Poetry

Here are some poems by my oldest students (third years in junior high):

untitled by Shigenori
How far continue blue sky.
How far continue white cloud.
How far light shine sun,
And how far continue my walk road.


Broad Sky by Tomonori
Moonshine to broad sky
Then many stars shine around
So I living


Moon by Ayumi
Night come sweet moon
Moon is warm-hearted that
I think moon see all people.


Dream by Ayaka
Shine forever
In my heart
Very big treasure
Wonderful.

untitled by Honami
A light cloud was floating lightly when I looked up at the sky.
My family was at home when I came back to my home.
My friends are in my school when I go to school.
The flowers are in bloom.
I love causal day so much!!
And thank you.

ubuyama ni wa ichiban heart arimasu.

Last night was my welcome party. The principals and vice-principals from the middle school and two elementary schools where I work attended, as well as the superintendent of the schools and some of the Board of Education's staff members (including my supervisor). There were supposed to be even more people, but it didn't bother me.

We had an enkai. So we sat cross legged around a big table at a restaurant for about four hours drinking beer, Woodbridge Cabernet, and various kinds of local shochu (that clear, easy going spirit that they produce here, primarily out of sweet potatoes). We also ate a large selection of meats, raw fish, and seafood. Before the whole event there were the customary speeches. Kind words were spilled from various people and then I even had a little speech prepared on a piece of paper. But the speeches were mostly not understood by me. What was understood by me is this: that the superintendent is almost positive that Ubuyama has the biggest heart in the whole prefecture. Also, the goal of education here is happy children. And finally, they really seem to like me here and the sentiment is reciprocal. After that party as well as today's morning at the nursery with the little bumpkins of joy they would have to do more than pay me to leave. They made it quite clear, as well, that they want me here for the full three years. We'll see what my endurance is like. It could be an excellent three years. Many friends and family members could also visit in that time. Who knows...

The way I am treated here is extraordinary. Not only am I a sensei, one of the most respected members of Japanese society, but I am paid much more than a starting teacher's salary. That seems almost unfair; perhaps it is, but I don't control these things. I am also fully welcomed as a cultural ambassador, teacher, and new member of the community. The village peoples' arms are open wide and it's hard not to do the same with all these wonderful kids around.

Civic, Sayonara

Yesterday I was finally convinced by my boss and supervisor to scrap the car that was handed down through four of my predecessors. It is sad to say goodbye to such a car that still functions. But economically it was the only feasible option. I would have to pay more on maintenance alone for the Civic than it would cost to buy a much newer car. The stereo and components will be salvaged, of course, but the car will go to car heaven in the form of a much smaller cubic shape after it has been compressed. In hawaii I could probably sell this car for at least $1500. But in Japan, for around the same price I can buy a 1999 Toyota mid-size with 100,000km (appr. 65,000 miles).

The civic is 16 years old, maybe almost 17. That's the age that I lived on Maui for an entire 12 months, only leaving once for a basketball trip to the big island. It was a happy year--full of sunshine, glee, and the rare morning hangover that I spent with my parents, trying to conceal the somehow too obvious affliction (always a charming, refreshing experience)--but it was not my last. But I was not a 1989 Honda Civic, and I probably will never be. And it will never get the chance to live on Maui like I did. Maybe some of its parts will be recycled and find their way to Maui. That is a comforting thought.

mountain + onsen

This weekend I took it upon myself to climb Kuju, one of Kyushu's largest peaks, twice. While it is only about 1700 meters tall, it was pretty demanding. There were many nice people on the trail, but no other foreigners. After each 3+ hour day of hiking I went to Kurokawa and partook in one of their 20-30 onsen (hot springs/spas). You pay about five dollars to go and use the beautiful spas. The one I went to was made out of rocks and concrete and it sat right next to a waterfall where the water was a translucent light green. The water they pump up from deep in the ground and it's full of minerals. I drank some too (that is supposed to be very good for you). The onsen I went to had a women's area and a mixed area (but no women would dare go to the mixed area). Everyone's naked of course. It's a very relaxing place to go after a long hike. You can watch the water fall and look at the trees surrounding it and in the fall they will be full of color. The sound of the waterfall is also very pleasant. I recommend it.

The gods laugh a lot

Isn’t it beautiful here?
I just gave a speech at the school where I work the most. First I made the four proper bows, which amused the audience. I had a small piece of paper to remember some words in Japanese. Then the English teacher, this great guy Sato sensei, translated the rest of my five-minute speech. I told them how wonderful I thought they were, including the teachers (there were about 55 people there). Then I told them that without the kindness and good-heartedness of many Japanese people in the past I would not be here. It is perhaps too simplistic to say, but it is true. My mother and her family would not have been able to live through a war in Japan without the unusual kindness of ordinary Japanese. And if they had not had that experience in Japan one of the main motivational factors for applying to JET in the first place may never have been. It was also a course on Japanese history that led me along my merry way to the place I sit and type now. Speaking of the course, my professor, Samuel Yamashita, is coming out with a new book this upcoming month. It is called Leaves from an Autumn of Emergencies: Selections from the Wartime Diaries of Ordinary Japanese and I advise you to check it out. You can read a short piece on it here:

http://www.usatoday.com/news/world/2005-08-03-hiroshima-voices_x.htm

From what I know about wartime Japan and the diaries and letters I have read it was a tumultuous time for the majority of individuals who had to reconcile the responsibility of serving their country (or disagreeing with it) as well as survive in a time of severe food shortages.

That said; last night I realized as well how chaotic the various winds that blew me here really are. I could be in France right now! Or in Berkeley with my brother! I understand why I came here instead but I also recognize where I could be. It’s funny to look back on all those choices you made in your life and realize how they could have been made differently; but then, of course, you would be a different person looking back (if you chose to look back at all). History is like that as well, but to many it seems otherwise. Best not to dwell too much, but good to dwell some.

