that much rice would feed a family of four.
All of these pictures were taken between my house and the grocery store which is about a half mile away. Part of a block might be residential, and the other part a large garden or small field. I'll try to get a picture of a rice harvester. They're pretty cool...
We were very surprised to see how rice is harvested.
Bundles of rice are tied together with straw, then tied to posts. I'm not sure, but I think it is to let the rice dry.
In most fields the posts are then covered with netting. Again, I'm not completely sure why, but I think it is to keep the birds away. The farmers of the field above have had the field covered for several weeks. Most fields are not covered before harvest, so I'm not sure why the did it.
This field makes it seem like so little rice for such a big field. I wonder how long that much rice would feed a family of four.
All of these pictures were taken between my house and the grocery store which is about a half mile away. Part of a block might be residential, and the other part a large garden or small field. I'll try to get a picture of a rice harvester. They're pretty cool...
Thursday, September 16, 2010
How Cute! Part 1
Through my travels I've come to realize something about the US. We like things big. We like big hamburgers. We like big cars. Because our cars huge, our roads are wide. When we want to build something, we get in there with the biggest heavy equipment that'll fit, and we get 'er done. Look out trees and power lines; the excavator has come.
When I think of track-hoes and bulldozers, I picture big yellow behemoths, carving up the earth with ease. In my mind, there is something inherently manly about construction equipment and that should be reflected both in its size and in its color. The same machismo doesn't apply in Japan. For example:
Is that a construction site or playground equipment? I feel like that thing might get bogged down trying to bulldoze a sandcastle. And if you think the turquoise is bad, you should see all of the pastel purple equipment. It must be more like working in an Easter egg, than working in a tank. I can guarantee no one is going to weld armor on this bad boy and go on a rampage through downtown Granby.
But at least cranes have to be large right? I mean, they have to lift huge loads high up into the sky.
Doesn't the little guy look kind of sad? Maybe he is like Thomas the train. He wants to grow up to be a big crane. Maybe some day he can lift heavy things like trusses or shipping containers. For now he has to be content with lifting two-by-fours and giving atomic wedgies.
Sure, I know I shouldn't make fun. And to be fair, I can think of one practical application for this mini-crane. Mom could keep it in her kitchen to reach things on the top shelf. It would be perfect. She could park it under the microwave when she wasn't using it.
When I think of track-hoes and bulldozers, I picture big yellow behemoths, carving up the earth with ease. In my mind, there is something inherently manly about construction equipment and that should be reflected both in its size and in its color. The same machismo doesn't apply in Japan. For example:
Is that a construction site or playground equipment? I feel like that thing might get bogged down trying to bulldoze a sandcastle. And if you think the turquoise is bad, you should see all of the pastel purple equipment. It must be more like working in an Easter egg, than working in a tank. I can guarantee no one is going to weld armor on this bad boy and go on a rampage through downtown Granby.
But at least cranes have to be large right? I mean, they have to lift huge loads high up into the sky.
Sure, I know I shouldn't make fun. And to be fair, I can think of one practical application for this mini-crane. Mom could keep it in her kitchen to reach things on the top shelf. It would be perfect. She could park it under the microwave when she wasn't using it.
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Perspective
As I was studying Japanese, I saw that the word for last year, zennen, is made up of two kanji: front and year. The word means last year, or the year before.
It reminded me of my Roman History class in college. I remember the professor telling us that the Romans viewed history as if they were standing in a river facing downstream. The future is behind them, flowing round them and into the past. Their paradigm was the opposite of ours. Where we see history as fading behind us as we face the oncoming future, ancient Romans learned from the past, because the future couldn't be seen.
The difference in perspective stuck with me. There is a lot of wisdom in setting your eyes on the lessons of the past, and of your ancestors, and letting the future come as it may. All to often we get wrapped up in worries about the future. Sometimes the future looms so large we lose track of the present. On the other hand, sometimes the present seems so overwhelming, we can't see hope for the future.
Somehow, looking at the past--world history, and the span of my puny life--helps put the present and future into perspective. No matter where we stand now, nor where what we hope or fear tomorrow will bring, history teaches us this: This too shall pass.
It reminded me of my Roman History class in college. I remember the professor telling us that the Romans viewed history as if they were standing in a river facing downstream. The future is behind them, flowing round them and into the past. Their paradigm was the opposite of ours. Where we see history as fading behind us as we face the oncoming future, ancient Romans learned from the past, because the future couldn't be seen.
The difference in perspective stuck with me. There is a lot of wisdom in setting your eyes on the lessons of the past, and of your ancestors, and letting the future come as it may. All to often we get wrapped up in worries about the future. Sometimes the future looms so large we lose track of the present. On the other hand, sometimes the present seems so overwhelming, we can't see hope for the future.
Somehow, looking at the past--world history, and the span of my puny life--helps put the present and future into perspective. No matter where we stand now, nor where what we hope or fear tomorrow will bring, history teaches us this: This too shall pass.
Saturday, September 11, 2010
The Golden Temple
As I mentioned in my post about Christopher Columbus, there is a golden temple not far from here, in Hiraizumi town. Hiraizumi was once a cultural center to rival Kyoto. Unfortunately it was conquered and burned to the ground. Most of the buildings were lost. The temple area had hundreds of temples. Only a few survived the fire and a few have been reconstructed. Luckily, the Golden Temple and the Noh theater survived.
My favorite thing about seeing temples and shrines is the woodwork.
The inside of that temple looked like this. Having seen other temples, I can tell you that this is what the often look like inside. They are crowded with statues and incense holders. The box in the lower left corner is the donation box.
The two pictures above are separate buildings. The thatched roofs are still around. Only in the past twenty or thirty years have they been largely replaced by metal and tile, or so I was told. I'm pretty sure the chicken wire is a more modern innovation though.
This is a string of a thousand paper cranes. Tradition holds that if you fold a thousand paper cranes, the crane will grant you one wish. They are popular wedding gifts.
Here is the largest temple. Many people were doing the ritual dancing, clapping their hands and making a donation.
Isn't it fun just to look at? Temples as ornate as this might be 800 years old. Imagine building this without power tools.
This is the stage of an old Noh theater. Plays are still held here on special occasions.
Now, you might be wondering where the Golden Temple is. "Where are the pictures of that, Nate?" you might be asking. I have a confession to make. I don't have any pictures of it. Cameras weren't allowed inside. I took a picture of the building that houses the golden temple though. Will that do?
Yeah, it's kind of a letdown. I'm sorry. If it makes you feel better, when we visited it was later in the afternoon. You had to buy a ticket to see the museum and the temple. I asked how much it was. About ten dollars. I paid for Kelli and I and as the lady handed the tickets to me she said everything closed at 5:00. It was 4:46. It would've been nice to know before we paid. So if you feel bamboozled because there aren't any pictures of the Golden Temple, at least you didn't pay twenty bucks for a 15 minute look at this blog post.
My favorite thing about seeing temples and shrines is the woodwork.
The inside of that temple looked like this. Having seen other temples, I can tell you that this is what the often look like inside. They are crowded with statues and incense holders. The box in the lower left corner is the donation box.
