April 27, 2009
Today I went to my local Barnes & Noble store, and asked if they had a book called Fish Tree Tales. The guy typed it in and said yes, then showed me where it was. I was so happy!
There was my little book, three copies, in the Fiction/Literature section, in the same row as John Steinbeck, across the aisle from Ralph Waldo Emerson! My little book, nearly brushing shoulders (or spines) with these literary giants…. I was THRILLED!
December 14, 2008
I saw Emiko’s work long before I ever met her. And even after I met her, it was weeks before I realized she was the woman who had drawn this amazing piece of work. When the connection was made, it was fantastic ~ I had been so enthralled by Adeste, and then I had come to really like Emiko. To have the two belong together made me very happy!
And when she offered to illustrate my book, I was REALLY pleased!
Adeste is unlike any of the illustrations in Fish Tree Tales, and yet I see elements of it within those same illustrations. The thing that impresses me most about Emiko’s work is the fine detail. She has a strong talent for picking up on and adding minute, tiny details that add depth and meaning to the whole. If you are not looking closely, you will miss them.
Look closely at this one!
September 17, 2008
I learned how to drive on the left, steering wheel on the right, to drive company cars to the various job sites to teach. It was on-the-job training ~ I was simply made to follow another teacher who would pass my particular job site, my first day with the company. She didn’t slow down or consider that this was my first time driving with everything in the wrong place. I had very white knuckles… oh, and then I had to find my way back. Tell me that wasn’t fun.
The first few weeks were my learning curve; after that everything felt normal and it was fine. But during those first few weeks, once I had a little fender bender because of the altered depth perception. And once I hit a kid…. HE WAS OKAY!! I was a wreck, but he was okay. Stupid teenage boy, driving his scooter at night without the light on. His parents arrived shortly after the police did; they said he did this “all the time.”
Call me crazy, but if he’d been my kid, he’d have no scooter privileges.
So driving is a little intense. Many roads are 1.5 cars widths wide, and people are walking along the sides ~ children and old people and drunks…. There are unspoken, unwritten rules about driving and giving way on those narrow streets. Actually rather polite driving habits, much of the time.
I’d lived there the first three years without knowing how to drive in Japan. At university, one of my friends who had a car let me try it on some back rice-paddy road, but everything was backwards and I chickened out after only about 20 seconds. Maybe ten. But my International Drivers License allowed me to drive a scooter (like a Vespa, but of course a Japanese brand), so I bought a used one of those, instead. Vroom! Vroom! That was a lot of fun.
In Tsuchiura, site of my first teaching job, I was there for more than a year before I had wheels of my own. I’d take the bus to get downtown, and from there the trains, taxis, or other busses to get to my classes. Sometimes I’d walk ~ often I’d walk. It was a 20 minute walk from my apartment to the train station, but if the weather was good, and I wasn’t late, there was no reason to take public transportation. Even coming home after dark was no problem. This was Japan, after all ~ safest place on earth!
At the park in Tsuchiura
About 15 months into my 2-year stay, a friend found me a bicycle in the trash. In the “big gomi” trash. (Gomi means trash.) There is a “gomi night” in every city or town in Japan about once a month. Non-burnable items that people don’t want anymore are taken to a designated spot along a given stretch of road, where it’s picked up the next morning. Many people go “gomi hunting” all night on those evenings. You can often find brand new, unused (unopened!) things ~ one of my friends found a VCR, still in the box; another friend found money inside a purse or envelope or something… but the rule is that you share money with everyone who’s with you out there, in your group. Honor among trash hunters.
I went gomi hunting once or twice, but generally it kind of gave me the creeps. Still, when my friend showed up at my apartment with a bicycle, I was happy. I was even happier to see it: just a little rust on the side, otherwise in excellent condition, key still in the lock (that’s how we know it was “in” the trash and not simply beside it, owner down a ways somewhere, hunting gomi).
