On my bike ride to school this morning, I saw the first spiderweb of spring in a gaijin trap. That spider is the harbinger of evil hot weather. Poor guy. He's about to be sandbagged by all the asshole Price is Right spiders.
Today was graduation at school. I got to school 30 minutes earlier than usual because of an alleged meeting. I was also told to wear high heels for the ceremony, instead of my usual flat indoor shoes. As soon as I stepped into the office, a full foot taller than most everyone there, I saw the rest of the staff, including the woman who made the heeled shoe request, wearing tennis shoes. Awesome!
I was told to go outside and to direct traffic. This is big in Japan. If there's some fog outside, you can expect 30 teachers standing on sidewalks outside the school to direct bikes away from hazards such as trees or Mount Fujis. If you go to the grocery store, there may not be enough people to bag your purchases for you, but you can be sure they're fully staffed outside, telling cars how to get into parking spaces.
My supervisor told me to wave a flag, motioning where cars should go, and keeping pedestrians safe. "You should also communicate with them if they have questions on where to go." Unfortunately, I've only gotten far enough on my Japanese iPod lessons to be able to say "My husband is in New York, and my son is in the bathroom," so I hoped they'd ask about that.
Another problem was...I had absolutely NO idea where the cars are supposed to go. The few parking spots allowed for teachers were no match for the parents of the 400-person graduating class. I was left alone with a shy boy holding a sign that may have said "Please don't back into parking spaces" or it might have said "I'm with stupid" ("Baka issho ni").
Cars started heading towards me. I was armed with only a yellow flag with some kanji on it. I'm usually so good at pretending I know what I'm doing, but I don't even know what my GOAL is. Are people's lives in my hands? Do I need to steer the cars clear of pedestrians, or the pedestrians clear of cars? Should I wave the flag, or hold it straight out so they can read whatever the kanji says? Wait, does it say "stop" in kanji? Should I hold it in front of cars to stop them while I decide where they go? If I motion with the flag for them to go in a direction, and the flag has "stop" written on it, won't they be confused?
I did what any person would do when faced with the potential of causing vehicular homicide, and I slipped my iPod headphone in my ear, so I'd look like a member of the Secret Service. The other faculty members kept in radio contact around the rest of the perimeter of the school, so I felt entitled to keep in radio contact with Pink Floyd. The shy boy holding the sign saw me, so I smiled and held my finger to my lips. He laughed and told me in Japanese that it was all right.
When all was said and done, I guess I pulled it off. I waved the flag that may or may not have read "stop," and the drivers bowed at me from behind their steering wheel. Then they continued off to wherever I had motioned them to go; perhaps to the nearby baseball field, hitting each base and scoring a run.
Graduation itself was surreal. There were a lot of speeches and songs, but Japanese people don't really clap to signify the end of things. Instead, the huge gymnasium just kept sinking into an awkward silence after every moving presentation. Awkward silence, besides of course...the tinny Pink Floyd ballads emanating from the gaijin-in-the-corner's earbud.
Saturday was our last full day in the snowy north of Hokkaido.
Again, I assumed lemming position and rolled out of bed by the time the ladies had done their lady...ing. Yeah, maybe I should spend more time on my hair or, you know, wear makeup, but I like sleep soooo much more than mascara.
The Powers That Be (Crystal and Charlotte) decided that today was Ramen and Chocolate Day, and so it was. We hopped a train to a place I think was called Ramen Alley -- the tip top floor of a huge department store that had a few dozen ramen establishments. They apparently represented ramen from all around Japan, each with distinct flavors and specialties, but, really? I mean, it's noodles. In a soup. You can't go wrong, but it's hardly a diverse cultural experience.
It was still pretty delicious. It wasn't as great as our first ramen place, though. The place was PACKED with people, and each tiny restaurant seemed to have a different theme. There was a place with a decorative train outside that beeped at 10-minute intervals. There was a rustic log-cabin type. There was one that played an American-sounding brass-band marching song? There was a yelling guy out front of one who I was scared to walk past, for fear that he would grab my shirt collar and forcibly tell me how delicious his Cup-O-Noodles was.
