Hello all.
It is just after lunch and I feel a bit lethargic, so please excuse any incoherent rambling, grammatical mistakes and the like. I have actually been enjoying lunch lately. Since I started work at the Akune Board of Education (BOE) I have taken a short walk or bike ride back to my apartment everyday for lunch, either to heat up some leftovers or to whip up a quick meal. I did this for a few reasons: it is always nice to get out of the office; I like cooking; I enjoy the wind in my face, aside from that one experiences when wheeling around one’s work space in an office chair; and I didn’t feel quite comfortable stuffing my face in front of my co-workers (usually I enjoy my meals with proper manners, but after five hours of not eating I do, at times, loose sight of my etiquette). There were definitely drawbacks to going back and forth from the BOE to my apartment everyday, though. Of course time is was factor, but the more than anything else I could not stand the heat anymore. The combination of racing back to my apartment to satiate my hunger and sluggishly lurching back to the BOE in the dank heat of the afternoon left me in a state of utter exhaustion, and with the humidity that has been around 70-90% or more, I was damp with perspiration. Then I had a revelation. It came in the form of bento.
The bento culture in Japan is unparalleled. (Sorry Mom, your packed lunches were fabulous and nutritious, but they don’t quite measure up to the aesthetic, gastronomic beauty of the bento) There are volumes on the subject and I have even read an essay or two during my stay at Ritsumeikan. The bento is, like any lunch can be, a symbol of a mother’s love for their child. On the other hand, what set this lunch item apart from the rest is that the bento can also serve as a very telling aspect of a family’s makeup and functionality, the door left ajar through which one can see if mom does her shopping regularly or if dad lost his job recently. In other aspects, the bento can be seen as a microcosm of a Japanese child’s likes and dislikes. If a child cracks open their bento to find a ground beef patty with ground daikon shavings on top or curry rice the day is a golden one. On the other hand, it is common knowledge in Japan that Japanese children, for the most part, cannot stand and absolutely condemn green bell peppers, known to the British as capsicums-what’s next alumminium?- and in Japanese, ピーマン (pronounced pee-mahn). Despite this well-known hatred, children often find the loathed vegetable in their lunch box, the stench and sight of it putting a damper on their whole day. Now that is what I call love, food culture and anthropology (conveniently packed in a bento with a cute design on the top).
In the past couple of days I have been very happy with my bento. I eat in the centre of my office on the big comfortable leather sofa, stare at the lush mountains and receive copious complements (from the women) and looks of utter disbelief (from the men and women) from my co-workers. Today was a good bento day: grilled salmon; kimchi; broccoli; and a special bottom layer of rice cooked with Satsuma sweet potatoes. I was still a bit uncomfortable, though; kimchi has an odor not to be reckoned with. Maybe next week I will try making designs in my rice with different coloured pickles, I saw it once in a cartoon and the kids were stunned with jealousy.
After eating my bento yesterday, I was approached by one of the first acquaintances I made in Akune, Captain Matsunaga. Perhaps you may recall the name Captain Matsunaga (referred to below as, the Captain) from the Midokoi Matsuri, the one who took me under his wing of brotherhood and booze and showed me how to party like a real citizen of Akune. (I would find out later that day that the Captain himself founded the Midokoi Matsuri, which explains his enthusiasm, justly) The Captain was eager to tell me that he had someone he wanted to introduce me to. He said that one of his best friends in Akune is deeply involved in ceramics (陶芸, tougei or 焼き物 yakimono) and that he wanted to show me his friends studio.
“So, what time are you done here anyway?” the Captain asked.
“About four-fifteen, why?” I said.
“Come down to my office, I’ll take you to meet him, it’ll be great. By the way, do you have a map?”
I pulled out the Akune road map that I had been using to map out my commute for the upcoming year.
“Here, in the mountains, you see? There aren’t any roads listed, but that’s where he lives. He stays in an old elementary school.”
“I look forward to it. See you in a bit“, I said as I bowed to the Captain. I was excited. I could barely sit out the rest (30 minutes) of my day, thinking about where this school might be and what else, if anything the Captain had in store.