On the global level, as with the individual level, the things that go wrong are frustrating: the wars that last too long, the corruption of people in power, the inertia of global warming, and the development of nuclear weapons. Then there are some people trying to help (perhaps dnc.org and my good friend and governor for 2.5 years Howie?). In some ways they are like personal bouts: spouses fighting, a broken marriage, child abuse, discrimination, misunderstanding, hard childhood, or abject poverty. So are the global and the personal the same thing I ask of you kind readers? Gather your thoughts and circulate your ideas, otherwise they may never be.

California on my mind

I’ve just about healed from the dog attack. It was good to be reminded how passionately vicious mammals are capable of being.

Sometimes I wonder what all my co-workers are talking about all day in the office. They are a lively bunch. One of the dudes likes to yell down at students from the office window. He has a breathy, mafia gangster-like voice. Then there is this sweet plump teacher who told me to call her “pretty Uchi” (so I do) and she is always making emphatic exclamations in the office. We all sit at our desks for about nine hours a day if you count lunch (this will change once school starts back up on the 26th). Then again some of the teachers are coaching or helping the students during some of that time. Unfortunately we don’t have cubicles; this means that your business is my business and that we cannot pretend to be in the film “Office Space.”

The other day I noticed that Tom Green has a blog. You can view it at tomgreen.com ; for some silly reason I am a fan of this particular comedian. There is something about the way he cares about his own carelessness that is very amusing. He likes to fill his blog entries with details about his body and general feelings. He is both candid and down to earth. That combined with a little touch of je ne sais quoi does the trick.

What is it with comedians? Will Ferrell’s serious aloofness and Ben Stiller’s hopeless but trying characters. (There are probably better ways to phrase the character they tend to play…). Empathy certainly plays a role in making these characters so funny as does sympathy for them. Jeff Bridges in The Big Lebowski and his co-stars Steve Buscemi and John Goodman are the three perfect idiots that are impossible to hate maybe because they so cleverly emulate important character traits that exist, on some level, in the majority of individuals in our society. Goodman plays the ineffective dominant brother, Lebowski plays the abiding middle brother, and Buscemi plays the little brother always willing to play along. Of course this is not how all brothers or friends in society are aligned, but they have enough correlatives to work well on the comic level.

I’ve been thinking about California a bit recently. And about Hawaii, and France, and Spain (somewhere I have yet to visit). Bali is on my mind. To leave so thoroughly allows me to see what's out there with renewed eyes. Also, thinking about the places makes them feel less far away. Those Joshua trees are excellent. For many of the people I meet here I am there exposure to the places I have been--they otherwise would not have a person-to-person understanding of these distant places. There is so little diversity here that my presence is very impactful. One of my nursery students was so shy when she first saw me that she cried all day. I am that different than those around me. But my presence is also good at illuminating the similarities. I too like sashimi and green tea. I too can sit properly and enjoy a glass of shochu or sake. I too can appreciate the Buddha. I too like the Beatles (the vice-principal Nomura loves the Beatles).

My grand-predecessor has put a link up for my blog on his blog, so I will do the same: http://www.cosmicbuddha.com/adam/
There is even more about Ubuyama in his blog. He was here for two years starting three years ago. His name is Adam Yoshida and he is pretty cool. Especially since he lived here. Now I am living in the same little house that he lived in. And I have his old car (but maybe not for long; I am upgrading). Here in Japan you can buy a decent late nineties car for about one or three thousand U.S. dollars. New cars are not that much more expensive. The real costs come in the form of taxes which are about $1500 for every two years. Most people are driving these little boxy K-cars (small cars with two or three cylinder engines that can pull off about 50-60 miles to the gallon I reckon). Gas is maybe $5 per gallon. I reckon.

Last night I got to lead an English conversation class in the neighboring town. About eight adults (ages 30-80 appr.) sat down and I told them about my family, where they come from, and where I come from. They were pretty happy and even offered me some of the candy that they had used to offer to their ancestors on Obon, the Buddhist holiday that basically started the day I ate the snake. They also introduced themselves to me and seem to be very happy to just hang out for a couple hours every Monday night (and they even pay me a bit)….

So I will carry on my country life among the beautiful enchanted trees, farmlands, mountains, streams, and onsens. I will try to avoid the semi-rabid dogs (I think the one that got me was a Shitzu) and the Mamushi. The earthquakes and volcanoes may rattle and burn me but I should survive them. In the meantime I hope that my brother Nick is enjoying his trip in Europe and that Anthony is lighting Berkeley up; also we wish mom and dad our best on their island home. And I hope that my gracious friends, the ones that bother to read from time to time the little words I write here for them, are having their own exotic experiences and/or relaxing epiphanies.

Word of the day:

Epiphenomenalism: (n) the view that consciousness is merely an aftereffect of physical processes in the brain and nervous system.

life around the sleeping buddha

I am pretty exhausted today. Last night was a barbecue at the junior high that I work at (which is also 20 meters from my front door). It is getting frustrating not being able to understand all the words that are being composed around me so it will make me determined to learn Japanese. People chat a lot here and they have a lot to ask me, but I can rarely understand them.

I wanted to post this photo because it is the upper half of the sleeping Buddha profile that the Mt. Aso peaks make up. Here you can see the scraggly face and the tummy of the giant beast of a man. Ubuyama apparently means "Mountain Birth" and refers to a myth about a god that was born up here. It also can be read as Innocent Mountain, or Mt. Innocent (my professor from college has informed me). There is a lot of drinking here for an innocent place. And those fields in the photo were once under the water of a giant lake and before that they were part of the floor of one of the world's largest volcanic craters (maybe #2, if not #1 largest).

