Boys will be boys

Last year in Elementary School, the 6^th grade class held a play.  It was an old Japanese Story about a boy called Momotaro, who was found inside a giant peach no less!  In a nutshell, Peachboy goes on a quest of sorts with his friends (a bird, a dog and a monkey) to an island, and together they defeat both the Red Demon and Blue Demon who live there.   After a while, they reconcile their differences and all become firm friends.  Together they traipse back to Momotaros’ village and live happily ever after. 

The students each had a part and wore masks to denote the character they represented.  The dialogue the teacher had written for them was very simple and highly repetitive, so we heard Momotaro and his friends declaring throughout at regular intervals how ‘brave and strong’ they were.  A rowdy and excitable audience was also needed, so the 1^st and 2^nd graders had been recruited to ‘pack the house’.  I watched with delight from the back, in anticipation of what was about to unfold. 

The boys I have to say really captured the moment with their efforts.  Their exaggerated gestures and comical facial expressions were an instant hit with the crowd.  The girls on the other hand timidly recited their lines with very little conviction and even less enthusiasm.  The boys paraded around the stage while the girls made like statues, their entire bodies seemingly cast in iron.  If their mouths weren’t moving, no doubt they would’ve been mistaken for ill-placed props.    

The two boys playing the roles of the surly demons could not have been more different from each other in terms of personality.  While both performed exceptionally well, the ‘Blue Demon’ reminded me of ‘Kermit the Frog’ (I know weird right?), while the ‘Red Demon’ played a very convincing, ‘Animal’.  Like Kermit, the Blue Demon was a consummate professional, accustomed to the bright lights and adulation of his fans, he gave them what they paid to see.  When the ‘Blue Demon’ entered the stage he beat his chest, let out a howl, and ran around the stage, raising his arms in the air, eliciting gasps and shrieks from the 1^st graders seated in the front row. 

The ‘Red Demon’ however, growled like a Yeti, as he entered the stage, toting a ‘gun’ in each hand, then hoisting what appeared to be an imaginary rocket launcher onto his shoulder and setting it off in the direction of Momotaro and his friends.  He had pre-empted the upcoming fighting scene.  Whoops. 

The 1^st graders who had been spooked by the Blue Demon suddenly laughed with delight as they pointed at the antics of the Red Demon.  Having captivated the audience, he took his act on the road, pretending that he had been caught in the line of fire (from where? Nobody knows).  Momotaro and his friends were momentarily stunned and confused by the Red Demon’s antics (as too was the Blue Demon), so they couldn’t have been responsible for mortally wounding him.  A sniper perhaps?  The Red Demon clutched at his chest (the guns and rocket launcher miraculously disappearing) and slowly sunk down on to the floor, where he lay for some moments, eyes closed, face wrenched in pain before succumbing to his wounds.  What a performance! 

There was a shocked silence amongst the audience.  But before any of them could start crying at the sudden twist of events, the Red Demon rose from the dead before our very eyes and the scene was ‘reshot’ to include the rest of the cast.  The teacher smiled stiffly.  It was obvious that he and the Red Demon would end their professional relationship after the tour, citing ‘creative differences’.    

I thought it was hilarious. 

Note to self:  Remember this kids’ name for future reference, just in case he makes it big in Hollywood.   

It all started with a paper mask of a gorilla.  Did I forget to mention that? He had drawn a face of an ORANGE gorilla as his mask, to play the part of the ‘RED Demon’.  Why? There are no footnotes about this and you won’t find anything in the appendices either.  It remains a mystery that is unlikely to be uncovered, because it’s really not that important.   

So my last day at Junior High School was yesterday.  The 6^th grade Elementary School students of last year that I just spoke of are now the 1^st grade Junior High School students of this year. 

After class, I bid them all good bye although most of them hung around the teachers’ desk for a bit, which I was deeply touched by.  Some of the students wished me well while the rest simply stared across the desk at me.  Weird.  The ‘Red Demon’ was closest to me but said nothing.  He looked at me for a few minutes and I smiled at him, wondering whether he was about say something, when he nodded at me, several times.  I nodded back and took that as his way of saying good-bye.  Again, weird. 

One of the girls then asked for my address and I turned to write it down for her.  Slowly, the students began to file out of the classroom, on their way to their next lesson.  I looked up to say good-bye when I noticed that the ‘Red Demon’ was still standing in the same spot, staring at me.  He had been patiently waiting for some of the students to leave.  I looked at him and then said ‘Ganbatte kudasai’.  He responded immediately by saying the same thing back to me, only way, WAY better.  I then said to him, ‘Nujirando e kita kudasai’ – Please come to New Zealand. 

He said nothing.  Okay, maybe I mispronounced a few words?  He just looked at me with big bright eyes and mouth gaping, as if what I’d just said to him, defied all logic.  Maybe I really messed up the phrase?  I turned to the teacher who had been listening in, and nervously asked her whether I had said the phrase correctly.  She nodded and quietly said that ‘it was fine, he’s just overwhelmed by your invitation’.  Oh. 

I had visions of a small Japanese school boy stowing away on a cargo ship bound for New Zealand, carrying nothing but his school bag (containing his mother’s cell phone, a few comic books, a bio-security hazard in the form of a seriously overripe Nashi and of course his English textbook) in one hand and a tennis racquet in the other. 