We went for the rustic log cabin. I ordered the spicy ramen and was sad to discover that I could eat it without tears running down my face, which is a failure in the spice category for me. My friends like to laugh when I eat wasabi because you can tell how delicious I think something is by how closely I resemble the "Leave Britney Alone" guy.
...Sorry, the simile well's a little dry today.
Anyway, it was filling, and we were sufficiently warmed to continue on our way. Our next shop was a famous chocolate manufacturer which had recently been the topic of a country-wide scandal for futzing with the expiration dates on their products or something like that.
But we threw caution to the wind and decided to check out the chocolate factory, even without having Golden Tickets, as Dave reminded us we might need. (Rimshot) We met some other JETs on the train there, which was kind of neat, except that the majority of them had the "my japan" complex. A lot of people throw that term around, but I take it to mean that when you see other foreigners, you immediately look away. I noticed this phenomenon when I first got here, and I thought I'd get over it or adapt, but it just doesn't sit right with me. I smile at people all the time. Japanese people, old people, cats. I just try to be friendly to anyone who passes and makes eye contact. Yeah, there are a couple places back home where that might get me shanked, but I want to tell the people of Japan, and anyone, really, that, "Hey, here we are both crossing a street, and I'm happy about it. Good day to you!"
But, no, see another foreigner here, and you might be bleeding out your major organs on the floor of the train, but damned if they'll make eye contact with you. Maybe they think we'll ask them for directions or something. Surly, surly.
Anyway, luckily one of the girls was friendly and asked if we were JETs and where we were going. We found out they're from one prefecture over from us, and they were also headed to the chocolate factory. Unfortunately, in the middle of this bonding, Dave threw a "mis-aimed" snowball at Shereena, and it hit one of The Others square in the chest, not unlike John Locke from "Lost" might do to show his disapproval.
It was all in good fun, though, and we had a mini prefecture snowball fight.
The Factory was really cool, and we could smell it from 3 blocks away. There was a boring-ish museum part, followed by a birds-eye view of workers making the candies. I was especially intrigued with a guy whose job it was to throw away misshapen and slightly burned cookies into a huge delicious trashcan. I tried to get video of another Japanese tourist muttering "Dame, dame, dame" ("no good") with every treat that was thrown away.
After relaxing in the top-floor cafe with some of the sweets, Dave, Crystal, and I went to a special kitchen area and got to make some cookies of our own. We stamped them into little shapes of cherry blossoms, mice, chickens, and all sorts of untraditional cookie shapes, and they were super delicious.
Afterwards, we headed back to the main part of town where the snow and ice sculptures were on display. It was still early, so groups of artists were still putting on the finishing touches. I think it was cool to see them in action. We saw a lot of popular Japanese icons: cartoon characters, political figures, comedians. Dave made friends with the local Japanese around every turn. One even made up a song in the style of a popular Japanese comedian's song about not being able to speak English to his new friend Dave, but not really caring about it. (Sonna no kankei ne!)
The day before, we'd made an homage to Kevin Lo, who couldn't join us, in the form of a snowman we named K-Snow. It was perfect and looked just like him, if I do say so myself. At one point, I started up a conversation with him, until I remembered he was a pile of snow. But when we got back to it the next day, not only was he gone, but there was a big footprint in the snow where he had been. Jealous much, Festival Organizers? Or maybe they just don't like Kevin. Maybe it's better that he didn't come...
Finally, exhausted after such a busy vacation, all 6 of us magically agreed that we had had enough with Japanese food and culture, and we were going to an Italian place. After what seemed like hours wandering aimlessly along the streets, we stumbled on a place and ate as fast as we could. I can't remember who, but one of us joked that they were so hungry, they could probably order a whole second entree. We all kind of laughed and looked around at each other until someone else said, "No, seriously. I'm getting another pizza." And we all ordered a second huge round of food. We were all so mentally in sync. It was glorious.
