December 18, 2007
I'm either picking up a lot of Japanese, or I'm getting really good at guessing.
I'm inclined to think it's the latter, but I've been surprised a few times. There's this one teacher who either doesn't know I don't speak Japanese, doesn't believe it, or is giving me an intensive training course without my knowledge. She doesn't speak English, but she's the audio/visual lady, so I see her pretty often when I need to scan something or set up a PowerPoint.
And every time I go to see her, she talks and talks, and I feel so bad that I don't understand, that I think my ears extend a little to try to catch a word I know in her rapid-fire Japanese. I also study her body language like a hawk to try and fill in the blanks. A bad habit I've picked up is answering "so desu" whenever someone says "Ne?"
"Ne" goes at the end of the sentence, and basically means "isn't it?" or "doesn't it?" As in "samui desu, ne?" It's cold, isn't it? (PS - That is the only phrase you need to know in Japan between the months of November to March) So I have been answering "so desu," which basically means "yeah" or "I agree." It's a bad habit because I don't actually know what I just agreed to, but at least I look like an active participant in the conversation!
Let me know if these Japanese-lesson-type parts are annoying. I know how lame it looks when a person always says Japanese words when English ones do just fine, but it's honestly how I start to think. But if it's annoying, I don't want to be That Guy. (More like "that GAIjin," amiriteguys?!)
Anyway, the other day, no amount of "so desu"s or watching body language could help me out of this one. I got a knock at my door, and Melissa and I kind of looked at each other, since I don't really have the kind of friends that drop by, since my apartment is 25 minutes from the train station and located in the middle of a suburban spiral. No one's ever "just in the neighborhood," except Jehovah's Witnesses (of COURSE they have Jehovah's Witnesses in Japan!) whom I have to convince in broken Japanese that I like my own Bible just fine, but won't you please take some American candy so you don't pray for me to burn in hell?
Well, it was evening, so I figured it wasn't a Jehovah's Witness, so I went to answer the door to find a man in a uniform. Keep in mind the last time I opened the door to a man in uniform, he was the gas man (allegedly!) who convinced me via ninja sign language that he needed to come into my house and make sure my stove wasn't running. Yes, it sounds like a hilarious prank call, and he very well could have been an axe murderer, but my problem at the time was the fact that I needed to leave the house in less than 5 minutes to catch a train, while this guy filled out paperwork in triplicate about how off my oven was.
But I dare not neglect to open the door to strangers in uniform because SOMEDAY it's going to be a delivery man holding out a basket of gifts sent for me. I just know it.
Well, this guy looked really apologetic and tried to tell me something about how he had knocked on all the doors in my apartment complex. Then he pointed to a lightbulb on the ceiling. So...he's a lightbulb changer? Okay, great. I asked him how much.
GREAT MONEY-MAKING IDEA: Go to various foreigners' apartments in Japan and tell them that you are a lightbulb changer. Or a "Watching TV tax" man. Or wallet inspector. The less Japanese they know and more awkward the poor gaijin is, the more likely it is that they will give you any amount you ask for just to be able to close the door.
Anyway, he nervously fanned his hand in front of his face to indicate that he didn't want my money. But he kept pleading something. I picked up some words that he was saying (score!) and I discovered he was asking if I was going to be home all evening. I told him I would be, and he ran off to the parking lot.
Melissa called from the other room, asking what happened. I had no idea. Was I supposed to wait here? Was he coming back? Was he the bomb technician all those Hot Topic t-shirts warn about, and if I see him running, I should try to keep up? No clue.
He came back. With a huge package. Then he ran away again. And brought another package. A new heater! Clearly not for me, but it was as if the Gods had answered Melissa's and my prayers.
Suddenly, my years of watching detective shows all paid off. (Can you guess the ending yourself? If so, come to Japan! And explain other stuff to me!) He was obviously a package delivery man, but the recipient was not home, and for whatever reason, he didn't want to take it back to the post office (where *I* have to pick up packages *I* miss, but that's another story). So he entrusted me with these two packages, and he would leave a note in the recipient's mailbox to come ask me for it when they get home. And the lightbulb? He was actually pointing to the ceiling, or rather, through it, gesturing to my upstairs neighbor's apartment. Yaay!
But at the time, I wasn't so triumphant. It seemed so circuitous, and even though Japan is a country of trust, I think assuming I won't rip through this brand new heater myself and live in tropical paradise is awfully trusting. But I would uphold my duty, and I filled out a slip of paper, saying I indeed had it. And before he left, I got his name, too, in case I had misunderstood or the package was actually a live baby that I was legally bound to care for or something. I guess knowing his name probably wouldn't have helped me too much in that respect anyway.