Last night a friend's lapdog bit me twice and drew blood. Hopefully I will not die, but I do not know that this is the case. The dog is a cute little one with fluffy white hair and big round eyeballs that jut out of its flat face. So much for cute animals being peaceful and friendly. Same is true for chimps. They are about three times stronger than most people (maybe more) and can tear you up if they are in a bad mood.

Enough for now; tonight is my first conversation class and I need to rest up.

Hope you all are well and enjoying the wide world.

the ubuyama society

Yes the whirlwind has been blowing.

The number of social events that I have attended are numerous and plentiful. Just got taken out to a really nice onsen in Oita-ken (where the minerals in the water formed large deposits where they are pouring into the baths) and then brought back to town for sashimi, shochu, and Asahi super "Dry."

The other day (picture above) was the coming-of-age ceremony and after that was a small enkai and then the rest of the day off. All the kids who are turning twenty this year were there. There were about three t.v. cameras as well. These kids are kind of a big deal. And I am happy they are.

Then a couple days ago I visited the nursery. It was one of the best days of my life. These one, two, three, and four year-olds are the most adorable people I have ever met. They did not even butt poke me! There is actually a word for that in Japanese: the kancho. Hilarious I tell you.

And when I was eating sashimi tonight the family I was with (my boss's family, not supervisor's) was watching a t.v. show dedicated to this one chimp and his pet dog. They were the cutest duo I have ever seen. Just another example, Nick, of what I was trying to say. Here the chimp gets the same viewership as a reality t.v. show does in the U.S. (well, maybe per capita). You need to see this chimp with his/her overalls and the dog! They are amazing. They are so human, so alive, and so curious (and such good friends).

Oh yeah, and the question of how long to stay has already been a topic of conversation here; everyone wants three years out of my poor soul. Do they have any idea how isolated it is here? I know they know that this is one of the coldest places to live in the winter (thanks to summer insulation), but the isolation? I adore the people here, as you can probably tell. But I won't make any promises about how long I'll stay. It's a secret.

ciao for now.

the vagaries of hidden time and space

I will take this moment I have now to try to do some justice to the intricately sculpted land around me. Every now and then when I am not sitting at home reflecting in my dimly lit monk shack (the perfect place to reflect or simply relax), I step outside my house and go for a walk, a jog, or a combination of the two.

There are three separate roads leading from my house in three very different directions. Each one has hundreds of tiny roads jutting out from it—“the vagaries” I shall henceforth entitle them. I like these vagaries because they are often completely unpersoned, as if they were abandoned. But abandoned they are not, for the most part, because they lead to networks of rice paddies on carefully chiseled hills as well as places where the locals use logs to grow Shitaake mushrooms in the shade of the forests.


These vagaries are almost always surrounded by teeming vegetation, and for most of the day—at least during the summer—the insects make outlandish noises coming from all directions. When you walk these windy, densely vegetated roads you feel as if you are in a jungle. It is strange to think that it will all be covered in inches, and maybe even feet, of snow just a few months from now.

Not only do you encounter rice paddies, but you will undoubtedly run into beautiful Japanese gravestones that look like miniature temples rising from the ground. Some are black, but most that I have seen are grayish. Many of them appear to be made of marble. Right now they are adorned with colorful flowers and look as if they were new, as many of them probably are.


Just minutes ago I was in a race with time trying to finish an exploration of one of these little roads as the sun was lighting up the sky above me with the farewell colors of dusk. I was using my cheap and unpredictable pocket camera to try to capture some of the clouds that I could see. Surprisingly the camera is capable of capturing even more of the detail than my naked eye when photographing the clouds (it is only good in this situation, however, and is usually very bad, especially with greens).


All the while I am treading on this smoothly paved thin little trail constructed probably for the use of mini-trucks to service the rice paddies, sow the soil, and collect the rice. I stumble upon a steep valley lined with paddies going down the hillside like a giant’s staircase. On the edge of this opening there stands a black tomb and further down another tomb with a thin, tall, and picturesque pine tree.

I continue to follow the trail that starts to curve down the hillside under a thick cover of evergreens and some patches of bamboo. Near the bottom the trail turns from pavement to dirt and I remember what had been in the back of my mind during the whole trip: the Mamushi (the diminutive Japanese viper, part of one of which I recently ate) and its fangs of death. This is the season in which they are most abundant.

As I reach the base of the rice fields my eyes are directed straight down in front of my feet. Then I hear the strangest noise from above me coming from the bushy depths of the undergrowth. The sound, which mingles with the endless and full orchestra of the insects that make you feel like you are on another planet, is like a flute. The tune of the flute almost has structure. I would have almost been convinced that someone was up in the trees playing the flute. But my attentions are still mostly diverted elsewhere.

As I approach the carefully constructed rows of rice the object of my fears is spotted, just a couple feet in front of me. The snake, which is probably large enough to be a Mamushi, is darker than the one I had eaten. It is also very small. Now, after realizing that this particular snake is probably of little danger to me, I realize that the grass around my low-top clad feet makes it almost impossible to spot such a camouflaged animal as the Mamushi snake. I decide at this point that I have to pick up my speed in my race with the sunlight. I jog back up the winding path up to where the black tomb is and the lookout over the giant’s steps of rice paddies and then briskly walk down the less windy part of the road that had taken me up there in the first place. Near the entrance to this vagary I find another snake on the pavement and this one speeds from me using its body to form perfect half circles as it flees away.



This story is not meant to emphasize my fear of snakes and dying in the peaceful wilderness at the age of twenty-two, but rather it is more meant to offer you a better picture of what it is like out here in the countryside of central Kyushu. In many ways it is not at all like living in a modernized country. The land and customs are ancient and you can still drive to, and even walk to, places that leave almost no trace of the industrialization that has swept through Japanese culture like a brushfire in southern California. But this brushfire could not penetrate the lush and old forests of the past.

some short and simple words about advanced industrialization

Of modernization I wish to say a few words.