Suddenly my errands were done quickly! It didn’t take all morning to go to the bank, stop at the dry cleaner’s, pick up groceries, and go home. For that matter… I could stock up on groceries rather than go every two days, because I could put them in the basket in front, and strap them on the little luggage rack thing in the back. Sometimes my friend Margaret and I would ~ illegally, but shhh ~ double up and head into town. She’d sit on the luggage rack thing on the back, hold up her feet, and off we’d go. Just like all the junior and senior high school kids, we’d double up on the bicycle. One of those illegal things in Japan that everyone does.
September 2, 2008
The 47 Ronin
I wrote a new lens over at Squidoo, about my favorite story of all time, The 47 Ronin. It’s a series of historical events that happened in Japan at the dawn of the 18th century (1701-1702). Love, loyalty, betrayal, political intrigue, friendship, revenge, honor…. these are the makings of any blockbuster story! The fact that it’s a true story makes it, for me, all the more compelling.
August 27, 2008
In mid-August, either the 2nd or 3rd week depending on where you live, or on a solar calendar I don’t understand, there is O-bon.
Before I knew better, I thought of O-bon as a Halloween-like holiday. But that’s silly ~ Halloween is in October. Besides, my friends in Japan are as insane about that least-favorite holiday of mine as they are in my own country. And just like here at home, on Halloween I either stay home and pull all the blinds, or treat myself to a luxury hotel for the night. Don’t believe me? Just ask my friends.
Arashiyama Bone Temple Offering, Obon Travels, Kelsey Bennett
However, now that I’ve fully established that O-bon is not Halloween, let me explain what it IS. It’s a Buddhist time of praying to, paying attention to, and feeding the spirits of one’s dead ancestors. It is believed that our ancestral spirits come home every year during this week, and there are special prayers the faithful pray, and special attention is given to cleaning and sprucing up the cemetery grave markers and in-home altars. Lest you think I was joking, there is indeed food meted out and set aside for these guests. At the end of the week, small paper boats with candles are sent down the local river, to help guide the ancestral spirits back to… back to wherever they are the rest of the year.
I’m not clear on all the details.
My personal experience with O-bon is… a week off! Holiday! Actually, I rarely went anywhere during O-bon, because prices are particularly high then, and all means of transportation except for my own car or bicycle are packed. Jam packed. Everyone is either going to their ancestral hometown, or getting away on a vacation somewhere. I found it easier to stay home or stay local, taking what has recently come to be called a “Stay-cation” ~ local travel.
However, one year my Iranian boyfriend and I went to Chiba to spend some time with one of his friends and some more friends. We were three sets of friends who all converged on the 1st friend’s beach house. It was a small house, but the 11 of us had a good time most of the time. A few tempers flared now and then during those several days, (uh-UH! Not mine! Okay ~ fine), but for the most part it was good. I remember lots of tea, curry, beer, smoking, and talking. There was no air conditioner but in my mind, no self-respecting beach house has air conditioning anyway. That’s why you go to the beach!
So we went to the beach.
It was August, hotter than snot since early July. Hamid and I got on the train in Kofu, and began the 6-hour ride to Chiba. I think it was six hours. Felt like 20, but I think it was only six. We rode the “milk trains,” meaning, those that stop at every station along the way, because they were cheaper and not as crowded as the express trains. And it was hot. The trains attempted air conditioning but every time they stopped, they insisted on opening the doors. So “cool” was inconsistent. We changed trains a few times, and then it started to rain. Hamid’s friend ~ whose name I could never pronounce right (they told me the way I said it meant “turkey” in Farsi), so I just called him “GL” ~ he picked us up at the station and we drove to his beach house. It was evening, around 8:30, and it was raining, so all 11 of us ~ Hamid and I were the last to arrive ~ sat on the floor around a big sheet with food in the middle, ate, drank, and told stories.
The next morning came crashing into the house with the 5:00 a.m. sun. Maybe 5:30. It was blinding! But we got up and the men made breakfast (hooray!), while we women relaxed in our sleepy state, and sipped on mugs of sweet tea. Out came the sheet and dishes and food, and we dug in.
We were all on vacation, so there was no rush. It was a long and leisurely breakfast with many, many mugs of sweet tea. Finally around 9:00, to my utter shock, the men picked up the dishes, cleaned up the kitchen, and then… we headed to the beach. Sometime during our lolling repast, the clouds had rolled in, but we were undeterred. Clouds come and they go, so we went on.