About an eighteen minute ride south and east of the BOE, half of which took us on roads barely wide enough for his Japanese compact, brought the Captain and I into the midst of lush bamboo and pine forests. According to Captain Matsunaga, the hills that he and I were driving through used to be laden with houses and busy with villagers of southern Akune. Then around the 1950’s the distance away from the city, and possibly the lack of water and electricity I’m guessing, led to a massive exodus from the hills and into the more urban, if you will, parts of town.
“It’s a ghost village now”, cackled Captain Matsunaga, his cigarette shaking between his teeth.
‘I really like this guy’, I thought.
A couple of quick turns later and I found myself in the parking lot of what used to be an elementary school. Shiso leaves were growing everywhere, two cute dogs were barking and a quaint, seemingly empty school stood to the left, the rushing river too profound to be just a white noise. A giant tree claimed a prominent position in the centre of the plot. Unfortunately, the resident of the old school was away at the time, but the Captain insisted that I poke my head inside to take a look; I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Miniscule chairs lined the walls and equally small desks were pushed together in the centre of the main room, recently trimmed bowls and cups lay on the floor in precise rows and before stepping down from the schools entry way I saw, in the back of what I realized was an amazing potter’s studio, huge racks of fired pieces and finished products. Adjacent to the main building was a covered area under which two huge outdoor kilns had been built from the ground up. Having already seen the inside of the studio, the sight of these incredibly unique kilns brought me back to my days at Summit K-12 (for life) in Karen’s studio, throwing pots till my blue and yellow (Summit colours) Adidas were covered in clay. I was awe inspired by where the Captain had taken me and what he had introduced me to.
“This is outstanding”, I said looking around before getting back into the car.
“Oh yeah? My house is pretty great too, you know. It’s a dome house. You ever heard of one of those? (I shrug and smile) I built it with my own two hands. Let’s go!” Go with the flow.
Readers, who ever and how many you are, Captain Matsunaga’s house is unbelievable; everything a dome house should be and nothing you could have ever possibly conceived. The high ceilings of the dome was a feature I was drawn to and it was something I had been really been missing. The triangular skylights, another unique feature that accommodated to the geometrical design of the house, reminded a lot of my house in Seattle and, coincidentally, one my favourite spots on the planet, Jody’s cabin in Hood Canal, built by the man himself. When I was introduced to the Captain’s wife she excused herself first to wash her hands. No, this is not another Japanese custom. She had just finished making a batch of fresh honey. What? The Captain took me out back and showed me the two bee hives that he and his wife use to harvest. He told me about Japanese honey bees. The main differences, he said was that Japanese honey bees are, for one, very obedient and do not require to be smoked out of their hives in order for the harvester to extract the honeycomb (I had seen this once at Vashon Island with my good old friend Andrew). Moreover, and more interesting in my opinion, is that Japanese honey bees do not collect nectar from one flower exclusively. Rather, they collect from many flowers all around the area, collecting different flavours and, apparently creating a tantalizingly potent batch of very healthy honey, known as ‘hundred flower honey’, 百花蜜 (kyakkamitsu).
As I sat in the cavernous living room of the Captains dome house, I conversed with he and his very charming wife about travel, language, my future and other worldly matters. All the while I was fed peaches, amazing bean curd desserts and coffee with a spoonful of the best honey I have ever tasted. Now when I order coffee, I usually only drink half of what I ordered, or I just sip off of whoever just bought one (thank you Chloe and Laura). This was not the case yesterday. I was poured cup, after cup, after cup of coffee almost unknowingly. I supposed that if this is way Captain Matsunaga takes a coffee break, than I might indulge as well. When I stepped outside of the dome house to a beautiful sunset the caffeine boost from nearly a half kettle of coffee kicked in and this Japanese proverb came to mind:
郷に入ったら、郷に従う。 When in Rome, do as the Romans do.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
In Japan, stamina and size matter
Hello all.
