tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19858768447744838052024-03-12T21:47:04.449-07:00Genki in JapanGenki - adj.; happy, energetic, enthusaistic, and healthy. Genki desu-ka?KThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07450914121785220194noreply@blogger.comBlogger35125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1985876844774483805.post-58814038779869081912013-09-13T21:35:00.001-07:002013-09-13T21:38:07.237-07:00Saying "Sayonara" to my SchoolThough my time in Japan wrapped up over a month ago, there are still stories and experiences swirling around in my head that I was unable to put down in writing in my frantic final days. And honestly, since coming home, I haven't wanted to think about Japan too much just yet. But there are stories that I want to remember, and if I don't write them down, I'm afraid of them slowly fading into something barely recognizable.<br />
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One thing I still can't get over is how ceremonious the whole goodbye process is in Japan. It's draining when you're the one saying goodbye. But, as someone who likes things to come full circle, and who likes to be aware of transitions and "last" experiences, I appreciate the time that is devoted to these things. My final big goodbye, to my junior high school, especially stands out in this regard.<br />
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I remember when my students first found out I was leaving. It was sometime in June. I was eating lunch with a second-grade class (grade 8 in Canada), and the other teacher in the room came over to my table.<br />
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"Did you know that Katie sensei is going back to Canada this summer? She will be leaving Masuda," he said, conversationally.<br />
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The kids, at first, appeared nonplussed, or as if they hadn't understood. Then they began talking with each other in Japanese, and I realized they were trying to figure out how to respond when one of them asked the others, "how do you say "sad" in English??"<br />
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One of the girls looked at me for a long time. "Katie sensei...why? Why?"<br />
I explained that I would be going back to school in the fall.<br />
"Oh. Very sad."<br />
More group discussion and translation ensued, before one of the boys said, slowly and carefully, "please, don't go."<br />
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Fast forward a month and a half. My final goodbye lessons came, and passed by just as swiftly. I don't usually get to lead entire class periods by myself, so it was great to get to do so, and to see the kids having fun while doing it. We played a Jeopardy-style Canadian quiz game, and I gave a talk encouraging them to learn about foreign cultures and to remember that every country is DIFFERENT from Japan and that DIFFERENCE is good -- though I'm not sure how much of it they understood. I even managed to play them a song on guitar -- I was worried that I would choke up, but somehow I managed to make it through. Several students came up to chat at the end of each class, asking more about what I would be doing in Canada or the Green Day song I had just played for them; some of them told me they would email me, and some of them did. And just like that, my classes were over, done, and finished.<br />
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But as I said, goodbyes are a big, drawn-out deal in Japan, so of course it wasn't all over just yet. The following week I wrapped up my elementary visits, and then it was time for the official last day of school and my goodbye ceremony. Time to drag my suit out of the closet for one last formal occasion, prepare a 3 minute speech in Japanese, and make sure I remembered when to bow and when to stand and sit. Fortunately, I did remember, and the speech even went okay. The students were shocked to hear so much Japanese come out of my mouth at once, and one of my speech contest students in turn gave a touching English speech to me, while others presented me with flowers and books filled with personal thank-you notes from every kid in the school.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I couldn't seem to get this picture up without it being sideways. Anyway, this boy wrote "good luck" on the back and that he's cheering for me :) "FIGHTO!!"</td></tr>
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A whirl of formalities, and the ceremony was over. The rest of the day was spent playing sports and having fun, with students traipsing into the staff room throughout the day to hand me notes and pictures and handmade hair scrunchies.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A note from the two special needs students, in which Yasuhiko tells me that at first, he liked me "just a little", and asks me to please come and watch him play basketball in the All-Yokote tournament when he's in his final year.</td></tr>
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After school the teachers met for my goodbye/end-of-term <i>enkai </i>(work party), and I had the most fun that I think I've ever had at an <i>enkai</i> in Japan. I had a chance to talk to almost every single one of the teachers, and didn't feel my usual awkwardness when it was officially time to mingle and move around the room. The teachers presented me with a <i>yukata </i>(a beautiful kimono-style robe worn to festivals in the summer), something I had always loved but never thought to purchase for myself. I even got to joke around with the principal, and had a lengthy discussion with the young school librarian about his favourite books, which eventually turned into him just listing English fictional characters -- "Gandalf! Bilbo Baggins!!!"<br />
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I was ready for this to be my final day at Masuda, to make the goodbye official. But I still had to go in one more time the following week, after a slew of days off to clean my apartment, pack, and move out. In the end, I'm glad I got to go back one last time, because it was magical. Truly magical. Get ready for a story of Disney-family-film proportions.<br />
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I spent the morning calmly cleaning my desk and chatting to teachers. Watarai sensei even taught me how to play a traditional Japanese card game. When it was time for me to leave, I got up slowly, not really sure what to do. I said a hesitant "well, I guess I'll be going" to one of my JTEs, and before I knew it, the entire staff room was on its feet. A few seconds later, and -- I have no idea how -- it seemed all the other teachers had trickled into the room from around the school. With everyone assembled in what seemed like some sort of prearranged spectacle (but which was really just a standard Japanese farewell procedure), the principal and vice principal came forward to say official bowing goodbyes. Eventually, after spending much time bowing and saying "<i>sayonara</i>" and looking around the room at everyone, there was nothing else to do but start toward the door. And everyone followed me.<br />
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This was the first time the emotions of it all began to hit me. I was walking down the hall, down the stairs and to the entryway, as I had at the end of the day for two years. Only this time I wouldn't be coming back. And every teacher in the school was behind me. Soon an announcement came over the intercom that Katie sensei was leaving the building. Once again, it took only seconds before the entire school was crammed into the tiny foyer to watch as I put my shoes on and struggled not to cry. Students filled the hall and all the way up the stairs. I was sure the tears were going to hit, when Watarai sensei started singing "It's Time to Say Goodbye" by Andrea Bocelli; then I just laughed. With one final unified chant, the students all thanked me - "<i>arigatou gozaimashita!!!!!!</i>" I lingered just long enough to soak up the moment, then walked outside.<br />
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All of the teams who were practicing halted their drills to stand side-by-side, bow, and say goodbye. "Thank you!" "See you!" "I love you!!!!" Just when I thought things couldn't be more picture-perfect, someone shouted my name from overhead. I looked up, and there were another four dozen students, leaning out of classroom windows all around the courtyard, smiling, waving, and calling my name. That image is burned into my mind, of the school building and all of those kids waving in the sun. I don't even think it was actually a sunny day, but my memory has made it sunny. The last group to say goodbye was the tennis team -- the genkiest all-girls club in the school. Ami came straight up to me and just stopped, forcing her face into a pout. "Very, very, very...sad!!!"<br />
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And then it was time to leave.<br />
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I'm gonna miss those kids.</div>
KThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07450914121785220194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1985876844774483805.post-9391550547892772642013-08-19T21:39:00.000-07:002013-08-19T21:40:40.101-07:00Taiko farewell party: drumming and drinksGoodbyes in Japan are serious business. Like a formal ritual, it is important that goodbyes are given the proper amount of time, care, pomp, and fanfare. The whole process took about a month from when it began, in the form of parties and ceremonies and gift-giving and remarks that I would be missed - "<i>samishiiiiiii</i>" (literally, "loneliness") was intoned over and over by co-workers, students and people I barely knew.<br />
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My first farewell event turned out to be one of my most special and cherished experiences of this wonderful and warm aspect of Japanese culture. For the past year and a half, I've spent almost every Friday night at a shed out in the rice fields practicing taiko, the art of traditional Japanese drumming. This has been one of my most memorable experiences in Japan, and I feel incredibly lucky to have been able to join the group. <i>Myojin Daiko </i>is made up of mostly elementary school kids, their moms, and three of us foreign girls. When they found out that Nikki and I were leaving, they insisted on throwing a party for us, one which was elaborately and carefully planned over several weeks. All we knew was that two of the teenagers in our group, Rina and Tasuku, were in charge of planning the whole thing - it was their special project.<br />
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When we arrived at the banquet hall that evening, I was surprised to see that nearly all of the children, mothers, and the rest of their families were in attendance. I hadn't felt that we had been such a big part of the group, but we were special enough to warrant a large gathering for them to all have a chance to say goodbye to us. Rina and Tasuku opened the night with a special performance, joined "spontaneously" by Masashi, one of the instructors. The grade five and six kids in the group read a speech to us, which Rina had cleverly translated into English. Nikki and I gave speeches ourselves, my first of many Japanese speeches in the weeks to come. Finally, our group played the piece we had been working on for most of the past year, and when it came time for an encore, all the kids and moms came up and we played some of the more traditional festival pieces.<br />
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During a particularly upbeat number, one of the little boys started dancing around at the front. A group of children gathered, and soon they were jumping everywhere. Everyone in the crowd got into it, and suddenly I noticed that even the banquet hall staff had joined in - one of the servers was banging away on the drums himself, quite skilfully I might add, tuxedo and all.<br />
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Food and drink was in abundance. At one point, Masashi made an announcement that Katie and Nikki should drink lots, so the kids were supposed to go to us and top up our beverages. A moment later, all of the children, from four years old to twelve, were lined up around us, awkwardly clutching beer bottles, filling our glasses to the brim before we even had time to sip what had just been poured for us. All the while offering words of thanks and goodbye. That's an experience I can't imagine having anywhere other than Japan.<br />
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The kids in the group are adorable. At some points during the meal, I really wanted nothing more than to put down my food and drink and run around the hall and play with them, making faces and silly noises as we so often did during breaks on Friday nights. The kids were all over the place that night. Every now and then I even spotted a fluttering of tablecloth and a little face peeking out from underneath.<br />
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Gifts were given - photos! flowers! drums! more than I had room for in my suitcase! - and that night wasn't the end of it. The following week Masashi and Yumi had a huge framed photo of our group to give me, and on our last day in Yokote, Yumi met us once more to give us t-shirts emblazoned with our group's name on the front. Gift-giving knows no bounds in Japan! Eventually, the evening wrapped up and the kids went home, but several of the adults moved on to the after-party - the <i>nijikai. </i>We spent another hour over food and drinks chatting in Japanese (with bits of English) about our home countries, Japanese festivals, and local Akita dialect. The whole event made me appreciate my taiko experience even more; I wish I could have had this kind of awareness before I was leaving, while I still had time left to enjoy more lessons with them. Although I felt like we hadn't made much of a impression on the group as a whole, their warm and thoughtful remembrance of us was enough to leave a definite impression on me.KThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07450914121785220194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1985876844774483805.post-52196804765307827882013-07-11T05:00:00.000-07:002013-08-19T20:13:56.722-07:00Elementary School: Cuteness OverloadToday was quite the day. While running into school in the rain, my umbrella broke. Thinking I'd fix it later, I left it by the door and went inside for the morning meeting. When I came out again to go to an elementary visit, someone had already cleared and disposed of my broken umbrella pieces. Oh those Japanese and their intense work ethic.<br />
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Little did I know that, not only was I in for a rain-soaked day, I was also in for a delightfully emotional one.<br />
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As part of my job, I work at my junior high school half-time and visit elementary schools the other half. This has been one of my favourite aspects of my work setup, as trips to elementary schools always give me more than a few things to smile about. One particularly memorable visit included teaching a grade one class how to count from 1-10. Four tiny children, accompanied by their teacher, picked me up from the staff room and shyly walked me to the gym where the class was to be held. The kids watched me, curious and wide-eyed, then ran ahead to alert their peers to my approach. As I neared the gym, I could hear a growing din, made up of about fifty squeaky voices, cheering and shouting and emitting whatever sort of noise their excitement prompted. When I finally walked through the door, the room erupted. I felt like I was at concert, where I was the main act these wild fans had been waiting for.<br />
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Strange as the sensation was, it was one of the most amusing things I've seen in Japan, watching them shake and bounce and wave their arms and reach out to touch mine in uncontrollable excitement. I started by introducing myself and showing them a few pictures from Canada. Every single photo brought a deafening chorus of "<i>iiiiiiiiiii naaaaaaaaaaa!!!!!</i>" (wow!! awesome!!!!!.) and a round of applause. By the end they were no longer uttering recognizable words, but simply a round of unintelligible, excited noise.<br />
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Being one of four ALTs in Yokote who regularly does elementary visits, and having current and past ALTs with names like Katie, Kathie, KK, Connie, Kahlila and MacKenzie (notice a "/k/" pattern?), it's not often that the kids <i>don't</i> confuse me with one of the other elementary ALTs. So it was especially touching to visit the same school a few weeks later, and have the grade one students not only recognize me but remember me by the correct name. Much hand-holding, arm-stroking and jumping up and down ensued (from the kids, of course).<br />
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Another time, at a different school, I found myself playing Fruit Basket with some third graders. Usually the kids all race to sit down and don't want to be the last one standing, but this particular class was full of spotlight-loving clowns. By the end of the game, none of the kids wanted to sit down - they would slowly meander around the circle, dramatically gesturing to offer the chairs to their friends while they tried so hard to be the last one standing. At one point, one boy was dancing his way through the hubbub, another was twirling round and round and round, and yet another was purely running in circles waiting for all the other chairs to be taken. That was by far my most exciting and hilarious game of Fruit Basket yet.<br />
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One more recent adorable memory was teaching a grade two class about different kinds of fruit. The kids simply could not contain their excitement. Every time I showed them a picture and tried to get them to repeat the word, the teacher had to step in and quiet them down so they could hear me in the first place. Kids were bouncing and rolling around on the floor and flailing their arms in glee. One girl started crawling around my feet in a circle, looking up at me with huge puppy-dog eyes and, I swear, panting.<br />