To be shocked twice in one morning seems unfair, but that’s what happened. We got to the beach and it was pretty empty. Granted, it was not quite 10 a.m., but in my days of beach living in New Jersey, all summer long, the beaches begin to get crowded by 9:00. After 10:00, you have a pick your way through the carpet of people. But here at GL’s beach, it wasn’t like that. There were a few people sitting on their beach towels and kind of looking a little dazed. Others were walking around with their towels wrapped around their shoulders. Not a typical beach scene…. but…. it was freezing!
A front had come in, and that wind was cold. Surely the water itself was warmer than the air, but no one wanted to test that theory. We spent some time walking along the beach, hoping it would clear up and heat up. We walked out on the pier, took some photos, walked along some more, then went back to the house. We had to regroup, warm up, and decide what else we would do. All of our plans had been based on spending most of our time at the beach.
In the end, we took a few local drives, did some shopping, had some arguments, played cards, had a barbeque, and found more to laugh about. We just hung out together. The whole time we were there, it was cold enough for sweatshirts and socks ~ fortunately, Hamid and I had each brought a sweatshirt (not sure why, but we had), and GL had plenty of socks!
After breakfast on the fourth day, GL drove us to the train station. As we stood around waiting for the train, the sun came out. And just like that, it was oppressively hot again. We boarded the train to go back to Kofu, and until the end of October it was, as before, hotter than snot.
August 3, 2008
Have I mentioned The Rink? The place Danni owns? The place I went nearly every night for dinner & to hang out with friends, different friends every night? Sometimes Emiko, sometimes Roppongi, sometimes Misa or Misaki or Mariko. Yukie or Yuuki, Tomo or Atsu or Mochi-kun. It was always good.
Today Emiko (yes, the illustrator for The Book) sent me a picture of my favorite food at The Rink: chicken dippers. I’ve watched Danni cut and coat and fry the chicken himself, so I know it’s “homemade”. And I’ve gone shopping with him when he bought the ingredients to create his own honey mustard sauce ~ also homemade. It’s so much like eating a home-cooked meal, every time. I think that’s one reason I loved it so ~ whether chicken dippers, pizza, nashi goren, chili (HOT HOT HOT!!!), Thai curry, or anything else on the menu… it all took time, and many times I watched flames shoot up two or three feet while Danni or Atsu cooked. An adventure all its own, sitting up at the bar watching the goings-on in the kitchen.
Here’s what we came to call “Sue Set” because I ordered it so often ~ chicken dippers w/ honey mustard sauce, and a beer. Yummm.
Sue Set at The Rink
July 7, 2008
Tanabata in Tokyo
July 7th is the day called Tanabata in Japan. Although there are variations to the story, this is how I remember the story of Tanabata ~ the story of the two star-crossed lovers.
Once upon a time, Tenkou was the god of the sky. He had a daughter, Orihime, who was a weaver of cloth. Every day, Orihime wove beautiful cloth for her father and the other gods, but she worked so much that her father worried about her.
One day, Tenkou introduced Orihime to a young cow herder from across the Amanogawa, which was the river of stars we know as the Milky Way. This young cow herder’s name was Hikoboshi, and he, like Orihime, was exceptional in his work. Both were very diligent! But when they met each other, it was love at first sight.
The new lovers spent all their time together. They were inseparable! And the cows ran wild and no more cloth was made. That made Tenkou very angry! He decreed that they would forevermore be separated by Amanogawa, that river of stars.
Ah, the tears that flowed from the young lovers’ eyes! Their sorrow was greater than anything the gods had ever known, and Tenkou regretted his harsh judgment. So, he told Orihime and Hikoboshi that if they were once again diligent and worked hard all year, they could meet again every year on the seventh evening of the 7th month.
Traditionally, people wished for the sky to be clear on that evening so the two could meet again over the Milky Way. If it rained that day, the water level of the river Amanogawa got too high and could not be crossed. People wrote their wish for the young lovers on a piece of paper and tied the paper on a bamboo tree.