It is a pretty balmy day in Akune today. The temperature is an even 30 degrees and the humidity has climbed up to almost 96%. Some of you may be asking yourselves, ‘Isn’t that like living in an open air sauna, all day, everyday?’ What I am thinking is, ‘Hey, stop reading my mind.' Yes the weather is a factor, among other things, of my new life in Kagoshima, but I thank my lucky stars everyday that prior to coming to Akune this year I had already experience a Japanese summer, and a Kyoto summer at that.
Whenever I mention the heat, I, more often than not, hear in response, “At least we’re not in Kyoto.” It’s true, honestly. Two summers ago in Kyoto I would wake up to the piercing sound of a thousand cicadas and it would already be 30 degrees out. After biking to school and shedding a quarter of my body mass in perspiration it would start to rain, torrentially. Finally after it stopped raining, around lunch time, it would be 35 degrees and I would ride the wave of heat exhaustion all the way home to the safety of my air conditioned cocoon that was my dorm. Much like in Kyoto, Akune summers require perseverance, thin under layers, endurance and durable sweat rag, preferably a dark colour. What happens, though, when it seems like one may actually be melting into one’s tatami mats during dinner? What does one do when their air cooler has been on so long that one fears the next electric bill? How can one beat the heat?
Honestly, to beat the heat, I had to go head-to-head with it: when I wanted a dinner of cold ramen noodles I had to boil them first, and with a small apartment the heat from my gas range took no time at all to diffuse throughout my whole kitchen creating an environment reminiscent of Eilat in Israel; when I wanted ice cream and fruit to make a cold smoothie with the sweet blender I just found last week (yeah!) I had to bike through the dank streets of my neighbourhood to the grocery store with my back pack, nearly becoming my fifth appendage. As I said before, endurance is the key. A perfect example was my trek out to 脇本海水浴場 (Wakimoto Beach) last weekend.
I had a lazy morning in my air-conditioned tatami safe haven, watching Japanese baseball on T.V. (the fans never stop cheering, N-E-V-E-R stop) and decided that the nearly lifeless breeze coming from my air cooler was not going to be sufficient to tackle the heat that the forecast had predicted for the day. I needed an ocean to cure my heat exhaustion blues. I shouldered my MEC back pack (thank you Laura) filled it with fruit, water, flip-flops and a bottle of sunscreen (thank you Mom) and hit the scortching concrete on my way to Wakimoto beach.
With a squinty-eyed look that could put a grandfather in the back row of an I-max theatre to shame, I head north on route 3, hitched a louie on to the 365 and twenty five minutes later I was basking in ocean on the spacious, sandy stage of Wakimoto. I soon learned from a localsporting a skin-tight technicolour getup that I was lucky to have come on that day for if I had come a week later the beach would have been closed due to the start of クラゲ（水母・海月 or Sea Nettle jellyfish） season. Having received that invaluable advice I decided to make the most of my day at Wakimoto and bodysurfed till I could feel the sunburn on my shoulders and face; I have a great tan. The water was the perfect temperature, just like Tel Aviv. The beach was vast and flat, much like the Oregon coast, all I needed was a skim board and I would have been an even happier camper. The waves were just perfect for bodysurfing, but unfortunately did not provide the excitement of the surf like San Diego or Sayulita; there is almost nothing like being pinned to the ocean floor by a surging wall of sea water.
After my utterly revitalizing swim I packed up and headed back to Akune, arriving back home only to discover that I returned even sweatier than I had left. ‘Embrace the heat,’ an omniscient voice beseeched me, ‘and drink plenty of water.’
I made an epic journey yesterday. Well, in comparison to Wakimoto outing it paled in comparison, but it was epic, nonetheless. I took a short bike ride to the Green Sports Centre-‘We Love Sport’-to check out there golf practice range. As I slowly rolled through the independent agricultural operations leading up to the Green Sports Centre I was greeted by the ‘ping’, ‘thwack’ and ‘pitch’ of the range. I had come unarmed, carrying not a single club, under the assumption that I could rent clubs. Luckily there was a huge selection of (tiny) clubs for me to choose from and there was a special going on that evening: 1, 2, or 3 hours, all-you-can-drive. I opted for the one-hour package and hit the range with a tiny pitching wedge and a super retro 3-wood, made out of wood, unheard of to this modern, titanium loving man.
