Mr. Mayor, meet Mr. Rob Noble

“Mr. Mayor, meet Mr. Rob Noble…”

Last week I returned to the city office from my first day of school and found a number of sticky notes on my desk. A majority of them were written by one of my advisors, Momokita-sensei, in very nice kanji characters: “Class will be cancelled at Akune Elementary on the afternoon of Tuesday September 7, 2009 due to rehearsal for the upcoming Sports Festival.” Almost all of my classes at junior high school have been cancelled as a result of the Sports Festival, a very sacred event for elementary, junior and senior high school across Japan. I made note of the cancellations in my agenda that I have at the ready on my desk. I then looked to the remaining sticky note.

The characters weren’t as clear as the two other notes-and this one was mint green, the other two were pink-so all I could make out were the dates of this indecipherable notice. I also gathered that the memo had something to do with Australia. (Australia, as with other foreign words that were imported into Japan in their original form, like computer, coffee, and image up, are written in a phonetic alphabet called katana.) I asked Hirata-san, my pleasantly friendly desk neighbour if she could help me read the note.
“Oh, it looks like the Mayor is requesting you to assist him at a meeting this coming Tuesday.”
“What kind of meeting”, I inquired apprehensively.
“I think the a former vice-Mayor from Australia is coming to meet Mayor Takehara", Hirata-san explained, ”They need an interpreter.”

I have never interpreted before in my life. Well, I have toured my family around Japan, throughout which I was called upon to make hotel and train reservations, order meals and navigate the streets of crowded tourist districts. However, successfully booking a night’s stay at the Toyoko Inn, a Bullet train from Tokyo to Kyoto or ordering a meal at kaitenzushi (conveyer-belt sushi) do not measure up to the issues one might expect to encounter at a meeting of two local government officials. I only hesitated for a moment before accepting the job.

After finishing school at Akune elementary on Tuesday morning I headed back to the city office to spend the rest of the day relaxing before my interpreting debut. As I anticipated, there was a delay in the start time of the meeting, so I ended up staying at my desk much later than usual. This was actually pretty interesting. When the workday ends in Japan the work does not stop. Although the workday is said to conclude at 1615 everyday, most people in my office stay at work until 1900 or 2000 everyday. Interesting. I spent the short time waiting for the meeting to start by reading a blog about bicycles (bikesnobnyc.blogspot.com, check it out). It was not long before the general director of the board of education Nagafukata-san called me down to the Mayor’s meeting room. I entered the room with Nagafukata-san and was introduced to Mr. Rob Noble, a former Executive of local governments in Australia who currently manages a leadership development organization; his Australian accent was surprisingly pleasant. I sat adjacent to Mayor Takehara and across from Mr. Noble, who insisted I call him Rob. It felt like a pretty natural set up for this casual meeting.

The subjects covered in the meeting ranged from simple greetings to questions about lifestyle in Japan and Australia, exchange of political hopes and dreams to worries about the waning spiritual and philosophical consciousness of younger generations in Australia and Japan. There was also some humour involved, which, thanks to Mayor Takehara’s slight grasp of English, added some well-deserved laughs to this casual exchange. Almost one hour had passed when Rob said it was time for him to go and meet his wife at the Akune Grandview Hotel. I received a nice pewter koala pin from Rob as a token of his appreciation. Little did he know that I am an avid collector of all things pewter. I was thrilled with Rob’s kind gesture, though I was much more thankful for the valuable opportunity to interpret for Mayor Takehara and Nagafukata-san.

After signing off for the day, finally, Nagafukata-san offered to take me out for “dinner” to show his appreciation for my cooperation. We went to my favourite spot in the town, Otone yakitori, where we shared some delicious meat on a stick, a nice cold beer and some genuine Kagoshima shochu on the rocks with water (makes it super smooth). After a while Nagafukata-san called Captain Matsunaga to come out and have some drinks at a different spot, 24 Office. There we met the Captain and shared a couple more glasses of shochu and salty snacks. It had not even been an hour before we were off to the next, but not final, destination of the night. This time we went to a karaoke bar, which is managed by a group of women from the Philippines. Very short skirts, very weak drinks but amazing karaoke.I was about cashed when we left the Filipino bar, but the Captain insisted that we visit his daughter’s fiancé’s restaurant, Harmonica, just across the Takamatsu River, right in my hood.

