how do you spell spirit

So classes have finally kind of started to settle in a bit. I’ve almost finished doing my self introductions for each class I will be teaching, I think I’m going to end up doing it 19 times. At about 15 minutes each, let me tell you, that’s a lot of time to be talking about yourself to people who probably only have the vaguest clue of what you are saying, mostly due to pictures and gestures that could only mean ‘white-water rafting’. In each class the dynamic is quite different. There’s usually a pretty clear distinction between the 7th graders and the 9th graders in terms of boisterous-ness, the 7th graders taking the cake. Today it was quite refreshing though, to see one particular class of 9th graders stepping up to the plate. They were ‘lively’ (I’m not using the Japanese word for this, though it is fitting), but this class had a strange obsession with chickens for some reason. They asked if I saw chickens on Guam and if we eat chicken on Guam. They also squealed with delight when I mentioned that my favorite Guamanian dish, kelaguen, could be made with chicken. Am I missing something here? I feel like compared to the US, chicken is served up less frequently here. More commonly you’d get (you guessed it) fish or, for my budget at least, low-grade beef. But the squealing? I thought that was reserved primarily for the boyfriend question. Hmm.

There have been some interesting questions though. Amongst the ‘do you like [insert any topic relating to food or Japanese popular culture]?’ a kid asked me ‘Who is your favorite man?’. It took me aback for a second. It just reminded me of one of those Time magazine covers that feature ‘The Greatest Man Alive’ or something. It was a big, loaded question, but maybe I’m reading too much into a question from a 9th grader. In that same class, though, I got my favorite question by far. (Clearly, this is my most advanced class) This student asked me a question that I think we all should ponder regularly in our lives because one day it may be important to know. He asked me ‘What would you do if the Earth turned cold?’. I haven’t the faintest clue what this kid was watching or reading when he thought that up, but I was pleasantly surprised by the inquiry. I guess I hadn’t thought about it before, but it’s good to know.

My days haven’t been entirely filled with talking about myself for excruciating amounts of time and answering off-the-wall (and very standard) questions though. This Saturday I went to work (yeah, ain’t that something?). I remember at W&M the one time we had to make up classes we missed during hurrication the weekend before finals, I swear the student body was about ready to riot. Going to school on Saturday was, oddly enough, actually fun because it was Sports Day (read=no actual classes). The students challenged other teams of students in a variety of athletic events, there were relay races and tugs of war, games that are common in the US and others games which would have a high likelihood of being illegal in the US. Being at this event, I now understand where the inspiration comes from on those Japanese game shows. All in all it was good fun and no kids were sent to the hospital (at my schools anyway).

I was a bit disappointed at the cheering though. Mostly this consisted of yells of ‘Gambarre’, perhaps the second most over-used word in Japanese. It means anything from ‘good luck!’, ‘do your best!’, or ‘though your leg is broken, persevere and finish the race!’. (I like the versatility of the Japanese language) Essentially during the races, the cheers would be some variation of ‘Gambarre’, like ‘Gambarre so-and-so’, or ‘Gambarre blue-team’, or just plain, trusty old ‘Gambarre’. At the end of the races, there was a severe shortage of plain old yelling and general rowdiness. They’ve left out the best part of sports! So next time my plan is to rally up a big crowd of people who know how to cheer properly. Sure, they’ve got color-coordination, but we’ll be spelling G-A-M-B-A-R-R-E on our stomachs. Now That’s spirit.

a-team

It's always good to know how you'd do in the event of a zombie attack, courtesy of Marian.

Are you Zombie A-team material? See if you'd get eaten then let me know how you did, a-team's always recruiting.

Official Survivor Congratulations! You scored 77%!

Whether through ferocity or quickness, you made it out. You made the right choice most of the time, but you probably screwed up somewhere. Nobody's perfect, at least you're alive.

les franzia

So classes have started and all that. I’ve taught a little bit too, but it just doesn’t feel like things have really started yet. I have yet to shake the feeling that this is either 1) A study abroad program where they really don’t expect you to do anything much or 2) An internship with pretty much the same premise. It feels like I’m interning for Bordallo again—I spend my days checking my email repeatedly and reading about random topics that I never knew I always wanted to know about. Scientology for example. I’d write more, but I think they’d sue me or raid my house. Really, it’s a concern.

Evenings and weekends have been fairly busy though. We JETs in the area tend to hang out together in our free time a lot, like marathon-style a lot. Especially during weekends. I’d imagine it’s something reminiscent of the Nicholas 207 folk, but we don’t actually live together. Also there’s less Franzia-pong and far fewer nights end with Lauren streaking the living room solo.