The icing on the cake of the last perfect day was when someone casually mentioned Station Square in Pittsburgh, where I used to do stand-up. Like everyone who hears what I used to do, they asked me to recite one of my jokes. Maybe it was the good company, maybe it was the warmth of the inside after trudging around in the snow, maybe (probably) it was the delicious pint of beer I'd just enjoyed, but for the first time since I quit, I told them my old closing joke. And it killed. It brought back all the old feelings I had of making people jerk back with laughter, surprising friends who thought they knew me, but who now seemed to see a side they didn't know I had. It was great. When I die, I'm going back to that moment on my life's TiVo. (We get those, right?)
We sauntered back to the hotel, cheery and full, and packed our stuff for our departure in the morning. Although I usually feel like I need a second vacation just to recover from the bustling vacations I have, it's always worth it when you have an outgoing group of people who just work well together. I hope to have a few more of those before I head back to the states. So, uh, get on that, friends!
Jake: heyo
Lauren: hey
Lauren: what are you doing up?
Jake: blogging
Jake: I gotta stay on the wagon this time
Lauren: nice
Lauren: wait, isn't the wagon bad?
Jake: no!
Jake: the wagon's good
Jake: it takes me to the land of internet archived mediocrity
Lauren: oh, falling off the wagon is bad
Jake: right
Lauren: see, i always imagined a big wagon full of alcohol
Lauren: i never understood why everyone thought falling off it was bad
Lauren: because you only fall off it if you're drunk
Lauren: i need to stop making up backstories for idioms
Jake: hahaha
Jake: you need to read made in america
Lauren: oh?
Lauren: i just bought a million books in tokyo
Jake: really awesome bill bryson book about english language, culture and how the phrases we use got to be there
Jake: did you know phrases like "I should be so lucky" were Yiddish?
Lauren: huh, i guess i never thought about it
Lauren: but it makes sense
Jake: yeah
Jake: just try and hear that in any other voice than "jewish mom"
Lauren: haha
Lauren: well, i'm off the wagon for now
Lauren: i'm off to bed
Lauren: or do i post this hysterical IM? the world may never know
Jake: post tit!
Jake: i intentionally wrote tit
Jake: how sad I am
Lauren: you're so self-aware
Lauren: it's like we're in a kevin smith movie
Jake: bonnnnnnnnnng
Friday morning, everyone awoke bright and early but me. I know girls get a long time to get ready, so I counted on some extra shut eye before I threw on my clothes and sprinted out the door. What can I say? I have a lot of practice every day before school.
The greatest thing about traveling with super responsible people is that they plan everything, and they just tell you where to go! It was like I was a little kid on a family vacation again!
On this day, Charlotte's main goal was to get a delicious cake from the cake shop a block away from the hostel. They were really extravagant and fun, and I bought a little fruity tart with a shiny shard of something on top that was either one of those edible gold sliver things or some trash accidentally dropped on the center of each cake. Whatever the culprit, I scraped it off without eating it. I'm a classy lady, but I don't need to eat potentially-trash gold, thank you very much.
We headed to see the famous fish market, where Crystal astounded a vendor by wishing him an "ohayo gosaimasu." The irony, of course, is that she speaks the best Japanese of any of us -- so good that she could possibly explain the concept of irony TO HIM, which doesn't even exist in Japanese -- and here he was fawning over her ability to say Good Morning. I guess this happens to a lot of foreigners, but of course, their stereotypical low expectations of me are horribly true, as I often tell people "thank you" instead of "good morning."
We ate lunch at a swanky-looking sushi place -- the type that give you an assortment of disgusting fish, instead of you getting to choose the ones you can swallow. My comrades were more accustomed to eating mystery fish, so they cheered me on by assuring me that this tentacle on my plate was actually soft and squishy. After reminding them that neither "soft" nor "squishy" are good selling points for sucker-based sea life I'm about to consume, but I was able to mix it with enough wasabi and soy sauce to render it edible.