So long as the Rocket Launcher stays home, it should be fine.  And we’ll call his parents too.   

I don’t know if I’ll ever see these kids again.  It’s unlikely.  But I sincerely hope that some of these students, if not all, take up the challenge to persevere with English and use the knowledge they gain to travel the world, experience new cultures, and meet a diverse range of people.  Of course you don’t need to be able to speak English for that, but it’s a good start.  I know that these children will never forget where they’ve come from or who they are.  It’s firmly ingrained in them, and that is most certainly a good thing.  But I hope that they will be open to all the new and exciting experiences this strange world has to offer them in the future.  All the very best!   

And the Oscar goes to ...

I’d like to thank the Academy for this prestigious award.  I’d also like to acknowledge my fellow nominees.  Such talented and gifted actresses.  To the cast and crew who worked tirelessly on this project.  The (insert superlative) Director, (insert name) for your vision and for taking a chance on me.  Thank you to (insert actor’s name) for your patience, wisdom and good humour.  I love you. 

To the most wonderful husband a gal could ever hope to have. (insert beloved’s name), you're my rock, my best friend, my soul mate! (Camera zooms up to spouse's tear streaked face). I love you so much, and our perfect little kids (insert ridiculous names here).  Mommy loves you very much.   Drone on for another two or ten minutes.  Cue music, wrap it up, lower mic into the stage floor, close curtains, go to commercial… NOW. 

Hopefully I’ll sound a lot more heartfelt than that!

My sister in-law told me that I would not be the same after this experience.  All I hoped for was that if I was going to change it would be for the better.  It takes a lot to immerse oneself into another culture.  But it happens all the time.  People come and go all over this world, constantly moving, experiencing new things, meeting new people, and learning more about themselves in the process.  On the surface I didn’t do anything new or spectacular.  I’ll go home and people will soon tire of my stories about Japan, and expect me to buckle down and ‘get on with it’.  But I know for myself, this experience has been a ‘game changer’.  I don’t want to go back and do the same old same old.  Things that were important to me then are not so much now, and Japan has largely been responsible for this perspective.  And for that I am truly grateful.  Some of the things I valued really made no sense at all.  What a boring life it would be if I didn’t step outside the box once in a while.  And if you’re gonna venture beyond the boundaries of the box, what better place to experience fresh new things than Japan.  You can’t get more different than this place.  Except for maybe most of Africa, all of the Middle East, and the former Soviet Union.

I won’t forget the kind gestures of people whose culture and language were completely alien to me.  If only they had been entertaining an angel, they’d definitely be rewarded for their generosity and hospitality. 

In school, the Vice Principal is referred to as ‘Kyoto Sensei’.  I don’t know his real name, and neither does anyone else it seems.  He is simply known by his title.  There are two individuals whom I’ve met here who hold this position.  They are living testaments to what it means to lead quietly but always by example.  I wouldn’t say that I’m chummy close to either of them, but I have admired them both from afar, and often thought if I could just be a little like them, in terms of work ethic and solid values, maybe there’s hope for me yet. 

Kyoto Sensei from Elementary School has always been kind to me.  Even though he speaks very little English he tries very hard to include me in all things.  I’ve had the freedom to ask him questions about all sorts of issues affecting Japan, from the Tsunami to American Military Bases deconstructing the countryside to the disputes over territory with China.  I’ve appreciated his candor and his honesty.  He works extremely hard, jumping to every call, whether it comes from a teacher or a student.  No task is beneath him.  He’s one of the most reliable people I’ve ever met.  It was him that told me that the most important words in Japanese are ‘Yoroshiku Onegaishemasu’.  Respect is paramount.  He is deeply devoted to his Buddhist faith, is extremely proud of his culture, committed to his family and dedicated to his work.  He told me once when he asked after my health that as long as his family are well, his colleagues and the children they teach are well, life is good and he is happy.  Wow, such a lovely, humble man. 

The other Kyoto Sensei is from Junior High School.  He too works extremely hard.  He is also very clever and articulate.  I admire him because he is consistent.  People who are constant have my respect.  There’s nothing worse than working with someone who’s ‘all over the show’.  Regardless of the situation, his composure remains the same.  So secure.  He is a man who has the kind of professional integrity you wish you could lay claim to yourself.  Cool as a cucumber this customer.  He has a way of maintaining a professional, collegial distance without having to assert any power.  He is the Vice Principal after all, and deserves a certain level of respect, which he easily receives from staff because he is a good person, not because he is the 2IC.  I’ve enjoyed my chats with him.  You can tell when someone’s ‘clocked out’ of a conversation.  You look into their eyes and there’s just no one home.  I’m happy to say that while my conversations are not the wittiest or even the most enlightening, he definitely tunes in. It’s all about connections isn’t it?  Wonderful individual. 