The range was surprisingly full at six o’clock. To my left and to my right, stood tiny Japanese men, chain-smoking and hitting balls as for as the 190 meter fence would allow them. Whoa. I noticed they were hitting it every time. I looked a bit closer, although I didn’t really have too, and noticed that these men, who were maybe eye level with my chest, toted some of the largest drivers I have ever seen. Callaway Big Bertha? Step aside. These men were absolutely creaming these balls with Japanese Godzilla-sized drivers; the sound was amazing. I managed to hit the fence just as high as those around me with my slightly shady Shillelagh. It is, after all, all about the motion in the ocean.
In the face of a wildly different repertoire of golf clubs, chain smoking neighbours and all-you-can-drive deals at the range, unheard of at the Univeristy of Washington or Puetz range, I was reminded of this Japanese proverb:
所変われば品変わる (tokorokawareba, shinakawaru); So many places, so many customs.
It is a pretty balmy day in Akune today. The temperature is an even 30 degrees and the humidity has climbed up to almost 96%. Some of you may be asking yourselves, ‘Isn’t that like living in an open air sauna, all day, everyday?’ What I am thinking is, ‘Hey, stop reading my mind.' Yes the weather is a factor, among other things, of my new life in Kagoshima, but I thank my lucky stars everyday that prior to coming to Akune this year I had already experience a Japanese summer, and a Kyoto summer at that.
Whenever I mention the heat, I, more often than not, hear in response, “At least we’re not in Kyoto.” It’s true, honestly. Two summers ago in Kyoto I would wake up to the piercing sound of a thousand cicadas and it would already be 30 degrees out. After biking to school and shedding a quarter of my body mass in perspiration it would start to rain, torrentially. Finally after it stopped raining, around lunch time, it would be 35 degrees and I would ride the wave of heat exhaustion all the way home to the safety of my air conditioned cocoon that was my dorm. Much like in Kyoto, Akune summers require perseverance, thin under layers, endurance and durable sweat rag, preferably a dark colour. What happens, though, when it seems like one may actually be melting into one’s tatami mats during dinner? What does one do when their air cooler has been on so long that one fears the next electric bill? How can one beat the heat?
Honestly, to beat the heat, I had to go head-to-head with it: when I wanted a dinner of cold ramen noodles I had to boil them first, and with a small apartment the heat from my gas range took no time at all to diffuse throughout my whole kitchen creating an environment reminiscent of Eilat in Israel; when I wanted ice cream and fruit to make a cold smoothie with the sweet blender I just found last week (yeah!) I had to bike through the dank streets of my neighbourhood to the grocery store with my back pack, nearly becoming my fifth appendage. As I said before, endurance is the key. A perfect example was my trek out to 脇本海水浴場 (Wakimoto Beach) last weekend.
I had a lazy morning in my air-conditioned tatami safe haven, watching Japanese baseball on T.V. (the fans never stop cheering, N-E-V-E-R stop) and decided that the nearly lifeless breeze coming from my air cooler was not going to be sufficient to tackle the heat that the forecast had predicted for the day. I needed an ocean to cure my heat exhaustion blues. I shouldered my MEC back pack (thank you Laura) filled it with fruit, water, flip-flops and a bottle of sunscreen (thank you Mom) and hit the scortching concrete on my way to Wakimoto beach.
With a squinty-eyed look that could put a grandfather in the back row of an I-max theatre to shame, I head north on route 3, hitched a louie on to the 365 and twenty five minutes later I was basking in ocean on the spacious, sandy stage of Wakimoto. I soon learned from a localsporting a skin-tight technicolour getup that I was lucky to have come on that day for if I had come a week later the beach would have been closed due to the start of クラゲ（水母・海月 or Sea Nettle jellyfish） season. Having received that invaluable advice I decided to make the most of my day at Wakimoto and bodysurfed till I could feel the sunburn on my shoulders and face; I have a great tan. The water was the perfect temperature, just like Tel Aviv. The beach was vast and flat, much like the Oregon coast, all I needed was a skim board and I would have been an even happier camper. The waves were just perfect for bodysurfing, but unfortunately did not provide the excitement of the surf like San Diego or Sayulita; there is almost nothing like being pinned to the ocean floor by a surging wall of sea water.