The two pictures above are separate buildings. The thatched roofs are still around. Only in the past twenty or thirty years have they been largely replaced by metal and tile, or so I was told. I'm pretty sure the chicken wire is a more modern innovation though.
This is a string of a thousand paper cranes. Tradition holds that if you fold a thousand paper cranes, the crane will grant you one wish. They are popular wedding gifts.
Here is the largest temple. Many people were doing the ritual dancing, clapping their hands and making a donation.
Isn't it fun just to look at? Temples as ornate as this might be 800 years old. Imagine building this without power tools.
This is the stage of an old Noh theater. Plays are still held here on special occasions.
Now, you might be wondering where the Golden Temple is. "Where are the pictures of that, Nate?" you might be asking. I have a confession to make. I don't have any pictures of it. Cameras weren't allowed inside. I took a picture of the building that houses the golden temple though. Will that do?
Yeah, it's kind of a letdown. I'm sorry. If it makes you feel better, when we visited it was later in the afternoon. You had to buy a ticket to see the museum and the temple. I asked how much it was. About ten dollars. I paid for Kelli and I and as the lady handed the tickets to me she said everything closed at 5:00. It was 4:46. It would've been nice to know before we paid. So if you feel bamboozled because there aren't any pictures of the Golden Temple, at least you didn't pay twenty bucks for a 15 minute look at this blog post.
Thursday, September 9, 2010
Shaking Things Up
No matter how big of a transition you go through in life, at some point things begin to seem normal. After packing up and moving to Japan, it only took four months for things to begin to feel settled. I thought I was finding a nice routine. I felt confident I could handle daily situations.
Then I got pulled over by the police. It was after ten o'clock at night. I was driving home from a nearby town. I saw police lights on the bridge and figured there must be an accident. Nope. It was a random checkpoint. The police minivan was parked in the middle lane of the bridge and six police with glow in the dark wands waved me down.
I pulled into the center lane. A policeman came to my window and started asking me questions. In Japanese. In very, very fast Japanese. I gave him my Foreigner Registration Card and American driver's license. Then I remembered my International Drivers Permit and gave that to him as well.
There is a very interesting, and very silly flaw in International Driver's Permits. On the front, in minuscule letters, it says "This International Driver's Permit is valid from:" Underneath that line, the date that you paid for the permit is hand written in. You might be wondering how this is a flaw. Let's role play.
You are an English speaking policeman and you pull over a Chinese person. You don't speak a word of Chinese. The Chinese man doesn't speak much English. He hands you his permit, written all in Chinese. You can make out the numbers in a familiar format 2/10/2010. That looks like February tenth, 2010. It is now August. That International Driver's Permit looks expired.
Yeah, that's what happened. Thankfully, I remembered how to say "From such-and-such date to such-and-such date" and tried to explain. It at least prompted the second policeman (who came up because things were taking too long with me) to go get a dictionary.
After an agonizing 15 minutes of trying to understand Japanese for me, and an agonizing 15 minutes of trying to communicate with a foreigner for the policeman, he decided to let me go.
If you ever travel abroad it is absolutely worth driving legally. I don't suggest trying to get by without a license or permit. If I had done anything wrong, I can't imagine how things would've turned out.
Sometimes things begin to seem familiar. Life has a way of shaking things up.
Then I got pulled over by the police. It was after ten o'clock at night. I was driving home from a nearby town. I saw police lights on the bridge and figured there must be an accident. Nope. It was a random checkpoint. The police minivan was parked in the middle lane of the bridge and six police with glow in the dark wands waved me down.
I pulled into the center lane. A policeman came to my window and started asking me questions. In Japanese. In very, very fast Japanese. I gave him my Foreigner Registration Card and American driver's license. Then I remembered my International Drivers Permit and gave that to him as well.
There is a very interesting, and very silly flaw in International Driver's Permits. On the front, in minuscule letters, it says "This International Driver's Permit is valid from:" Underneath that line, the date that you paid for the permit is hand written in. You might be wondering how this is a flaw. Let's role play.
You are an English speaking policeman and you pull over a Chinese person. You don't speak a word of Chinese. The Chinese man doesn't speak much English. He hands you his permit, written all in Chinese. You can make out the numbers in a familiar format 2/10/2010. That looks like February tenth, 2010. It is now August. That International Driver's Permit looks expired.
Yeah, that's what happened. Thankfully, I remembered how to say "From such-and-such date to such-and-such date" and tried to explain. It at least prompted the second policeman (who came up because things were taking too long with me) to go get a dictionary.
After an agonizing 15 minutes of trying to understand Japanese for me, and an agonizing 15 minutes of trying to communicate with a foreigner for the policeman, he decided to let me go.
If you ever travel abroad it is absolutely worth driving legally. I don't suggest trying to get by without a license or permit. If I had done anything wrong, I can't imagine how things would've turned out.
Sometimes things begin to seem familiar. Life has a way of shaking things up.
Sunday, September 5, 2010
Christopher Columbus
We recently had dinner with a social studies teacher and his family. They were a wonderful, warm family and we had a great time.
Halfway through dinner, we mentioned that we had visited Chusonji, a 20x20 temple that is gold plated inside and out with golden statues inside. It is one of the most famous sights in our region and is only a short drive from our house.
The social studies teacher got excited and asked us if we knew why Christopher Columbus discovered America. We said we didn't. He went to the map on his wall (only a social studies teacher has a world map on their dining room wall). When Marco Polo traveled in Asia, he heard of the temple made of pure gold in northern Japan. Marco Polo never saw it, but he passed word of its existence on when he returned to Europe.
Christopher Columbus heard about it. As we all know Christopher Columbus was trying to go to India. According to Japanese history, he thought he would stop over in Japan and see the Golden Temple and resupply before heading on to India. Alas, he bumped into the West Indies and discovered a landmass covering two continents that Europe hadn't found yet.
So, according to a Japanese social studies teacher, Christopher Columbus discovered America because he was trying to get to northern Japan.
Who knew?
Halfway through dinner, we mentioned that we had visited Chusonji, a 20x20 temple that is gold plated inside and out with golden statues inside. It is one of the most famous sights in our region and is only a short drive from our house.
The social studies teacher got excited and asked us if we knew why Christopher Columbus discovered America. We said we didn't. He went to the map on his wall (only a social studies teacher has a world map on their dining room wall). When Marco Polo traveled in Asia, he heard of the temple made of pure gold in northern Japan. Marco Polo never saw it, but he passed word of its existence on when he returned to Europe.
Christopher Columbus heard about it. As we all know Christopher Columbus was trying to go to India. According to Japanese history, he thought he would stop over in Japan and see the Golden Temple and resupply before heading on to India. Alas, he bumped into the West Indies and discovered a landmass covering two continents that Europe hadn't found yet.
So, according to a Japanese social studies teacher, Christopher Columbus discovered America because he was trying to get to northern Japan.
Who knew?
