With our powers combined

On Monday and Tuesday of this past week, we gathered in Kofu for our local orientation. Groups A and B have finally combined into one supergroup, which is much less glamorous than it sounds. As a collective, we are still very much running around sans head. In other words, we’re more Audioslave, less Justice League.

First order of business was a meeting with the vice governor of the prefecture. He said many things we did not understand, but we benefited from translation courtesy of one Jonathan Smith. If you can come up with a better name than John Smith for an American CIR (Coordinator of International Relations), I will buy you two Cokes. He plays bossa nova piano.

One line from the vice governor that stuck out was when he called Yamanashi the kingdom of fruit. You could sense a group smirk among the ALTs, and the joke continued with imagined tales of pineapple kings and queens. And by continue, I mean we’re still talking about it. It’s been a week.

Since Yamanashi is famous for its fruits and wines, what better place to visit than Fruits Park (where we investigated this so-called patriarchy of fruit). Little evidence was found, but I did eat a grape popsicle in a gift shop. Others purchased wine. Oddly, there was no actual fruit available.

Finally, we went on a guided tour of the prefectural museum. Almost everything was in Japanese, but I got the gist. People once did things one way, and it was tough. We should remember the old days since it is easier now. There were a few interactive simulations of the ways of yore, and a tiny Japanese girl walked into a small hut with long, horizontal poles on each side. Her parents hoisted her up in the air on their shoulders. Japanese children are ridonculous.

Everyone was put up in the Wel City Hotel in downtown Kofu, so karaoke commenced shortly after dinner. Not too much to report there, but Canadian Nick did leave the spot with his necktie around his forehead. Very Davy Crocket chic.

Wednesday:

Lisa Tauber from Americatown visited. We walked around hot, hot Kofu and drank lots of cold, cold water.

At night, we attended Kagami sensei’s son’s rock concert, or live, as it is known around here. The whole ride over, she insisted the band was still learning and the music had a long way to go. The music was amazing; a lot of shredding, piercing riffs mixed with a ballad here and there. A few days before the show, I gave Kagami sensei a copy of the few tracks I recorded in college with Mr. Levin and Mr. Levitt aka Rob Fleming’s Ghost. Her very ecstatic son greeted me and said: “You have the best music.” Hyperbole. Her son, 17, had a great stage presence, so I called him a rock star after the show. I think it translates. On the ride home, I asked Kagami sensei if her son had a lot of girlfriends. He had one recently, but due to the girl being very smart, she told him to wait a year while she gets through her studies. Kagami sensei said he probably will not wait.

Random bits from here and there:

Bikes in Japan use a different pumping valve. In an attempt to add a little air to my front tire, I deflated the entire thing. The pump I have doesn’t seem to work, so I took the bike back to the shop. The nice man seemed quite perplexed that I had a flat tire that wasn’t punctured. He made a circle with his thumb and index on one hand and pointed his other index finger into the circle. This, undoubtedly, is the international symbol for a punctured tire.

Everyone in this country has a Nintendo DS. I always do what other people do, so I ordered one off Amazon.co.jp. I now have a note that I believe says I missed delivery. I have no idea how to read this note. I will find a translator tomorrow.