After my utterly revitalizing swim I packed up and headed back to Akune, arriving back home only to discover that I returned even sweatier than I had left. ‘Embrace the heat,’ an omniscient voice beseeched me, ‘and drink plenty of water.’
I made an epic journey yesterday. Well, in comparison to Wakimoto outing it paled in comparison, but it was epic, nonetheless. I took a short bike ride to the Green Sports Centre-‘We Love Sport’-to check out there golf practice range. As I slowly rolled through the independent agricultural operations leading up to the Green Sports Centre I was greeted by the ‘ping’, ‘thwack’ and ‘pitch’ of the range. I had come unarmed, carrying not a single club, under the assumption that I could rent clubs. Luckily there was a huge selection of (tiny) clubs for me to choose from and there was a special going on that evening: 1, 2, or 3 hours, all-you-can-drive. I opted for the one-hour package and hit the range with a tiny pitching wedge and a super retro 3-wood, made out of wood, unheard of to this modern, titanium loving man.
The range was surprisingly full at six o’clock. To my left and to my right, stood tiny Japanese men, chain-smoking and hitting balls as for as the 190 meter fence would allow them. Whoa. I noticed they were hitting it every time. I looked a bit closer, although I didn’t really have too, and noticed that these men, who were maybe eye level with my chest, toted some of the largest drivers I have ever seen. Callaway Big Bertha? Step aside. These men were absolutely creaming these balls with Japanese Godzilla-sized drivers; the sound was amazing. I managed to hit the fence just as high as those around me with my slightly shady Shillelagh. It is, after all, all about the motion in the ocean.
In the face of a wildly different repertoire of golf clubs, chain smoking neighbours and all-you-can-drive deals at the range, unheard of at the Univeristy of Washington or Puetz range, I was reminded of this Japanese proverb:
所変われば品変わる (tokorokawareba, shinakawaru); So many places, so many customs.
Monday, August 3, 2009
Akune’s Summer Festival: hot, hot, hot
Last weekend marked Akune’s highly revered annual Summer Festival, the Midokoi Matsuri. Matsuri is the word for festival, I know that much. However, I was not able to get a clear answer from my colleagues at the city office as to what Midokoi actually meant. For one, Midokoi is a word that is derived from the regional dialect, Kagoshima-ben (ben meaning dialect, or for the jargon lovers, the colloquial vernacular). It was only after I donned my ceremonial yellow and green robe (‘happi’, sounds like happy), white shorts and a red and black polka dot headband, drank a few beers, had a few shots with my cohorts and marched to the centre of the city in the streets that I heard over the loud speaker the essence of Midokoi: to bask in the wealth of good food, good drinks, great music, close friends and prosperity. All in one festival? Sure.
I received a crash-course lesson in traditional Midokoi dancing before hitting the streets. The moves that are essential to dancing in the parade consist of motions similar to that of shutting and closing a cabinet with both hands, at eye level; smiling and slightly bowing is also more than welcome, especially if you are the new foreigner in town. After a couple of drinks at the city office, my place of work, one mini drink and a couple bumps of Akune shochu (the best hooch in the country) I was ready to hit the road with the staff that runs the inner workings of the city, including Mayor Takehara himself. If my readers have not noticed already, Akune-shi does not hold back on their drinking. In response, I practice the most humble form of discretion: say no once, and then say kampai (cheers) once more.