Thursday, September 2, 2010
Kin Ball
Today I had the opportunity to play Kin Ball (FYI, the link has really annoying music. Mute if you are at work). By the way "Kin" is pronounced like the word "keen."
Kin ball was invented in Canada. There are three teams of four people and one huge ball, slightly heavier than a beach ball. The teams each wear different colored jerseys. We will call the teams, black, pink and grey. To start, three members of the black team hold up the ball. The fourth member yells, "Omnikin PINK" and hits the ball. The pink team has to catch the ball before it hits the ground. If they catch it, three people hold it while the fourth yells "Omnikin Black" or "Omnikin Grey" and hits the ball.
Scoring happens when a team makes a mistake. If the pink team doesn't catch the ball, the black and grey teams get a point. If pink tries to catch it and the ball goes out of bounds, the other teams get a point. If black is the team hitting the ball and they knock it out of bounds, the other two teams get a point. It created some fun strategy, as you wanted to call out the name of the team with the highest score and hope they failed.
It is a super goofy game, but it is a blast to play. Being six feet tall I had a big advantage. I could catch the ball without help and I could really hit the ball. My teammates, some of them barely five feet tall, had to work together to catch the ball by bouncing it up in the air until a fellow teammate could assist.
I jumped right into the rules of the game, but now I'll explain the schedule of events.
After school, all of the teachers from our school and two nearby elementary schools all gathered at the local recreation center. I only knew that we were supposed to play this game for two hours. Not so, my friends, not so.
The first twenty minutes were spent sitting on the gym floor while all the people in charge introduced themselves and the referees. Japanese people are highly organized. When we sat down, we all sat in a grid, in defined columns and rows. After twenty minutes of introductions and explaining the rules it was time to stretch. We all quickly spread out--staying in a grid-- and stretched. After five minutes of stretching we all squeezed back together for more talking. Finally, after half an hour it was time to play. We all broke up into groups of six or eight people from each school and one group from each school went to one of the five courts.
We played for ten minutes at a time. It was hilarious fun. No one rolled their eyes or lolly gagged. We all gave 100%, from the 25 year olds to the 60 year olds. Ladies were diving under a four foot ball, unwilling to let it hit the ground. Odinarily dignified social studies teachers were nearly giddy with excitement and enthusiasm. What a blast.
I mentioned before I had a height advantage and my team didn't want me to sit out. I came very, very close to getting a very unfortunate nickname. Mr. Kinubaru. Please, oh please, when Monday rolls around, may that nickname not be spoken in the teachers' room. If Mr. Kinubaru caught on I'd never know if anyone was talking to me.
Kin ball was invented in Canada. There are three teams of four people and one huge ball, slightly heavier than a beach ball. The teams each wear different colored jerseys. We will call the teams, black, pink and grey. To start, three members of the black team hold up the ball. The fourth member yells, "Omnikin PINK" and hits the ball. The pink team has to catch the ball before it hits the ground. If they catch it, three people hold it while the fourth yells "Omnikin Black" or "Omnikin Grey" and hits the ball.
Scoring happens when a team makes a mistake. If the pink team doesn't catch the ball, the black and grey teams get a point. If pink tries to catch it and the ball goes out of bounds, the other teams get a point. If black is the team hitting the ball and they knock it out of bounds, the other two teams get a point. It created some fun strategy, as you wanted to call out the name of the team with the highest score and hope they failed.
It is a super goofy game, but it is a blast to play. Being six feet tall I had a big advantage. I could catch the ball without help and I could really hit the ball. My teammates, some of them barely five feet tall, had to work together to catch the ball by bouncing it up in the air until a fellow teammate could assist.
I jumped right into the rules of the game, but now I'll explain the schedule of events.
After school, all of the teachers from our school and two nearby elementary schools all gathered at the local recreation center. I only knew that we were supposed to play this game for two hours. Not so, my friends, not so.
The first twenty minutes were spent sitting on the gym floor while all the people in charge introduced themselves and the referees. Japanese people are highly organized. When we sat down, we all sat in a grid, in defined columns and rows. After twenty minutes of introductions and explaining the rules it was time to stretch. We all quickly spread out--staying in a grid-- and stretched. After five minutes of stretching we all squeezed back together for more talking. Finally, after half an hour it was time to play. We all broke up into groups of six or eight people from each school and one group from each school went to one of the five courts.
We played for ten minutes at a time. It was hilarious fun. No one rolled their eyes or lolly gagged. We all gave 100%, from the 25 year olds to the 60 year olds. Ladies were diving under a four foot ball, unwilling to let it hit the ground. Odinarily dignified social studies teachers were nearly giddy with excitement and enthusiasm. What a blast.
I mentioned before I had a height advantage and my team didn't want me to sit out. I came very, very close to getting a very unfortunate nickname. Mr. Kinubaru. Please, oh please, when Monday rolls around, may that nickname not be spoken in the teachers' room. If Mr. Kinubaru caught on I'd never know if anyone was talking to me.
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Earth Salon
Haircuts continue to be adventures. This time I decided to try somewhere new. Unfortunately, it was still fairly expensive, but the conversation more than made up for it.
The man who cut my hair is 28, has a two year old son who likes to play his toy taiko, and a one year old girl who likes to dance. He wants to go to America but it is expensive to travel and he has forgotten most of his English. I learned all this from speaking to him in Japanese. We had a great conversation.
Halfway through my haircut he pointed at the "Earth Salon" business card on his mirror. He pointed to the "E" and pulled the comb out of his apron and held it up and said "E." Then he pulled out his scissors and held them open in a cross shape and pointed at the "H." Then he covered the E and H and what was left? The word "art." Out of a comb and a pair of scissors comes art. I thought that was pretty cool. It was one of the most creative uses of the English languages I've ever seen.
The man who cut my hair is 28, has a two year old son who likes to play his toy taiko, and a one year old girl who likes to dance. He wants to go to America but it is expensive to travel and he has forgotten most of his English. I learned all this from speaking to him in Japanese. We had a great conversation.
Halfway through my haircut he pointed at the "Earth Salon" business card on his mirror. He pointed to the "E" and pulled the comb out of his apron and held it up and said "E." Then he pulled out his scissors and held them open in a cross shape and pointed at the "H." Then he covered the E and H and what was left? The word "art." Out of a comb and a pair of scissors comes art. I thought that was pretty cool. It was one of the most creative uses of the English languages I've ever seen.
Sunday, August 22, 2010
Senior Citizens
Some societal things are just different. For instance, in America how do you know that the car in front of you is driven by an elderly person? (Must....resist...jokes....) If the actual driving doesn't give you a hint, you might notice a blue tag hanging from their rear-view mirror. If you get a good look at that tag, you'll see a white symbol that represents a person in a wheelchair. Not all elderly people are handicapped though, so the tag isn't a sure sign.
In Japan, elderly people are required to put a special teardrop shaped sticker on their rear bumper or window. The sticker is half yellow-orange and half orange. I recently read in the news that the government is introducing four-leaf clover stickers to replace the old autumn leaf stickers. Why? Because many elderly people have complained that the autumn leaf stickers look like dead leaves, which seems like a crass thing to require an elderly person to plaster to their car.
