Okayama, Okayama

Really, I'm almost ready to put up a flurry of posts - just a few more details to sort through. In the meantime, enjoy a coffee; really, it's on me:

Disclaimer: the consumption of "American Coffee" will not guarantee that a bitchin' hot-rod will appear in a flurry of patriotastic stars. "American Coffee" will not make you blond and popular. "American Coffee" is not armed, but may in fact know where to get a gun if needed. "American Coffee" may cause drastically lowered test scores throughout K-12 education, though post-secondary education scores are top notch: this should not be attributed to socio-economic discrimination that largely matches itself with ethnic demography. "American Coffee" is a rich latté colored drink, symbolizing America's great history of diversity. If you have purchased an "American Coffee" between 1493 and 2008, please note that, due to processing irregularities, there may in fact be a greater concentration of milk in the product. Do not let this hamper your enjoyment of this delicious coffee drink. Finally, "American Coffee" may leave a syrupy, saccharine taste in your mouth. Do not be alarmed; this is the flavor of Good Old Fashioned American Coffee spirit. (Warning: Good Old Fashioned American Spirit may contain nuts).

And thus, with time moving forward on its interminable course, we are presently brought to... the present! One year and five months have passed since my last posting - a period which I wish I could say was filled with gallant tales of derring-do but, alas, existed more as a medium of simple existence. Never-the-less, I scheme to jot down a few notes about that to which I have been up. Please be patient, my non-existent audience, as I attempt to bring you up to measure with what I have been doing in one year and five months, before I write about current happenings.

Yes, it has been a long time since I've last written - but I have excuses! First off, apparently being surrounded by people who don't speak your language very well tends to destroy your own skills with the tongue.

"But wait!", you say, "Aren't you an English teacher? Shouldn't the people around you speak marvelously due to your sublime skill as an instructor?" Well, while I do thank you for the compliment, this retort brings us to reason number two for my slacker ways:

CRISIS!

Continue reading "Down and Out in Okayama-shi" »

Late at night, we often get a few oddballs at work. Sure, a lot of high school kids come in to pack in extra lessons before big tests, but for the most part you wonder "why would these people want to learn English at 9 o'clock at night?" On the other hand, we often have people who come in early in the day and stay for hours at a time. There's a trio of women who come into the Voice Room every day at 1:20pm and stay until 5:40pm. That's four hours and twenty minutes of hanging around speaking English. Don't they have better things to do? Unfortunately, the answer may be no.

Continue reading "The Tears of Japan" »

Back in Wisconsin. About a year ago. True story.

I was working in a bookstore - basement duty. A tremendous old bastard with a shag of beard and scraggly gray/black hair wanders in. Jean shorts. Black t-shirt. Little whitish stains sneaking out of his armpits. He wanders for a while then drops a stack of Jack Kerouac on the counter.

"His poems are shit."

"Eh?"

"Kerouac. It's all crap."

"Oh, so you don't want..."

He tosses his credit card on top of the stack. Allen Ginsberg. This guy's name is Allen Fucking Ginsberg. A ghost? Who knows? Why would Allen Ginsberg's ghost decide to haunt the University Bookstore in Madison, Wisconsin? Why would he trash Kerouac? It really did look a lot like Allen Ginsberg, though.

So a typhoon's rolling through town today. Typhoons are much like hurricanes. In fact, they're exactly like them. The only difference is that any "tropical depression" forming west of the International Dateline is by default a Typhoon - east and it becomes a hurricane. Then there's the niggling problem of Australian, where they are sometimes called cyclones (not to be confused with tornadoes in the American midwest).

Anyways, we're being hit by crazy winds and rain. I foolishly thought I could open my umbrella outside, only to see it explode in my face, metal spokes everywhere. Luckily, once I actually arrived at work, I was quite sheltered for the evening. That is until I had to go home.

Continue reading "Typhooned!" »

I had a lesson with a college student the other day that went something like this:

"So, does anyone have any news today?"

"Oh, one question, Bryan."

"Yes?"

"Do you take the train to Kitanagase?"

"Eh, yeah, why?"

Continue reading "Stalking" »

It's hard to sleep. I have no A/C. I'll let the weather forecast speak for itself:

Let me tell you a little bit about the Bike Man. The Bike Man is, perhaps, the coolest man in all of Japan.

First, a little background. You see, before coming to Japan, I had never owned a bike. Never. Strange, eh? What "red-blooded American boy" doesn't cruise around town as a child, transfiguring into a two-wheeled monster? Me. Never owned one. Was never taught to ride one. There, it's all in the open, now. Embarassing? Sure, but it's the truth.

Continue reading "The Bike Man" »

What turn of events can leave me sitting alone in a crappy burger joint, close to dropping tears on my french fries?

Right before my break today, one of my managers walked in with an unusual look of concern on his face. Not to say that this man is incapable of emotions, but earlier that day he took someone aside to discuss the "serious situation" of a hole in his sock. With an abrupt choice of words, he announced that Katsu, one of our students had died. The family didn't specify how, but it's likely it was suicide.

