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.

Awkward Moments, Part 2

Maybe you noticed Awkward Moments Part 2 was missing.  I never published it.  Well sit back and get ready to laugh at my misfortune and numbskullery.

In Japan, convenience stores really are just convenience stores.  In America they usually are associated with gas stations.  Not here.  They are distinct things.  Here you don't even get out of your car to get gas.  You tell them how many liters you want and while they pump it, they hand you a damp washcloth to wipe down your dash.

Convenience stores really are convenient.  Here utility bills have a little bar code on them.  You can take them to the nearest convenience store and pay them there.  It rocks.  No stamps. No envelopes.  Just show up with cash, the bill, and grab some Doritos, and you are on your way.

Most men don't wear shorts, but Kelli and I go running in shorts.  One day we decided to run to the nearest convenience store to pay a a couple of bills.  I counted out the cash.  I needed some coins so I went in the other room and grabbed them.  I dropped the coins in the envelop with the bills, and away we went.

One more piece of context before I go further: Japanese clerks and waiters are very polite as a rule.  They are always helpful and usually apologize for your mistakes for you.  Here, the costomer is always right.  Okay, back to the story.

We got to the store (Sunkus, pronounced "sanks" which is their approximate pronunciation of "thanks") and I pulled out the bills.  I'm sure we stuck out.  Not only are we white, but we were sweaty and wearing running clothes.  I handed the clerk the bills and he scanned the first one.  I looked in the envelope and I realized I had left the cash on the table when I went to get the coins!  I gestured to the clerk to stop and I apologized (I'm sorry, gomennasai) and asked him to cancel the transaction.  He just stared at me.  He never said a word.

We ran home, grabbed the cash, and ran back.  This time he scanned both bills and when I saw the total I realized I had forgotten to carry the one when I had added the bills!  I apologized again and asked him to cancel one bill.  Again, Mr. Stony-face did as I asked.  We ran home again, got the cash, and then did what any man would do.  We went to a different convenience store.

The lady at Family Mart was much more sympathetic.

Awkward moments are just part of travel.

Awkward Moments, Part 3

As you probably know, Kelli and I are here teaching English.  We always introduce ourselves to new classes and tell them a little bit about where we are from.  In elementary schools the students are just beginning to learn English--other than the words they have picked up in life.  Their teachers have studied English in school, but that doesn't mean they speak or understand very well either.

I explained to every class that in Colorado this year the snow (yuki) was waste deep.  They were very impressed.  I told them that many people ski.  For whatever reason, in one class I said that "we ski."  I believe it was a fifth grade class.  A boy in the back yells "Whiskey!"

Oh, no.  Not good.  It was my first week on the job and I was already wondering how much plane tickets home would be.

I tried to explain.  Most kids know the word "ski" so I motioned skiing, saying "We" pointing to myself "ski."

"Whiskey!" I hear in reply, now a chorus.  Everyone was laughing.  I snuck a peak at the teacher, wondering if he was already on the way to the teachers' room to tell the principal an alcoholic American was teaching the fifth graders about booze.  He was chuckling.

I should've dropped it but instead, I drew  a bottle on the chalkboard and said "Whiskey."  Then I drew two stick figures skiing and said, "WEEEEE........SKI."

They got the point well enough, but the chuckles continued for a while.

Sometimes, out of the blue, the language barrier will catch you.  Sometimes it doesn't so much catch you with your pants down as it does give you a pantsing, then point and laugh.

So that's the story of how I ended up drawing a whiskey bottle on the blackboard in an elementary school.

Awkward Moments, Part 1

If you are ever bold enough or stupid enough to move to a foreign country be prepared for awkward moments.  They will happen.  They'll happen frequently.  Here is one such story.

A little background first.  I doubt any place on earth is much more culturally different from the US than Japan.  For instance, here it is polite to honk at someone.  A quick honk is like saying "please," or "thank you."  On top of that, people are polite drivers!  They always try to let you in, sometimes an oncoming car will flash its lights and slow down so you can make that right turn.

Last night I was driving home and the driver in front of me had left her trunk open.  I politely honked.  My horn said, "Please look in your rear view mirror and see the trunk bouncing around."  Or maybe it just said, "beep."  At the next stop light I gave to quick honks. No reaction.  I opened my door to jump out and....do what?  It would've been a huge breach of etiquette to touch her car, so I couldn't just shut it for her.  I couldn't run up to her window and tell her.  So far my Japanese doesn't cover words like "open" or "trunk" or "Don't call the cops, I'm not a mugger."  I'd have to jump out into the turn lane and Japanese roads are pretty narrow and this was a busy street.

So there I was.  I knew I had her attention.  My door was open.  One foot was out the door.  And then I did what any sane person would do.  I rationalized.  "It'll be fine," I thought, "She'll notice soon.  We're going so slow anyway it'll be alright."  I closed my door and waited for the light, figuring I'd just leave extra room between our cars just in case something fell out her trunk, like some trash or a dead body.

Less than half a block later, it started pouring rain.

I followed that car for ten miles.  She never did notice her trunk was bouncing around like a toddler on a sugar high.

I've resigned myself to these sorts of things.  What constitutes polite behavior and conversation in Japan is very different from back home.  Here's a little travel tip.  The first two phrases you should learn in any language are "Excuse me" and "I'm sorry."  In Japanese you say "Sumimasen," and "Gomennasai." So wherever you are, lady in the white Toyota with a wet spare tire, gomennasai.