In less amusing news, the Japanese government is trying to check on the many centenarians that they have lost contact with. The impetus behind this search is summarized in the article above, but I'll give you my short version. Someone in Tokyo was checking the records and there was a man who should be the oldest man alive residing in Tokyo. No one had heard from him in decades. He was supposed to be living with one of his children, so a government official went to check on him. It turns out the man had been dead for over 30 years. Dead, and still in his bed. It is one of the more bizarre stories I've read. The family had never reported the death...and had continued to collect pension checks.
Now the government is trying to check up on its oldest citizens.
Another sad piece of this story is that many of these older people have slipped through the cracks because the elderly are isolated. Since World War II, fewer and fewer elderly people are living with their children. As they age, some people lose touch with society and no one knows how they are or if they are even still alive.
To combat this loneliness, I read of some people forming community groups with end-of-life matters in mind. People who are aging and have no family are getting together and talking about death and helping each other when the time comes. It seemed strange when I read about a few months ago, but in light of these other facts, it seems like a good idea. One of the strengths of Japanese society is the emphasis they place on community.
This post is a little bit heavier reading, but I think it is enriching to read about how other cultures deal with difficult issues like death and aging. And if it wasn't, at least it was interesting.
Hopefully the four-leaf-clovers are better luck than autumn leaves.
In Japan, elderly people are required to put a special teardrop shaped sticker on their rear bumper or window. The sticker is half yellow-orange and half orange. I recently read in the news that the government is introducing four-leaf clover stickers to replace the old autumn leaf stickers. Why? Because many elderly people have complained that the autumn leaf stickers look like dead leaves, which seems like a crass thing to require an elderly person to plaster to their car.
In less amusing news, the Japanese government is trying to check on the many centenarians that they have lost contact with. The impetus behind this search is summarized in the article above, but I'll give you my short version. Someone in Tokyo was checking the records and there was a man who should be the oldest man alive residing in Tokyo. No one had heard from him in decades. He was supposed to be living with one of his children, so a government official went to check on him. It turns out the man had been dead for over 30 years. Dead, and still in his bed. It is one of the more bizarre stories I've read. The family had never reported the death...and had continued to collect pension checks.
Now the government is trying to check up on its oldest citizens.
Another sad piece of this story is that many of these older people have slipped through the cracks because the elderly are isolated. Since World War II, fewer and fewer elderly people are living with their children. As they age, some people lose touch with society and no one knows how they are or if they are even still alive.
To combat this loneliness, I read of some people forming community groups with end-of-life matters in mind. People who are aging and have no family are getting together and talking about death and helping each other when the time comes. It seemed strange when I read about a few months ago, but in light of these other facts, it seems like a good idea. One of the strengths of Japanese society is the emphasis they place on community.
This post is a little bit heavier reading, but I think it is enriching to read about how other cultures deal with difficult issues like death and aging. And if it wasn't, at least it was interesting.
Hopefully the four-leaf-clovers are better luck than autumn leaves.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Engrish, part 2
Here's something that'll leave you scratching your head.
PLUS: The Dental Studio of Art
What the?!
Sunday, August 15, 2010
Where Taikos are Born
Did you ever watch Mr. Rodgers neighborhood? Do you remember when Mr. McFeely would bring a fun video that showed how things were made? I remember the crayon video and the matchbox cars. If I'd had a video camera, I'd send Mr. Rodgers a video of a taiko workshop.
All the taikos our club play were made by a man who lives two hours away. We met him before our performance but we didn't know that he had made them.
Saturday our taiko leader took us to get bachi (drumsticks). They are basically just poplar dowels cut to the proper length. When the plan was being made to go get drumsticks, I figured we would go to a local music store. Only after we were in the car and headed south did we find out that we were going for a two hour drive. Alright, just roll with the punches.
Out in the hills, not even in a town, we pulled up to a house with a workshop and shed nearby. Our taiko leader went to the house and greeted Mr.______ with a small gift, as is polite. He invited us into the shop. The front half is a store. It is filled with drums and other wood crafts. There were small shrines that are carried by four or eight men during festivals. There was a stuffed horse with a saddle on it and a samurai helmet on the saddle. I wonder if it was all authentic. It looked like it. I tried not to stare like a giddy nerd. There were also traditional masks, carved from wood. Some of them were painted with crazy mustaches. There were a few samurai wigs, used in a traditional form of dance. All in all, it was awesome.
We chose the right size drumsticks from the display models and then the owner took us in the back to cut them to length. He asked us not to take pictures of the shop (I think because it was messy). It was cool to see a shop where at least two generations of this family have been making drums. All the tools were there, although I'm not sure what all of them were. There were stacks of drum heads ready to be applied to new drums or old drums that need fixed. There were saws and lathes.
It was pretty awesome to see. That sense of wonder kicked in. Here, was living breathing culture. Here was history, continuing into the present and hopefully far into the future. Here, I was the guest. It was awe inspiring and humbling. Kelli and I are so lucky to live here and see things like this. It's a blessing, no doubt about it.
All the taikos our club play were made by a man who lives two hours away. We met him before our performance but we didn't know that he had made them.
Saturday our taiko leader took us to get bachi (drumsticks). They are basically just poplar dowels cut to the proper length. When the plan was being made to go get drumsticks, I figured we would go to a local music store. Only after we were in the car and headed south did we find out that we were going for a two hour drive. Alright, just roll with the punches.
Out in the hills, not even in a town, we pulled up to a house with a workshop and shed nearby. Our taiko leader went to the house and greeted Mr.______ with a small gift, as is polite. He invited us into the shop. The front half is a store. It is filled with drums and other wood crafts. There were small shrines that are carried by four or eight men during festivals. There was a stuffed horse with a saddle on it and a samurai helmet on the saddle. I wonder if it was all authentic. It looked like it. I tried not to stare like a giddy nerd. There were also traditional masks, carved from wood. Some of them were painted with crazy mustaches. There were a few samurai wigs, used in a traditional form of dance. All in all, it was awesome.
We chose the right size drumsticks from the display models and then the owner took us in the back to cut them to length. He asked us not to take pictures of the shop (I think because it was messy). It was cool to see a shop where at least two generations of this family have been making drums. All the tools were there, although I'm not sure what all of them were. There were stacks of drum heads ready to be applied to new drums or old drums that need fixed. There were saws and lathes.
It was pretty awesome to see. That sense of wonder kicked in. Here, was living breathing culture. Here was history, continuing into the present and hopefully far into the future. Here, I was the guest. It was awe inspiring and humbling. Kelli and I are so lucky to live here and see things like this. It's a blessing, no doubt about it.
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
These Things Happen...At the Worst Times
As fun as living in a foreign country is, sometimes it can be difficult. Little problems feel gargantuan. Take for instance--hypothetically only, of course-- that you realized your refrigerator was dead. What would you do?
You would probably call someone who could call a repair man for you or tell you where to take it to have it fixed.