The one thing I admire about all the teachers I’ve worked with is how much they care about their students.  They put in long ‘over and above the call of duty’ hours I feel.  They are at school long before I get there in the mornings, and long after I’ve left for the day.   And school vacations here apply to students only!  The teachers are back there, Monday morning, working till Friday for the next few weeks or so until the kids get back from their break.  It’s amazing.  And there are no complaints.  It’s just the way it is here.  I hear the teachers come in after class, and talk about this child, or this student.  When their voices are lowered, they are concerned about something particular to that student or students.  When they’re animated and smiling, they’re celebrating something about that particular student or students.  Everything these kids do is significant in the eyes of their teachers.  Students know that their concerns or issues will be taken seriously.  Students approach teachers with the confidence of knowing that their queries will be attended to.  It’s strange at times to watch.  These teachers are their educators, their coaches, and their counsellors.  I even see a degree of parenting on a daily basis when I go to school.  One time a student who practices kendo came hobbling into the staff room.  All the teachers immediately rose from their chairs to investigate.  He’d done something to his toe, and the Maths Teacher (yes the Maths Teacher) sat on the floor with him, lifted his foot up to the light to examine it and then proceeded to apply a band aid to his wounded toe.  I mean the boy was 14 and the teacher’s expertise presumably lies in the field of Mathematics not Medicine.  Does that sound perhaps a bit over the top to you?  I have a hard enough time touching my own feet, let alone someone else’s. 

Children are definitely valued here, which is how it should be. 

My first summer here was blighted by a powerful typhoon that had hit the lower part of Japan.  While the prefecture I lived in received a battering, it was the prefecture below us that truly suffered.  Several people had lost their lives due to landslips and rising waters, and several areas were significantly damaged.  As is Japan’s way, this particular prefecture received nationwide support and assistance.  So much so that many people volunteered to go down there to help with the clean up.  The teachers in my prefecture were due for a salary increase.  Instead, they had agreed that a percentage of that guaranteed pay rise be sent to the affected prefecture instead.  I don’t know the exact figure, but considering this was a slice off every single teacher’s earnings across the entire prefecture, it must have been quite a sum.  I don’t know if other prefectures had done the same but I wouldn’t be surprised if they did.  Where else in the world would something like this happen? How do you get so many people to agree to such a deal? It’s simply amazing to me.  You can’t get more sacrificial than playing with someone’s money.  (Movie reference: Friday – Big Worm: ‘Playing with my money is like playing with my emotions’).  I don’t know why I thought of that.   

I remember discussing with a good friend, how great the customer service is in Japan.  I know that when I leave I’ll miss it.  I was at McDonald’s one night, and I ordered my usual hamburger, fries and milk shake.  While waiting for my order, I looked out the window to see a car just to the right of the drive thru.  The occupants of the car too were waiting for their order.  A few moments later, a female staff member exited the door, carrying a tray with two big bags of food on it.  She handed it over to the driver of the vehicle, stepped back and began bowing to the man.  He drove off, and she bowed once more, and stood there until the car had rounded the corner.  I just thought wow.  I know that bowing is part of the Japanese culture, but when you see it being practiced somewhere as commonplace as McDonald’s (no disrespect to the Golden Arches, I do love you) you are reminded of how good you’ve got it here…until you leave of course. 

This particular entry has been quite muddled but as I’m writing, memories keep popping in my head which I feel compelled to jot down.  Hopefully you get the gist of what I’m trying to say.  #LoveyouJapan #Ta  

The first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem.

Today the students in first grade at Junior High School were learning their ‘negatives’.  At the beginning of the term they were each issued with the dreaded ‘drill book’ containing numerous sentences that either have chunks missing from them that they have to fill in, or sentences that are jumbled that they have to put into the correct order. 

Today, the page that the students were reading was a series of jumbled up sentences. 

Each student was required to read aloud one sentence.  Students took several minutes to work out the correct order and confidently voice their answers.  Various voices were heard one by one offering up responses such as 'I don't play tennis' or 'They don't study Maths' etc.  This was seemingly going well and the teacher looked pleased with the students’ progress.  That is until the final sentence on the page.  The boy whose turn it was, obviously had not been paying attention the entire time, as he looked up and asked the teacher in Japanese, ‘What number?’.  The teacher responded in English with ‘14’.  He looked down at his book then raised his head to ask, again in Japanese, ‘What page?’.  The teacher patiently answered him again in English with ‘43’.  He flipped through a few pages until he got to page 43 and once again looked up, with no trace of embarrassment whatsoever, to inquire after the question number again.  This time half of the class screamed out, ’14!’.  Concentrating hard, he looked down at the jumbled sentence, worked out the correct order then very quietly uttered, ‘I don’t speak English.’. 

I burst out laughing.  You don’t say.  Hardly a confidence boosting sentence to unjumble in English class now is it?  Who writes this stuff? 

As the sun slowly sets on my time here...

The past few weeks have been rather strange for me emotionally.  I’m not looking forward to the prospect of leaving Japan.   Lately, I’ve found myself almost melancholic when visiting the supermarket, filling up gas, going to school or seeing the local kids playing outside.  Even the damn advertisements that come on before the Youtube clips (except for that annoying fabric softener one with the fluffy towels!) have reminded me that in a months’ time I won’t see any of this stuff anymore.  This will no longer be my reality.  Instead, I’ll go back to where I came from.   Back to the place that supposedly makes more sense to me.    It’s the place where I should feel the most secure about myself.   It’s the place that I should be sprinting back to, surely?  I’ll be able to comprehend every written word with ease.  I’ll pick up on every nuance and subtle message underlying every conversation I hear or engage in without breaking a sweat.  I’ll be able to speak English again at my crazy, hyperventilating pace about things that wouldn’t shatter a thin sheet of glass much less the earth.  I’ll be able to watch any movie I want, without having to check first whether it’s been ‘subbed’.  I’ll be able to go to McDonalds, order a combo, and change it several times knowing that the cashier is easily able to keep pace with me.  I’ll even be able to hear Samoan and Tongan being spoken on a daily basis, if I stick around Auckland long enough.  I’ll be able to watch all the mindless TV I want, meet up with friends over coffee to have superficial ‘deep and meaningful’ chats that stir up emotion rather than inspire any purposeful action, run without having to worry about snakes sinking their fangs into my ankles and gorge on all the food I used to eat, but strangely never actually missed.  I’m hot and cold about going home, not sure if I’m ready but deep down I know that it is the right time for me to leave Japan.   