I have never been completely happy with the electrification of the modern world. I have never been completely happy with the cars, the televisions, and the computers that keep so many people attached to screens as if they were literally wired into the circuits behind the screens and inside the processors. I have never been happy, that is, except for my childhood obsession with TVs, computer games, and electric circuitry. Since then I have learned about the damage they can do to one’s personality. But I obviously now have found solace in these devices because I use them from time to time with great pleasure. They allow me to do things that I could otherwise only dream of.

The wires are strung throughout, and along the roads of, the countryside of Japan. For many here technology is integral to their way of life. They are as ugly as they are beautiful, as ordinary as they are alien.

My biggest fear about technology—and I think that is a sentiment I share with many well-educated mothers who have young children—is that it somehow strips away the imagination and trivializes the world around us. It is almost as if the mundane originates from the use of technology. But this was hardly the case with me, so why should I hold such a view? Moreover, the experience of the mundane is an almost inevitable aspect of everyday life.

When I was a child the films I saw on television helped broaden my imagination and allowed me to explore so many places in the world and so many imagined fantastic landscapes from the comfort of my own living room and my favorite black vinyl chair that slowly disintegrated as the years passed from toddlerhood to teenagerland. But I attribute the good effects of the TV to the fantasy (like The Neverending Story and Return to Oz) and sci-fi (like Short Circuit, Flight of the Navigator, and The Empire Strikes Back) that were so prominent in the eighties and early nineties. There were also great shows about primates and movies about chimpanzees like Project X. Maybe I just romanticize these things because they helped to make up my childhood... I dunno.

So I guess what I really fear today has more to do with the degradation of our culture (which seems to be happening on many levels, but this could be a mirage of some sort or a passing phase) and less to do with the prominence of electronics and advanced industrialization. Not, however, in the cases when the advanced industrialization is destroying the environment (then it is an evil in an entirely different way). But I have some faith that eventually we will develop more sustainable technology—it will eventually be the only option other than reverting to the traditional life.

August 14, 2005

I was recently in Kumamoto City in order to attend a three-day prefecture orientation. I learned there that there are 174 of us in Kumamoto prefecture alone. I also learned that some, if not the majority of JETs (those participating in Japan Teaching and Exchange) are not the kind of people you want to invite to your house. As a group (especially at bars) they are completely obnoxious. They certainly, however, make up a collection of well-educated and diverse folk (many are from the UK, Australia, New Zealand, South Africa, some are even from Jamaica).

Anyhow… On Thursday night I went out to see this huge fireworks display that was to happen near the grounds of one of Japan’s largest castles—Kumamoto Castle. The event was extraordinary. There were tens of thousands of people, almost all Japanese. Although the 70 or 80 new and returning JETs that were in the city were all invited to meet up somewhere at the event, very few traces of them could be found (and found they were in the form of very brief sightings of only about three of them). The fireworks lasted about 45 minutes, and they were spectacular. The gigantic crowd, most of which were sitting on the grass before a giant stage that featured some sort of techno-pop Japanese dancing and singing group, would “ooh and ahh” whenever the fireworks came in huge exciting spurts or once when they shot up these multi-colored flowers that consisted of individual rockets that would spin in disorderly directions all over the place as if each one were a heat-sensing missile heading for a twisting target in the sky. But besides these it was not the fireworks that made the show extraordinary, but the crowds and the amount of glowing attention that they—a group that appeared to contain almost 100,000 people—seemed to offer to the display above them. The giant crowds not only looked up at the fireworks, but they also carefully followed the patterns, pinnacles, and abnormalities of the show.

When the fireworks subsided the crowds that were up in the castle’s grounds came storming down the various exists. I went down one of the main exit ways and experienced the sea of heads bobbing on the descending path lined with cherry trees and those circular lamps that hang from power strings. I was the tallest that I could see, almost a head taller than most of the crowd. I also had the lightest hair of anyone that I could see (save those wise old folk who had achieved silver hair). But, oddly enough, I did not feel foreign or bizarre. Not once on this whole trip have I felt like so many white travelers seem to feel; I have not felt as if I were a blatant foreigner, as if I were always stared at or gawked at.

I came back to Ubuyama with my supervisor, Yuusuke Nakamura, and his 19-year-old daughter Haruka. They had met me in Kumamoto in order to drive me home the 75+ minutes it takes back to the inaka. In the inaka I was well fed and my thirst was quenched. I was offered to stay at their home, which is 6 km away from mine, and I took the offer (it was the second offer I had received from them). I decided to sleep there not to party the night away (Haruka, for example, had left to party in a neighboring city with her old friends from high school), but because Obon (Buddhist holiday) had started and Nakamura-san had invited me to come to his family’s graves across the rice patties from his home in order to put fresh wildflowers (that were to be collected in the morning) on them.