In Japan everyone uses small fridges. I've seen them at the thrift store and would go get a replacement--if this wasn't a hypothetical situation-- but there is one other little problem: we already have two fridges. That's right, we have( I mean would have two dead fridges if this wasn't a...Oh forget it, our fridge is kaput) two dead fridges. One was in our apartment when we moved in. I have to draw the line at having three fridges. Three fridges and you start to feel like the punchline to a joke.
So, our fridge went from purring like a kitten to standing like a small black monolithic magnet support. We don't know who to call. We don't know where to take it. We can't talk to anyone on the phone and explain what happened.
When I first noticed that my yogurt seemed a little runny and checked to see if the fridge was working, I got pretty down. How am I supposed to take care of this? As a man, this is clearly in my arena. But I'm helpless.
I carried all the perishable stuff to a neighbor's house and asked to borrow some freezer space. Now, as I sit here typing away, stealing glances at that indolent, glib, black set of shelves I waver between being grumpy and cracking up. I'll let you know what happens but it'll be a few weeks. In the mean time it looks like we'll be eating a lot of peanut butter and..Doh the jelly is gone! We'll be eating a lot of toast. That is unless the toaster decides to turn itself into a tiny book rack.
You would probably call someone who could call a repair man for you or tell you where to take it to have it fixed.
In Japan everyone uses small fridges. I've seen them at the thrift store and would go get a replacement--if this wasn't a hypothetical situation-- but there is one other little problem: we already have two fridges. That's right, we have( I mean would have two dead fridges if this wasn't a...Oh forget it, our fridge is kaput) two dead fridges. One was in our apartment when we moved in. I have to draw the line at having three fridges. Three fridges and you start to feel like the punchline to a joke.
So, our fridge went from purring like a kitten to standing like a small black monolithic magnet support. We don't know who to call. We don't know where to take it. We can't talk to anyone on the phone and explain what happened.
When I first noticed that my yogurt seemed a little runny and checked to see if the fridge was working, I got pretty down. How am I supposed to take care of this? As a man, this is clearly in my arena. But I'm helpless.
I carried all the perishable stuff to a neighbor's house and asked to borrow some freezer space. Now, as I sit here typing away, stealing glances at that indolent, glib, black set of shelves I waver between being grumpy and cracking up. I'll let you know what happens but it'll be a few weeks. In the mean time it looks like we'll be eating a lot of peanut butter and..Doh the jelly is gone! We'll be eating a lot of toast. That is unless the toaster decides to turn itself into a tiny book rack.
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Thunderstorm
One of the great things about living in the southwest is watching thunderstorms in the evening. Last night we got to see a Japanese thunderstorm. It was awesome.
We heard the constant rumble of thunder. It sounded like a truck idling outside. We pulled back the curtains and saw the frequent flashes. We put on our shoes and walked across the street. We sat on the curb, looking over a rice field toward the mountains, and watched the fireworks.
It was one of the more impressive storms I've ever seen. It was so bright and powerful we could've taken photographs. Strike after strike hit the hills. The clouds lit up as lighting ran from horizon to horizon. Thunder rumbled ceaselessly.
One of our neighbors came out to watch too. We watched for half an hour. Over twenty strikes hit the ground and dozens more stayed in the clouds. It was a beautiful storm. There might not have been fireworks for the fourth of July, but this more than made up for it.
We heard the constant rumble of thunder. It sounded like a truck idling outside. We pulled back the curtains and saw the frequent flashes. We put on our shoes and walked across the street. We sat on the curb, looking over a rice field toward the mountains, and watched the fireworks.
It was one of the more impressive storms I've ever seen. It was so bright and powerful we could've taken photographs. Strike after strike hit the hills. The clouds lit up as lighting ran from horizon to horizon. Thunder rumbled ceaselessly.
One of our neighbors came out to watch too. We watched for half an hour. Over twenty strikes hit the ground and dozens more stayed in the clouds. It was a beautiful storm. There might not have been fireworks for the fourth of July, but this more than made up for it.
Friday, August 6, 2010
Hachimantai National Park, Part 1
Kelli and I went camping this weekend. We did far too much and took far too many pictures with my (awesome) new camera to post everything in one go, so I'll post bits and pieces and lots of pictures.
After a bus ride up the narrowest, windiest road I've ever been on we started to climb Oneme-dake. We had prepared for a full-blown backpacking trip. Instead we had a brisk 2.5 kilometer climb. Oh well, it is better to be over prepared than under prepared.
Most of the mountains near us were low rolling peaks. Oneme-dake was the tallest we climbed at 1,637 meters.
From the summit of Oneme-dake we could see O-dake (center) and Me-dake (left).
Here you can see the steam coming out of Me-dake which is an active volcano.
Just below Me-dake is this strange crater. The ridge in the background is actually part of a huge caldera. Me-dake is a peak inside that caldera. O-dake is a peak on the rim of the caldera.
This shrine was on top of O-dake.
You don't see things like this in Colorado.
We stayed the night in that hut. We tried to sleep outside, but it was so humid that our sleeping bags were getting damp. As soon as it started to cloud up, we went inside. For those of you who have been following this blog, there is actually something worse than a squatty potty: a squatty potty latrine. You get all the squatty potty awkwardness with that awful latrine smell too. At least with the latrine you didn't have to worry about squatty potty splash.
All day the clouds kept rolling over the peaks. We had to wait around for clear moments to take pictures, as most of the time we were enveloped in mist. Late in the evening the clouds cleared up and I got this picture of Mount Iwate (2,041m), the tallest mountain in the region. Hopefully we get to climb Iwate-san soon.
These are a few views of the mountains we saw. It was a mixture of disappointing and surreal. The mountains were so easy to access, so many people were there, and you could see so many cities from the peaks that it didn't seem wild. Then the mist would blow in, you'd catch site of a volcanic crater and the foreignness of it all would catch your breath. After getting over the minor disappointments the sheer wonder of exploring overwhelmed my thoughts. Japan is a serenely beautiful place. I'm so blessed to live here and see this.
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
Spiders
If you are an arachnophobe, let me tell you right now that Japan would be hell for you. I've never seen so many spiders in my life. When I say "so many spiders" I mean both number and variety. Bleh, it gives me the heebie jeebies just thinking about it.
Our little porch has a rail around it. On that rail there is a spider web every four feet. There are spiderwebs in our plants outside. Under our porch light, on the eaves over our entry way and on the posts holding up the floor above, spiders can be seen dangling. The spiders on our railway are all tiny, almost cute little guys. They appear to be the same species, maybe from the same brood. Unfortunately spiders are about as friendly with each other as the Hatfields and McCoys. Kelli moved a spider back onto what she thought was its web. It didn't end end well for that little arachnid.
If only all spiders were so benign on the gross-out scale. Some spiders are BIG. When you see cobwebs spanning more than six horizontal feet, you know you don't want to see who calls it home.
Our little porch has a rail around it. On that rail there is a spider web every four feet. There are spiderwebs in our plants outside. Under our porch light, on the eaves over our entry way and on the posts holding up the floor above, spiders can be seen dangling. The spiders on our railway are all tiny, almost cute little guys. They appear to be the same species, maybe from the same brood. Unfortunately spiders are about as friendly with each other as the Hatfields and McCoys. Kelli moved a spider back onto what she thought was its web. It didn't end end well for that little arachnid.