Living in Japan and experiencing something of the culture on a daily basis, there’s no mistaking the air of ‘innocence’ about the place and its people.  Japanese people in general exemplify what it means to live and breathe respect for others.  They have a positive outlook about life which I think largely stems from the respect they so easily carry within themselves.  They like to think the best of others.  It’s not that they’re naïve or suffering from some kind of ‘rose tinted’ blindness.  It’s quite the opposite.  Japanese people are very astute.  This just seems to be the perspective they choose to conduct their affairs from.  Always lead with sunshine.  Put an umbrella up for when it rains.  Not once have I felt that people were wary or guarded around me.  I mean there’s so many of us that come here to teach their children who are the most vulnerable sector of their population.  Why would they allow this if they were mistrustful of non-Japanese people? 

The Japanese are genuinely very nice people.  That’s not to say that there aren’t nice people in my own country.  It’s just that it seems more obvious here.   Every aspect of life in Japan promotes respect for others.  Even the environment is respected.  This country is so pristinely clean I wouldn’t be surprised if they were polishing the roads.  A lot of foreigners comment on the lack of public bins around to sensibly dispose of rubbish.  That’s because people tend not to litter, and what rubbish they may have accumulated over the course of the day, they hold onto until they find that elusive trash can.        

These days, peoples’ motives are examined thoroughly.  Not a lot seems to be taken at face value anymore.  ‘Suspicious Minds’ has made its way back onto the charts.   People I guess are not as trusting as they once were and perhaps that’s because we’re not as trustWORTHY as we used to be.  We’re always in a rush, and stressing out over one thing or another.  Our world has become smaller and our view much narrower to the point where we can’t see anything or anyone past our own wants and needs.  And respecting others as a priority goes down the toilet.  That’s all a bit dramatic and grossly inaccurate but it could happen if we’re not careful.  You can’t dispute that most of us instinctively hesitate before offering help (in the case of strangers).  We most certainly take pause before accepting help.  Maybe it’s justified with the rise in violent crimes all over the world, in recent years.  You just never know.  But this shift to look out only for number one is made at the expense of community which seems to have largely eroded away with precious little left. 

Here in Japan, people help each other because it’s the right thing to do.  I’m not saying that this is a hotbed of angels, martyrs and saints.  Japanese people do not have a monopoly over the world’s empathy and compassion.  What I am saying is that their response in my view is not burdened with ‘what ifs’.  They react promptly to a situation, and work through it until they have reached an acceptable solution.  They support because they can.  They rally around because the alternative is to do nothing, and that makes no sense at all.  I can remember several different occasions where people have gone out of their way to do things for me, when I’ve asked for assistance.  It’s not because they’re trying to impress me.  It’s not because I’m anyone special either.  It’s because, they genuinely wanted to improve my situation, because they could and because I asked.   They don’t know me from a bar of soap and yet they never hesitated to lend a hand.  You do feel kind of statesman-like, when your issue takes precedence and every other matter is put to one side so that your problem is attended to straight away.  It’s a little embarrassing at times, because you’re thinking, who am I? I’m happy to wait for my turn thanks.  But then again, if you insist.    

Of course we have to offset this view with some real truths so people don’t think that Japan is one big ‘bubblegum jellybean candy land’ of sorts.   Of course, Japan has crime and deviance.  There are miscreants here who have done terrible things to others, without so much as a backward glance.  With every basket, there’s bound to be a few rotten apples.  But the majority of people here I believe are decent, respecting everything and everyone.   

You may say that this is just sentimental, selective drivel.  ‘She’s going soon, of course she’s going to say that‘.  But it’s true.  It honestly is. 

Maybe it’s a rural thing.  I don’t know.   But I have to say even in the big cities where it’s over run with crazy busy people I’m usually on the receiving end of kindness and generosity, from both strangers and acquaintances.  I’m not one of those pathetic, clingy types either, playing the perpetual victim.  I’m at least a head taller than most Japanese people and for a country where English proficiency is not the greatest, well, that’s my mother tongue!  Why would anyone in their right mind come anywhere near me?   

Living in Japan reminds me a lot of my childhood.  I have vivid memories of seeing my Dad and other motorists jump out of their vehicles to help push start someone whose car had suddenly stalled on the open road.   Rain or shine, they never hesitated to help out, and when the deed was done, they’d hop back into their own cars and drive off as if it was nothing.  That doesn’t happen a lot these days.  Most people slow down only to speed up again and pass by, thinking, someone else will come along and help.  Random acts of kindness were an everyday thing, not a catchphrase.  There wasn’t a calendar day dedicated to it, no books written about it and certainly no guest appearance on a cheesy chat show to broadcast to the world how great you apparently are.  People just got on with it.  Like they still do here in Japan. 