I want to take a moment here to describe the goodheartedness and hospitality of my dear supervisor and his wonderful, fascinating family. I now have spent many hours with Yuusuke, his wife, his kids, and his parents. They have fed me, taken me out to fancy dinners, supplied me with beer, shochu, sake, and tea; they have taken me to Mt. Kuju and to Oita City. They are not only a superbly gracious family, but they are a very interesting one as well. Yuusuke’s parents, who are in their early seventies, are both active farmers. They grow various vegetables, including daikon (Japanese radish, which they pickle), tomatoes (large and small), rice, and pumpkins; they have a cow and an adorable calf that licked my hand with its rough milk-lapping tongue, they have five reddish-brown chickens, and they even have a little turtle. Yuusuke, who works on the board of education (BOE) for (our) Ubuyama village, has bridged the gap between the traditional lifestyle that his parents still live on in his own home and the technologically advanced lifestyle that almost all urban Japanese seem to live. For instance, there is a GPS tracking device with two LCD displays (one for the front, and one for the back, of his car) in one of his three new-ish vehicles that also doubles as a DVD player and satelitte television. He has also discontinued the family practice of farming and his daughters do not seem to be heading in the direction of their grandparents. Yuusuke’s wife, who works in the nursery (pre-school) all week also prepares most of the meals for the family, which are always contain multiple dishes of very well made Japanese foods (so in this way Yuusuke and his wife are acting traditionally). Additionally, Yuusuke maintains traditions by practicing Shinshu Buddhism (for which he has an elaborate goldish shrine) and through honoring Shintoism (mostly in the form of keeping wish tokens that he buys at the Aso Shrine for his cars and house (they are meant to protect one’s family, make one’s wishes come true, or protect one’s car)). The two little shrines are right next to each other, each on the very edge of a room with tatami mats. The three daughters, two of which I will be teaching this year, seem to getting more worldly and more posh than their parents. Thus the trend seems to be drifting further and further from the traditions. That said, they all seem to get along very well. And I think they are an extraordinary family, one that illuminates some of the gigantic movements in Japanese culture that have come to fruition in the past century or so.

I also wish to mention that only Haruka speaks English with a level of proficiency; with the rest of the family communication is very slow.

So, I wake up after a night of mediocre sleep at about 7am so as not to miss the proceedings that I was told I would attend. Yuusuke and I drove to find his father at about 8am in the family’s farmland ten minutes away from the house. His father had found and nearly killed a Japanese viper or Mamushi as they are called here. Its remains were awkwardly and uncomfortably curled up and resting on the bed of his father’s mini-Honda truck. This was the first time that I saw this deadly snake, in fact, it may have been the first deadly snake that I have ever seen other than a California Rattlesnake (which are very rarely deadly). Later in the day after watching the snake regain some of its strength at the Nakamura residence, grandpa skinned the snake and wrapped it around a wooded stick to cook. I was surprised at just how beautiful the diminutive snake body (they are a small species) looked in the nude, without its brownish, patterned skin. It was like a glass sculpture, but not quite as clear. An hour later, well after grandpa had said (in what I thought was a joke) that the snake would be lunch, I tried snake for the first time. It was baked almost to a crisp, its bony body was very crunchy, somewhat like chicken. It is supposed to be excellent for the immune system and I was feeling a little sick, so….

After visiting a hydro-thermal electric plant 15 minutes away, after pouring water on the Nakamura family’s gravestones and putting the fresh flowers which grandpa had picked when he found the snake, my exhausted body was taken home where I sit here now as I type.

So far living in Japan has changed me greatly, although mostly in almost indescribable ways. I no longer fear any foods. I have learned to look at meats—whether they be fish, snake, or horse—as much more equal entities. When I eat meat I try to think of it was ingesting a piece of the animal’s soul. They are giving me important nutrients that will help me live long and be healthy as long as I live. Cow intestines may taste bad, but they won’t kill me; half-dried gooey squid on a stick may seem to be a weird concept, but it tastes pretty good. If it doesn’t kill you it probably has nutrients. And if it died to benefit you, you may want to at least be thankful.

Besides my thoughts about meat I have gained a much more positive outlook on the human species in general. In college I saw and heard about some pretty god-awful aspects of human behavior and by the end of my four years I was pretty down on our whole species (my friends were, however, almost always there to help remind me of the good). But after living here I have met so many nice, intelligent, and content people. Not only are they content, but they are humble as well. This is particularly important because there is nothing worse than an arrogant bastard who is content (but usually their contentedness is very short-lived or declines with age, as does their arrogance). When I went into the city, however, I was reminded of the discontent that seems to have spread (probably starting more than a century ago) around most urban areas. But this I feel is at least partly because it is fashionable to be discontent, or at least to appear discontented.

Waterfall Reflections

Finding the time to explain; to churn over the thoughts in your head so that you can translate them to someone else. Here in Japan I have that time. So far my job has consisted of lots of emailing and web-surfing; the real teaching will start on August 24th, but even then I will have a lot of free time, especially the nights and weekends. I find this to be a very special luxury of my life here because I can relax and contemplate many things. Today was Sunday so I felt particularly free. I finished one book and started another. I also went to Kikuchi Gorge and went on a hike (this was 45-55 minutes by car). This was all after I visited Aso Shrine in Ichinomiya (about a 15-20 minute drive away).



At the gorge I found these words on the bottom of a map:

“Natural Recreation Forest is for your recreation and relaxation, where all of you can touch living nature directly. Love nature and make friends with it, and also let’s keep the water clean and the trees green around here.”

Couldn’t have put it better myself. There were hundreds of Japanese people all around the water, in the water, and on the trails admiring the flowing water and waterfalls. Some people, probably from the closest big city—Kumamoto City—even had posh clothes on and heels (one girl did this whole steep hike in heels and she did not even sweat).