Nowadays, people write their own wish on the paper. This is the most well known story of Tanabata, even though there are others. It seems this story originally came from China. Also, in the Chinese calendar, there is usually a half moon on July 7 and they believe Orihime and Hikoboshi use that half moon as a boat to meet each other over the great river of stars in the sky, Amanogawa.
June 24, 2008
I’d never thought about the advantage I sometimes have with English as my native language, until I moved to Japan to teach it. I’ve studied six foreign languages, and when I was studying, I’d often wished osmosis would occur. I’d put a dictionary of that language under my pillow at night, hoping to simply absorb all the words and grammar in my sleep. Of course, that never happened. I had to study and practice like everyone else, making mistakes and learning along the way.
In the first years of learning Japanese, I often made mistakes with word choices. I’d forget the word I wanted, or say another word instead, rendering a completely different meaning to the sentence. I still make mistakes but they are usually of the less interesting, mundane, grammatical sort. In the early days, my mistakes were funnier.
One night at dinner with the family I was living with for the summer, there were many people sitting around the table, all of us eating and talking and having a good time. I was mostly listening, since I didn’t understand 98% of the conversation. At this point in my Japanese language journey, I was fluent in numbers and colors, but not much else. At dinner that night were aunts, uncles, cousins, in-laws, boyfriends and girlfriends—it was a large, happy group and everyone was quite jolly. They were happy with me and encouraged my stumbling attempts to communicate. Fortunately, several members of the group also spoke English, so we all had a backup.
After awhile, the food was being passed around for the third or fourth time. I was so full, but I thought that saying “no” was considered impolite, so I tried a different angle. I was very polite and I turned down the offer for more food, believing myself to say, “My stomach is full.” Immediately, everyone thrust their hands at me, palms up, as they grinned from ear to ear. I must have looked pretty funny at this unexpected reaction, and I searched the crowd for someone who would tell me what was going on….
And this is how I memorized the difference between the words for “stomach” and “money.” You could say this was osmosis of a different sort!
That was during my first month in Japan. Years later, on my third venture to this country, one day I realized I was speaking Japanese that I didn’t know I knew. I hadn’t studied since leaving the country five years earlier. I had studied Portuguese, however, and experienced an interesting phenomenon during that time. While studying lists of Portuguese vocabulary words, I would try to remember and use them in common sentences. However, instead of translating them into English, I found myself translating those words into Japanese, making Japanese sentences with them. It was bizarre, but it seemed to work and, in the end, gave me a much-needed boost for my move back to Japan a few short months later. When I got to Japan that third time, I realized that I could say things I’d never “gotten” before. It was eerie, and cool, at the same time.
During this third time living in Japan, I frequently went to one particular bar, “Eddie’s.” I loved going there. For reasons no one quite understands, there seem to be people from all over the world in Kofu, so I got to know people from many cultures. Some of us could only speak Japanese as our common language, even though it was native to none of us. After awhile I was going to Eddie’s almost every night, and friends knew they could find me there. We’d eat and drink and be merry. We’d talk and joke and discuss world events. We’d play chess or cards or backgammon, game after game after game. I had arguments there, got terribly drunk there, laughed and cried and got scared there. I fell in love there. It was very much a part of my world.
One evening when I was ready to leave, I went to the cash register to pay. In a clear, loud, perhaps drunken voice, I announced my desire to pay: “Hatarakita-a-a-ai !!!!” My good friend Kazumi, who was the waitress, looked at me strangely, then handed me a towel and said, “dozo”, or “please, go ahead.”
Huh? Ah, it was another example of the wrong word coming out of my mouth. I had meant to say “haraitai”, which is “I want to pay.” What I’d said was, “I want to work.”
Even after five years, mistakes and errors found their way into the course of a normal day. Once, my friend Margaret and I were walking along the riverbank that led from near our apartments to the downtown area. It was one of those stunning, glorious, early spring days when the air is soft and the cherry trees are all at the perfect level of blossom, just barely at full-bloom and only hours away from falling off. The cherry trees are so copious in Japan that a soft, pale white-pink bathes the light of every corner, blurring the mind to a soft focus of the world. It is simply breathtaking and wonderful for about a week every year.