For the first few months, of arriving here, I would run regularly along the road, trying to maintain some kind of fitness regime.  This became all important to me after discovering that eating copious amounts of white rice, can tip the scales so dramatically so as to make your very soul weep bitterly at your lack of self-control.  One day I was running when it started to rain.  I welcomed it at first because it cooled my flushed face, but after a very short time, it started to seriously pour down and I was at least another 15 minutes away from home.  Within seconds my hair was plastered to my head, and I was soaked to the skin.  I could barely see anything ahead of me, as the water was running down my face and into my eyes.  It was only then that I realised I was the only person on the street, and safe to conclude the only one who hadn’t checked the weather forecast for the day.    

A few moments later, a small white truck slowed down beside me and then hopped up onto the curb cutting me off from running further.  A little old man jumped out of the truck and told me to get in.  I thought that was a bit odd, seeing I’d never seen him before in my life.  A woman presumably his wife was at the wheel.   She smiled sweetly at me and beckoned me to enter the vehicle.  The cab was only big enough for two people and I turned to look at the old man, who was now sheltering under a bit of roof offered by a nearby shed.  He smiled at me as if this was something he did on a regular basis.  So I got into the little white truck and closed the door.  The nice old lady greeted me and I think she said something along the lines of ‘did you not read the weather forecast today?’.  She made some grand gestures with her hands that I quickly interpreted to mean a house.  I smiled nervously at her and pointed straight ahead, and said ‘apato?’.  Thank God I lived in a small town with only one apartment complex.  She understood straight away and pressed down on the gas and we were away.  It was bucketing down even more and I was ever so grateful that this lovely couple found me.  We headed down the road, rounded the corner, and crossed the bridge in the direction of my apartment.  She came to a halt right in front of the building and I thanked her profusely, bowing several times as I opened the door to let myself out, nearly falling flat on my face in the process.  She waved out to me, smiled and then turned the vehicle around before disappearing down the road to retrieve her husband who despite the bit of roof for shelter he was currently under was probably missing the warm and dry interior of the little white truck I had just vacated.  I never saw that couple again. 

That’s what I mean about Japan being the place of my childhood.  A time rather than place, where you could trust people (to the degree that you could get a free ride home) to do what they said they were going to do.  I would never dream of accepting a lift from a stranger back home.  I would happily let the storm waters carry me down the council drain than get into a stranger’s car.   But here?????

Last year of course I was singing a different tune.  I wasn’t so generous with my praises then but that was because I was missing home, family and friends.  I think it takes at least two years to adjust, accept and embrace another country’s way of living. And now that I have, it’s time to pack up and go.

Thank you Japan for keeping me safe these past two years.   

Waka what?????

I love pandas!!  And yes I do know that pandas are native to China, not Japan.  But I discovered with much delight that Japan has a total of eight pandas, and I’m pleased to broadcast that at last count, I've seen six of them! 

For the past week, Bridget has referred to me as a ‘Panda Stalker’ relaying to some friends since coming back, that while we were at Adventure World in Wakayama, we had stopped by the Panda Enclosure for 3 ½ of the total 7 hours we spent there.  I don’t believe that was excessive.

Last weekend, the four of us, Bridget, Willa and another dear friend, Molly went on a Road Trip bound for Shirahama, Wakayama.  Wakayama is the southern-most prefecture on the main island of Honshu in Japan.   It was a 4 ½ hour trip and as we drove into Shirahama, the sun thankfully came out and the threatening rain clouds disappeared.  We planned to spend the entire day at Adventure World which we did, and the following day at the beach. 

Adventure World is a superb amusement park full of animals.  The five star attraction of course being their family of five giant pandas.  They did not fail to disappoint.  We were in the park no more than 20 minutes before we spotted our first panda.

His name was Eimei and he was in an outside enclosure, happily chewing on some bamboo sticks.  We had no issue with moving to the front, weaving our way around both adults and children, blocking their camera shots so we could take our own.  The sun was beating down on us, and I think my weekend tan was from watching Eimei eating and waddling around rather than from walking the promenade at the beach.  After untold ‘oooohs’ and ‘aaaahhhs’ from watching him breathing, we entered the building next door and discovered the 3 year old twin pandas, Kaihin and Youhin.  

They were both fast asleep but that didn’t stop us from snapping away and cooing over them.  It’s incredible how close we seemed to be to them.  They were in an enclosure that wasn’t glassed up.  We were slightly elevated so we looked down on the both of them snoozing away.  I extended my hand out and we couldn’t have been more than 2 metres away.  A mere two metres!  This area including where Eimei was having his lunch was called ‘Panda Love’.  Masses of people staring and standing about each armed with a camera, becoming increasingly more delirious with love for these cute and cuddly creatures (who were still fast asleep and oblivious to the frenzy they had created).

We moved onto the Panda Breeding Centre to visit the other two residents.  It was a mother, who went by the name of Rauhin and her 11 month old cub, Yuhin.  Just when you thought you couldn’t possibly stand anymore cuteness, a baby panda stumbles into your line of vision and you are hopelessly lost in a ball of black and white fluff.  It was like looking at a soft toy come to life.  They don’t look real at all.  Surely they’re full of calico?  I’m half expecting to see a seam under an arm or a Hasbro tag stitched halfway down its back. 