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This brings me back to today. It was my last visit to one of my favourite elementary schools. The kids there are energetic, fun, and extremely sweet. I usually wander around during lunch break chatting to the students until one group of first graders or another whisks me off to play <i>oni</i> (a version of tag), or clusters around me for high fives and arm-strokes (seriously, it's like they have this need to touch people, and just don't know how to handle it). One time a little girl would not stop stroking my hand, saying it was "<i>kawaii</i>" (cute).<br />
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I've always enjoyed the grade five class at this particular school, as the kids love just about any activity we do and the teacher routinely asks for my input and creative game ideas, something that most of the schools don't do - I often just get a lesson plan the day before, and show up. Today was my last day, so we played one of their favourite games I had introduced to them, and at the end of class the teacher explained to them that I would be going back to Canada, and asked me to share a few words with them. I gave them each a Canada pencil as a present, and they all went crazy. Then a few students stood up to share their reflections about English class. Hearing them say that they hadn't known much English before, but now they remembered a lot, was pretty awesome to hear.<br />
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After the lesson, the teacher returned to the staff room to tell me that the students enjoyed the lesson.<br />
"But, children...they say they don't use pencil..."<br />
"Ohhh..." I remembered that the kids often use mechanical pencils; perhaps I gave them a useless gift?<br />
"They say...very special, very important gift...they don't use...they keep, forever."<br />
Here's where I started to tear up. After I composed myself, a few of the students came to the staff room to personally deliver their reflection cards for me to sign. They told me (in Japanese) not to forget them, and that they had always enjoyed English class.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Spitting image.</td></tr>
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I began to read their reflection cards, which were full of comments about how much fun they had had, how they had learned a lot of English and been able to remember many things during our lessons, hoping we would meet again someday, and wishing me good luck back in Canada. Again, it was hard not to cry.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">roughly translated: "I look forward to seeing Katie sensei again someday. Thank you very much."</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"After her year of studying at college, I want the English teacher to come back again."</td></tr>
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During lunch, a teacher made an announcement that it was my last day, and later several kids asked me why I was going back to Canada. One of the fifth grade girls asked to take a picture with me. Of course, a bunch of others jumped into the photo as soon as they saw it was happening.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo-bombed by a flying peace sign</td></tr>
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I left school with soggy shoes, a damp schoolbag and no umbrella, but having had one of my most memorable days in a long time.KThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07450914121785220194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1985876844774483805.post-43973823617579708832013-05-29T07:21:00.001-07:002013-05-29T07:21:55.135-07:00Sensei no moreI like being called <i>sensei</i>.<br />
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I know that probably sounds arrogant, but I don't mean that I like the perception of power or authority or importance or any of the other things that such a title might conjure up. It's in that mysterious and mystical quality I associate with Japan and its ninjas and samurais and culture of honour and impeccable discipline. Something of that sort floats into my mind every time I heard the word <i>sensei</i>, and it's a subtle reminder of the vastly different culture I find myself surrounded by and working within.<br />
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But alas, in just a few short months, I will no longer be Katie sensei.<br />
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It's strange finding myself suddenly face to face with life on the other side of this experience. I've spent hours and days and weeks and months contemplating what my next step might be, where I might find myself after I leave Akita, what I want to "do with my life". As if today and now isn't already a part of it. As if every day doesn't count towards what I build my dreams and hopes around. In fact, it is, and it does. Of course. But now, instead of casting around mere speculations about how The Other Side might feel, I have to come to terms with the knowledge that, in about the same amount of time that has elapsed since spring vacation, I will be stepping off a plane back in Toronto for good.<br />
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Putting it that way startles me a bit.<br />
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I could say it scares me, but that's not quite true. It just startles me. It makes me feel all kinds of things. I look forward to returning home and being surrounded by what was once familiar, but I am jarred by how little I have left of the different-ness of Japan. I can't wait to sit down and chat with my family at the kitchen table, but my emotions rise at the thought of all the people I will have said goodbye to by the time I have the chance to do so.<br />
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One thing is certain: the future is uncertain, and I'm finally feeling prepared to step up to the challenge of facing it with patience, trust, joy, and even excitement. In the meantime, I'm going to get every last drop of enjoyment and wisdom I can from this whole Japan thing, and go out with a bang.<br />
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<br />KThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07450914121785220194noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1985876844774483805.post-6950880810647737312013-03-18T03:50:00.001-07:002013-03-18T03:50:14.205-07:00Snowstorms and Surprises"Noooooo!!!"<br />
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This isn't a direct quote, but I'm pretty sure this dramatic cry of frustration was uttered at least once between driving through the whiteout to Geto ski resort, struggling through the whiteout from the car to the main building, and staring into the white wall of snow beyond the door where the ski lifts, usually visible, were meant to be. It was probably expressed best when Gavin fell to his knees and shook his fists in defeated anger at the universe. A perfectly reasonable response.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Brave souls.</td></tr>
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Two weekends in a row, and two thwarted attempts to go snowboarding at Geto in Iwate, one of the best powdery slopes around. The hill was open, but only one small lift near the bottom was operating, and we could barely see anything five feet in front of us, let alone that single functioning lift, through the pelting snow. We knew it wasn't worth going out, but we weren't ready to let go of our hopes right away.<br />
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After confirming that the weather would probably be better the next day, we eventually made our way home - slowly, as the expressway was now closed due to the inclement weather. This was one of those days when we should have just stayed home, though of course the sky was beautiful and perfectly calm back in Yokote. We went out for ramen so that we could feel justified in having left our apartments.<br />
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Fortunately for us, the weekend was not to be a complete disappointment - it was Nikki's birthday on Saturday night, which ended up being the perfect combination of relaxed chatting and interesting encounters. We chilled at a local wine and tapas bar, a nice change from the usual Japanese fare we find ourselves surrounded by. We ate cake, although those who were driving home decided to take their slices to go so as to avoid pushing Japan's zero blood alcohol limit, as the frosting contained trace amounts of Bailey's. You can never be too careful.<br />
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But the most interested part of the night was when we decided to go to Nihonkai afterwards, a local bar whose owner is friendly with all of the Yokote ALTs (and even friends with many of us on Facebook). Mako-chan is notorious for his love of sake, for cooking up strange and wonderful dishes for us to try, and for falling asleep at some point in the night, but not before telling us to help ourselves to more drinks and just leave our money at the bar when we go. It's a tiny, cozy place, all furnished in wood and decorated with various plastic fish and lots of goofy photos of regular customers and Mako-chan himself. One wall has a list of all the regulars' birthdays. As you can see, it's the kind of place that draws the same crowd night after night, giving it a very familiar feel. It's also nice to walk into a place and have the owner remember your name and call out "<i>hisashiburi!</i>" (it's been awhile).<br />
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By the time I arrive at Nihonkai on any given night I've gone, the bar is already strewn with empty glasses, sake cups, several half-finished bottles of drink, and dishes - usually with plenty of leftovers of whatever Mako-chan has decided to serve up. If he's run out of whatever he cooked earlier, you can expect <i>sashimi</i>, slimy seaweed known as <i>konbu</i>, or a variety of other interesting underwater fare to appear in front of you. At Nihonkai, I've tasted more kinds of fish than I know the name for, along with <i>okonomiyaki</i>, whale soup (the most controversial thing I've eaten in Japan by far), and a curious white mush which I later found out was oh-so-delicious fish sperm.<br />
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There is also an acoustic guitar in the corner, and spontaneous jam sessions have been known to happen; usually with Mako-chan singing AKB48 to the ladies, spoken-word style ("I love you, I need you, I want you..."), or with him belting out something by Celine Dion.<br />
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On this particular night, there were two other customers when we arrived. They immediately made space for us around them and we chatted in a mix of English and Japanese about where we were from and exchanged various English phrases, like "best friend" and "BFF". One dude, who was wearing a hat made out of wood (!), asked us each several times about our country of origin. It went something like this: <br />
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"Where...you from?"<br />
"Canada."<br />
"Oh, CANADA!!!"<br />
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<i>*ten minutes later*</i><br />
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"You're from America?"<br />
"No, Canada."<br />
"Oh, CANADA!!!"<br />
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<i>*five minutes later*</i><br />
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"In England..."<br />
"I'm from Canada."<br />
"Oh, CANADA!!!<br />
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<i>*ten minutes later*</i><br />
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"New Zealand is also very beautiful...is New Zealand beautiful?"<br />
"Yeah, it looks very nice...I mean, I've never been there, I'm from Canada, but I'm sure it's beautiful..."<br />
"Yeaaaahhh, New Zealand...<i>iiiiiii naaaaaaaaa</i>..." (it seems nice; I want to go...)<br />
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His next mode of entertainment was by imitating us every time we spoke. Mumbles of gibberish came from his end of the bar anytime one of us English speakers said something. At one point he was trying to communicate in this manner with Kathie, who was on Skype on Nikki's phone, as if his gibberish must certainly amount to meaningful words in our language!<br />
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He danced, he gibberish, he Englished, he made faces, he told us not to light his wooden hat on fire. Did this really happen?<br />
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At the end of the night, he pulled out his smartphone to add Gavin to Facebook. After several failed searches, probably due to mistyping his name, Gavin took the phone and tried to do it himself. A huge list of Gavins popped up onscreen and, not having the patience to scroll through them to find himself, he quickly chose one near the top - a Gavin with a profile picture of a tiger. "That's me."<br />
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"Oh, TIGER-san! Tiger Gabiiiin!!!"<br />
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Yes, yes. Tiger Gavin.<br />
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I got one last surprise as we were about to pull away in the car, when I looked out the window to see Wooden Hat Man staring straight in back at me.<br />
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There must also be a very surprised Gavin out there in the world right now, wondering who this Japanese, wooden hat-wearing man is who wants to be his friend.KThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07450914121785220194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1985876844774483805.post-214977900552383842013-03-05T06:57:00.000-08:002013-03-06T05:39:25.279-08:00Exploring Yamagata<br />
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The great thing about living abroad is getting the chance to really saturate a particular area of a country. Upon returning home, I will have a rare insider’s perspective on this far-flung, remote little corner of Japan called Akita, one which most people will never even get the chance to visit.</div>
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There are lots of other beautiful areas of Tohoku which are just a daytrip or short weekend trip away from me, and I’m glad to have the opportunity to revisit some of my favourite places, having been here for more than one year. Back in the fall, Gavin and I decided to do a weekend trek around Yamagata, the prefecture just south of Akita, full of gorgeous natural and historical sites. I’ve been to Yamagata at this point many times, but was happy to go back. I think I even enjoyed some things more the second time around.</div>
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We started out one Saturday morning with a pleasant drive down the coast to Sakata, which is apparently a beach resort city, though its beauty wasn't exactly striking on that grey November morning. At one point we jumped out of the car to see the crashing waves, only to stand there shivering as the wind whipped against our faces.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">Beautiful, beautiful Sakata. Fun fact: the name <i>Sakata</i> means "alcohol fields"</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">Fashioning a snowman out of sand</span></td></tr>
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We continued on in search of a famous five-tiered pagoda that Gavin had read about in a Lonely Planet guide, but when we reached the supposed destination, all we could see was a mediocre temple and a garden pagoda not much taller than he was. I couldn't help but laugh at his frustration that we must be at the wrong spot, while I insisted that, surely, this was the pagoda that Lonely Planet had spoken so highly of.<br />
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Eventually we sorted ourselves out and found the real pagoda - and it was quite a sight. We wandered through the temple grounds, listening to the breeze rustling the cedars and monks chanting nearby.</div>
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Cruising through the mountains, we were greeted by our first sighting of what has now become an excessive, everyday reality: snow. Watching the flakes fall outside as we drove those winding backcountry rads gave me a bit of a thrill. The anticipation of change, of winter, of snowboarding, of curling up inside with blankets and cups of tea and good books...just some of the many things I like about the season, despite my dislike of the cold.</div>
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We stayed in a small guesthouse in Yamagata city, which was the first experience I've had indoors in Japan from November to April where I actually felt warm. Cozy, even! Usually the kerosene heaters typical of most Japanese homes, schools and inns only warm a small portion of a room or building, leaving me with cold feet and hands, and forcing me to put on an extra sweater anytime I leave the room to wander down a hallway. But not this place. This place was genuinely comfortable, a comfort which extended to the decor and warm hospitality. It felt like we were staying in someone's home, and we were encouraged to help ourselves to most of the contents of the fridge, as well as play with the resident cats.</div>
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Cats! There were so many. Gavin's love of felines quickly became apparent...</div>
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The owners were friendly, and we chatted for awhile in both English and Japanese before we headed off to grab dinner and explore the city. Yamagata city isn't huge, so there wasn't much to see, but it has a pleasant downtown area with a variety of ethnic foods and interesting shops. The next day we found a fantastic coffee shop that had been recommended to me by a friend. Housed in a train car and filled with knick knacks from the owner's world travels, the shop sat overlooking the river, with a great view of the changing leaves. Here we were also able to chat with the owner, whose English was superb, while we sipped our espresso and chai tea and tried out his collection of international musical instruments.</div>