Later and during my hiking through the woods above the water (where fewer people frequent), I started to think about how the respect and love for nature that seems to be a cornerstone of Japanese culture relates to other customs and ways of life that I have noticed so far. In particular I have noticed that the way people think about the body and its various functions here is completely different than America and Europe. People frequently get nude together in public baths, people freely burp and (less frequently) fart without the bat of an eyelash or the turn of a neighbor’s head, and people sneeze freely without need of reply (i.e. “bless you” or “salud”). Then an old idea of mine came to mind (and this will not surprise those who know me well) about how Eastern peoples have had much later contact with higher primates such as monkeys and apes than have Western peoples. I am pretty sure about this generalization (although I could be wrong, as usual). Well, anyhow I do think that this contact with our simian friends (and enemies) has had a positive effect on the people who have had the contact: monkeys and apes give us an affective other in the animal world—they are a species that are like humans enough that they are closer to kin and to recognition than most other species. This is why, when people (like Franz Kafka in Prague) were digesting the idea of evolution, the ape was so important. Not only did the ape help to create the feasibility of the theory of evolution for scientists through a sort of logical analysis but they also provided everyday people with a visible and behavioral analog to the humans they saw everyday. Western peoples have been at a loss here for they have had more of a chance to forget key aspects of our place in the world of animals. Protagoras’ idea that “man is the measure of all things” (480BCE) has had more of a chance to be developed, prosper, and multiply in a world devoid of other more human-like mammal species. Christianity and Judaism boldly show their acceptance of Protagoras’ theory in their respective books (Bibles). I think it would be fair to say that both Buddhism and Shintoism reveal a very different outlook in their respective texts – one that sees humans as part of a much bigger web of life and powers that exist in the nature around them. Not to say that this is all due to our simian friends, but I think it made a difference. Perhaps I am just projecting and retrajecting, but at least it's amusing, eh?

The Japanese are avid protectors of the environment on cultural and religious levels as well as on political and economic levels. There are obviously major exceptions, but the general rule wholeheartedly outweighs the exceptions. I admire this greatly. I can only think that both Japan’s environmental friendliness and love for natural beauty have something to do with conceptions of both the body and humanity’s place in the world (and it goes the other way around too). Likewise, I can only suspect that the major cultural and religious legacies of the U.S., including the conception of the body, have something to do with how absent-mindedly so many Americans can, both individually and communally, neglect their air, water, and soil, and ultimately, their own bodies.

august reflections

Sometimes I think of my mother’s childhood here in Japan. How must it have been for my grandfather, John, and grandmother, Esi, to pick up and move from Germany to such a different country and then to inadvertently start a whole new saga of their lives there. They lived in Central Honshu, in Chigasaki and Kaurizawa for most of the time. They moved here in 1934 and did not leave until 1948. My mother was born in Tokyo on March 11th. Her two older siblings would have even more of their youths absorbed in this country. Her younger sibling would have an enormous part of her family’s legacy to fill into her own imagination without the help of her own memory. And then to move to America: what culture shock. If it were me doing the same emigration, I think I would miss the relaxedness of the people, the peacefulness of daily life that people here exude. I would also miss the consistently healthy food and the fish. Not to forget that during the forties food was much harder to come by. Moving to America would be the start of healthy, plentiful amounts of food for those toddlers.



Here I am in a different part of Japan, certainly more like the part of Japan where my family lived than urban Japan. I get to experience some of the things that those children and their parents had to say goodbye to in 1948. I don’t even know if my grandparents ever came back. I do know that my father’s parents came to Japan in the 70s and had a pretty awful time, probably because they were not in the country because the core of their hard time stemmed from their taxi driver getting them into a car accident in which the driver died. That would ruin most vacations. But my grandfather will tell you many stories of the good things that happened as well, although all were affected by that one event.



It is strange to walk around this village. I seem to be the only one walking, for one. I did walk by a schoolgirl or two coming back from school today. But it is so spacious and so empty. There are forests where no one walks and they are covered in complex undergrowth. There are gravestones set up on hillsides where I never see people. And the beetles make this high-pitched noise like a engine doing maximum revolutions. Today I saw a mini green frog jumping around by a small canal.



The peacefulness of the land still remains absorbed by the people who live here. They are patient, trusting, cheerful people. They almost always saw hello when I walk by them in the school or in the village.



Like I felt in England, I feel very safe here – as if no one would ever want to hurt me. They would have no reason to, and they would have no handguns either. The people here are so peaceful you might mistake their calm for lackadaisical ignorance. But I don’t think that anyone is unaware of the 60th anniversary (the 60th is particularly important in Japanese culture) of the atrocities of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. I think that most people are completely aware of these events but they are willing and mentally able to overcome their anger and frustration. It is perhaps part of the Buddhist/Shintoist traditions. But to forget would be ignorant and unhelpful. One must remember, live one’s present life, and look ahead all at the same time. Forget those who tell you to only think of the present—they are misguided. The present has no meaning without the past and future. They cradle the present and give it a home. There are specific times, of course, when mindlessness in terms of time is a very good thing. Now I am starting to sound too much like another relative of mine so I will curb my rants just a little.



Perhaps the executive branch of the American government should learn a lesson from Japan. But I won’t go to much into this. For one, it saddens me what is going on. I am already ashamed enough both of how my government has been acting on the international stage as well as many of my fellow citizens’ lack of international awareness. I should call my country Americaville because the whole thing acts as one little, colloquial American village does to its more distant surroundings: ignores them and pays attention only when it has to or when it may have something to gain. Unfortunately it does not know what’s best for it and thus remains even more stuck in its own close-sightedness.

There is a passage in a book I am reading that I liked, it goes like this:

“There are many things we can’t know. There are many things we can only see, they’re beautiful and we have to be satisfied with that. When you come to see me in India, you’ll be in a big ship for days and days, lots and lots of little fish jump out of the water ahead of the ship, they have glassy wings and they can fly. And sometimes there are birds that have come a long long way from strange islands; they are very tired, they sit down on the deck and they’re very much surprised to see so many strange people riding around on the ocean. They would like to understand us too, and ask us where we come from and what our names our, but they can’t, so we just look into each other’s eyes and nod our heads, and when the bird has had a good rest, he shakes himself and flies off across the ocean.”

The passage seems to say that some ignorance is natural, healthy, and even positive if it is combined with an awareness of its own boundaries and a deeper recognition of its origins. Maybe my country’s lack of cultural depth and long traditions has prevented this kind of recognition and has thus produced a mixture of arrogance, ignorance, and insularity. The connection may be weak between passage and point, but I’ll let it be. It’s not like I am sending this to a publishing house or something!