This particular enclosure was glassed up, perhaps as a precaution for the little one’s immune system which given her young age is probably still quite delicate.  I could just picture every single one of us coughing and breathing on the poor little thing, desperately trying to touch and cuddle her.  Head Line.  Baby Panda mobbed by Fans.  She’s the Justin Bieber of Adventure World.  And yes, she is a ‘she’.   Our eyes tracked Yuhin falling off the slide, falling off the platform, playing with her mother, lying on a bed of ice, putting ice in her mouth (oh she must be teething!), chewing on a piece of wood she stripped from her playground bridge (definitely teething), and following her mother around like a shadow, albeit a much smaller, rounder, and clumsier one.    It was a beautiful scene that we were reluctant to leave behind, although we did return later in the day to stare at Yuhin who had fallen asleep in the tree!  We spent about an hour watching her, adjusting her position several times, clearly uncomfortable but not wanting to get down and sleep somewhere flat, and Rauhin stuffing her face full of bamboo in the corner. 

There were other animals there of course that we did get to visit and be struck dumb by.  We decided to go on the ‘Safari Walk’ where we got up close and personal with the big cats.  Animals, I suppose you would see in the African Savannah (except for the Tigers, who are magnificent creatures) were kind of disturbingly close although there was little chance of them smashing into the vehicle to massacre us with their big, sharp, pointy teeth.

We took in the afternoon ‘Dolphin Show’, which was spectacular.  Afterwards we had made our way to the large pool in the front so we could see the animals up close.  A couple of the dolphins swam close to the glass and we were amazed to see them hover there before us.  It’s that special affinity that certain people have with animals we smugly thought to ourselves.  That is until we noticed the Dolphin Trainer directly behind us.  The dolphins were stopping by because of her, not us.  No matter we nabbed her for a few pics just so the dolphins would stay put in the background. 

We also entered the ‘Feeling Area’.  A more appropriate term would be ‘Petting Zoo’ although we had a few chuckles at the sign.  People had the opportunity to pat and stroke all sorts of animals that were obviously very used to being around humans.   We spotted a trio of what looked to be American Bald Eagles, but aren’t they endangered? Not sure what they would be doing in Japan, and at a petting zoo of all places.  Very imposing looking birds.   

There was a sad looking lemur of ‘Madagascar’ fame on a tiny little manmade island surrounded by water, much like a fort with a moat.  The island was pathetically small and the water too wide to cross without getting wet or possibly worse.  No sign of any drawbridge.  I hope they brought him to the ‘mainland’ at the end of each day so he could stretch his legs at least.

After exiting this part of the park, we decided to go for a spot of race car driving.  We bought our tickets and somehow wedged ourselves into cars that were clearly built for munchkins.  We were all set to burn some serious rubber.  The staff member showed us the foot pedals, one for the brakes (won’t be using that) and the other was the petrol.  We revved up waiting for the staff member to signal that we were good to go.  Molly went first followed by Willa.  As Willa disappeared around the corner, the staff member looked to me and Bridget and nodded for us to go.  Something was obviously very wrong as it took us almost two years to round the corner.  I threw all my weight behind the foot controlling the petrol and pushed it all the way down.  The car responded by chugging along like before, neither accelerating nor slowing down. Such an anti-climax.  The Flintstones would’ve easily lapped us if they were there.  We finally reached the end of the circuit which hadn’t been all that challenging either and just laughed, suddenly remembering where we were.  Japan.  Of course.  The land where preventing all manner of accidents is a national pastime.  Better to be safe than sorry.    

At the end of the day, we were walking through the arcade located at the front entrance when a staff member walked past with a flamingo tucked under her arm!  We had seen the birds when we first entered in the morning.  They too didn’t look all that real until one nipped a guy as he was trying to take a snap of it.  The staff member wasn’t exactly a giant, and that peach coloured bird was no chick, but somehow the staff member comfortably navigated her way through the crowd, with her rather long-bodied surprisingly compliant feathered friend.

It was certainly a memorable day.  

The verdict is that Shirahama is a great place to go for a weekend away.  Apart from the picturesque beach, there are also some popular spots nearby like Engetsuto and Senjojiki.  This area is not over run by tourists at all, which is both nice and also surprising considering the good weather and coastal location.  The beach itself is a draw card on its own.  It is very quiet and very clean.  There are a great deal of people lazing about in the sand and a lot of activity going on.  There just doesn’t seem to be the kind of noise that usually accompanies such outdoor pursuits.  It is Japan after all.  No annoying music blaring, no shrieking, no unruly children running and kicking up sand in your face. 

I can’t believe that I never thought to visit this place until very recently.     

O bento. A bientot!

So this week, the plan was that Bridget would instruct us on how to make Ramen.  Not as easy as one might think either.  It's more than just a bowl of hot water and noodles.  However as it was Willa’s birthday, Bridget offered instead to bring Obento for each of us.  I said sure, why not? I’m so impressed with Bridget’s cooking at the moment that she could’ve suggested bringing a half-eaten packet of chips she’d nicked off a pre-schooler and I would’ve said yes without hesitation or reservation.  Obento is a compact meal in a box, usually served at lunch time, but there’s no hard and fast rule about it.  It’s packed full of various foods to sample, that make up a basic Japanese meal.  There’s meat, seafood, vege and of course rice.  It can be served hot or cold.  If you buy it at the train station it’s called Ekiben, another example of the Japanese playing with words. 