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Finally, we visited what had been one of my favourite places in Yamagata on a previous daytrip - Yamadera. A Buddhist temple built into the rocks of a cliff, the view is as impressive and beautiful as the peaceful forst pathway that meanders to the top. Having ben here during the summer, when the cicadas buzz and the shady path is a welcome relief from the heat, it was great to get to see it in the fall as well. The sunlight streaming in through the trees created a magical, Ghibli-esque atmosphere, and we lucked out with a perfect sunny day.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">Scenery shot - photo bombed</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"What is my life?"</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Some corny jokes, good road trip tunes (Boney M Christmas album!!), general silliness, and several cat impressions later, and we were rolling back into Akita. We were welcomed by the sudden sight of Mount Chokai's snowy peak, glowing white in the darkness ahead. Such a beautiful mountain. I'm glad I still have some time to soak up my surroundings here, as there are lots of places I'd still like to visit, and others I hope to return to again.</span>KThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07450914121785220194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1985876844774483805.post-79051065339567171052013-01-12T08:04:00.000-08:002013-01-12T08:04:48.047-08:00The Awesomeness of Japan: KansaiBack in the fall, I embarked on a brief adventure in one of the places I've most wanted to visit since coming to Japan: the Kansai region. This area includes Kyoto (temple and shrine central), Osaka (um...huge city), and Nara (more temples, and a huge park full of roaming deer). I have no concrete statistics on this, but I'm pretty sure this is the most touristed part of Japan, besides Tokyo. And for good reason - Kansai is just full of awesome things.<br />
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<b>Nara park</b></div>
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So many deer, wandering free! The deer are believed to be sacred. You can see the deer, pet the deer, be the deer (what?), buy special <i>senbei </i>(crackers) to feed the deer, photograph the deer, run away from deer who want your deer <i>senbei </i>and are trying to bite your leg<i>...</i></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">my first deer sighting</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Buddhas and deer. That's what they've got here.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ok deer, this is getting awkward, now I'm just feeling attacked...</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"No more! You ate them all!" Nikki is exasperated by the deer.</td></tr>
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This park is also home to what I believe is the world's largest wooden structure - Todaiji, a temple housing a giant buddha.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This deer wants to buy some deer-themed souvenirs</td></tr>
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<b>Ninja</b></div>
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Shiga, a more rural prefecture, is home to the Shiga Ninja Village, which may not be quite as interesting as it sounds (unless you're under 10 years old), though it does make for some memorable photographs.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There are seven ninjas in this picture. Can you spot the untrained one?</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nikki the Ninja</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bet you didn't know that scroll was a secret door!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Masked ninja</td></tr>
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We almost accidentally signed up to participate in the World Ninja Competition, which just so happened to be held that day. The event we watched involved the talented ninjas racing around a course, scaling this wall, jumping over another roof, and edging along a narrow ledge (only about one foot off the ground). It also seemed to involve lots of bright, ridiculous, un-ninja-like outfits.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">She takes her craft seriously.</td></tr>
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<b>Okonomiyaki</b></div>
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A delicious Japanese-style "pancake", famous in Osaka, made by mixing any toppings you like (meat, seafood, veggies, kimchi, cheese, potato, <i>mochi </i>etc.) with a batter and cooking it up over a grill at your table. Usually it's topped with lots of dark brown sauce and mayo, though we asked them to go easy on the mayo. Side note: one of the biggest food-related surprises when I came to Japan? I had no idea Japan was so into mayonnaise! They dump that stuff on just about anything - okonomiyaki, salad, fried stuff, pizza...ehhhhhh. Weird.</div>
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<b>Oh-saka!</b></div>
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Despite such a brief time in the city, I liked the vibe better than Tokyo. It seemed a bit more laid-back, and vibrant. Though it's hard to say in such a short time. We wandered around Dotonbori, one of the busiest areas, full of restaurants and with lots of shopping and bars nearby. It was loud and almost chaotic, with so many people milling around, hundreds of bikes parked in the middle of the street, giant crabs and sushi and gyoza hanging above the storefronts, and people yelling and handing out flyers for their respective eateries.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">tiny ramen shop</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Popluar <i>kushikatsu</i> restaurant (fried stuff on a stick). Featuring a frightening representation of the chef, holding a TV showing a video of the chef. So meta.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6zCKKj3pAPA/UPFz02kgU4I/AAAAAAAABCo/YVCm8pFESLY/s1600/IMG_3812.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6zCKKj3pAPA/UPFz02kgU4I/AAAAAAAABCo/YVCm8pFESLY/s320/IMG_3812.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">While we were photographing the canal, this Japanese guy lingered awkwardly. Eventually, in Japanese - "is it ok if I take your picture? Is it ok if I stand in the picture? Is it ok if I stand in the middle? Is it ok if I put my arm around you?"</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just chilling.</td></tr>
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<b>Cool Kyoto temples and shrines</b><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Heian shrine</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The gardens of Ginkakuji (the Silver Pavilion, which is not actually silver)</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yasaka pagoda</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is the first pagoda I've seen in Japan that you can go inside. We climbed the pagoda. It smelled of cedar and had very rickety ladders.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kiyomizudera - built without a single nail</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kinkakuji (the Golden Pavilion, which was definitely gold)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-L03Q1hCx0xU/UPF_fISQztI/AAAAAAAABOo/OJ4bzG78NtQ/s1600/DSC_2229.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-L03Q1hCx0xU/UPF_fISQztI/AAAAAAAABOo/OJ4bzG78NtQ/s320/DSC_2229.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A famous rock garden at Ryoanji - I'm pretty sure it represents something important about life. You're meant to sit and look at the stones and ponder.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rf7jPpBGOAQ/UPGFgWCIepI/AAAAAAAABQo/CbcKirLKaPM/s1600/IMG_3593.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rf7jPpBGOAQ/UPGFgWCIepI/AAAAAAAABQo/CbcKirLKaPM/s320/IMG_3593.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My favourite shrine in all of Japan - Fushimi Inari</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">spot the fox</td></tr>
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<b>Crooked, narrow streets of Kyoto</b><br />
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<b>Maiko/Geisha</b></div>
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I am pretty sure the "maiko" we spotted weren't real Maiko - on account of them being out in the middle of the day, and taking pictures of each other at tourist sports, and checking their phones while they walked. But still.</div>
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<b>Arashiyama Monkey Park</b></div>
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The best part is: the monkeys aren't in a cage; the humans are, watching them from behind wires as they roam free!</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nikki, making some friends</td></tr>
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KThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07450914121785220194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1985876844774483805.post-74581294479322349172012-12-20T07:56:00.001-08:002012-12-20T08:01:54.294-08:00Girl Talk and Gossip: the Best Parts of my Job<br />
There are days when it's hard to feel stimulated and meaningful at work. Days when I'm scheduled to go to English classes which include lengthy explanations of grammar, in Japanese, and only a brief vocabulary practice in which I pull out my best English pronunciation and flashcard-flipping techniques. <br />
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Thankfully, I am often kept busy at school, with few free periods spent in the staff room, though I find myself wishing I had a few less hours in the classroom and was able to spend my time planning more lessons and activities instead. But, I do work in a fantastically friendly and warm environment, with students who are exceptionally good-natured and fun to teach.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sports day</td></tr>
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I often find the most fulfilling parts of my job are the interactions I have with students. Especially now, in my second year, I'm having more and more "real" conversations beyond the simple "do you like ~?" exchanges that often characterize our communication. This really began to blossom during speech contest this summer, when I spent hours each day, often late into the evening, coaching four wonderful kids on their English pronunciation, intonation, expression and gestures. We found ways to understand each other as we talked about their speeches, but were also able to have lots of conversations about their summer "holidays", club activities, and things they found funny. I felt a lot of pride in my students - I was even a bit emotional when I heard their speeches on speech contest day, and Riho's telling of the story of Freddie the leaf nearly moved me to tears. Oh Freddie. It's a rather existential story of a leaf coming to terms with life and death, and when he finally falls from the tree, he is no longer scared of what is to come. Riho conveyed it so beautifully, and apparently the judges thought so too, as she placed first in the recitation category and was able to move on to the all-Akita round. And she's only a 2nd-year student!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My favourite picture of the bunch. No one quite seems to know what's going on...</td></tr>
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Anyway. Lately I've clicked with a bunch of my 3rd-year junior high girls, and we talk about lots of things, from the kind of books we like to the 3-nensei's exclusive "club", <i>Zadoru</i> - a group that is "loud" and often does "girl talk", and the girls get love advice from Naoto, one of the boys who is their appointed leader. This probably all sounds a bit strange, which is because it also sounded strange to me when they first explained the concept of the club one day at lunch. The best part was that they invited me to join, and got excited when I said yes.<br />
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Since then, I've had the chance to learn quite a bit about student relationships at my junior high school. It started in one of my 3rd-year classes, when I asked them to guess what I wanted for Christmas. Immediately, Shoh's hand shot up. "It's...a...boyfriend-o!!" he declared confidently. The other boys in the class cracked up; they thought it was so funny that they tried to use the answer again when my JTE (co-teacher) asked them the same question. Through this, I ended up discovering that Shoh has a girlfriend from the other 3rd-year class, and was encouraged to guess who it might be.<br />
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"Is it Misato?" I asked my JTE on the way to the other class later that morning.<br />
"No. But, Misato used to be Shoh's girlfriend."<br />
"Ah. Hmm...Is it one of Misato's friends?"<br />
"Yes."<br />
"Is it Mutsumi?"<br />
"No. But, Mutsumi too used to be Shoh's girlfriend."<br />
Turns out the boy has had a lot of girlfriends.<br />
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I pondered this as we entered the room, with some speculations as to who his special someone could be. Pretty soon though, class was underway and I forgot about my desire to be in on student gossip. <br />
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Eventually, some of the "<i>Zadoru</i>" girls, Mutsumi and Rino, had finished their work, so they called me over and started asking about my Christmas plans, and whether or not I would eat Christmas cake. In Japan, on Christmas, there is a tradition of eating christmas cake, a white sponge cake with strawberries and whipped cream, as well as fried chicken (KFC being a particular favorite). I'm not sure if these are things they think westerners do, or just their own traditions that have somehow evolved, but my students were surprised to learn that we do not eat such "Christmas cake" in Canada, nor do we typically eat KFC. I told them that Christmas cookies are popular instead.<br />
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Somewhere in our conversation, to their excitement, they found out that I have a boyfriend. Naoto was sitting behind me, listening in as well, and reacting with overly dramatic interest to every word I said. Perhaps he was just brimming with potential love advice to share. After class, Mutsumi and Rino came up to me and started telling me about their boyfriends.<br />
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"My boyfriend is shy!" said Rino.<br />
"My boyfriend is...interesting!" said Mutsumi. <br />
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I then remembered my earlier musings. Hmm. "Who are your boyfriends?" I asked.<br />
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"My boyfriend is Fuma," said Mutsumi.<br />
"My boyfriend is Shoh," said Rino.<br />
Shoh!! I knew it. Mystery solved.<br />
"Shoh's smile is...very very nice!!" Rino gushed. "But he is crazy!"<br />
"My boyfriend is also crazy. He is silly," I said.<br />
"Is he cool? Is he cute?"<br />
"Yes, of course!"<br />
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I stayed and chatted with them until I realized I was going to be late for lunch - with their class. I told them I had to run off and grab my tray, but I would be back. As I was hurrying through the school, food in hand, they came to meet me in the hall - "oh, Katie! Let's go, lunch! Are you hungry?" Yes, of course!<br />
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And that made for one of the best days of the week, and possibly the whole month.KThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07450914121785220194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1985876844774483805.post-33712972547666815632012-11-06T06:23:00.000-08:002012-11-06T06:25:17.182-08:00How Not to Study for the JLPTJLPT: Japanese Language Proficiency Test.<br />
Consists of levels 5 through 1, with level 1 being fluent, and level 5 meaning you have approximately the communicative competency of a 5-year-old.<br />
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Someone I know (*ahem*) happens to have decided to take the level 4 test the first weekend in December. She has adopted some really effective study strategies, and thought it prudent to share them.<br />
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(1) Assess your current level of Japanese proficiency. You think you're somewhere around level 5? Good. Sign up for the test that is a level ABOVE...to *challenge* yourself.<br />
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(2) Before you can begin to "properly" study, invest in some good coloured pens so you can write impressive colour-coded study notes. This not only feels more productive, it looks more productive!<br />
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(3) Order study materials that are designed to take you three solid months to get through. But be sure to order them with just over two months until the test. Wait two weeks before cracking open these books, and once you've done so, only open them a few times for the first week or two.<br />
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(4) In the time you have left, try to learn about 150 new kanji. At least they aren't all entirely "new"; you're already "familiar" with a lot of them, but definitely don't have all of the various readings memorized. <i>Ganbatte ne!</i><br />
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(5) Feel awesome about the amount of Japanese you are learning - listen to the teachers in the staff room when they express how impressed they are with your studies. Because they are most definitely genuinely impressed! Way to go you!! You can pat yourself on the back. Immediately after, feel deflated when they flip through your textbooks and comment that, Wow, you are learning the kanji of a fourth grader!<br />