So there it was, a splendid, glorious day, and I was moved to sing. What else, under the cherry trees, would one sing, except the cherry blossom song? If you’ve ever eaten in a Japanese restaurant, you probably have heard this tune. It’s one of those Japanese things that got itself exported to this country, like cars, chopsticks, “sayonara,” and karaoke. So I began singing: “Sakana, sakana…..” It’s a lovely little tune, although I don’t know what words come next in the song. I just knew, and so sang, that part. “Sakana, sakana….”
…at which point Margaret began laughing so hard she had to stop walking. Now, I know I’m not the world’s greatest singer, but I thought this was a bit overdone. I stared at her, wondering what was up. When she could catch her breath, she told me I’d sung “sakana” instead of “sakura.”
Sakura, you see, is the word for cherry blossoms. Entirely appropriate to the day. Sakana, on the other hand, means…. Fish Now I’m doubled over with laughter, then we cried because we couldn’t stop laughing. Then, finally catching our breath, we continued on.
But we were noisy foreigners who ruined the “wa” of all the Japanese in our hearing, because we couldn’t help singing at the top of our voices, as we continued along the river, “SAKANAAAA, SAKANAAAAAA!!!”
June 24, 2008
Seven times I’ve been to Japan so far. Oh yes, yes indeed, I will go back. However, that’s the future and I don’t predict the future. Anymore. I digress….
Seven times I’ve been to Japan so far. This little list shows where. And why.
1. The Maiden Voyage. Lived with my then-boyfriend’s family in early July in Fukuoka (thankfully, Mom spoke English). Off on the train to Osaka in late August to begin my year of study in Hirakata, at Kansai Gaikokugo Daigaku (Kansai Gaidai). Spoke numbers and colors, otherwise no Japanese. Hated Japan and was relieved to get back home.
2. To work. I went back? Was I crazy? No—just homesick. Yes, for Japan. I blame it on Karate Kid II, which I saw with my then-boyfriend who wanted to go home to Japan, himself, after graduating. We’d been having discussions…. Then we went to the movies to see Karate Kid II, set in Okinawa, and I watched it and felt waves of nostalgia wash over me. Soon I’m bawling there in the movie theater, and not about the movie! So, I took a job there to teach English, signing a two-year contract. A week of “training” and visiting prior-said boyfriend in Tokyo/Kawasaki, then off to Tsuchiura where I had my first serious taste of teaching Business English as a foreign language. Only a week of training, what was I doing? I figured it out over those two years, but it wasn’t always easy.
3. To work. This time I know what I’m doing. I’d gone to Portugal to earn the Certificate in the Teaching of English as a Foreign Language to Adults (CTEFLA). Yes, yes, this is about Japan, but Portugal was a necessary venture all its own. But then I went back to Japan, to Kofu, contracting on a job to teach business English. That I was given kids’ classes for the first six months made me want to kill myself, but that is a story for another time. Finally, they started giving me business classes, and life got great again.
4. To work. You do realize I went home for years at a time between these voyages, right? This time, I went to Tatsuno. The job sounded good, but once I got there and started teaching kids again, well… I realized my error within ten minutes, but couldn’t get out until three months later. But get out I did, and then I was back in Kofu. I love Kofu. This time, all but two of my classes each week were business English, or at least adult students. Hooray!
5. On vacation!! Finally, a vacation! To Kofu, of course. Saw all my friends, shopped, walked the haunts. It was great, but also a little boring. It wasn’t the same, having the whole day to do stuff, but in reality, I was waiting for my friends to get off work around 9:00 p.m. so we could go out together.
6. To work. I went back to Kofu to open my own school. You’d think I’d have stayed. I certainly had planned to stay, but I hadn’t left a neat ending at home, and I had to come back rather abruptly to take care of things here.
7. Number seven. When was number seven? Hmm, I guess there haven’t been seven times. I must be predicting the future after all.
Total time in Japan so far: just about seven years. There’s my “seven.”
Japan defines so much of who I am, how I see myself. Most of my non-Japanese friends who have lived in Japan feel the same way, so they understand: there’s something about that place that gets under your skin. So often, it feels like a love/hate relationship, but Japan is like a bulldog that just will not let go.
Here are some of my stories.
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