If only all spiders were so benign on the gross-out scale. Some spiders are BIG. When you see cobwebs spanning more than six horizontal feet, you know you don't want to see who calls it home.
Take this guy for example. the red on the left edge is part of a political campaign poster. The other end of the web was attached to the rail beside the sidewalk, over eight feet away. That was a big nasty spider, but we saw one that was even bigger. Fortunately for you, we always forget our camera, so we didn't get a picture of it. I'm not a fan of spiders. I don't want to see spiders that are two and a half inches long repelling off of sheds. What are you supposed to do with spiders that big? When they are that massive you can't mercilessly step on them. You always pause first, wondering which is grosser, the spider or spider guts all over your shoe.
So far we haven't found any in the house. When I mentioned the spiders in passing to my neighbor she said, "Just wait until the fall!" Oh boy! I can't wait....
Friday, July 30, 2010
Engrish, part 1
Do you like funny misspellings? If you do there are some great websites that chronicle bad translation. Engrish.com is one of them.
We laugh nearly every day at some funny misuse of English. Sometimes you just scratch your head. Here is one great example.
We laugh nearly every day at some funny misuse of English. Sometimes you just scratch your head. Here is one great example.
Isn't that an oxymoron?
Monday, July 26, 2010
The Guinea Pig on a Leash
On a walk this morning we saw the man walking his guinea pig again! The guinea pig is mostly white with some light brown patches and one big black patch that runs around the back of his head. It looks like a helmet. My first impression was that this was a "special" guinea pig.
Kelli asked the owner for the pet's name. "Kuro" he said. As soon as we got home Kelli looked it up on the dictionary. One meaning is "black hat."
Sometimes you see the strangest things in life. Who knew that a guinea pig named Black Hat would be such a source of amusement.
Kelli asked the owner for the pet's name. "Kuro" he said. As soon as we got home Kelli looked it up on the dictionary. One meaning is "black hat."
Sometimes you see the strangest things in life. Who knew that a guinea pig named Black Hat would be such a source of amusement.
Saturday, July 24, 2010
Yukata
This week we didn't have much chance to study Japanese, so we convinced our tutor to have dinner with us and then teach us how to wear our yukata. A yukata is a light robe, a lot like a kimono, but not as heavy. Men and women wear yukatas in the summer time. We had a chance to see many families dressed in their yukatas. The little kids were unbelievably cute.
I don't think any style of dress looks as elegant as a kimono. A kimono is modest yet feminine. It can be a work of art. It can cost as much as a work of art.
A few weeks ago I saw an obi that was $450. I found out that is cheap. A friend of a friend bought an obi for $10,000 dollars! That is the most expensive belt I've ever heard of. And that was just the obi.
Saturday I saw some kimonos and obis in that price range. I've never seen a price tag with 1,000,000,000 on it before. Now I have. On a silk yukata. It was extraordinarily beautiful. But the price was out of this world. Can you imagine spending $10,000 on one item of clothing? And then you still have to buy the rest of the outfit. No thanks.
I'll stick with my $15 cotton yukata that I got off of the clearance rack.
I don't think any style of dress looks as elegant as a kimono. A kimono is modest yet feminine. It can be a work of art. It can cost as much as a work of art.
A few weeks ago I saw an obi that was $450. I found out that is cheap. A friend of a friend bought an obi for $10,000 dollars! That is the most expensive belt I've ever heard of. And that was just the obi.
Saturday I saw some kimonos and obis in that price range. I've never seen a price tag with 1,000,000,000 on it before. Now I have. On a silk yukata. It was extraordinarily beautiful. But the price was out of this world. Can you imagine spending $10,000 on one item of clothing? And then you still have to buy the rest of the outfit. No thanks.
I'll stick with my $15 cotton yukata that I got off of the clearance rack.
Funny story. My belt isn't actually tied. The knot is permanent and it velcros down. I bought the equivalent of a yukata clip-on tie! What a nerd.
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Foreigners (gaijin)
I mentioned being aliens before. I also brought up the Japanese word gaijin (foreigner) and that once gaijin, always gaijin.
Being gaijin is a double edged sword. The downside is that you are like a walking zoo exhibit. Nothing is better for your ego than frightening small children just by walking down the same aisle at the grocer store. Except maybe having kids laugh at you hysterically for no apparent reason.
It's not just kids. Many adults will stare too. You can read the looks on their faces. "Why is that guy here?" "He must be an English teacher." "What the...?" and my personal favorite is the unabashed, full on double take.
The effect increases with the number of gaijin. If you are alone, people tend to glance your way for a few seconds, then go on about their business. If you get four gaijin in the same grocery store people have a much harder time hiding their reactions. It's like an alien invasion (no, the alien puns will never get old for me).
Now I'm the sort of guy who likes to blend in. I'd rather not draw attention to myself nor be the center of attention. Good choice of countries to move to, eh?
So, the blank stares, children hiding behind their mothers' legs, the raucous laughter do have an upside: we're gaijin. We're not expected to get it. Japan is a very polite society. Half--if not more-- of my vocabulary is made up of polite greetings, requests, apologies, ways to dismiss myself, and pre-meal gratefulness. There are phrases for all sorts of contexts and situations and I don't know the half of them. Thankfully I'm not expected to. Being a bearded white guy peoples' social expectations of me are very low.
It's like a get out of alien quarantine free card. Sort of. See, the leeway we're granted is also sort of a dismissal. When people say "He's gaijin," to themselves it's like us saying "Bless his heart." Every day when I stumble through saying "osaki ni shitsurei shimasu (excuse my rudeness for interrupting you by leaving), it's like everyone in the room says to themselves, "He sure butchered that, bless his heart."
It can be a horribly awkward and isolating place to be in society. Being able to laugh at yourself goes a long way. It also helps that so many people are genuinely kind. They help you figure out what you need. They are patient when they ask you a question and all you can do is smile and shrug.
Do me a favor. Next time you meet a foreigner, be the person who makes a good impression. Be the person who comes to mind when they go back home and tell their friends how nice Americans are. Take some time to get to know them, to help them, to learn a few words in their language. If you feel awkward trying, just imagine how it feels for them without you.
Being gaijin is a double edged sword. The downside is that you are like a walking zoo exhibit. Nothing is better for your ego than frightening small children just by walking down the same aisle at the grocer store. Except maybe having kids laugh at you hysterically for no apparent reason.
It's not just kids. Many adults will stare too. You can read the looks on their faces. "Why is that guy here?" "He must be an English teacher." "What the...?" and my personal favorite is the unabashed, full on double take.
The effect increases with the number of gaijin. If you are alone, people tend to glance your way for a few seconds, then go on about their business. If you get four gaijin in the same grocery store people have a much harder time hiding their reactions. It's like an alien invasion (no, the alien puns will never get old for me).
Now I'm the sort of guy who likes to blend in. I'd rather not draw attention to myself nor be the center of attention. Good choice of countries to move to, eh?