But sure enough, a few hours later, my neighbor returned home, and I was able to hand off the precious cargo. It felt good to be a working cog in the machine for once, instead of the outsider invalid who can't even buy Drain-o without help from store clerks.
But I'm sure I lost whatever respect I had from Melissa regarding my knowledge of the Japanese language right before she left. I called the taxi service to set up her ride to the bus station, and a few minutes later, I got a call back from them. I answered the phone in Japanese, and had a quick back-and-forth for a few minutes, full of "so desu"s and "wakarimashita"s (I understand). Raising her eyebrows a little, Melissa asked me what they had called to say.
"No idea," I said, as I lugged her bag out the door. But I was sure it would be fine, and miraculously, there was a taxi there in a few minutes' time. The taxi guy was probably just calling me back to tell me, "It's cold, isn't it?"
So desu, Japan. Yes, it is.
December 13, 2007
Life appears to have been eating my life.
I read somewhere that it's good for JETs to "be the same person as they are at home." If they're homebodies, they should remain so, or they'll come crashing down when they run out of steam. If they're outgoing and social, they should make every attempt to stay the same, otherwise their boredom will translate into homesickness and depression.
Now, anyone who wants to prove nature rules over nurture needs only to look at me, the offspring of my opposite parents. My dad is shy with a great sense of humor, happy to be the guy telling a joke to one other person at a party in the corner by the chips. My mom could hold her own in the middle of a conversation with complete strangers, and she loves planning and organizing adventures. When I was a stand-up comic, I used to think how funny it was that I was the perfect mix of them -- at home on stage, loving the spotlight and being the center of attention, but terrified of the end of the show when I had to stand by the door and actually talk to people from the audience. *shudder*
I think I'm the same way in my social life. Usually. In LA, I alternately looked forward to weekends where I didn't leave my computer chair and weekends where I dragged Justin or Melissa to some garden or park, or drove through the mountains or along the coast. But I'll admit...the computer chair weekends won out more often than not.
I feel like I did not heed the warnings of my JET predecessors. I feel like a few months ago, I hit the ground running, and I never stopped. And it's not just Being In Japan or partying or sightseeing.
My Mondays and Fridays are booked with tutoring English. My Tuesdays are Japanese lessons for me. My Wednesdays are English club after school, followed by Game Night with some friends. Saturdays are usually a train ride to some nearby town to eat interesting foods and sing interesting karaoke songs of the early '90s. Sundays have become an official home-cooking night, where brave souls from neighboring towns can hoof it to my place 20 minutes from the station to try my simultaneously burned and raw foods cooked in my non-convection non-oven. After THAT, you can pepper in the Being In Japan and partying, and you're left with one bushed Lauren.
But I don't regret it. In fact, on the rare occasion I put my foot down and declare some Me time, I inevitably miss out on the Evening of the Century and am consequently left out of a week's worth of Facebook inside jokes. Which clearly should be anyone's standard for why they should leave the house.
And I'm not even MENTIONING the time I spend lesson planning, revising, making tests, grading essays, and generally fretting about all the social conventions I'm bungling on a daily basis with my co-workers.
When I first got here, I compared my daily life to feeling like I constantly forgot to put on pants. Now that I've been here a few months and, thus, should know better by now, I have a new constant emotion. I feel like that gorilla who had a pet kitten, and he's trying to be all delicate and tender with it, but everyone that's watching knows that the gorilla is eventually going to poke the kitten in its eye with his huge finger. Or eat the kitten. That doesn't really work with the analogy, but it was starting to sound a little depressing, so I thought I'd lighten the mood.
Because I'm not really frustrated, or at least not all the time. I think a lot of people here forget that despite shortcomings in our jobs or situations, back home, jobs and situations sometimes suck just as much, in different ways. And there, we can't just blame it on cultural differences.
THAT SAID, I have been a Royal Grumpy Grump for the past 2 weeks or so, and I am very happy to have been taken out of my funk by the Inimitable Melissa, who is right now sleeping on my floor. In the 23 hours that she has been with me, she's reminded me that a) assiduousness plus awkwardness does not equal neglect, b) my students are really awesome, and c) Japan really is fricking cold now, and everyone who says otherwise is insane.
And now, I'd best be off to bed, as she's been waking up every 10 minutes to give me dirty looks for keeping the light on. And I deserve it because she's jet-lagged, and I've been keeping her schedule jam-packed with IN-YOUR-FACE-JAPAN to fill every waking moment. Plus, she needs her rest because I'm making her sing karaoke with me tomorrow and she doesn't even know, man. She doesn't even know.
December 05, 2007
I just want to link this brilliant theme song, which is not only hilarious, but it totally proves how awesome and spot-on my Halloween costume was (scroll to #4).
Compare with flawless Marty McFly impression (if he were friends with Quailman):
