The Power of Omiyage

Hello All

I have just recently returned from a week-long orientation and training retreat in the capital city of Kagoshima prefecture, Kagoshima and Kanoya, a city in the middle of the mountains on the eastern peninsula of the prefecture, respectively. It was the first time all of the Assistant Lanugage Teachers (ALTs) had been together since the surreal limbo world that was Tokyo Orientation. I was very relieved to see some familiar faces, speak freely in my mother tongue and make use of sarcasm, which unfortunately doesn’t translate as well I wish it would in Japanese.

I woke up extremely early on Monday morning and for a moment recalled the dreadfully early morning blues that I felt as a Roosevelt High School student (soak up those last days of summer Mom). I planned on meeting two other ALTs in the nearby city of Izumi so we could all take the bullet train to Kagoshima city together. I had not ridden the bullet train since my family came to Japan in the spring of 2008. Needless to say I was thrilled to once again take advantage of one of Japan’s most efficient railways. When Katie, Badillo and I (three young strapping ALTs) hit the platform in our business attire the wind from the bullet train created the effect of some cheesy JR rail line commercial: my afro swayed slightly; Katie’s hair leaped in the air and over her shoulders; Badillo’s suit jacket danced behind his crisply creased pants. The pristine bullet train pulled up, as clean and quiet as I remember, and took us to our destination.

Kagoshima city was maybe one or two degrees cooler. However, in exchange for the lax temperature (not), the airborne ash from the active volcano, Sakurajima (Cherry Blossom Island) factored in as yet another weatherly wildcard of Kagoshima. Sakurajima is breathtaking and can be seen from most parts of the city, although most of the time obstructed by high-rises. Kagoshima city is often bombarded by thick showers of ash, since it is in the direct vicinity of Sakurajima, leaving a blanket of white and gray flakes all of the cityscape. It is not rare to see people totting umbrella for that exact purpose.

The Kagoshima Orientation took place at the prefectural office (kencho), a 25-plus-story building that resembles a robot from afar. The information at this two-day orientation was, unfortunately, the ugly triplet of the Seattle and Tokyo orientations that I attended before arriving in Kagoshima. I struggled and sweated, but, believe it or not, I learned something new: in the event of an earthquake, make sure to have a spare pair of clean underwear. Sarcasm aside, it was nice to hear the same information presented again from different perspectives. I always benefit from hearing the information I read in my JET handbook applied to firsthand experiences.

Throughout the two-day orientation I was put up in a hotel in the city, for which I owe the Akune BOE great appreciation and thanks. When I learned that I would be staying at the Toyoko Inn, however, I was even more ecstatic and ever more thankful. As my immediate family can tell you from experience, the Toyoko Inn is the tits of all business hotels in Japan, of which there are numerous. The service is impeccable, the rooms are comfortable (if you like hard beds and are not claustrophobic) and the Japanese continental breakfast is served hot (at 0730-0830, rice balls, miso soup, pickles and tea) every morning. After coming home late from a pirate themed banquet at the port of Kagoshima and a karaoke outing, I crawled onto my extra-firm mattress, flicked on the air conditioner and enjoyed the few hours of sleep before the next day’s orientation, anxiously awaiting the fresh rice balls. When I woke up bleary-eyed hungry I made the short trip down stairs expecting the usual, but I was absolutely blown away by the breakfast. Not only did they have the usual spread, but the miso soup had cabbage, onions and bean sprouts, the tea was black and better and to top it all off there was potato salad and butter rolls; I have never had a better Toyoko Inn stay in my life and as we all know, the stay is only as good as the breakfast. Thank you Toyoko Inn, I will be forever loyal to your guaranteed hospitality and rice balls.

After orientation at kencho was over all 40-some Kagoshima ALTs took a ferry ride to the eastern peninsula of the prefecture, the Osumi side-I live on the Satsuma-han side-, to make our way to the cultural retreat portion of the week’s activities. The boat ride was beautiful, especially because the course of the ship allowed for an almost perfect 180 degree view of Sakurajima. (Although its name insinuates that it is an island, Sakurajima is no longer a free floating landmass. Due to centuries of volcanic eruptions, the magma soon formed a land bridge that connected it to the Osumi mainland.) Our four-day retreat was held at the Kagoshima Asia-Pacific Institute for Agricultural Research Centre (KAPIC), a beautiful resort in the middle of the mountains of Kanoya, surrounded by a small lake and lush wildlife, including but not limited to gigantic moths, huge dragonflies, monkeys and beer-drinking foreigners in Kimono.

When we arrived at KAPIC, I picked up my name tag and noticed that it had a small, pink sticky note on it; ‘passport?’ was all that was written on the memo. I thought, ‘Oh, they must want to see my passport, you know, for confirmation.’ When I reached for my travel wallet, with my passport, bank book, insurance book, salary record and other memorabilia I noticed it was not there.
“Asher we have been notified that you left your passport bag at the prefecutural office in Kagoshima. Do not panic”, said one KAPIC staff member. I did not panic. In fact, it is surprisingly hard to panic when you can’t feel anything, when you are numb from having realized the fact that the livelihood of your existence was found in the bathroom of the prefectural office two hours and a body of water away. I called my supervisor, Shinsaka-san, he already knew. How did he know before me? I don’t want to ask. I called kencho.
“We have your passport”, a calm, ensuring voice said,” I understand that you are returning to the city this Friday, is that correct? [Yes] If you could, please come by the International Exchange Bureau on the tenth floor and we will return your passport [Thank you and please accept my apology].”
I picked up my passport on Friday and received this advice from my prefectural advisor, Shimoshikiryo-san: “It would be best if you did not lose this, again.”