Harmonica is a stunningly beautiful restaurant. The sleek front counter and finished wood table setup gives off a slight air of modernity, but a large handmade wood table in the entry way and the open kitchen creates an atmosphere that reminded me of a throwback classic diner. It smelled delicious. While we waited for the Captain’s daughter to show up I was introduced to a large parties of 20-somethings, all acquaintances with the owner and therefore Captain Matsunaga. Shigehisa, the incipient groom, came out with our drinks and sat with Nagafukata-san, the Captain and I for a moment then, as if recalling something extremely important, eagerly offered to show me his home next door. I am always humbled to be invited into someone’s home, especially within such a short time of being acquainted with one another, it communicates that a certain sense of trust has been established.

I ducked through the small sliding door and took off my shoes, finally lifting up my head to observe my surroundings. As I stepped up the hand made, finished wood genkan (entry way) my jaw dropped through the tatami mats. I had just been escorted into an extraordinarily pristine old-style Japanese house. I was toured through the ground floor and soon learned that the house and most of its furniture have been in the Matsumoto family since the Meiji era (1867-1912). You could feel the history with each step, around every corner and up every stairwell. The most intriguing history, though, came from the most inconceivable place.

Nagafuakata-san, Shigehisa-san and I all sat around yet another magnificently handcrafted wooden table as Ms. Matsumoto took out an decrepit box from a prominently placed lacquer cabinet-'Is this actually happening?', I thought to myself-and took out stacks of old paper. I took a closer look and listened carefully as Ms. Matsumoto started to explain what it actually was that she had pulled out for us to see. Money. I am not talking about your run of the mill 1000, 5000 or 100000-yen note, but bills that have been out of print for nearly one hundred years. The graphics on the money were remarkable, the colours astonishing. Before getting up from the seiza position (sitting on your knees, a truly leg-numbing experience), Ms. Matsumoto insisted that I take a few of the bills as keepsakes. I bowed deep, extended both hands and humbly received the more than generous gesture. I was speechless and moved by this brush with Akune’s history and tangible Japanese culture.

The Japanese proverb I have in mind for this entry is only apt for my experience at Harmonica and the breathtaking Matsumoto residence. It also, however, has a greater significance to why I am in Japan and why I have continued to follow passionately my study of the Japanese language.

When I was about to enter high school I had two important decisions to make: where to go and what foreign language to study. That is all I talked about with my friends at Summit K-12 (for life) in the spring of 2001. One friend decided on Latin. To this day no one knows why. A couple of friends went for French, but for the most part everybody was excited to continue taking Spanish-who wouldn’t after taking Cora’s beginning Spanish class anyway? I took Spanish with Cora (hey Ma) and I will never forget it, especially the day when she took my little finger skateboard and threw it out the window, ay caramba! Despite my memorable Spanish experience I did not really want to follow the flock. I soon registered at Roosevelt, but I was still at loss in the foreign language department. That was until I heard about the energetic and humorous Japanese teacher at Roosevelt from one of my sister’s friends. Japanese it is. I had never crossed my mind, to study Japanese. I had always enjoyed Japanese art including sumi painting and Karen’s annual raku firing, but I never thought about pursuing the language.

I remember the first day of Sensei Tashibu’s class like it was yesterday. A handful of round tables around the room created a noticeably different classroom atmosphere, not to mention the posters of famous Japanese sights, art and kanji characters. For the first activity, Sensei taught us how to spell our names in katakana.
“Ok, next”, Sensei said in a commanding yet kind voice.
“Asher.”
“アッシャー”, was what Sensei wrote, lightning fast on the whiteboard.
“Good luck with that one kid”, said the upper-classman sitting next to me. I tried my best.

I would like to extend my genuine and heartfelt congratulations to Sensei Tashibu for receiving this year’s National Japanese Teacher of the Year award. An award of this caliber is only apt for a teacher and passionately driven mentor as Sensei Tashibu. 先生、おめでとうございます！

足下から鳥が立つ (ashimoto kara tori ga tatsu), Many things happen unlooked for.