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She may be feeling overwhelmed at the sheer volume of material to go through and study and review and review again, but at least the looming test date is giving her ample motivation to study Japanese, and studying Japanese more intensely gives her a feeling of satisfaction. All good things, even if the outcome is a "Fail".<br />
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<i><br /></i>KThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07450914121785220194noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1985876844774483805.post-86216964440413536922012-11-05T05:47:00.000-08:002012-11-05T06:06:55.094-08:00Of Hippies, Music and Broken Tents<span style="color: #fff2cc; font-family: inherit;">Back in August, I went to this great music festival for the second year in a row, and I wrote this story about it for <a href="http://akitaculture.wordpress.com/" target="_blank">akitaculture</a>, our ALT online blog/magazine. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #fff2cc; font-family: inherit;">It’s just after dark in a secluded mountain forest. The hum of guitars and various percussion instruments carries through the muggy air. All of the tents in the clearing beyond the stage have been pitched – except ours.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #fff2cc; font-family: inherit;"> “<i style="border: none; line-height: 1.5;">Nani</i>?!”</span></div>
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<span style="color: #fff2cc; font-family: inherit;">Apparently we’ve come camping with tent poles that are actually just pieces of poles, the elastic string that once connected them missing. We have finally succeeded in carefully sliding the rods together and slowly raising the tent, when one of our fragile constructions pops apart. It is then that we realize we are still several rods short.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #fff2cc; font-family: inherit;">Some drunken Japanese guys from Akita city try to help us. Their laughter indicates that they are just as amused as we are. In fact, the situation gets funnier the longer their boisterous conversation lingers.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #fff2cc; font-family: inherit;">“Where are you from?”</span><br />
<span style="color: #fff2cc; font-family: inherit;">“America! Canada!"</span><br />
<span style="color: #fff2cc; font-family: inherit;">“Canadaaaa…Yukon river! Gold rush!” (Um, yes. I have never even been to the Yukon before.) “When I was young, I play…ice hockey!!”</span><br />
<span style="color: #fff2cc; font-family: inherit;">“Ahhh cool! <i style="border: none; line-height: 1.5;">Jouzu desu ka?</i>”</span><br />
<span style="color: #fff2cc; font-family: inherit;">He ponders for a moment. “No. Fuhhh-cking no!"</span></div>
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<span style="color: #fff2cc; font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 1.5; text-align: center;">And this is just the start of the night. Some mellow folk tunes can be heard from the small stage, set in the middle of what looks like a backcountry hippie village – a series of makeshift tents under which brightly coloured cloth, crafts made of stones and clay and wood, candles, tie-dyed clothing and beer are being sold. There are only about fifty people in attendance, most of them taking part in the performances. Some are sprawled on the grass, sleeping. Others are gathered around the beer tents, or <span style="font-family: inherit;">dancing and swaying by themselves. This is</span></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 1.5; text-align: center;"> </span><i style="border: none; line-height: 1.5; text-align: center;">Midori Matsuri</i><span style="line-height: 1.5; text-align: center;">, or what I affectionately refer to as “The Hippie Festival In The Woods”.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #fff2cc; font-family: inherit;">The atmosphere couldn’t be earthier. Camping in the woods and listening to folk and world-inspired music, playing guitar and <i style="border: none; line-height: 1.5;">djembe</i> drums by the lake, frogs singing you to sleep and cicadas waking you in the morning. Most of the musicians and vendors are local; start frequenting live music events in southern Akita, and you’ll begin to see a lot of familiar faces.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #fff2cc; font-family: inherit;">During a set that has inspired some form of conga-line, we are approached by Kin-chan, a local musician and organizer of the event. “At the end of the night, everyone will come onstage,” he tells us. “We will all sing ‘Imagine’ together. Please join.” As the set finishes and the crowd begins to assemble, we wonder if we should actually go up to sing. “Let’s just wait and see what happens,” someone suggests. Good idea. We watch as a dozen free spirits grab guitars, tambourines and microphones and launch into Lennon’s tune in Japanese.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #fff2cc; font-family: inherit;">Suddenly, a young shirtless man, sporting bright red pants and dreadlocks, lays eyes on the foreigners clustered together near the front, and his eyes light up. Before we even know what’s going down, we’re being dragged by the wrist to the stage, front and centre, and a microphone is shoved in our faces. Clearly, the <i style="border: none; line-height: 1.5;">gaijin</i> will know all the lyrics!</span></div>
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<span style="color: #fff2cc; font-family: inherit;">The problem is, we don’t.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #fff2cc; font-family: inherit;">The guitar intro finishes, expectant faces turn toward us, and…nothing. Thinking maybe we just missed our cue, Red Pants Man counts us in a second time. But again, nothing. I look blankly at Jessie, who shakes her head cluelessly in return. Finally, two Japanese girls take over, and everyone is swept away by their lovely duet. That is, until the next verse, when Red Pants Man remembers us and pushes us into the mic once again.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #fff2cc; font-family: inherit;">Somehow, we all get through the song together: Japanese, Americans, Canadians, Lennon fans, and even us sub-par Lennon fans. This is the kind of music festival where everyone participates, and surprise performances, dance parties and drum circles are the norm. I may be gone by the time the festival rolls around next year, but it's a bit tempting to stay just long enough to experience it one more time.</span></div>
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KThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07450914121785220194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1985876844774483805.post-38911872570530565582012-10-29T09:05:00.000-07:002012-11-05T05:27:22.069-08:00Summer (or, How I Rediscovered my Love for Akita)<br />
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I woke up one morning a couple weeks ago, cold in my bed. Noteworthy, because the pressing sweaty heat of a Japanese summer had somehow made all memories of a frigid winter and the possibility of a future cold season seem inconceivable. I honestly could barely believe that the weather would one day change. Thankfully, fall has finally hit Akita, the “autumn rice field”of Japan, and with it comes some relief from the sweltering summer.</div>
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To be honest, though I detest the constant muggy air in summer, especially when sitting at work all day with no A/C in 34+ degree heat, I love summer here. I love its busyness and the loud buzz of cicadas around quiet shrines and the frogs that echo on back country roads and around the rice fields after dark. Those sounds, to me, characterize summer in my corner of rural, northern Japan.</div>
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This summer was a bit chaotic, from Japan to Canada and back again. Somewhere in there, I managed to rediscover my love for life in this community as well as my reasons for staying a second year, and happily reconnect with the people, places and food I've missed the most while away from home. All in all, a pretty wonderful season, I'd say.</div>
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My summer kicked off with my first (but not last) climb of Mt. Chokai, our token Big Volcano – our “Akita Fuji”. I am convinced that Mt. Chokai must be one of the most gorgeous hikes in Japan. After almost a year of gazing at its peak looming in the distance on clear days, I was eager to conquer it and gaze back at my town from the top. There was still a lot of snow,which made the scenery even more striking, in my opinion. White patches against vivid green, with rocky ridges and ledges and paths all the way to the pile of rocks at the top, the view stretching out over the sea. Mt. Chokai, for me, marked a turning point in my experience of Japan. I was left with a vivid impression of the beauty and thrills of Akita, and after a few months of apathetic drifting I felt myself falling in love with the place again (cliche, but true).</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sometimes, you get stuck in the snow. Avoid this if you can.</td></tr>
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Soon after, I felt the year come full-circle as I drove my car up the mountain to the Sanboen cabin for the Akita ALT goodbye party. The last time I had been there was for the welcome party only a month after arriving, so it was an interesting way to get some perspective on the place I found myself in now compared to ten months ago. On the whole, I feel a lot more at ease, more independent and more self-confident after a year of forging my own way in a foreign country. Perhaps these sound like obvious reflections to be having after a year of living on my own in a strange place, but actually feeling the difference it's made is pleasantly surprising. </div>
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<span style="text-align: -webkit-auto;">We strung together a new “superband” to play some jams, which was a blast but a bit messy as always.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kneeling at the keys lasted for all of 10 minutes. Not comfortable.</td></tr>
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The next month was a blur of goodbyes, hikes, getting dressed in yukata for a small local festival (the“All-Japan Sparkler Festival”), barbecues and picnics on the beach and at the lake, my first slightly-disastrous camping experience in Japan, and more goodbyes. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cozy and warm after setting up the tent and futons in the dark</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sleep-deprived and chilled after abandoning said tent during a midnight thunderstorm, which blew off the tent fly and soaked the futons.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yamadera, Yamagata</td></tr>
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But literally, I was saying <i>sayonara </i>one day, and then suddenly welcoming the new Yokote ALTs the next. New Yokote is awesome, by the way...</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Arts and crafts time at the Board of Education; we've become quite good at drawing Akita's mascot, Sugichi.</td></tr>
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One more day and I was on and off a night bus and on and off a plane and walking out of Pearson's Airport in Toronto, eating Subway and drinking chocolate milk. Coming home was a distinct marker between Japan, pt. 1 and Japan, pt. 2. It made things that happened before the trip home seem like they belong to adifferent time and era in my experience. The feeling I had upon returning to Japan was so much more comforting than what I had experienced when arriving for the first time. Riding the shinkansen back from Tokyo to Akita, I remember searching through my jet-lagged grogginess to see if I could find any trace of wistful longing to be still back in Canada. There was none. Not that I don't dearly love Canada and all of the people and places it represents; instead, I had enjoyed my time but felt like I was coming back to what I am really a part of at this point in my life. It felt natural. It was reassuring to be so certain I had made the right decision in re-signing my contract, as there were weeks and months this spring where I wasn't so sure. </div>
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I wasn't just resigned to the fact that I was back; I was excited for it. Nikki picked me up at the station, and it felt so good to see a familiar “Japan” face, and to hear about all of the new things that had been going on. Walking into my apartment, I finally had that feeling of “coming home” that so many JETs had told me they experienced when returning from vacations, that moment where they realized that their corner of Japan was not just a place they happened to be stuck in for a time but actually felt like home. This was My Home, My Apartment, My Bed, with My Pictures of all the wonderful people in my life from back home surrounding me on the wall. Time to hit the ground running, and I've barely stopped since.</div>
KThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07450914121785220194noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1985876844774483805.post-68623144032427537752012-07-29T07:42:00.001-07:002012-07-29T07:42:31.820-07:00I finally have a local convenience store.Considering these things exist on just about every block in Japan, I was surprised that I didn't have one within less than a 15-minute walk of my apartment. Until this weekend, when a 7-11 opened basically across the street.<br />
<br />
Convenience stores (or conbinis) in Japan are nothing like what they are in Canada. For one thing, they actually are convenient, carrying more than just junk food (including freshly made salads, sushi, and onigiri), and the prices are pretty cheap. You can buy your coffee, your microwaveable bento lunch, your makeup, a fresh shirt to wear to work if you're out on the town all night (seriously, some people do that), a rain poncho and umbrella in case of sudden downpour, a beer, a hangover-preventing turmeric drink to have before the beer, tickets to see your favourite band or to fly to Hawaii or to bus it to Tokyo - whatever you need. And in Yokote, conbinis seem to be one of the only businesses that are growing - at least 5 new ones have opened in the centre of town this month.<br />
<br />
On opening day, I went in to get stuff for a picnic because everything was on sale. There were three men with batons directing traffic into the tiny parking lot, another one waving a banner on the street corner, one manning an inflatable pool where children could fish for prizes, three more employees shouting out greetings and two offering me samples of melon pan (a kind of sweet bread) the instant I stepped into the refreshingly air-conditioned store. <br />
<br />
So. Including the two employees stocking shelves and two more at the checkout, that makes...14 workers at one time in a tiny shop.<br />
<br />
I think I understand why unemployment is so low in Japan.<div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-ZYG-XZOrjWw/UBVL1vP-mTI/AAAAAAAAAxI/3xuiqM219qQ/s640/blogger-image--327282278.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-ZYG-XZOrjWw/UBVL1vP-mTI/AAAAAAAAAxI/3xuiqM219qQ/s640/blogger-image--327282278.jpg" /></a></div>KThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07450914121785220194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1985876844774483805.post-44987197475226856862012-07-23T08:14:00.001-07:002012-07-25T03:19:02.220-07:00What did you want to be when you were a child?Just some more stuff from my ever-creative students. I think they outdid themselves this time.<br />
<br />
The third-year junior highs had to write an interview script asking a friend about what they wanted to be when they grew up and various dream-related things.<br />
<br />
...There was the heart-warming: <br />
<br />
"A: What did you want to be when you were a child?<br />
B: I wanted to be a doctor.<br />
A: Why did you want to be that?<br />
B: Because I wanted to help lots of people.<br />
A: What will you need to become a doctor?<br />
B: I will need a lot of knowledge."<br />
<br />
"B: I wanted to be a great father."<br />
A: What else?<br />
B: I wanted to be a priest.<br />
A: What is important to you?<br />
B: I think that comics are important."<br />
<br />
"A: What is important to you?<br />
B: My family is important.<br />
A: Why is that?<br />
B: I love family. <br />
A: Why do you love family?<br />
B: They always care about me."<br />
<br />
...There was the absurd - many students apparently wanted to be inanimate objects and plants:<br />
<br />
"A: What did to want to be when you were a child?<br />
B: I wanted to be a wheat."<br />
<br />
Really? I asked. He showed me the word in the dictionary and described the plant to me - definitely was wheat. Silly boy.<br />
<br />
"B: I wanted to be a tomato.<br />
A: Why did you want to be that?<br />
B: Because its colour is passionate."<br />
<br />
"B: I wanted to be a doctor.<br />
A: What else did you want to be?<br />
B: I wanted to be a big dog."<br />
<br />
Yes, yes, really.<br />
<br />
"B: I wanted to be a worker at Google.<br />
A: What do you want to be now?<br />
B: I want to be a shell. [yep, definitely no mistranslation]<br />
A: Why?<br />
B: Because it's cool.<br />
A: What else do you want to be?<br />
B: A VIP man and has lots of money."<br />
<br />
Also, "I wanted to be a pirate."<br />
<br />
...There was the magical:<br />
<br />
"B: I wanted to be a wizard.<br />
A: Why did you want to be that?<br />
B: I think that making fire with my hands is very cool!!<br />
A: What is important to you?<br />
B: Learning magic is important to me."<br />
<br />
And finally...the future evil overlord, with words of wisdom we can all learn from:<br />
<br />
"B: I wanted to be a world ruler.<br />
A: What do you do now?<br />
B: I am a convenience store ruler.<br />
A: Why is that?<br />
B: Because the world is bigger than I thought."<br />
<br />
KThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07450914121785220194noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1985876844774483805.post-37041341216650727682012-07-01T07:42:00.000-07:002012-07-01T07:42:42.921-07:00The cherry race: 10km that I simultaneously remember and forget<br />
Five months ago if anyone had asked me if I <i>liked </i>running, my answer would have probably been - <br />
<br />
"Mmmm...not really. I mean I go running, *sometimes*, but I don't particularly enjoy it."<br />
<br />
This is still the case, sometimes. But now, sometimes, I actually do like it.<br />
It's not really something I expected to get into in a big way while in Japan - or ever, in fact. I think the main thing is, after a long run, the endorphins or whatever kick in and make me feel pretty good and manage to convince me that I truly enjoyed what I just did. Somehow all the discomfort of the run itself is forgotten. It's all a mental thing, convincing myself to keep going, to forget about the hot pounding of my feet on pavement, that uncomfortable spot in my shoes, the shortness of breath, that point halfway through where I just want to stop and maybe never run again.<br />
<br />
No, all of that is replaced by a sense of power and accomplishment and even elation at being able to cover a lengthy distance purely on my own strength. Everything I thought I hated about running is immediately erased from memory when the pavement-pounding ceases and I realize I've reached my daily goal.<br />
<br />
Thanks to Kathie and Shirley, I've discovered that, while I'm still hesitant to say I LOVE running...I kinda like it. I had imagined myself one day in my life *maybe* trying a 5k race; instead, Kathie somehow convinced me that it was a good idea to sign up for a 10. <br />
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The race was in Higashine, Yamagata. A huge crowd showed up; whole classes of elementary students and families and babies and grandparents lined the streets to cheer and hold painted signs and high-five us as we ran by. Many people were costumed. Not the onlookers; the runners, especially the half-marathon participants. I even saw two guys going that distance in business suits; full-on business suits.<br />
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There was another guy who was just finishing his 21k as we passed on the way back to the car - he was wearing a long cape with the Japanese flag on it, some crazy gold hat, and carrying a giant golden ball. "Ganbare, ganbare! <i>(good luck, fight, keep trying, etc.)</i>". He stopped running, all smiles, and tossed us the ball, which appeared to be made of styrofoam. Not sure how he ran that distance carrying that thing, but he seemed to be having fun.<br />
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I was going a bit faster than I usually did in training - which I suppose is good, except I felt just about ready to pass out in the home stretch as I sped up to cross the finish line. And as usual, though I thought I hated my life for several kilometres and swore I would never put myself through this again, shortly after finishing I was already thinking about when I might try to do a race again and how it "really wasn't so bad". I'm not sure which side of myself I should believe.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-QRnNF0G84GU/T_BdMJF_roI/AAAAAAAAAww/V8VANYhel0U/s1600/photo%2819%29.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-QRnNF0G84GU/T_BdMJF_roI/AAAAAAAAAww/V8VANYhel0U/s400/photo%2819%29.JPG" width="298" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Race swag.<br />
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
It probably helped that we got cherries and onigiri for finishing the race. Yay Japan!KThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07450914121785220194noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1985876844774483805.post-3473113624493648642012-06-10T05:50:00.002-07:002012-06-10T06:15:20.846-07:00On Generosity<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">The other day I had no classes in the afternoon, and was
trying very hard not to fall asleep at my desk, struggling to think of ways to keep
myself alert, when the science teacher came over and offered me a dish of
homemade yogurt. This is the fourth time in about a week that he’s
brought his homemade yogurt to share with the entire staffroom. Times like
these I think about how lucky I am to be here and in such a warm, friendly
school.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">Japanese people are overwhelmingly generous and hospitable, in
a way that’s so engrained that thoughtfulness doesn’t even get a
second thought. Take the science teacher, for instance. I had barely spoken to
him at school before I ran into him at a local arts festival. He came with his
wife, who had been invited by a friend of mine, the leader of her English
conversation group. We chatted for a bit, both surprised to see each other
outside of the staff room. The following Monday, he came by my desk to say
– rather, read; he had prepared what he wanted to say on a piece of paper
– that he enjoyed the arts festival and my set with Anthony; he said we had very good singing voices. He then asked if I
liked Japanese culture (of course!), and lent me a book about traditional
Japanese things like rock gardens, paper fans and soba noodles, written in both
English and Japanese. Awesome, right?? Later he gave me some photographs he had
taken at the event, and he gave gifts to my mom and aunt when they visited. Now
he regularly comes and asks “can I talk with you?” whenever
he’s looking for a chance to practice his English.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">Last time he came over to chat was the time he brought the
yogurt. He then asked me if I liked movies. He told me he had recently watched
a Johnny Depp film with his family, and then mentioned another Japanese film,
wondering if I had heard of it. I wasn’t sure until he began explaining
the premise of the comedy – a man from ancient Rome
is somehow transported to Japan.
“Oh! I saw a preview…” hm. Would he be familiar with the word
“preview”? “<i>Chotto matte</i>” (wait a minute) – and he
ran back to his desk. To fetch his dictionary, I assumed. Nope. He came back
with his iPad, and before I knew it he was pulling up the trailer and hitting
play and we were watching it in the middle of the staffroom. Students coming in
and out to ask teachers questions, teachers bustling by, busy with photocopying
and lesson prep no doubt. And here we are, watching a trailer that is primarily
made up of comedic scenes of men in bathhouses. But every other teacher who
stopped to look at what we were watching immediately said, “ah, <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sFVwSCw75eg" target="_blank"><span style="color: black;">Thermae Romae!</span> </a>Funny movie. You should see it.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">Instances of generosity don’t stop there. There was
the time my school nurse kindly helped me fix up my busted lip (*snowboarding
incident*), and didn’t even laugh TOO much at my ridiculous-looking face.
There was the time my school invited not only me but my mom and aunt as well to
join the second-graders on their school trip to Hiraizumi. Or the time an
elementary school secretary gave me her fan because I commented that it was
nice. I tried to refuse, but she wouldn’t hear of it. Lesson learned: be
careful with your compliments? Now whenever I compliment someone on something
they have I get worried that they’re going to turn around and give it to
me. There was also the time someone from my English conversation group sent me
home with a loaf of fresh bakery bread and homemade jam because I had remarked that I missed the bread from home. Or when that same lady asked for my aunt and
my mom to stay overnight at her house, and then treated them to a private onsen
visit the next day while I had to work. Or the woman in a Kamakura cafe who gave us paper cranes made my her mother and told us to enjoy Japan.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">I could go on. But basically Japan is pretty freakin generous
and I never feel like I can quite repay it.</span></span>KThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07450914121785220194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1985876844774483805.post-27392189206843199532012-05-24T05:07:00.000-07:002012-05-24T05:08:11.581-07:00From the classroom, lunchroom and hallsMy students crack me up daily. They are honestly the best part of my days, weeks, and life here. <br />
<br />
For one thing, they are endlessly creative in their translations to English. "Japanese speedy-speak" for "Japanese tongue twisters", "my foot was shocking" to describe how their feet fell asleep in Buddhist temple meditation, and "playing human watching" to describe the act of people-watching. <br />
<br />
Sometimes it's just passing comments.<br />
<br />
<i>(at an elementary school)</i><br />
me: How are you??<br />
little boy: I'm CANDY!!!<br />
<br />
<i>(junior high - supposed to find a way to ask a teacher what they did on spring vacation)</i><br />
"Do you spring vacation?"<br />
<i>(teacher relates the proper question to him)</i> "What did you do on your spring vacation?"<br />
"Yes I am!!" <br />
<br />
<i>(conversation in the hall with one of my junior high boys, who has clearly met me many times before) </i><br />
"Hello!".<br />
"Hello."<br />
"Uhhhh...nice to meet you."<br />
"Nice to meet you too."<br />
"I am...nice body!!!"<br />
"oh."<br />
<br />
I had a boy hand in a written assignment that said he got drunk on the bus on the class trip...but my teacher told me the Japanese sometimes translate the same word for "drunk" as "sick". That was an interesting one to figure out.<br />
<br />
Sometimes they get creative with names.<br />
<br />
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<br />
Sometimes they mishear my English - today, instead of "at the end of April", they got "endless April", which they thought was hilarious. Everything in that class became "endless" - "endless April", "endless worksheet" (or something) and finally the classic "I am endless boy!"<br />
<br />
One day at lunch one of my third-years decided it would be a good idea to make his regular milk into <i>strawberry milk</i>
by mashing up his strawberry inside the carton. He enlisted his
friends' help by asking for scissors so he could cut a hole in the top, which turned out to be a bit too small. Instead of fixing it he
just set to work poking at the berry with his straw, attempting to
squish it into his drink. During this process he squirted milk onto his
school uniform. Panic ensued. His friend calmed the chaos by whipping
something out of his pocket and saying reassuringly (in Japanese),
"don't worry, I have tissues!!" I turned to the girls next to me and
asked what they thought of the whole project.<br />
"Crazy, crazy, crazy!"<br />
"No. It's good idea."<br />
"He's crazy. Crazy boy."<br />
"No I'm not. I'm great!"<br />
<br />
<br />
Later, to himself:<br />
"I'm great!"<br />
<br />
<br />
Later still:<br />
"I'm strawberry."KThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07450914121785220194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1985876844774483805.post-11674009651065458232012-04-21T12:10:00.000-07:002012-05-07T08:02:01.663-07:00Winter in Akita<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-OmgBZxjtWzk/T6fcjBDpUoI/AAAAAAAAAt4/54ne3B3zj-I/s1600/IMG_1866.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a><br />
<span lang="EN-GB">Some thoughts on a season passed, written about a month ago. </span><br />
<br />
<span lang="EN-GB">Although we still had the occasional
snowfall, and a windy snow typhoon (in April!!), winter is over. It vanished. I
woke up one morning and It Was Spring. I’m not sure where winter ran off to –
maybe the mountains? But even they are quickly fading from white to brown and
almost green. I knew it was officially over the day I found bird poo on my
windshield. That was it; spring couldn’t turn back now. </span><br />
<br />
<span lang="EN-GB">My memories of the season that passed are still pretty fresh.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That's the spirit.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<br />
<span lang="EN-GB">Rather long and full of snow it was. Six to
eight weeks ago, maybe, I was walking down sidewalks lined with snow walls that
reached my shoulders in some spots, and towered above my head in others. Nearly
every day it snowed, though apparently not as much as last year. I drove to work
in all kinds of inclement weather, but of course school was never canceled. Although
we were told to stay home one day at the beginning of the month because it was
quite windy. </span><br />
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<span lang="EN-GB">Some days I truly felt like I was roughing it, burning my kerosene to keep warm - no central heating in these parts. But I didn't mind too much. I grew to associate the smell of kerosene with warmth and comfort and now I kind of like it.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My parking lot</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Note how the pile is taller than my car, and this is after some of the snow has melted.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Instructions for shoveling your roof.</td></tr>
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<span lang="EN-GB">The seasons here are extreme, which adds to
their charm. Once I adjusted to feeling like I had landed in an SUV commercial
each time I drove (except the bumps and jolts came from ruts of
slush-turned-ice, not exhilarating mountain trails) and didn’t fear for my life
each time I set out for the post office, winter was a blast.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some streets have water spouts running down the middle to keep the snow at bay</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View from the English room</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jjxSz2WwvCw/T5L_eNJbCGI/AAAAAAAAArg/UUd3gP2axmo/s1600/DSC_0355.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jjxSz2WwvCw/T5L_eNJbCGI/AAAAAAAAArg/UUd3gP2axmo/s400/DSC_0355.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Poor abandoned car</td></tr>
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<br />
<span lang="EN-GB">Favourite Things:</span><br />
<br />
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<span lang="EN-GB">Sitting under my kotatsu with mugs of tea
and good books. A <a href="http://s3files.core77.com/blog/images/kotatsu2.jpg">Kotatsu </a>is like a coffee table with a space heater
underneath. A blanket is fitted under the tabletop, creating a delightful little chamber of warmth that just dares you to leave. Once tucked in, it's hard to justify extricating yourself to pad around your cold, non-centrally-heated apartment. Provided that good books and a whole pot of tea are within reach,
of course.</span></div>
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<br />
<span lang="EN-GB">Snowboarding. Though it wasn’t my first
time, having given snowboarding a go a few times in high school, it was my
first time actually spending a season figuring out how to properly get down the
hill on a board and not find myself unexpectedly upside down with the tip of my
board jammed into the wonderfully-deep powder. Or catapulting face-first into
the stuff and wearing a sick mask the next day at school to cover the swollen bruises
(but I mean really - who does that? dunno...). That being said, this still happens, just less
often. Thanks to Akita’s
generous deluge of powder and mountainous terrain, this was the perfect place
to master the skill of not-being-suddenly-upside-down. I don’t think I’ve ever
been so happy to wake up at 7am every Saturday.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nearly-buried portapotty</td></tr>
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<span lang="EN-GB">Onsen. Snowy outdoor hotspring baths
surrounded by forest and mountains – pretty sweet. Not gonna get to do this in Canada
any time soon. I don't think we're as fond of being nude in nature. </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">Ramen. I never thought I would come to love
noodles this much. Favourite: big bowls of steaming hot gyoza miso ramen with
chilli oil at Hokkaiya in Yokote, or the ramen heaped with garlic at Kamikura.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">Winter festivals!! Even better than the
summer festivals!!! Drinking hot sweet rice amazake in igloos and watching
people smash other people with bamboo poles around huge piles of burning garbage
and giant tug-of-wars and sculptures of snow dogs and fireworks and swinging
fireballs around my head!!! These were exciting times indeed.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Inukko, Yuzawa</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tug of war, Kariwano<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Building mini-igloos for Kamakura festival</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NuDY1_d50Xw/T5MFq4kTPsI/AAAAAAAAAtY/3NeIM8usSG0/s1600/DSC_0493.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NuDY1_d50Xw/T5MFq4kTPsI/AAAAAAAAAtY/3NeIM8usSG0/s400/DSC_0493.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And now that the festival's been over for 12 hours, let's bulldoze the kamakuras</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fire swinging festival, Kakunodate</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Takeuchi, Rokugo</td></tr>
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<span lang="EN-GB">Finally, going to bed each night having spent an
hour shovelling snow, thinking that surely the sky must have emptied its powdery
stores...only to wake up to another near-foot on my windshield. Really, this was
actually the only thing I loathed, but the awe it inspired remains a highlight.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">Or coming back from vacation to discover... </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-228XAt1lFgc/T5L9C7DtGuI/AAAAAAAAArQ/ydEwuUZo_UI/s1600/IMG_1528.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="298" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-228XAt1lFgc/T5L9C7DtGuI/AAAAAAAAArQ/ydEwuUZo_UI/s400/IMG_1528.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I think I may be missing something.