So, the blank stares, children hiding behind their mothers' legs, the raucous laughter do have an upside: we're gaijin. We're not expected to get it. Japan is a very polite society. Half--if not more-- of my vocabulary is made up of polite greetings, requests, apologies, ways to dismiss myself, and pre-meal gratefulness. There are phrases for all sorts of contexts and situations and I don't know the half of them. Thankfully I'm not expected to. Being a bearded white guy peoples' social expectations of me are very low.
It's like a get out of alien quarantine free card. Sort of. See, the leeway we're granted is also sort of a dismissal. When people say "He's gaijin," to themselves it's like us saying "Bless his heart." Every day when I stumble through saying "osaki ni shitsurei shimasu (excuse my rudeness for interrupting you by leaving), it's like everyone in the room says to themselves, "He sure butchered that, bless his heart."
It can be a horribly awkward and isolating place to be in society. Being able to laugh at yourself goes a long way. It also helps that so many people are genuinely kind. They help you figure out what you need. They are patient when they ask you a question and all you can do is smile and shrug.
Do me a favor. Next time you meet a foreigner, be the person who makes a good impression. Be the person who comes to mind when they go back home and tell their friends how nice Americans are. Take some time to get to know them, to help them, to learn a few words in their language. If you feel awkward trying, just imagine how it feels for them without you.
Friday, July 16, 2010
Potty Talk
Today it's time for some potty talk. Now before you get the soap to wash my mouth out, I literally mean talking about toilets.
Toilets here are either better than American toilets, or a huge step down, literally.
First the bad news: many older buildings have squat toilets. To make the bad news worse, every school I work in is an old building. Of all the luck.
Now for the good news. Imagine it is January and your house is cool. You need to go to the bathroom. You drop your long underwear, take a deep breath, brace your self for it....and then plunk down on the ice cold toilet seat. Not here, my friends. Here toilet seats are heated. So far every western style toilet I have used has had a thermostat built in. Heated seats are not the only perk.
At a roadside rest stop the toilet seat had a thermostat, a bidet, bidet temperature controls, and an emergency call button in case an elderly person needed help. All the buttons were on a little arm rest that folded up and down. It looked like the control panel for the starship Enterprise. There were other buttons, but they were written in Japanese, so I have no idea what they did. Every button I just listed I was able to figure out from the pictures. Yep, I was able to figure out the bidet from the button. You don't want to go blindly pushing buttons. You might end up with water making a surprise attack from the rear (or on the rear) while a bathroom attendant comes to see if you are okay. It was the first time I've ever been intimidated by a toilet. The worst thing was that in all those buttons I couldn't find the flush. I spent a two good minutes looking at the toilet, at the top and sides of the tank, every button on that TI-83 scientific calculator of a toilet controller. I couldn't find it anywhere! Finally, dejected and defeated I felt I only had two options left. The first option: I could press the emergency help button. I went with option two, which was to leave the stall and head for the exit as fast as I could before anyone else tried to use that stall.
Before you get too jealous of heated toilet seats, let me temper your enthusiasm. Let's just say that if you want to drive a Cadillac, you have to pay for it. At the hardware store, the basic heated toilet seat costs $80 bucks. They run all the way up to $250.
The temptation during this email to add puns and jokes was monumental. I'm sure you thought of a few yourself. Feel free to post them in the comments. If you start posting toilet puns, I'll post all the ones I ommited.
Toilets here are either better than American toilets, or a huge step down, literally.
First the bad news: many older buildings have squat toilets. To make the bad news worse, every school I work in is an old building. Of all the luck.
Now for the good news. Imagine it is January and your house is cool. You need to go to the bathroom. You drop your long underwear, take a deep breath, brace your self for it....and then plunk down on the ice cold toilet seat. Not here, my friends. Here toilet seats are heated. So far every western style toilet I have used has had a thermostat built in. Heated seats are not the only perk.
At a roadside rest stop the toilet seat had a thermostat, a bidet, bidet temperature controls, and an emergency call button in case an elderly person needed help. All the buttons were on a little arm rest that folded up and down. It looked like the control panel for the starship Enterprise. There were other buttons, but they were written in Japanese, so I have no idea what they did. Every button I just listed I was able to figure out from the pictures. Yep, I was able to figure out the bidet from the button. You don't want to go blindly pushing buttons. You might end up with water making a surprise attack from the rear (or on the rear) while a bathroom attendant comes to see if you are okay. It was the first time I've ever been intimidated by a toilet. The worst thing was that in all those buttons I couldn't find the flush. I spent a two good minutes looking at the toilet, at the top and sides of the tank, every button on that TI-83 scientific calculator of a toilet controller. I couldn't find it anywhere! Finally, dejected and defeated I felt I only had two options left. The first option: I could press the emergency help button. I went with option two, which was to leave the stall and head for the exit as fast as I could before anyone else tried to use that stall.
Before you get too jealous of heated toilet seats, let me temper your enthusiasm. Let's just say that if you want to drive a Cadillac, you have to pay for it. At the hardware store, the basic heated toilet seat costs $80 bucks. They run all the way up to $250.
The temptation during this email to add puns and jokes was monumental. I'm sure you thought of a few yourself. Feel free to post them in the comments. If you start posting toilet puns, I'll post all the ones I ommited.
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
The Small Things: Groceries
Life can be stressful. Sometimes the only joys are the ones you look for. Always keep an eye out for the small things.
In Japanese grocery stores there is the equivalent of an American deli, except the food is awesome. Whenever you buy bento (to go food) the cashier asks if you want hashi (chopsticks).
Today I walked to the grocery store after school. We needed bread, eggs, and syrup. I grabbed a four pack of yogurt too. After I checked out I started to bag my groceries, and in my basket was something odd. I reached in and grabbed it. It was a bundle of plastic spoons! I couldn't help but laugh. That wasn't just yogurt, that was yogurt to go. Who is in such a hurry to eat a four pack of yogurt they can't wait to get home?
In Japanese grocery stores there is the equivalent of an American deli, except the food is awesome. Whenever you buy bento (to go food) the cashier asks if you want hashi (chopsticks).
Today I walked to the grocery store after school. We needed bread, eggs, and syrup. I grabbed a four pack of yogurt too. After I checked out I started to bag my groceries, and in my basket was something odd. I reached in and grabbed it. It was a bundle of plastic spoons! I couldn't help but laugh. That wasn't just yogurt, that was yogurt to go. Who is in such a hurry to eat a four pack of yogurt they can't wait to get home?
Monday, July 12, 2010
Cast Iron Pictures
We went back to the festival as promised; unfortunately we forgot to take a camera yet again. Wow. It's a good thing I'm blogging, because we're not doing a good job of chronicling our adventures.
While you won't get to see tons of cast iron, we took pictures of what we bought. Kelli and I both are looking forward to passing our cast iron pans on to our kids. What an inheritance, huh? Some parents give money, some parents give old rustic cookware. At least we don't have to worry about our kids trying to knock us off just so they can make out like bandits.