And speaking of Franzia, I saw some a few weeks ago. I really didn’t think that Japan would have Franzia, but oh yes, it was there, sitting on the shelf of a big convenience store chain. I almost didn’t see it though because, unlike the Franzia I’m familiar with, this Franzia was in a BOTTLE. Amazing, yes I know.

conversion

So I just heard from a student that classes might be canceled tomorrow because of the typhoon that’s in the area. Griffin’s already got classes canceled tomorrow because the typhoon is heading straight for Kyushu (Southern island of Japan), or so I have gathered from trying to read Japanese weather websites. Of course after I tried to read the Japanese websites, I resorted to looking at pictures, skillfully figuring out the typhoon’s general vicinity by the presence of the big circle over Kyushu. Thankfully, typhoons and hurricanes on maps look exactly the same in any language.

I don’t think the typhoon is too strong, but of course my knowledge of this is dependant on my skills at converting kilometers per hour to miles per hour accurately. It’s been a bit of a challenge for us American JETs to convert the measurements here. I’ve resorted to thinking that anything above 30 degrees Celsius qualifies as ‘hot’ and 27 degrees Celsius and below is ‘cool’. Being that it is the summer and my town is nestled between mountains though, I haven’t had much use for my knowledge of ‘cool’ weather. If it does get cool if you are in Japan though, do not be afraid of not knowing what the weather is like since everyone and their mother will tell you about the weather. Repeatedly. I believe this is particularly poignant during the summer months when greetings of ‘atsui ne?’ (hot, isn’t it?), atsui (it’s hot.), and atsui yo (it’s hot!) will be awaiting you at every corner. I must admit I’ve fallen into the habit a little bit though, makes me feel more local.

I’ve also had to utilize my conversion skills while driving. I just got my car on Friday. It’s red and small, but it’s got a CD player and it was very cheap so I love it. My general rule for converting speed limits:
40km = slow.
50km= still pretty slow.
60km= lucky me!
80km= probably as good as it’s going to get.

Converted, 40km is about 25miles. 60km is about 35miles. 80km is about 50miles.
Honestly, most of my town (maybe all) is 40-50km/hr. I didn’t think I could find a place with a lower average speed limit than Guam, but here I am.

Of course, there is some logic behind the low speed limit. Roads in Japan tend to be narrower. Oh and if you are driving in rural areas (read: my town and most of Japan), there tend to be little gutters that occasionally pop up (frequently), servicing as wonderful little ditches for your car tires. I haven’t yet had the pleasure of such an experience, but I have been warned repeatedly and it does not sound like an easy situation to absolve.

saloon

9.1.05

How is it that after being at the school for only two days, I have already heard the word ‘kinky’ twice? Where are these kids learning such words and when did 9th grade boys in Japan start getting the gall to ask their new teachers questions concerning said words on the first day of class? True, at least it’s an English word, but of course it was spelled as k-i-n-k-i. At least spell it right.

A few days ago I discovered that there is a pool hall in my town. This may not sound that amazing to those of you in the DC or Guam area, but seriously, it’s quite a profound discovery. From my apartment window, I can literally see not one, but Two sizable rice paddies. A look to the right heeds only a handful of houses, apartments, a lot of mountains, and, for some reason, a small Subaru dealership. What my town, Daito lacks in pleasantries, though, we make up for with an abundance of dry cleaners. A 2-5 minute leisurely bike ride in either direction from my apartment would provide no fewer than 3 dry cleaners.

Don’t get me wrong though, I love my town. Being as rural as it is, it only makes discoveries like this gem of a pool hall all the more wonderful. This isn’t your typical ‘Magic Styx’ pool hall—it’s not smoky or loud or crowded. “Billiards” consists of two full-sized pool tables, two air conditioners, a few chairs, a CD player, and it’s accompanying sizable collection of classical music, a common staple at pool halls across the globe. These items are all housed in a small wooden building with décor reminiscent of an old western saloon (nope, I don’t get it either). Upon entering “Billiards” (BIRIADUSU in Japanese), one will find that there are no employees and the lights, at least so far in my experience, are off. One may venture to think that “Billiards” is closed but upon more careful inspection, one would discover the secret to playing at “Billiards”—you must go next door to the convenience store (like 7-11 but cooler) to get the billiard balls and make payment. If that’s not awesome, I don’t know what is. You can play pool and if you get thirsty or hungry, you can go next door and buy beer, a cocktail in a can, sake in a cup, or choose from a huge assortment of slightly off-the wall snacks. A typically private pool hall without overpriced alcohol in a town overrun with rice paddies and dry cleaners? Priceless.