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--fuyIxOHBYQ/T5L9EsNOCgI/AAAAAAAAArY/jXCLeNDCHFI/s1600/IMG_1529.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="298" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--fuyIxOHBYQ/T5L9EsNOCgI/AAAAAAAAArY/jXCLeNDCHFI/s400/IMG_1529.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-H1DFEGKxw_Y/T5Lc63sdRQI/AAAAAAAAApo/myVL2zzipX0/s1600/IMG_1530.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-H1DFEGKxw_Y/T5Lc63sdRQI/AAAAAAAAApo/myVL2zzipX0/s400/IMG_1530.jpg" width="298" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Half an hour later</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1_FN6syrkLc/T6fgNZaoJ2I/AAAAAAAAAvI/SUlKFo6AtQo/s1600/IMG_1845.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="298" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1_FN6syrkLc/T6fgNZaoJ2I/AAAAAAAAAvI/SUlKFo6AtQo/s400/IMG_1845.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This showed up outside my school one day.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VJtU5uWSpdc/T6fek9o5DCI/AAAAAAAAAuw/CJMPliLGzTA/s1600/IMG_2098.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="298" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VJtU5uWSpdc/T6fek9o5DCI/AAAAAAAAAuw/CJMPliLGzTA/s400/IMG_2098.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Why
are the students tunneling in the snow on the field outside the school?
I asked one of my teachers, who told me that the students had to shovel
snow (pretty much in circles) because they didn't finish their
homework. Menial manual labour as punishment - brilliant.
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<br />
<span lang="EN-GB"> Sure, everyone raves about the “cherry
blossom front” that's rapidly approaching – but winter here must be a close
second.</span></div>KThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07450914121785220194noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1985876844774483805.post-22833227687789693132012-04-01T06:47:00.005-07:002012-04-01T06:49:27.893-07:00Japan PhotosFinally doing that thing called setting up a Flickr account - check out some of my Japan photos <a style="font-weight: bold;" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/katiewhy/">here</a>.KThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07450914121785220194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1985876844774483805.post-79360851807630266042012-03-21T06:25:00.003-07:002012-03-21T06:32:18.275-07:00Beautiful TohokuGets real cheesy near the end, as soon as the voiceover begins. But other than that, a nice tribute to the beautiful part of Japan I live in.<br /><br /><iframe allowfullscreen="" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/KJ2GOQ3ovio?fs=1" width="480" frameborder="0" height="270"></iframe><br /><br />On second thought the whole thing's pretty cheesy. And you may have to go on youtube to watch it.KThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07450914121785220194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1985876844774483805.post-23143495333453282242012-03-05T05:06:00.023-08:002012-04-21T08:08:34.271-07:00Thailand: Chiang Mai and Ko SamedMore of this beautiful country.<br />
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KTJMZ0Cdx_s/T2HTugUvrHI/AAAAAAAAAmY/xftLo9dzf2Q/s1600/IMG_1376.jpg"><br /></a><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-WtcUT_OPRAY/T1S-RZQMusI/AAAAAAAAAiI/l5PEd09mq2Q/s1600/DSC_5427.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5716403033085885122" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-WtcUT_OPRAY/T1S-RZQMusI/AAAAAAAAAiI/l5PEd09mq2Q/s400/DSC_5427.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 267px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FjvcnRyOY3U/T2HTG3VVZuI/AAAAAAAAAl4/VYYivLLP-Zo/s1600/DSC_5242.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5720085116623349474" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FjvcnRyOY3U/T2HTG3VVZuI/AAAAAAAAAl4/VYYivLLP-Zo/s400/DSC_5242.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 267px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-N1YPqbuIOLo/T2HR6kWZauI/AAAAAAAAAls/_h731JNe64s/s1600/DSC_5255.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5720083805857475298" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-N1YPqbuIOLo/T2HR6kWZauI/AAAAAAAAAls/_h731JNe64s/s400/DSC_5255.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 400px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 267px;" /></a>CM Blue House lobby<br />
<br />
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-K4npaYRR5_s/T2HR6CkzRTI/AAAAAAAAAlg/Ieg59jR_9Jo/s1600/DSC_5424.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5720083796791084338" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-K4npaYRR5_s/T2HR6CkzRTI/AAAAAAAAAlg/Ieg59jR_9Jo/s400/DSC_5424.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 267px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9NloPjFtKGI/T2HRXpKj7EI/AAAAAAAAAlU/OxwhBsfziys/s1600/DSC_5414.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5720083205854587970" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9NloPjFtKGI/T2HRXpKj7EI/AAAAAAAAAlU/OxwhBsfziys/s400/DSC_5414.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 267px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4RqPwCNEWRY/T2HXYErUYJI/AAAAAAAAAnk/tuGj96A0bJ0/s1600/IMG_1413.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5720089810309505170" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4RqPwCNEWRY/T2HXYErUYJI/AAAAAAAAAnk/tuGj96A0bJ0/s400/IMG_1413.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 299px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2BBzZ4wkKXw/T2HXXvWE4KI/AAAAAAAAAnU/9HxtWZLEu2w/s1600/IMG_1415.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5720089804583264418" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2BBzZ4wkKXw/T2HXXvWE4KI/AAAAAAAAAnU/9HxtWZLEu2w/s400/IMG_1415.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 299px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-pU0l0wLZXqY/T2HXV4Wt8yI/AAAAAAAAAnM/746xrTV2ljU/s1600/IMG_1417.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5720089772642136866" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-pU0l0wLZXqY/T2HXV4Wt8yI/AAAAAAAAAnM/746xrTV2ljU/s400/IMG_1417.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 299px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gs-CT_1WDDE/T2HUWDmBaBI/AAAAAAAAAnA/dDKQgZCy31E/s1600/IMG_1409.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5720086477124233234" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gs-CT_1WDDE/T2HUWDmBaBI/AAAAAAAAAnA/dDKQgZCy31E/s400/IMG_1409.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 400px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 299px;" /></a>Literally, an ice cream sandwich.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hVzJwHibyGg/T2HUVdUBx3I/AAAAAAAAAmo/b0hV9iofJyo/s1600/IMG_1385.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5720086466848212850" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hVzJwHibyGg/T2HUVdUBx3I/AAAAAAAAAmo/b0hV9iofJyo/s400/IMG_1385.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 400px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 299px;" /></a>And then we got into the cheesy Thai puns...<br />
<br />
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8qE7yeja9DM/T2HRXHMiTmI/AAAAAAAAAlI/Zq0smA1Seao/s1600/DSC_5227.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5720083196736065122" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8qE7yeja9DM/T2HRXHMiTmI/AAAAAAAAAlI/Zq0smA1Seao/s400/DSC_5227.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 267px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-x5Al7Xs_hGI/T2HQCgAp9jI/AAAAAAAAAk8/fP_Vwle9kbU/s1600/DSC_5260.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5720081743108240946" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-x5Al7Xs_hGI/T2HQCgAp9jI/AAAAAAAAAk8/fP_Vwle9kbU/s400/DSC_5260.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 267px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KTJMZ0Cdx_s/T2HTugUvrHI/AAAAAAAAAmY/xftLo9dzf2Q/s1600/IMG_1376.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5720085797641628786" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KTJMZ0Cdx_s/T2HTugUvrHI/AAAAAAAAAmY/xftLo9dzf2Q/s400/IMG_1376.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 299px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-a7C5zgI2bd4/T2HQCCsJHDI/AAAAAAAAAkw/liE-LpgkrVo/s1600/DSC_5311.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5720081735237573682" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-a7C5zgI2bd4/T2HQCCsJHDI/AAAAAAAAAkw/liE-LpgkrVo/s400/DSC_5311.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 267px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a>Trust me, Daniel Radcliffe gets his hair cut here.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ths3eMrU6QA/T2HUVvjy_FI/AAAAAAAAAmw/F_TJa9moPkM/s1600/IMG_1386.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5720086471746190418" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ths3eMrU6QA/T2HUVvjy_FI/AAAAAAAAAmw/F_TJa9moPkM/s400/IMG_1386.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 299px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a>Baked Bacon Cheese with Seaweed.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7QHeOAaiekQ/T2HTHcWjIPI/AAAAAAAAAmE/zvu2hShieps/s1600/IMG_1344.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5720085126560555250" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7QHeOAaiekQ/T2HTHcWjIPI/AAAAAAAAAmE/zvu2hShieps/s400/IMG_1344.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 400px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 299px;" /></a>Making fresh coconut milk<br />
<br />
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GcEJqGao8f4/T1TNBJd03lI/AAAAAAAAAkk/bH49pXxu3_I/s1600/DSC_5332.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5716419246644584018" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GcEJqGao8f4/T1TNBJd03lI/AAAAAAAAAkk/bH49pXxu3_I/s400/DSC_5332.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 267px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-szbzw8Est2U/T1TNA_qUeDI/AAAAAAAAAkY/veoBVFqQGoM/s1600/DSC_5335.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5716419244012632114" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-szbzw8Est2U/T1TNA_qUeDI/AAAAAAAAAkY/veoBVFqQGoM/s400/DSC_5335.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 267px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a>curry in a hurry<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Q7BMBehZovE/T1TMk_2EVwI/AAAAAAAAAkM/8u4RYYAMN_g/s1600/DSC_5337.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5716418763025569538" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Q7BMBehZovE/T1TMk_2EVwI/AAAAAAAAAkM/8u4RYYAMN_g/s400/DSC_5337.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 267px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ySK0-x1LLsQ/T1TMkdraBZI/AAAAAAAAAkA/kJI6P9QWlvs/s1600/DSC_5334.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5716418753854047634" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ySK0-x1LLsQ/T1TMkdraBZI/AAAAAAAAAkA/kJI6P9QWlvs/s400/DSC_5334.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 267px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a>I made this! No big deal.<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VDSfFFHkmaQ/T1TLyIBkL6I/AAAAAAAAAj0/gv4vkupqghI/s1600/DSC_5358.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5716417889047949218" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VDSfFFHkmaQ/T1TLyIBkL6I/AAAAAAAAAj0/gv4vkupqghI/s400/DSC_5358.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 267px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3KoqJ9FihT4/T1TLxjvoakI/AAAAAAAAAjo/QTYr0cNris4/s1600/DSC_5357.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5716417879309052482" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3KoqJ9FihT4/T1TLxjvoakI/AAAAAAAAAjo/QTYr0cNris4/s400/DSC_5357.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 400px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 267px;" /></a>Pondering the many uses of the banana leaf<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XKdCZ4AoX3Q/T1TLKXmqPbI/AAAAAAAAAjc/W4yf1k6WoWY/s1600/DSC_5360.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5716417206035299762" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XKdCZ4AoX3Q/T1TLKXmqPbI/AAAAAAAAAjc/W4yf1k6WoWY/s400/DSC_5360.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 267px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QwFNjZpZvpk/T1TLJyZnq4I/AAAAAAAAAjQ/SVCx1BjdsQA/s1600/DSC_5364.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5716417196048493442" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QwFNjZpZvpk/T1TLJyZnq4I/AAAAAAAAAjQ/SVCx1BjdsQA/s400/DSC_5364.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 267px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zL03bWE5YDI/T1TKG9WmKcI/AAAAAAAAAjE/JAYly0go0jk/s1600/DSC_5368.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5716416047937366466" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zL03bWE5YDI/T1TKG9WmKcI/AAAAAAAAAjE/JAYly0go0jk/s400/DSC_5368.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 267px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Y1wU8q21R3A/T1TKGrSgzpI/AAAAAAAAAi0/EPgYC5Wn4vc/s1600/DSC_5382.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5716416043088400018" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Y1wU8q21R3A/T1TKGrSgzpI/AAAAAAAAAi0/EPgYC5Wn4vc/s400/DSC_5382.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 400px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 267px;" /></a>Happy New Year<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FUbwzHNaCj8/T1TKGF4lqjI/AAAAAAAAAis/Qwf-yChqPKA/s1600/DSC_5399.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5716416033047554610" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FUbwzHNaCj8/T1TKGF4lqjI/AAAAAAAAAis/Qwf-yChqPKA/s400/DSC_5399.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 267px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-eEoOViOtCVE/T1TH3Cgf_KI/AAAAAAAAAig/YNJaZxtm0zg/s1600/DSC_5418.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5716413575419919522" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-eEoOViOtCVE/T1TH3Cgf_KI/AAAAAAAAAig/YNJaZxtm0zg/s400/DSC_5418.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 267px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a>The king. Photos of him everywhere.<br />