For the most part of four days, I, along with 40 other ALTs, was immersed in Japanese language and culture in the very authentic setting that KAPIC provided: we took culture classes in which we practiced Zen painting; we tried on real kimono and yukata; we, or I should say must of us, enjoyed three balanced, regimented meals of Japanese cuisine everyday; and we enjoyed the company of our fellow ALT friends. Having studied Japanese for sometime before this orientation I was placed in a Japanese workshop class in which I had the opportunity to interact with Japanese Teachers of English (JTEs) working in Kagoshima. Our first assignment was to prepare a short (3-5 min) speech in Japanese. We would present this speech to the JTEs the following morning. And present we did. I had a lot of fun voicing my hopes and dreams for the year to the on-looking JTEs and was very gracious for the presence and input.

My homecoming to Akune was very exciting. Uneventful, but exciting nonetheless. What did I do to celebrate? I went to the grocery store, twice, then made chipotle burgers (that fell apart) and went to my trusty yakitori joint Otone; I haven’t paid for a meal there in weeks. Saturday, though was very eventful. I went to supermarket again, twice, and rented more books at the library. Right now I am reading Tezuka Osamu’s “Buddha” (#5) and things are getting very interesting; Buddha is spreading his word, starting with deer. On Saturday night I decided to go to a bar that I had never been to before. I am having trouble recalling the name, but it is right by Akune’s main train station.

I was greeted warmly by the two owners: a charming woman stood behind the behind the counter and her healthily intoxicated husband sat at the bar; a large party in the back tatami room provided the white noise. Two tiny girls came to join me at the bar just as the first dish of food came out, fried sardine with lime and a side of gobo (burdock root with vinegar). It was hilarious how much energy these two little girls had and they kept on telling me that the Mama (female managers of restaurants are often referred to as Mama) behind the counter makes the best egg dishes in the world; I did not have any eggs, but Mama makes a great goya with miso paste. As I enjoyed the delicate goya dish, a young sunburned man came out of the tatami room and struck up a conversation with me in English. Mukae-san studies English at Kansai Foreign Language University in Shiga prefecture, right next to Kyoto. Mukae-san was in the middle of a summer cycling tour. In other words, I met him in the middle of his tour from Shiga, in the middle of Japan, all the way down to the tip of Kagoshima, nearly an 800 kilometer round trip.

Mukae-san and I talked hip-hop, of all things, and drank beer for a while until a couple of older guys that I knew from Otone came in and started pouring shochu. Then Otomi-san walked in, a cute middle aged Japanese woman who runs a small hostel type project that houses motorcycle touring groups. The hostel is an emptied out, renovated train car and it is connected to a non-profit organization office that raises money for helping the elderly and research for children’s diseases all over the world. Otomi-san was quick to ask me if I would volunteer the following day for a twenty-four hour charity benefit. I had seen advertisements on TV for it, so I obliged and on Sunday morning, bright, hot and early I was decked out in a yellow shirt like thousands of other volunteers across the country, yelling my head off asking for donations. I surprisingly felt way more comfortable asking for donations in Japanese than I ever would have in English. What a day. I was out in the sun from 1000 to 1600; my right side is looking real tan now. After closing up shop at the charity booth a little ways from Akune train station, which is where the train car hostel is, Otomi-san and I shared tea and talked about other opportunities that I could get involved in while I am living in Akune. I may have just found something.

Today was my first day back at work from training and I was almost glad to sit down in my little leather desk chair and stare at the computer screen all day. Well, it was nice to see everyone’s face, but that certainly did not make the room feel any cooler or the fluorescents and milder.

At lunch I walked around to everyone’s desk and gave them a small treat from Sakurajima, little sugar cookies flavoured with one of Sakurajima’s specialty fruits, the komikan or the mini mikan, known in the west as the Satsuma orange. This was the second time I had practiced the omiyage (gift giving) tradition in the office. Gift giving is huge is Japan. It is undoubtedly one of the most ubiquitous practices in the country and one that I have taken a liking to throughout my experience in Japan. The atmosphere of the office changed immediately when I handed out the individually package cookies. Although it is completely expected of everyone to follow through with at least some sort of omiyage, when one actually gives omiyage, the notion that you had your co-workers in mind becomes apparent and appreciation is paid with a simple thanks, a comment about how delicious your cookie is or a genuine smile. As the crunching sound of wrappers and small giggles of delight filled the void of my office I realized the power of the omiyage.

In light of the terrifying shock I experienced when I misplaced my passport and the mysterious passage of information to my advisor, I give you this Japanese proverb: 悪事千里を走る、Bad news travels fast.