I was truly amazed at how organized the parade was that Saturday evening. From the pre-school marching bands, who rocked out hard, to the freshest of the fresh middle school dance troops, I was among a highly trained-or so it seemed-group of Akune festival-goers. I was relieved when I heard the loud speaker call out the first break in the parade. Wait. Break? In a parade? For what? I was whisked away by the primary security officer at the city office, Matsunaga-san, who insisted that I call him Captain Matsunaga (he is a class 1 Captain, license and everything), and the next thing I know I was in a crowded bathroom with another mini-Asahi in my hand. I, at last, understood what the break was for: a peeing and drinking break, combined, genius. After the third or fourth block of parading, I got the hang of the dance and was overjoyed at the sight of those who crowded the sidewalks, clapping their hands to the beat of the taiko drums and rocking back and forth to the steady plucking of the shamisen. During the second and third leg of the parade I was summoned to the front row to dance with Mayor Takehara, who, like me at times, enjoys the spotlight more that hates it. Night had fallen by the time the parade portion of the Midokoi Matsuri was concluded. It was still around 28 degrees with very high humidity.
Sunday was no different from the day before, for it was a blazing 30 plus degrees before noon when I was on my way to Akune’s port to see the community performance. I arrived at the port and was greeted first by the rank smell of fishnets, the beautiful smell of the sea and a port full of onlookers at what seemed to be a very lively gathering for the final day of the Midokoi Matsuri. A variety of dance groups, accompanied by taiko drums, shamisen and old men-who could really wail some great bass notes-was the main attraction of the afternoon events. I wandered over to the seaside of the stage and bumped into one of the front desk ladies at the city office, Mayumi. She and I stood and chatted for a while before she started flirting with me. I think she liked my hair. She is hilarious. So hilarious that she treated me to lunch, twice. Before coming home from the port I made sure to pick up some fresh saba (mackerel), a local favourite, delicious and a breeze to cook on my new, handy dandy gas range grill.
That same night was the firework show, also held at the port. I learned a lot during the firework show: babies do not enjoy fireworks; fireworks will set off sensitive car alarms within a seven-block radius; fireworks are breathtaking and captivating, on any given night-except in cloudy Seattle, that is.
Today I attended my first speech contest. In other words, today was my first venture into the world of Japanese Junior High School, puberty at its finest. I actually felt more self-conscious than most of the kids giving speeches today. The weight of two hundred pairs of eyes when I walked through the entrance to Akune Junior High’s gymnasium is something I will never forget (please, if you like films, especially old films, research ‘Twenty-four Eyes [二重四の瞳, Nijushi no hitomi]’, by Keisuke Kinoshita, 1954). The speech contests’ intention was to give students a chance to state their opinions, openly, and on any subject that they sought fit. For example: what we can do about global warming; my hometown; the importance of friends; and the weight of our words, which went on to claim first place. There was one speech that I thoroughly enjoyed.
The smallest boy on stage, Yanaka-san, delivered his speech with gusto and took command of his audience. Yanaka-san spoke about how he learned from an injury he had last year in the spring. Yanaka-san, much like I had done roughly six years ago, broke his arm and soon learned how important having two functional arms is. The point that Yanaka-san devoted the majority of his speech to, though, was one that resonated with me as well as the audience, or so it seemed. Yanaka-san, standing just over a meter tall, learned that those who take care of you when you are in need, those who truly understand the magnitude of a friends’ hardship, those are your true friends. Well done, Yanaka-san.
What an opportunity. To be able to speak in front of one’s entire school, one’s entire community is something that I did not quite expect to witness my first day at school. However, as soon as the prizes and honourable mentions were distributed, the kids dared not come near me, even to utter their first and last name. I guess they still have a bit of summer vacation left before English class starts.
In light of the moving and opinionative speech contest today, I leave you with this, very telling, Japanese proverb: 出る杭は打たれる, The nail that stands up, gets hammered down.
I received a crash-course lesson in traditional Midokoi dancing before hitting the streets. The moves that are essential to dancing in the parade consist of motions similar to that of shutting and closing a cabinet with both hands, at eye level; smiling and slightly bowing is also more than welcome, especially if you are the new foreigner in town. After a couple of drinks at the city office, my place of work, one mini drink and a couple bumps of Akune shochu (the best hooch in the country) I was ready to hit the road with the staff that runs the inner workings of the city, including Mayor Takehara himself. If my readers have not noticed already, Akune-shi does not hold back on their drinking. In response, I practice the most humble form of discretion: say no once, and then say kampai (cheers) once more.