The passage is also relevant to my stay here in Japan. In some ways I am like the bird on the ship. Although I have many more tools for understanding the ship I have landed on then those little birds.

The passage continues with the child asking:
“Doesn’t anyone know what those birds are called?”
“Oh yes. But we only know the names that people have given them. We don’t know what they call each other.”

The dude recognizes the limits of his own ability to understand and to see. He is aware that there are boundaries and that his way of seeing the world is only one of many. He may have even added that perhaps the birds don’t call each other anything. But no one is perfect. Plus, they probably do call each other something like “tweat, tweet,” but I am not sure how they would spell it.
I wish that all Americans could be more like the dude above. I think that it is a difficult awareness to achieve because it does take a certain amount of calm and time to reflect on such things. Perhaps they should be taught in schools? But until then I will try to be like the dude above.

It’s fun to be the dude above; the world is larger and you can reach out to the universe a bit more. But sometimes it’s hard to be the dude above when no one else around you is like the dude above. But luckily I have had many friends in my life like the dude above. Yoni, Danner, Michael and Mike, Gabe, Heartie, Morgan, Nick, my brothers, my parents, Tye, and a whole lot more, like my cousins and Amanda. Dannee ain’t too bad either (what a Spanish speaking jetsetter she has become). Kids from Maui that I know are pretty good at it for the most part. Samuel, halloa! What would you say; is the shire visible? Where are Thishi and Aras, and all the Cambridge folk, Marina? And the Pomona folk? It hasn’t been too long since we have left that little village but it feels like ages ago for me. Aaron grew up in a beautiful place where humans weren’t the only visible species. And Henry, where have you trailed off to honu? I hope you are using your turtle flippers well. Lisa, Alison, Andrea, Chris, Cara, thanks for seeing me off from NYC. And Heartie and co., thanks for being great hosts in that great city that is alive like a giant animal. VAN! Stay cool. Don’t let the big world sweep you away; be the sweeper amigo. Haha. I can publicly humiliate people on this blog—I just realized. Now that some people are actually reading this… Maggie, enjoy Boston as I know you are. Summer, I know you are out there smiling in the sun. Grewal. Slavs. Britta. Dave. etc. you know who you wonderful people are and thanks to all the people who helped to make you be so wonderful, for they are surely wonderful too.

Hello to Clifton, Colorado, if you can hear me. And to Berkeley, Putney, and Eugene, of course. It doesn’t really feel like I am that far away. Maybe that’s what technology does. But if it weren’t for computers I would be writing letters, so…

To my brothers, Anthony Equord and Nicholas Edward: how bout a visit, eh? I will put you up and feed you. Look for cheap flights. It will never be this easy again to visit a remote part of Japan unless you do JET. Take a loan.


When you reflect and write like this for a good long time it reminds you that life has an end, that mortality puts a whole new spin on the enterprise that is life. I learn to not care too much about being cheesy or unfashionable; it is alright to mispel a word or to make a fool of myself (although I may regret it tomorrow). And furthermore, if people are not willing to let you be ridiculous, then it is their problem and they can go elsewhere or reform their outlook. Haha! Of course, then I start to sound arrogant, but then again all you have to do is remember that I am the one making a fool of myself. I love to make a fool!

To end these seemingly endless rants will be Puck and his reflections about the dream that is life:

If we shadows have offended, think but this and all is mended:
That we are but shadows here while these visions did appear…

more photos for my hungry viewers

I am kind of a big deal.





This was at the festival with the nursery school students where I was first butt-poked (explanation below). I was honored in their gracious gesture of giving me the watermelon-whacking stick (a Japanese tradition). The watermelon was yummy, by the way.







Here I am at dinner with my supervisor and his father near Kurokawa before going to the onsen (hot springs).










Here we are at Kumamoto Castle: from right to left: Natsumi and Haruka (my supervisor Nakamura-san's daughters) and Kana (Haruka's friend from uni).

Some Images from Japan

Here is just a little peak of one road to Ubuyama. You can start to see how lush it is.














This little one, like so many of her friends, fell asleep on the way back of a boat ride to see some coral off the coast of Oita-ken.



















Here is some scenary in Oita-ken.

Some special details...

So, it was the promise of the triple-meaning title of this blog to provide some risqué and/or psychadelic details of my trips… So I will now fill in on some of the happenings of my life in the Japanese inaka (countryside).

When I arrived I was shown my little house, which is simple yet spacious and almost quaint. Then the men who had picked me up from the regional airport and had brought me to my new home invited me to the house next door for what the Japanese call an enkai, drinking party. So I followed their directions, and even dressed in formal attire (which, by the way, was absolutely unnecessary). Then the party started. Plenty of shochu (sweat potato vodka, calorie free) and Asahi began flowing. The men, four out of five of which were over forty, and I sat at low-standing table, cross-legged. They began to cook fish, chicken, onions, and anything else that they happened to bring on a grill that rested on the middle of this table. They also passed around sashimi and sushi. It was delicious. They made me feel at home right away. Before all this consumption, however, is the important “kanpai,” or Japanese cheers that is absolutely necessary before drinking. This consists of saying “kanpai” and touching cups together.

But this is not risqué enough for my hungry readers…. Hondo Kocho-sensei, as he is formally called, or Principal Honda (of the Junior High school where I primarily work), invited me to go with him to a local onsen (hot springs) the next morning at 6:40. So I went and had my first onsen experience, completely naked, of course, with my boss and some other older Japanese men. It was a very relaxed atmosphere despite the presence of a large Caucasian man in the small room that was really more like a bathhouse with natural water. There are also outdoor onsen and I have yet to be in one of them. I did go to a facility that had one with my supervisor where I again got completely naked and bathed with my supervisor and his father…. I know what all of you guys are just itching for me to tell you! Yes there are onsens where both sexes bathe together. And I am looking forward to visiting one at some point. I like the more relaxed attitude about the body in Japan; it is refreshing compared to the up-tight attitude that you find in most of America.