While you won't get to see tons of cast iron, we took pictures of what we bought. Kelli and I both are looking forward to passing our cast iron pans on to our kids. What an inheritance, huh? Some parents give money, some parents give old rustic cookware. At least we don't have to worry about our kids trying to knock us off just so they can make out like bandits.
The pot on the right is a more traditional style. The one on the right left was less traditional, but we liked it. The pot on the right was made by Oigen. You can find their stuff online. They make the Nakedpan. It is worth checking out the link. It has some video of the foundry, which is in our hometown!
The little guy is going to be a Christmas ornament.
And that is our hotpad. Seeing some of the craftsmanship inspired the same kind of awe as the nebuta.
Now I'll just have to wait for the sword-makers festival so I can buy a katana. Oh wait, there isn't a sword-makers festival. Dang. Maybe I'll just have to buy a gensu knife and cut cans in half.
Saturday, July 10, 2010
Cast Iron
Our town is made up of five wards. One of them is known for it's beef. One is known for it's cast iron. Today and tomorrow is the annual cast iron festival. The local casters get together and sell their stuff at a discount. As usual, we forgot to take a camera. We plan to go back tomorrow and take some pictures.
The range of cast iron products was impressive. At the low end of the scale were bells and paper weights for about two or three dollars. At the other end of the spectrum were kettles and hibachi for $2,000. There were well over a hundred kettles that cost over one hundred dollars. Fortunately there were also some very nice kettles and pans for around 30 to 60 dollars. We couldn't decide, so when we go back tomorrow we'll pick a kettle.
Seeing all of the cast iron was a little bit like seeing the nebuta floats. The artistry is very impressive. If you google "Iwate cast iron" you will see some of the things we saw today.
This sort of thing is what traveling is all about. Seeing culture through art and industry is humbling. The hibachi I saw today were almost identical to the ones in the ancient samurai houses that we visited, made with the same techniques. Maybe the lady I met today who invented a clever double pan with removable handles is the great granddaughter of the artisan who made the kettle hanging over the fireplace in the old samurai house. People get old and die. But we can pass on knowledge and beliefs and stories for as long as there are people willing to learn. That's pretty cool.
I'm glad I know women teaching young women how to sew. I'm glad I had to study old dusty books that have been read for thousands of years. Next time you see a survey crew working on the highway, remember that engineers were designing roads before English ever came into being.
It's pretty neat.
Are you bored? Maybe next time I won't be all philosophical. I'll just post pretty pictures.
The range of cast iron products was impressive. At the low end of the scale were bells and paper weights for about two or three dollars. At the other end of the spectrum were kettles and hibachi for $2,000. There were well over a hundred kettles that cost over one hundred dollars. Fortunately there were also some very nice kettles and pans for around 30 to 60 dollars. We couldn't decide, so when we go back tomorrow we'll pick a kettle.
Seeing all of the cast iron was a little bit like seeing the nebuta floats. The artistry is very impressive. If you google "Iwate cast iron" you will see some of the things we saw today.
This sort of thing is what traveling is all about. Seeing culture through art and industry is humbling. The hibachi I saw today were almost identical to the ones in the ancient samurai houses that we visited, made with the same techniques. Maybe the lady I met today who invented a clever double pan with removable handles is the great granddaughter of the artisan who made the kettle hanging over the fireplace in the old samurai house. People get old and die. But we can pass on knowledge and beliefs and stories for as long as there are people willing to learn. That's pretty cool.
I'm glad I know women teaching young women how to sew. I'm glad I had to study old dusty books that have been read for thousands of years. Next time you see a survey crew working on the highway, remember that engineers were designing roads before English ever came into being.
It's pretty neat.
Are you bored? Maybe next time I won't be all philosophical. I'll just post pretty pictures.
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Mold
If mold had a motto it would be "Mold: It's everywhere." I've never lived in a humid climate before. I can already tell I prefer dry climates.
June and early July are uki or rainy season. Unfortunately the humidity won't fade with the rain clouds. It will just get hotter and more humid.
The problem with humidity is that skin becomes adhesive. I feel like a walking Post-It note. I'm just sticky enough to be noticeable. Carrying a small towel in your pocket is common for two reasons. First to dry your hands in the bathroom. Second, you need the towel to mop sweat off your face. People carry fans too. The first time I saw a man unfold his fan I was surprised. Then I saw fifteen year old boys with Hello Kitty fans and Winnie the Pooh fans. I thought those were the tough kids.
But I'm digressing from mold. It is so humid that the shower never dries out, even with the windows open. What do you find growing every week? "Mold: Nature's chia pet." What happens when you don't keep dehumidifiers in your closet? "Musty mold smell. Not nearly as nice as Chanel #5." What happens to leather shoes left in a cupboard for a month? Mold. "Mold: it gets old." The drain in the sink lifts out so you can clean the strainer. I was returning the strainer to the sink when I noticed how much gunk had gotten through the strainer. I stuck a finger in.
Some people, it should be noted, gag at the drop of a hat. The slightest hint of a poop story or a barf anecdote, and they are already in the bathroom hovering head down over the sink. While I find these people entertaining to torture, I am not one of them.
Meanwhile back at the sink, I stuck my finger into the goop. It was mostly mold. Bleh. I almost gagged.
Last week we had a slug in our shower. We're not how he got there. We poured a little bleach into all of the water fixtures just to help ward off slugs and mold.
I'm not sure where we will find mold growing next, but I am sure of one thing. "Bleach is a man's best friend."
June and early July are uki or rainy season. Unfortunately the humidity won't fade with the rain clouds. It will just get hotter and more humid.
The problem with humidity is that skin becomes adhesive. I feel like a walking Post-It note. I'm just sticky enough to be noticeable. Carrying a small towel in your pocket is common for two reasons. First to dry your hands in the bathroom. Second, you need the towel to mop sweat off your face. People carry fans too. The first time I saw a man unfold his fan I was surprised. Then I saw fifteen year old boys with Hello Kitty fans and Winnie the Pooh fans. I thought those were the tough kids.
But I'm digressing from mold. It is so humid that the shower never dries out, even with the windows open. What do you find growing every week? "Mold: Nature's chia pet." What happens when you don't keep dehumidifiers in your closet? "Musty mold smell. Not nearly as nice as Chanel #5." What happens to leather shoes left in a cupboard for a month? Mold. "Mold: it gets old." The drain in the sink lifts out so you can clean the strainer. I was returning the strainer to the sink when I noticed how much gunk had gotten through the strainer. I stuck a finger in.
Some people, it should be noted, gag at the drop of a hat. The slightest hint of a poop story or a barf anecdote, and they are already in the bathroom hovering head down over the sink. While I find these people entertaining to torture, I am not one of them.
Meanwhile back at the sink, I stuck my finger into the goop. It was mostly mold. Bleh. I almost gagged.
Last week we had a slug in our shower. We're not how he got there. We poured a little bleach into all of the water fixtures just to help ward off slugs and mold.
I'm not sure where we will find mold growing next, but I am sure of one thing. "Bleach is a man's best friend."
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