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-TVDkobXqv0w/T1TH2wf8wUI/AAAAAAAAAiU/RyIoHKLWYLM/s1600/DSC_5425.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5716413570585772354" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-TVDkobXqv0w/T1TH2wf8wUI/AAAAAAAAAiU/RyIoHKLWYLM/s400/DSC_5425.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 267px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uvlV0CCD5y0/T1S-Q7ijeGI/AAAAAAAAAh8/4HaUnG1h2eE/s1600/DSC_5431.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5716403025109809250" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uvlV0CCD5y0/T1S-Q7ijeGI/AAAAAAAAAh8/4HaUnG1h2eE/s400/DSC_5431.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 267px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-OfJ8aQoU_a8/T1S9zIjr0ZI/AAAAAAAAAhw/rpdVPjksbYI/s1600/DSC_5432.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5716402513208136082" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-OfJ8aQoU_a8/T1S9zIjr0ZI/AAAAAAAAAhw/rpdVPjksbYI/s400/DSC_5432.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 267px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DUoJ0hjU3Y0/T2HYZooEmLI/AAAAAAAAAnw/_ffL5qZYwRo/s1600/DSC_5433.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5720090936651061426" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DUoJ0hjU3Y0/T2HYZooEmLI/AAAAAAAAAnw/_ffL5qZYwRo/s400/DSC_5433.JPG" style="display: block; height: 267px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-WcuhEv3imSc/T2HYaU8PvoI/AAAAAAAAAn8/9gfWkg4S6ww/s1600/DSC_5438.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5720090948546838146" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-WcuhEv3imSc/T2HYaU8PvoI/AAAAAAAAAn8/9gfWkg4S6ww/s400/DSC_5438.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 267px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vEp5_BVpxog/T2HZNwIJXfI/AAAAAAAAAoI/o7hcdyp7AN8/s1600/DSC_5530.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5720091832017837554" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vEp5_BVpxog/T2HZNwIJXfI/AAAAAAAAAoI/o7hcdyp7AN8/s400/DSC_5530.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 267px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UUrvd7tRZcA/T2HZPjkH22I/AAAAAAAAAog/cu23gExPagI/s1600/DSC_5478.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5720091863005256546" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UUrvd7tRZcA/T2HZPjkH22I/AAAAAAAAAog/cu23gExPagI/s400/DSC_5478.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 267px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9AvhwQTKK7M/T2HZO9Mwi8I/AAAAAAAAAoU/iTd6Dd71RFc/s1600/DSC_5520.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5720091852706712514" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9AvhwQTKK7M/T2HZO9Mwi8I/AAAAAAAAAoU/iTd6Dd71RFc/s400/DSC_5520.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 267px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vEp5_BVpxog/T2HZNwIJXfI/AAAAAAAAAoI/o7hcdyp7AN8/s1600/DSC_5530.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5720091832017837554" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vEp5_BVpxog/T2HZNwIJXfI/AAAAAAAAAoI/o7hcdyp7AN8/s400/DSC_5530.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 267px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Ab06S5UC04c/T2Hc3aJIUSI/AAAAAAAAAos/A3VOTR7y_C4/s1600/DSC_5527.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5720095846205772066" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Ab06S5UC04c/T2Hc3aJIUSI/AAAAAAAAAos/A3VOTR7y_C4/s400/DSC_5527.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 267px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fbJdMXWreWc/T2Hc4NaJdYI/AAAAAAAAAo4/RhI8sxK93GU/s1600/DSC_5531.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5720095859967358338" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fbJdMXWreWc/T2Hc4NaJdYI/AAAAAAAAAo4/RhI8sxK93GU/s400/DSC_5531.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 267px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a>KThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07450914121785220194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1985876844774483805.post-19334473022148998412012-02-07T02:14:00.000-08:002012-02-19T05:40:31.874-08:00Thailand travels - Bangkok and Sukhothai<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2shWp-MEo5c/TzD8mNTebvI/AAAAAAAAAZI/8ERZxlZdx-M/s1600/DSC_4667.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2shWp-MEo5c/TzD8mNTebvI/AAAAAAAAAZI/8ERZxlZdx-M/s400/DSC_4667.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5706338461214994162" border="0" /></a>Around Christmas I had the chance to take some holidays, and spent the most wonderful vacation in Thailand with Jackie. A very unique Christmas. Lots of gorgeous, interesting scenes, colour, craziness, and delicious food.<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OlMBWjkvzi0/TzD8moXHjQI/AAAAAAAAAZU/LnxaclJ0004/s1600/DSC_4654.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OlMBWjkvzi0/TzD8moXHjQI/AAAAAAAAAZU/LnxaclJ0004/s400/DSC_4654.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5706338468478029058" border="0" /></a><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2e9jzqiaQFo/T0D53CV26fI/AAAAAAAAAhM/6QFVzJwGA3A/s1600/IMG_1326.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 299px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2e9jzqiaQFo/T0D53CV26fI/AAAAAAAAAhM/6QFVzJwGA3A/s400/IMG_1326.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5710839051422460402" border="0" /></a>Our flight there gave us a snack basket - unexpectedly, the onion cookies were my favourite.<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ALp6hG1bNEM/TzD8nOnmOxI/AAAAAAAAAZg/r9CZ0iMFm3E/s1600/DSC_4649.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ALp6hG1bNEM/TzD8nOnmOxI/AAAAAAAAAZg/r9CZ0iMFm3E/s400/DSC_4649.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5706338478747695890" border="0" /></a><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xhKwAfX0XlM/TzEAyDk2tvI/AAAAAAAAAZs/aaBk0o0eQKM/s1600/DSC_4677.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xhKwAfX0XlM/TzEAyDk2tvI/AAAAAAAAAZs/aaBk0o0eQKM/s400/DSC_4677.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5706343062808475378" border="0" /></a><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-R88nNkLm0Q4/TzEAyt-MwUI/AAAAAAAAAZ4/xJiyGzCdLF8/s1600/DSC_4685.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-R88nNkLm0Q4/TzEAyt-MwUI/AAAAAAAAAZ4/xJiyGzCdLF8/s400/DSC_4685.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5706343074189066562" border="0" /></a><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zwzW4Jo0Uzs/T0D53qUYB2I/AAAAAAAAAhY/9OPmUou_PQM/s1600/IMG_1328.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 299px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zwzW4Jo0Uzs/T0D53qUYB2I/AAAAAAAAAhY/9OPmUou_PQM/s400/IMG_1328.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5710839062153660258" border="0" /></a>This coconut water (?) was actually delicious.<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-nWXHXdz7oc0/TzEDdEzwcpI/AAAAAAAAAbA/hOlZQev2ojo/s1600/DSC_4792.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-nWXHXdz7oc0/TzEDdEzwcpI/AAAAAAAAAbA/hOlZQev2ojo/s400/DSC_4792.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5706346000897045138" border="0" /></a><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-CbqaV6_iWyw/TzECzn0EdUI/AAAAAAAAAaQ/sHewq6X0gqg/s1600/DSC_4726.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-CbqaV6_iWyw/TzECzn0EdUI/AAAAAAAAAaQ/sHewq6X0gqg/s400/DSC_4726.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5706345288739091778" border="0" /></a><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-T4a1T-ZKHM4/TzEC0kEEDjI/AAAAAAAAAao/N5uV4C-eK3k/s1600/DSC_4755.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-T4a1T-ZKHM4/TzEC0kEEDjI/AAAAAAAAAao/N5uV4C-eK3k/s400/DSC_4755.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5706345304912301618" border="0" /></a><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-u3l_fXbuxrA/TzEDc_N3PcI/AAAAAAAAAa0/hrUabkrqqqA/s1600/DSC_4782.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-u3l_fXbuxrA/TzEDc_N3PcI/AAAAAAAAAa0/hrUabkrqqqA/s400/DSC_4782.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5706345999395929538" border="0" /></a><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-EwE1kuWY1IA/TzEDd6bIBrI/AAAAAAAAAbM/9keG0MA8kNc/s1600/DSC_4808.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-EwE1kuWY1IA/TzEDd6bIBrI/AAAAAAAAAbM/9keG0MA8kNc/s400/DSC_4808.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5706346015289247410" border="0" /></a>Ah tourists.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-RvIaqkCcLVs/T0DqE0UJ6fI/AAAAAAAAAeM/vLDFf92ygIU/s1600/DSC_4988.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-RvIaqkCcLVs/T0DqE0UJ6fI/AAAAAAAAAeM/vLDFf92ygIU/s400/DSC_4988.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5710821695989344754" border="0" /></a>Kind of felt like we had stumbled into a small community's market - after just a few minutes in a taxi, we were the only foreigners in sight it seemed. We were entertained by some off-key karaoke singing in the park nearby while we ate our lunch.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-PbkWgEdbpWQ/T0Do2uDjdkI/AAAAAAAAAd0/g541QGXhkgU/s1600/DSC_4999.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-PbkWgEdbpWQ/T0Do2uDjdkI/AAAAAAAAAd0/g541QGXhkgU/s400/DSC_4999.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5710820354279306818" border="0" /></a>Tiger man.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HSmmoY5J4JQ/T0Dm2iqzqAI/AAAAAAAAAdQ/Srt7RkbArdI/s1600/DSC_4853.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HSmmoY5J4JQ/T0Dm2iqzqAI/AAAAAAAAAdQ/Srt7RkbArdI/s400/DSC_4853.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5710818152199464962" border="0" /></a>Giant reclining Buddha at Wat Pho.<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7n3gzXUn668/T0DiKHwBqeI/AAAAAAAAAcg/JfweASkOAS4/s1600/DSC_4851.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7n3gzXUn668/T0DiKHwBqeI/AAAAAAAAAcg/JfweASkOAS4/s400/DSC_4851.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5710812991012841954" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X1iVCLITjpY/T0DjI6_tjDI/AAAAAAAAAc4/-w9Y1J4vg5U/s1600/DSC_4894.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X1iVCLITjpY/T0DjI6_tjDI/AAAAAAAAAc4/-w9Y1J4vg5U/s400/DSC_4894.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5710814069920730162" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Jr_WXIfEX8o/T0DjIq98Z1I/AAAAAAAAAcs/NVrjG74WVyA/s1600/DSC_4878.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Jr_WXIfEX8o/T0DjIq98Z1I/AAAAAAAAAcs/NVrjG74WVyA/s400/DSC_4878.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5710814065618347858" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-D-Vv-sxaipc/TzED809MnjI/AAAAAAAAAbw/KxR8sMNMZ60/s1600/DSC_4832.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-D-Vv-sxaipc/TzED809MnjI/AAAAAAAAAbw/KxR8sMNMZ60/s400/DSC_4832.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5706346546397486642" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jHrWM3xC0mM/TzED8XOoLFI/AAAAAAAAAbk/lwcNA1VaWEA/s1600/DSC_4825.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jHrWM3xC0mM/TzED8XOoLFI/AAAAAAAAAbk/lwcNA1VaWEA/s400/DSC_4825.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5706346538417531986" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qiC11AtueoA/TzED78HuKgI/AAAAAAAAAbY/4yTnLBvkAnY/s1600/DSC_4821.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qiC11AtueoA/TzED78HuKgI/AAAAAAAAAbY/4yTnLBvkAnY/s400/DSC_4821.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5706346531140807170" border="0" /></a><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0Trv4g-G9kE/T0DjJfc16yI/AAAAAAAAAdE/3VJj8eDWc8E/s1600/DSC_4941.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0Trv4g-G9kE/T0DjJfc16yI/AAAAAAAAAdE/3VJj8eDWc8E/s400/DSC_4941.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5710814079706589986" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mNmg89Wba-A/TzEAzAA7MyI/AAAAAAAAAaE/AaPYVyHHrGc/s1600/DSC_4679.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mNmg89Wba-A/TzEAzAA7MyI/AAAAAAAAAaE/AaPYVyHHrGc/s400/DSC_4679.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5706343079032337186" border="0" /></a>Chaotic Khao San Road.