I was truly amazed at how organized the parade was that Saturday evening. From the pre-school marching bands, who rocked out hard, to the freshest of the fresh middle school dance troops, I was among a highly trained-or so it seemed-group of Akune festival-goers. I was relieved when I heard the loud speaker call out the first break in the parade. Wait. Break? In a parade? For what? I was whisked away by the primary security officer at the city office, Matsunaga-san, who insisted that I call him Captain Matsunaga (he is a class 1 Captain, license and everything), and the next thing I know I was in a crowded bathroom with another mini-Asahi in my hand. I, at last, understood what the break was for: a peeing and drinking break, combined, genius. After the third or fourth block of parading, I got the hang of the dance and was overjoyed at the sight of those who crowded the sidewalks, clapping their hands to the beat of the taiko drums and rocking back and forth to the steady plucking of the shamisen. During the second and third leg of the parade I was summoned to the front row to dance with Mayor Takehara, who, like me at times, enjoys the spotlight more that hates it. Night had fallen by the time the parade portion of the Midokoi Matsuri was concluded. It was still around 28 degrees with very high humidity.
Sunday was no different from the day before, for it was a blazing 30 plus degrees before noon when I was on my way to Akune’s port to see the community performance. I arrived at the port and was greeted first by the rank smell of fishnets, the beautiful smell of the sea and a port full of onlookers at what seemed to be a very lively gathering for the final day of the Midokoi Matsuri. A variety of dance groups, accompanied by taiko drums, shamisen and old men-who could really wail some great bass notes-was the main attraction of the afternoon events. I wandered over to the seaside of the stage and bumped into one of the front desk ladies at the city office, Mayumi. She and I stood and chatted for a while before she started flirting with me. I think she liked my hair. She is hilarious. So hilarious that she treated me to lunch, twice. Before coming home from the port I made sure to pick up some fresh saba (mackerel), a local favourite, delicious and a breeze to cook on my new, handy dandy gas range grill.
That same night was the firework show, also held at the port. I learned a lot during the firework show: babies do not enjoy fireworks; fireworks will set off sensitive car alarms within a seven-block radius; fireworks are breathtaking and captivating, on any given night-except in cloudy Seattle, that is.
Today I attended my first speech contest. In other words, today was my first venture into the world of Japanese Junior High School, puberty at its finest. I actually felt more self-conscious than most of the kids giving speeches today. The weight of two hundred pairs of eyes when I walked through the entrance to Akune Junior High’s gymnasium is something I will never forget (please, if you like films, especially old films, research ‘Twenty-four Eyes [二重四の瞳, Nijushi no hitomi]’, by Keisuke Kinoshita, 1954). The speech contests’ intention was to give students a chance to state their opinions, openly, and on any subject that they sought fit. For example: what we can do about global warming; my hometown; the importance of friends; and the weight of our words, which went on to claim first place. There was one speech that I thoroughly enjoyed.
The smallest boy on stage, Yanaka-san, delivered his speech with gusto and took command of his audience. Yanaka-san spoke about how he learned from an injury he had last year in the spring. Yanaka-san, much like I had done roughly six years ago, broke his arm and soon learned how important having two functional arms is. The point that Yanaka-san devoted the majority of his speech to, though, was one that resonated with me as well as the audience, or so it seemed. Yanaka-san, standing just over a meter tall, learned that those who take care of you when you are in need, those who truly understand the magnitude of a friends’ hardship, those are your true friends. Well done, Yanaka-san.
What an opportunity. To be able to speak in front of one’s entire school, one’s entire community is something that I did not quite expect to witness my first day at school. However, as soon as the prizes and honourable mentions were distributed, the kids dared not come near me, even to utter their first and last name. I guess they still have a bit of summer vacation left before English class starts.
In light of the moving and opinionative speech contest today, I leave you with this, very telling, Japanese proverb: 出る杭は打たれる, The nail that stands up, gets hammered down.
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