We were going to surprise Willa, whose actual birthday was the day before.  It can be tough celebrating such a personal milestone so far away from home so we were determined to make sure that she at least had something nice to eat.  We all sat around the table, when Bridget pulled out three heart-shaped boxes of Obento, from her oversized bag.  Yep, THAT bag.     

Now I’ve had Obento before, and frankly while the food looks magnificent, I don’t usually eat all of it.  Some of the food is great, and the rest is just okay.  This Obento however was the exception.  Easily the best boxed meal I’ve ever had.    

The wieners were cut to look like Octopus, hence the name 'takowina'.  They were placed ‘head down, legs up’.  The meat had their own corners to occupy, patties with patties, chicken with chicken.  The chicken karaage had been skewered with small plastic sticks, the top shaped like Mickey Mouse's head.    You can never have enough Disney references in Japan.   

The overall look, once you opened the lid was very impressive.  Portion size was just right, and all the different foods tasted well together.  We each had a cup of hot Japanese Tea as the perfect compliment, to an equally tasty meal.  Presentation is very important in Japan especially when it comes to food.  I don’t know if I’d go so far as to say that a meal tastes better when it looks great, but it certainly puts the diner in the right space to accept that as truth.  I'm not expecting the kind of dressed up food you see in cook books or magazines, but as they say, you are what you eat.  

The meal was absolutely delish!  Everything is bite-size.  A pair of chopsticks is all that's needed.  No knives because you don't need to cut anything.  No spoons because there's no liquid, and no forks because nothing needs to be speared.  The word 'bento' apparently comes from a root word that means 'convenience'.  

The meal also consisted of green beans drowning in some kind of tantalising herbal mix, the sweetest cherry tomatoes, crispy lettuce, succulent sweetcorn and yummy onigiri, all neatly packaged in a heart-shaped box.  Valentine’s Day having been celebrated four months ago.  But that is of little consequence in Japan.  Something cute that immediately grabs the attention of females?  What else could be more fitting than boxes in the shape of hearts?

I heart you Bridget!  Thank you so much for another stunner of a meal! Gochisosamadeshita!  

Alcoholia

I want to mention a little bit about what happens when the Japanese ‘let their hair down’.  It may come as a surprise to many people but when the Japanese drink (alcohol I mean) a lot of fun is in store for anyone in their company. 

I have never been to a country where alcohol could be bought from vending machines.  Nor have I seen ‘top shelf’ liquor being sold in supermarkets.  Nor have I seen cans of alcohol being sold separately, outside of a six-pack in Convenience Stores (Dairies).  I really didn’t know what to make of it.  Was Japan behind or ahead of the rest of the world in terms of their attitudes to alcohol?  I know if alcohol was sold so freely back home, we’d have chaos.   Maybe it’s the attitude of the people and the culture that makes the difference? 

I remember being told earlier on that Japan has a zero tolerance to drink driving.  Alcohol is not permitted in the system of any driver, for whatever purpose.  You will go to jail.  That is to be sure.  I was told that as a foreigner, if you break this particular law, you will be fined, be imprisoned and when your sentence is over, you will be deported, and NEVER be allowed to come to Japan again.  I thought it was a bit harsh, but then maybe we shouldn't treat our lives and the lives of others as bits of nothing? The worst case scenario of someone driving drunk on a road filled with other people in cars, is death.  Either they die or someone else does. Or both. Or all. If you look at it from that perspective, zero tolerance doesn’t seem like such an unreasonable, heavily weighted law after all.  However, the Japanese make sure that the message hits home, by also legislating that anyone who is aware of someone getting behind the wheel of a car drunk and does little or nothing about it can also face criminal charges.  That includes friends and family.  No one can plead ignorance.  Again, this is in place so people don’t die.  I wonder, in my own country, whether we’d see less carnage on the roads if we adopted this hard line.  Anyway, getting way off track.

     

The first dinner I was invited to attend with some work colleagues was a definite eye opener for me.  In my head I thought it would be a rather dull and formal affair where we’d eat, drink but definitely under no circumstances would we get merry.  It was a sensible assumption to make given that at work, my colleagues are serious, focused and extremely restrained in both action and speech.  Of course they have a laugh from time to time and crack a smile every once in a while.  I just don’t know what (or maybe who) they’re laughing about or what they’re smiling at.      

The long table was laid out in traditional fashion.  We were all going to be sitting on cushions on the tatami floor, and I had to quickly suppress the urge to sigh disappointingly at the absence of chairs.  I can never sit on my knees as ladies are supposed to do.  Instead, I sit cross legged like the men, but before long, pins and needles attack me and I end up extending my legs under the table, trying not to touch the person’s legs, sitting opposite from me.  That would be awkward.  It’s not the most comfortable position to be in when eating, especially when there’s no obliging wall behind you to lean on. 

Anyway, I had arrived early with a few other people.  When we entered the room where we would be dining, we were shown a small wooden bowl full of folded bits of paper.  Ah, a random seating plan.  I wish I’d stayed home.  I resigned myself to an evening of awkward silence, averted eyes and nervous smiles.  The piece of paper I selected read, ‘11’, so I went to sit at the far end of the table.  Number ’12’ was already seated.  It was the Social Studies teacher whom I’ve said hello to on a couple of occasions but never anything beyond that.  Number ‘10’ was one of the English Teachers, thank you Jesus.  There was certainly nothing random about that.  I'm sure she was asked to 'take one for the team' and sit beside me for the evening.  I didn't care.  I beamed at her as she made her way down my end of the table.  At least I’d have a bit of conversation to go with my meal. 