<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wUxbqeV8fdc/T0D54BQCRaI/AAAAAAAAAhk/32FDE2SuIgM/s1600/IMG_1330.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 299px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wUxbqeV8fdc/T0D54BQCRaI/AAAAAAAAAhk/32FDE2SuIgM/s400/IMG_1330.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5710839068309472674" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-TK-ph3EhSXI/T0DqFLeT0SI/AAAAAAAAAeY/1hpNXq3S4o8/s1600/DSC_5012.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-TK-ph3EhSXI/T0DqFLeT0SI/AAAAAAAAAeY/1hpNXq3S4o8/s400/DSC_5012.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5710821702205952290" border="0" /></a>Mmmm maybe not a good sign.<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JmWmSWbH6Ek/T0DnTnoE7fI/AAAAAAAAAdc/8_oW2BZcwpI/s1600/DSC_4957.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JmWmSWbH6Ek/T0DnTnoE7fI/AAAAAAAAAdc/8_oW2BZcwpI/s400/DSC_4957.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5710818651746397682" border="0" /></a>We'll cook your street food AND do your laundry.<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-at0D1FiBh6Q/T0Do2Kk_yvI/AAAAAAAAAdo/F2tEs0RqIo0/s1600/DSC_4958.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-at0D1FiBh6Q/T0Do2Kk_yvI/AAAAAAAAAdo/F2tEs0RqIo0/s400/DSC_4958.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5710820344755899122" border="0" /></a><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lYiP_7V5z50/T0D521btQmI/AAAAAAAAAhA/LYmN83vIRIs/s1600/DSC_5021.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lYiP_7V5z50/T0D521btQmI/AAAAAAAAAhA/LYmN83vIRIs/s400/DSC_5021.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5710839047957332578" border="0" /></a>Christmas pad thai dinner.<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-aAZ5VXBacac/T0DqFxHx8bI/AAAAAAAAAek/FpKl9kS1RTA/s1600/DSC_5028.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-aAZ5VXBacac/T0DqFxHx8bI/AAAAAAAAAek/FpKl9kS1RTA/s400/DSC_5028.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5710821712312005042" border="0" /></a>Sweet accomodations.<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-t1RcHWUsQQU/T0Dz20z9E3I/AAAAAAAAAg0/Rg2POqn2Us0/s1600/DSC_5196.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-t1RcHWUsQQU/T0Dz20z9E3I/AAAAAAAAAg0/Rg2POqn2Us0/s400/DSC_5196.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5710832450720830322" border="0" /></a><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Kjds5ZWbYDA/T0DrUmr43QI/AAAAAAAAAew/B_Q1Lmo9l5c/s1600/DSC_5049.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Kjds5ZWbYDA/T0DrUmr43QI/AAAAAAAAAew/B_Q1Lmo9l5c/s400/DSC_5049.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5710823066720328962" border="0" /></a><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4Shktn8wAnw/T0DrVV6lnZI/AAAAAAAAAe8/YVbDCfaAXe8/s1600/DSC_5044.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4Shktn8wAnw/T0DrVV6lnZI/AAAAAAAAAe8/YVbDCfaAXe8/s400/DSC_5044.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5710823079398448530" border="0" /></a><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9tqSDNJwjoI/T0DrVpHqwmI/AAAAAAAAAfI/Bfg76iEimCU/s1600/DSC_5054.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9tqSDNJwjoI/T0DrVpHqwmI/AAAAAAAAAfI/Bfg76iEimCU/s400/DSC_5054.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5710823084553585250" border="0" /></a><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-egke8iv7MOw/T0Dsbpt8NNI/AAAAAAAAAfU/xXVArVNd0U0/s1600/DSC_5077.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-egke8iv7MOw/T0Dsbpt8NNI/AAAAAAAAAfU/xXVArVNd0U0/s400/DSC_5077.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5710824287304955090" border="0" /></a>Ruins of the ancient kingdom of Sukhothai.<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QT_DZmaGBkE/T0Dsc0Usg6I/AAAAAAAAAfg/xRF5SCx7lug/s1600/DSC_5087.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QT_DZmaGBkE/T0Dsc0Usg6I/AAAAAAAAAfg/xRF5SCx7lug/s400/DSC_5087.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5710824307331728290" border="0" /></a><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xIK0iwkLrow/T0Dsd3T7MlI/AAAAAAAAAfs/8Dmx_VFtBnQ/s1600/DSC_5092.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xIK0iwkLrow/T0Dsd3T7MlI/AAAAAAAAAfs/8Dmx_VFtBnQ/s400/DSC_5092.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5710824325313671762" border="0" /></a>The monks took just as many photos as us.<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-T00R_P0K3p0/T0DyhNWZDFI/AAAAAAAAAgE/zSiBnYZRs8o/s1600/DSC_5171.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-T00R_P0K3p0/T0DyhNWZDFI/AAAAAAAAAgE/zSiBnYZRs8o/s400/DSC_5171.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5710830979838970962" border="0" /></a><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kEvb0dEwmLU/T0Dygcgp1HI/AAAAAAAAAf4/bvXiYUiFjmo/s1600/DSC_5153.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kEvb0dEwmLU/T0Dygcgp1HI/AAAAAAAAAf4/bvXiYUiFjmo/s400/DSC_5153.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5710830966728676466" border="0" /></a><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1O0jmIRoV-4/T0Dy4nkbxJI/AAAAAAAAAgc/1CHVQMh0_mk/s1600/DSC_5103.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1O0jmIRoV-4/T0Dy4nkbxJI/AAAAAAAAAgc/1CHVQMh0_mk/s400/DSC_5103.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5710831382014182546" border="0" /></a><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EkzpMohxrNE/T0DyhklMzkI/AAAAAAAAAgQ/Fxl-5qwSqYQ/s1600/DSC_5207.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EkzpMohxrNE/T0DyhklMzkI/AAAAAAAAAgQ/Fxl-5qwSqYQ/s400/DSC_5207.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5710830986075098690" border="0" /></a><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-F7wy5SpXFpM/T0Dy5K59ckI/AAAAAAAAAgo/dS-_k2uYXd0/s1600/DSC_5221.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-F7wy5SpXFpM/T0Dy5K59ckI/AAAAAAAAAgo/dS-_k2uYXd0/s400/DSC_5221.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5710831391499711042" border="0" /></a>It's a Thai Iced Tea! And a goldfish table!!KThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07450914121785220194noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1985876844774483805.post-91366321079273435442012-02-05T05:10:00.000-08:002012-02-07T02:14:17.421-08:00How are you?I hadn't realized how much I rely on this one tiny bit of English as a way of easing into conversations: "how are you?"<br /><br />As I'm slowly acquiring some Japanese, I remain at a loss as to what phrase to use in place of this while conversing with Japanese acquaintances. "O genki desu ka?" essentially means "you are well?", and is the closest equivalent that I am aware of. As far as I can tell, though, this is not exceedingly common, especially in casual conversation. I have only heard it used a couple of times, and once quite jokingly with students who were causing some mild mayhem.<br /><br />I could be wrong, or there could be something quite simple that I've been missing all along and just haven't learned yet. But in the absence of such knowledge, I wonder why it might be that we ALWAYS follow our greetings with an inquiry as to the other's wellbeing, and why this doesn't seem to be the case in Japan.<br /><br />I wonder...are personal feelings a less common conversational topic? More private than public? People seem to avoid discussing how they really feel about things, instead remarking on the state of situations and how they have affected other people and things. In my observations this seems to be the case, but I write this with a bit of hesitancy about making an easy blanket statement about the entire culture. I'm still sorting my way through everything, and quite possibly have just missed these kinds of subtleties. However, maybe there is more of a reservation about inward, personal matters than I'm used to.<br /><br />On the other hand, though the surroundings I have grown up in seem to value being emotionally open (in some ways), we very rarely answer the question "how are you?" truthfully. Possibly with those closest to us, but usually it's an automatic "Good; you?"<br /><br />This is one reason I find the "greetings" at the start of English classes in Japan so interesting and yet not quite natural.<br />"How are you?"<br />"I'm fine/sleepy/tired/hungry/hot/cold/happy, and you?"<br /><br />Hm. I don't think I've ever responded to that question by elaborating on my body temperature.KThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07450914121785220194noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1985876844774483805.post-29405131573691840942012-02-02T04:19:00.000-08:002012-02-02T04:26:32.059-08:00Mameshiba - a cute little bean that gives weird advice<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2KJTjkyKv24/TyqAX8LN1BI/AAAAAAAAAY8/LGceFFfmIOE/s1600/dentsumameshiba.png"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 186px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2KJTjkyKv24/TyqAX8LN1BI/AAAAAAAAAY8/LGceFFfmIOE/s400/dentsumameshiba.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5704513026796672018" border="0" /></a><br />Oh if<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5hTp10yVZ8M&feature=related"> <span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);">school lunch</span></a> actually talked...KThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07450914121785220194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1985876844774483805.post-10516730471015263552012-01-26T07:00:00.000-08:002012-01-26T07:12:47.214-08:00Makes me smileMy teacher said "Avril Lavigne" in class. Boy at the back laughed; "Ha! "Avril LaBieber!!"<br /><br />***<br /><br />The sentence "Doraemon [popular anime character] is yammier [*yummier] than pizza" cropped up on a student's worksheet. I asked this particular boy if he eats Doraemon; he seemed confused.<br /><br />***<br /><br />I asked the hypothetical question "This weekend: you can do anything you want. What will you do?" in a warmup activity. Some of the students were real creative geniuses, planning weekends trips to outer space and conquering the world. Others, however...I don't think they quite understood the question. Like the boy who said that he would stay at his home. And study English.<br /><br />***<br /><br />I sometimes get asked very strange questions. Such as "How many toilets do you have in your Canada home?" and whether mannequins have faces in my country.<br /><br />Shortly after this one, I found out that mannequins do not have faces in Japan.<br /><br />***<br /><br />And...I currently feel incapable of using a computer. I spilled peach tea on my laptop keyboard, making the keys rather sticky. Not only that but the layout of my Japanese keyboard from work has become so engrained in my mind that I keep hitting numbers instead of quotation marks.KThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07450914121785220194noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1985876844774483805.post-82147258377331501722011-11-16T07:36:00.000-08:002011-11-17T06:51:39.890-08:00You know it's a good day at work when it includes a round of Mario Kart and a game of Quidditch.The Muggles even won.<br /><br />As for the group that chose to be team Voldemort...they are either the coolest or most evil students I have. It's a fine line.<br /><br />We actually played "quidditch" now in both of my 3rd-year classes, thanks to a section of the textbook in which Yuki, one of the characters, goes to London and gushes about her love for Harry Potter. "Harry is so cool, isn't he?"<br /><br />I just loved being able to legitimately say "10 points for Slytherin", in English class. As well as asking them "What time will Snape go to bed tonight?" as a review question.<br /><br />The game involved dividing the students into six teams and outlining three quidditch hoops on the blackboard. I asked the students a series of review questions to practice the grammar point, and after discussing with their team members, the first to raise their hand was called on to answer. If they were correct, they got a chance to throw a ball at the board in hopes of scoring on one of the hoops.<br /><br />The game took a surprising twist when the golden snitch made an appearance after the final question was answered.<br /><br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QUDDEhyzdNQ/TsPY-CrANHI/AAAAAAAAAYw/c8Az_vmxjHc/s1600/IMG_1042%255B1%255D"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 299px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QUDDEhyzdNQ/TsPY-CrANHI/AAAAAAAAAYw/c8Az_vmxjHc/s400/IMG_1042%255B1%255D" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5675618515797685362" border="0" /></a>And in another character-themed review activity, Donkey Kong (me) pulled into the lead in Mario Kart thanks to pulling a star item card after trailing the whole game. Success.<br /><br />This game is similar; teams choose a character, who moves forward on the track when they are able to successfully answer an English question. They roll the dice to determine the number of spaces, and also choose an item card which allows them to do any number of things, including roll again, move forward another space, send all the other players back 3, or cruise into first place (as in the case of Donkey Kong).<br /><br />I think I have just as much fun preparing and playing these games as the students do.KThttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07450914121785220194noreply@blogger.com0