Continue reading "My Life's Soundtrack is Spiteful" »

One of the best parts of my job is the ability to sometimes work with children. Now, when I usually say that, most people squint their eyes, curl their lips and quietly wonder what the hell is wrong with me. Really, though, I love teaching kids. They're not as reserved as the adults I teach, and won't be afraid to answer questions (except some of the shyer ones in groups). Plus, they're too damn cute.

There's a wide variety of ability with the kids, though, too. One of my first kids was insanely advanced for an 11 year-old. She fits the stereotype of a polite Japanese school-kid. She sits down quietly for every class and is able to blow through the prepared material in just a few minutes. When I tell her how smart she is for picking everything up so quickly she smiles and modestly looks down at the table.

Soon after she finishes the bulk of the lesson, I usually move her sessions into a free hour of word games and random identifications. One day, for kicks, I brought in an illustrated nature guide and asked her to name as many animals as she could. She started off simply, "This is a duck. This is a pig. This is a cow." Quickly, however, she moved on to much more advanced material: "This is a moose. This is an anteater. This is a mongoose. This is a gibbon. This is an ocelot." Mongoose? Gibbon? Ocelot? What freaking 11 year-oldAmerican child could tell you what a mongoose, gibbon, or an ocelot are? And this is her second freaking language!

Continue reading "Little Miss Mio" »

I've posted a lot of photos of my area here in Japan, but that doesn't really give a good feel of the city. For a change of pace, here are some of the familiar sounds I hear around Okayama and Kurashiki every day.

Kurashiki Station is infested with street musicians. This wouldn't be a problem if they had a little bit of talent. It seems singing off-key is a past-time in Japan. Go listen to some J-pop. Notice anything funny? Nobody here can freaking sing. No wonder karaoke thrives here - no one's embarassed by it.

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Do you hear what I mean? Yikes.

Continue reading "Sound and Vision" »

A selection of quotes from my recent classes:

Whilst discussing school reunions and how people change: "Bryan, show everyone your drivers' liscense. He's changed a lot. He used to be cool. And pretty... like a girl." After showing the photo: "Oh, wow, you WERE pretty like a girl." Yes, Japanese women are cruel and blunt. Especially the middle-aged house wives.

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Discussing festivals: "Oh, my daughter went to Mardi Gras. At Mardi Gras popular girls get beads. My daughter came back with many beads."
"Really? Your daughter must be very... popular."
"Yes, she is most popular."

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Encouraging my students to talk about themselves: "Oh, I think I have very nice," she pauses to cup her breasts, "shirt. Yes, very nice shirt. I like blue best." (How does cupping your boobs indicate "shirt"?)

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After asking my students what they did last night: "Dinner. I ate out my wife and daughter."
"Do you mean you ate out with your wife and daughter?" I really, really hope that he did.

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Continue reading "Snippets" »

One of the benefits to my teaching job is that I have a wide range of students. I can be teaching a 10 year old girl about the different animals of Africa for forty-minutes, then follow it up with a discussion on GM foods with a retired engineer just a few minutes later. I get businessmen, house wives, young children, high school students, college students, retired folks - everyone. But, alack, everyone means everyone. Exhibit A: Japan's very own Mrs. Pugnacious.

I first met Mrs. P in one of my first few high-level lessons. She's a "zone G", basically equipped with a highly conversational to near fluent level of English. At the start of every class, I'll usually ask, "Hello! How are you today?" Now in most of the English speaking world, we understand the cultural nuance behind this question: the asker really doesn't give a shit. The standard response is, "I'm OK, how about you?" Break up with your girlfriend? "Oh, I'm fine." Parents killed in a fiery car wreck? "Not bad." Necrotoxin eating away at your flesh? "Eh, same ol'."

Japan does not understand this concept. So when I asked Mrs. Pugnacious how she was, she replied, "AWFUL! Today is so shitty! All my kids are bastards!" She's actually a school teacher, so when referring to "my kids", I believe she meant her students (though she would later reveal to me her deep loathing for her husband and children). After being surrounded by many Japanese house wives that fulfill the stereotype of meekness and manners, it was refreshing to hear an actual opinion. Thusly did Mrs. Pugnacious earn her nickname. It was actually kind of enjoyable at first, too. It's quite entertaining to see a pair of slightly misogynist salarymen recoil in fear from an outspoken woman who barely tops 5'4" and 120 lbs.

Continue reading "Mrs. Pugnacious Likes Fisting" »

The sewer cap is truly an overlooked canvas in most urban centers. Sure, a few boroughs in New York City sport intricate art deco designs, but by-and-large, manhole covers are boring in the United States. Most cities across America simply have utilitarian discs of iron covering their subterranean stink-tunnels. Japan, however, has embraced the sewer cap as a way for cities to assert an individual presence, right down to the streets. Most Japanese cities have a few different designs that become familiar icons to the pedestrians who walk on them every day. Herein I present a selection of a few of my local favorites.

Kurashiki has a series of smaller sized caps which celebrate the local fire department.

Continue reading "Sewer Art" »