An awkward encounter came at the end of lunch when, with our cake boxes in tow and ready to be eaten, we asked if it was okay to eat in the restaurant. A normal question to ask in America, no doubt, and it's not like they served some kind of dessert fish we'd be robbing business from. Then again, in America when you can't do something, you're told like a normal person. Sometimes you're called a rude name and the chef throws something at you, but at least you KNOW.
Here, the woman informed Crystal that, "Well, we don't have any coffee..." Shereena piped in with, "That's okay! We don't need any coffee!" which was exactly what I was thinking, but apparently we both missed the subtlety. The woman sucked air in through her teeth and ran back to the kitchen, presumably to ask the owner if she could be allowed to live if we ate dessert there.
It appeared he was a merciful owner, and sent her out with...a stack of plates and forks AND refills on our (full) cups of green tea that had JUST passed beneath the scalding level where we could have begun to drink them. Now came the guilt. Sometimes I think Jewish mothers should come to Japan for some training.
We hastily ate our cakes, wondering how we should pay back this act of kindness in light of our blatant disrespect for unspoken, subtle codes of conduct. The girls tried counting how many workers were in the back, perhaps to buy them each a cake from the same cake store. I suggested buying an entire cake that they could all share. Dave, being a guy, happily chomped down on his delicious dessert, not giving it a second thought. That is, until he could hold his estrogen-deficient opinion back no longer and asked us why we didn't just buy them all luxury cars for their trouble. He had a point. We just left and bowed deeply. They probably spit in our green tea refills.
We finished the afternoon by visiting a nice outdoor bath in a hot spring, followed by (ugh) more shopping. Arguably the antithesis to a relaxing spa, I was a little shopped out by this point and joined Dave in the corner, who was reading a book he had brought along just for the occasion.
I didn't have high hopes for this dinner everyone had been talking about. Remember how some people call buffets "baiking" (viking)? Well, there's another type of meal that is inexplicably called Genghis Khan, and it appears to mean lamb (or other meat?) cooked on a grill on the table. It's also often all-you-can-eat, and I didn't know if I was the biggest lamb fan. Well, it turns out, I am a huge lamb fan. In fact, if I bike past a lamb ever in this farming town, I can't promise I won't pedal over to it and take a bite out of it right there.
Shereena opted for the all-you-can-eat version, and they made her sit at a different table, because you can't trust us shifty-eyed gaijin. I shared a hot plate with Crystal and damn if I didn't channel Alton Brown or something. I was flinging meat, onions, and sprouts, dousing them with some mystery delicious sauce -- just enough for maximum succulence. Oh, and we were all wearing bibs, so we looked pretty ridiculous.
After the waiter brought out Shereena's first serving, he asked her if she understood what "all-you-can-eat" meant. It's true, she doesn't look like the sort of person who would take a bite out of a live lamb on the side of the road like some people, but she assured him she knew what it meant and, I assume, did him proud.
Afterwards, most everyone was in a food coma, but Dave, Crystal, and I wanted to do karaoke. We found a place across from the hostel and paid for an hour (that turned into two). Yeah, 3 people singing to each other in a small room may seem weird to you, but we made the best of it! Crystal had a really good voice, and Dave and I were kind of humbled by our own oft-off-key tomfoolery, but when you're with friends, it's nice to know that it's okay to do things like that. It's okay to rap Eminem, even if you're a girl and all the words are wrong because the Japanese transcriber couldn't understand him. It's okay if Crystal chose "Jump Around" and Dave and I shot up to mosh awkwardly like it was a 7th grade dance. That's how you know you feel comfortable around people.
Finally, exhausted, we headed back to the hostel for some shut eye, even though there were now strangers sharing our room, since it was the weekend. I told Dave that I would cut them in their sleep if they stole my DS while we were out. He suggested I stab them pre-emptively, just so they know who's boss around there. I'm still king of the top bunk, you know. I could leap at them like a spider monkey.