When everyone had arrived, the Principal was invited to say a few brief words of welcome to kick off the ‘festivities’.  Drinks were ordered and people began pouring for each other, and taking the opportunity to say a quick ‘hi and how are you’ before returning to their seats.  The clinking of glasses and bottles, signalled the first ‘Kampai’ of the night.   Looking across the table at some of my colleagues as they sculled back bottles of beer and glasses of chuhai, umeshu and sake, I thought to myself it would be more prudent for them to drink slowly otherwise they’d be pissed in an hour.  Little did I know that this is what happens here.  I was about to witness first-hand what it means to get drunk in Japan.  You drink quickly because you’re on the clock.  A long night we don’t have.

Cute little dishes of mostly seafood began to make their way onto the table.  When I think of the sushi I used to eat back home, it just doesn’t compare to what was being put in front of me now.  Never mind not being able to hold a flame to it.  You wouldn’t even be able to light the wick.  Every dish is aesthetically pleasing, fish expertly cut and displayed in such a way, that you’re momentarily conflicted about whether to simply sit there and take snaps of it, or to start chomping on it.  Most of the time, I didn’t even know what I was eating.  Only that it came from the sea, and the serving size was so small that making a scene about not being able to identify it would seem trivial.  Pop it into your mouth.  If you don’t like it, swallow it whole.  A teaspoon of soya sauce makes the strange looking food go down.  A flame was ignited under every individual sukiyaki hotpot. The contents cooking tenderly as a mouth-watering aroma filled the air. 

I began stuffing things into my mouth whilst enjoying the surprisingly refreshing entertainment provided by my alcohol fuelled colleagues.  Most of those drinking were by this time, thoroughly red-baked in the face, eyes unfocused and mouths loosened considerably.  Shrieks of laughter could be heard up and down the table and the restraints being cast off as people became more and more animated.  I couldn’t understand any of the conversations taking place, but the tone strongly suggested that everyone was having a good time.  I found out that the Social Studies teacher can speak a LITTLE English and is a very kind-hearted man, who incidentally knows a little magic.  The usually stern looking Science Teacher has a great sense of humour, with a splash of cheekiness.  The scholarly Vice-Principal is able to have an intensely intellectual, rational conversation, despite beer oozing through his pores. The Bus Driver is simply the life of the party, moving from one person to the other, even me!  And together they all drink like fish.  A thin veil of haze hung in the air from those who chose to light up cancer sticks, nostalgia assaulting my nostrils as I remembered those long forgotten days of my youth spent as a serial passive smoker.   

Tonight, everyone wanted to speak English and staff that I had never spoken to before, had some pearls of wisdom to impart to me.  Most of the time I just smiled back.  'A' for effort, 'C-' for execution.  Being off your face does have its advantages, giving you the courage to do things you would never do sober.  They’re really very nice people once the screen comes down.  As with most people, ‘peeling back the layers’ of one’s character and personality to others is not an easy thing to do.  Trust has to be established first and upkeep is essential.  So I happily concluded that I had gained a little bit of their trust, for them to let me in on some things.  These people are not detached or rigid and certainly not boring.  I guess a release of certain emotions do have their place.  At the right time, in the right situation, and with the right people, they can come out.  And when they do, you need to have your camera ready. 

What amazes me is how strict the time frames are.  There is a beginning and there is most certainly an ending.  Our dinner began at 6.00pm and by 9.30pm we were standing up away from the table, listening to the Principal making the final farewell address, anticipating that one clap thing that we’re all supposed to do (I’m proud to say I’ve always managed to clap together with everyone else) and then leaving!  It was all over just like that.  The only proof that this extraordinary dinner had happened at all, was a stomach full of expensively delicious food, and for those who had been drinking, an embarrassingly unsteady gait.      

I watched with fascination as some of my colleagues went from stone faced sober to stupidly drunk in a ridiculously short space of time, knowing that when we get back to work Monday morning, it’ll be ‘business as usual’.  Amazing.  No collapsing on the kerb, no verbally abusing other revellers, no vomiting in rubbish bins, and certainly no compromising positions down the alleyway behind the restaurant with a co-worker.  And yet we still had fun.  Wow.     

There are certainly advantages to indulging in fun with boundaries.  You finish strong.  You get to go home before the excitement wears off (as it so often does, in the early hours of the morning).  You get enough rest to sleep it off, and don’t feel like road kill in the morning.   You get to remember what you did the night before and it’s not such a bad thing.  You didn’t have enough time for your behaviour to deteriorate to a point where you may have embarrassed yourself or others.  Everyone goes home happy, everyone gets home safely. 

There is a perception of Japanese people, that they work hard and don’t do much else.  Yes they do work hard.  But they play hard too.  Just not to the point where they flush their self-preservation down the toilet.  It’s good to get drunk once in a while.  Just don’t be stupid about it and end up in hospital or worse.  Of course this is a general view.  I’m sure Japan like other countries has their equal share of boozed up idiots.  Most of my work colleagues have families, and perhaps this kind of fun suits them, a brief, temporary break from routine and responsibilities.  It’s good.