(The comfort with the body also has some humorous by-products one of which being what my predecessor called the “butt poke” where the nursery school children attempt to insert their finger into the teacher’s butt-hole. It is really more humorous than offensive if you ask me. The fact that these little kids could conceive of doing such a thing to their superiors is very peculiar—I like their challenge to authority. I have already experienced one butt poke at a festival for the nursery school kids, after which I said “Da-me” (Damn May in a British accent) which means “don’t.”)

I have also attended a couple more enkais since the first one on the night of my arrival. My mother happened to telephone me the day after one enkai and witnessed my good old hangover mood. Luckily it was a very mild hangover (I think it is because the alcohol is low in impurities); however the long drive after the early wake up did worsen it.

The event that I am referring to is a “trip to the beach” that I attended with two (small) busloads of elementary school students and teachers in Oita-ken, the prefecture directly to the east of Kumamoto-ken. These were no normal “days at the beach” though: They were highly organized 6:30am-9pm days of rigorous swimming practice, sea-kayaking lessons, and marine biology education. Well, the events weren’t always that rigorous, but the schedule was. These dedicated elementary school teachers wake up at 6:30 to lead their children through morning stretching and exercises (which I happily slept through). I am continually amazed at how much care is given to raising these children. The service these teachers do for their students is tremendous.


As for my function on this trip, my lack of Japanese language leaves me in an interesting position of having the full respect of a teacher/administrator from the teachers and administrators, but also being able to play with the kids and act almost inanely at times (but never really inanely). When the administrators hang out, they bring me along as a sort of walking mantle-piece that provides them with a source of conversation and a receptacle for beer that they serve to it (me). This bothers me only a little. But it does also illuminate the bigger issue at hand: living in a community that I cannot properly communicate with. This problem is aggravated by the fact that I have no serious plans to learn Japanese: I feel that I simply don’t have the kind of commitment (or desire, I hate to admit) it takes. But that could change once I start the Japanese language course that the JET program offers to its participants.

The reader may wonder, at this junction, why the hell I came all the way over here if not to learn the language. Well, I will respond to this clever, inquisitive reader: I came here to experience a culture which I find fascinating, I came here to see and meet the country of my mother’s birth, I came here to eat the food, I came here not to be a broke college graduate with no plans for work, and I came here because the Japanese government made it so convenient for people like me to do this even if they do not speak a word of Japanese. And I do not regret my decision, nor will I leave without learning a good deal of conversational Japanese. Nor will I let the dear reader forget that only 60 years ago my country was sending a very different sort of material than English language teaching assistants. And for the Japanese government my presence in this small village is reason enough to pay to send me here. I serve as a cultural ambassador from across the Pacific, as well as an advocate of Japan for the rest of my life. Prime Minister Junichiro Koizumi thinks that we JETs will help increase the tourism in Japan. He knows the dangers of a culture that becomes too isolated, too insular.

To finish this unruly post I will let you know that I took it upon myself to inform some co-workers that I am Buddhist despite the fact that I am only Buddhist in so far as it is my favorite religious tradition and I do read some of the its teachings from time to time. So telling them that I am is a bit odd. But perhaps a helpful gesture: 90% of the people of Ubuyama (so I am told) practice some form of Buddhism and to tell them that I understand their practice means that I can communicate some form of my understanding of their culture without actually speaking their language. When in Rome do as the Romans do, right? Well, it is amusing for me at least.

Update from the countryside

It just started to pour outside as it has been doing the last few days during the first half of the day. But this comment does not convey the wonderful introduction I have had to living here in Ubuyama.

Aso-gun, the region of Kumamoto prefecture in which I reside is gorgeous. It reminds me of a mix between up-country Maui and Sardegna, but with a Japanese touch. There are 40+ year-old cedars (maybe even a hundred years old) that were replanted in rows all throughout the town of Ubuyama. They look perfect as their triangular tops collect that white light in a highly organized way. Bamboo groves compliment them as well as many little streams and the beautiful head springs which are just down the road.

I am just a short drive from Mt. Kuju and Mt. Aso, both of which have active volcanoes and multiple peaks that can be climbed.

I have been treated so very well by the very kind and open people here. They are humble and mostly Buddhist people here who have a great respect for the natural beauty around them. They have so much respect for nature here that they dedicate a park to a species of flower, the Higotai, and they make monuments for headsprings with excellent water quality and people from all around Japan come to them and gather water to bring home. There is one of the top 100 sites just about ten minutes down the road from my abode and workplace (which are only about 100 meters apart).

What else? The people here are delightfully healthy and the children are especially kind and cute. I have never seen such cute toddlers before.

This weekend I drove around and explored a bit which was enough to teach me that my particular town is extraordinarily beautiful. If you think you may want to visit Japan in your life and you are a friend of mine this would be a great time to do it! This experience will awaken your senses to the spectacle of life on earth and the strange and constant immediateness of being a sentient, conscious being here. That last sentence may not have made much sense... hmm... Well let's just say you might see the world a little differently after having visited here; but you might not. There are some, I am afraid, to which nothing will penetrate their cloudedoverness, their lack of attention to certain specificities of being human. This is not to say that these people have lesser experiences; maybe I just don't understand them, but I have come to learn that they exist and that there are many of them in the world. Then again, some would say the same thing about people like me, although I think there are few who would do so (please humble and correct me if I am wrong or arrogant in any of my comments here; I love to be corrected, humbled, so do so if you are kind/mean enough).

Until next time, Ted sensei