So, two weeks ago, I decided that catching hypothermia in my town just wasn't enough. I figured, why not travel to the practically-Arctic Alaska of Japan and play in some snow?
The aforementioned bus tickets were purchased just for this trip, which began in the wee hours of Thursday morning. As I was leaving school on Wednesday, I passed a teacher and told him my weekend plans.
"Hokkaido? Really? But now is winter there."
This is true, but it's also the famous snow festival next week, and I wanted to go early to avoid the crowds.
He smiled his grandfatherly smile and said, "Ah, perhaps it will snow, and your plane won't take off, and you can come back here to teach." Haha! Was that a joke? Who knows? Smile! Haha!
Dave and Charlotte trained in to spend the night at my place, since the bus left from my town. The day ended with Y, so Charlotte requested a dinner with the Ryuo 4 (us 3 and Kevin) at her favorite sushi place. We debated just staying up all night, but ultimately preferred 4 hours of sleep to nothing.
We met up with Shereena, Crystal, and Ayesha, our traveling companions, and left for the airport at 4:00 AM. To make a long story shorter, we were early enough to catch the flight prior to the one we signed up for and ended up in the northernmost island of Japan at our hostel at about the time we were supposed to leave Tokyo. So that was awesome.
Hokkaido is famous for ramen, which I didn't have the highest of hopes for, because really -- noodles and soup isn't that difficult a concept. We stopped by a "famous" ramen place 2 streets down from the hostel, and it was actually really, really delicious. It was spicy and the soup was really thick and warm, which was nice because we saw huge, fat snowflakes beginning to fall outside. We left smelling like ramen for the remainder of the day.
The Snow Festival is famous for its beautiful sculptures, so we decided to see if any were built yet. There were some huge ones roped off in the distance -- huge like a skyscraper on its side -- with intricate carvings and amazing scenes, but angry looking policemen stood watch, even when Dave and Shereena pretended to not understand they weren't supposed to wander under the ropes.
It had only been about 30 minutes since we'd eaten, so of course it was time to eat again. I think eating was the theme of this trip, as it is every trip I've ever been on. We went to the Sapporo Shopping Factory and had a swanky coffee and cake in a dark little cafe. I got Crystal to show me some new kanji.
After shopping, we sauntered to the Sapporo Beer Factory. The tour was in Japanese, but pretty pictures and animatronics are pretty easy to interpret. We even got to taste some hops! Or barley! Irish Dave was aghast, too, that on multiple paintings and posters around the factory, Guinness was in front of a British Flag. Yeah. Sapporo is even the Guinness distributor for Japan.
No clue.
After downing a paltry 3 non-free samples of beer, we left to be good ALTs and buy gifts for all 40 of our teachers. We took a taxi to a nearby souvenir shop, and when he took a corner too tight, we (Sapporo) drifted a little. Ayesha screamed, because she's Jamaican and snow frightens and amazes her. I laughed and clapped my hands because I was raised learning to drive in the snow, and I often drove to school in the winter months doing nothing BUT fishtailing down treacherous roads. To the horror of the other passengers and the amusement of the driver, I kept asking him in Japanese to do it again, and he obliged. It's a shame that there's no tipping in Japan. There are so many industry workers who go out of their way to do something funny or entertaining for us.
I chose some sugar cookies with the island of Hokkaido on it in chocolate dough. I bought enough for 40 people, which I thought was over-estimating, but I forgot the office ladies. When I got back, I hid the remainder on my desk and just handed them out to the ladies who happened to walk past me. That's probably the best way to do it.
By this time, we had been awake for a ridiculous amount of time, so we ate some delicious conveyor-belt sushi (after unknowingly circling the correct block about 20 times in a snowstorm), and headed back to the hostel for some shut-eye. I got the top bunk! Vacations are fun.