Don't mind me. Americans are immune to earthquakes and typhoons.

Last week, Nirasaki had an earthquake drill. Earthquakes in Japan are about as common as the terrifyingly large black and yellow spiders in Japan. There are many. This drill took place after sixth period, and I only became aware of this when I got up from my computer to see the entire school body standing outside. An administrator spoke through a megaphone. Wait, scratch that. Minutes before, a teacher who has never said an English word to me before busted out an entire "Will you stay here?" as he left the teacher's room. Yeah, I'll stay. But shouldn't I know what...

Oh, maybe it's a courtesy. I won't know what's being said anyway, so a co-teacher will translate later. Nothing. Must think back to elementary school. Hands over neck? Forward facing fetal position? No, that's tornadoes. There aren't earthquakes in Georgia. I flipped through the recently received prefecture newsletter. Ah. Get under a desk.

This weekend, we had a typhoon. "Typhoon" seems much less threatening than "hurricane," which is what it is in Anglo terms. Hurricanes seem pretty frightening, like those black and yellow spiders I keep seeing. Several meetings were called to discuss this incoming typhoon, and again, no translation. No sweat. I'll just stay inside all weekend with my raincoat on holding both my umbrellas.

Because of my city's basin location, the bulk of the typhoon was blocked out by the surrounding mountains. It rained the entire day Thursday, and I attempted to bike to the train station holding one of the two aforementioned umbrellas. This is harder than it sounds (though it sounds pretty difficult), and I only tried it because I saw many Japanese people doing it. I do what other people do. Now might be a good time to explain the city streets. Streets should actually be quote-unquoted because they are more like suggested pathways. Unless you’re on a major road, there’s not room for two cars. There’s a lot of pulling over and allowing the other car to get through. Add me on a bike with an umbrella. And throw in a mini-moat on the side of the street. These mini-moats have been named “gaijin traps” by generations of the past, and I won’t argue. When *knock on wood* I fall in, I will weblog the occasion.

Twice a day at Norin, a funereal tone rings five times in a row to show respect for the fertility of land. The proper procedure is to stand up and slightly lower your head. The first time I heard this, a co-teacher said “Oh my god!”

When you are suspended from school in Japan, you go to school and do chores. Why isn’t this the case in America? My co-teachers found this difference quite amusing.

Speaking of chores, there aren’t janitors at school. The students clean daily. At Norin, they play John Denver’s “Take Me Home, Country Roads” over the loudspeakers during cleaning time. This drives me insane, and I only go to Norin twice a week. If I had to clean five times a week while listening to the song, I might be tempted to do something really crazy like mixing the burnables and non-burnables! Oh my god!

On Friday, the vice principal played a prank on one of my co-teachers. He called her on the telephone from the same room. Hilarious. The look on his face was like he had pulled the greatest prank known to man. You know, it kinda was.

Next Monday, I’ll have a day off for “Respecting Your Elders” day. This is a national holiday, and Kasai sensei asked if we had the same thing in America. I told him we fear and ostracize our elders. We send them to Florida.

I finally got a response from waving my Nintendo DS around in the air and asking if anyone had one.
Follow-up question: “What is your favorite video game?”
“I like play sexy game.”
I asked to borrow it. Kids laughed.

His name was Robert Paulsen (Smith).

Remember the scene in Fight Club when the band of misfits (not to be confused with the band the Misfits) continually repeats the headline above?

That's like how my class is when I teach them the days of the week using the Cure's "Friday, I'm In Love," only the exact opposite. Please repeat after me. "His name is Robert Smith." *Tumbleweed.* "His name is Robert Smith." *Leaky faucet drips onto no-longer-tumbling weed.*

Regardless, they seem to like listening to the Cure's greatest hits. I tried to bring in something American, but it's hard to argue with Mr. Smith singing the days of the week in order. Then again, this still managed to confuse most of the students when I asked them to fill in the blanks in the provided lyric sheet. And maybe the unarguable Britishness of Bobby Smith confused everyone, because my co-teacher kept calling me Mark sensei for the duration of two classes. (Mark was my predecessor. He is from England. He is not Robert Smith.)

I'm almost through with giving my self-introduction lesson, and the days of the week lesson has confirmed one thing for me (that was never stated before). You see, there's this annoying phrase that's been going around for, hmm, three months, and that phrase is "every situation is different," or ESID. What this means is that for no good or real reason, some people in the JET program get to play with glorious little Japanese children every day, some people pay no rent, some people get free cars, some people get free lunch every day, and some people get to create entire lesson plans and execute them close to 20 times a week. It might be clear which "some" I am, but don't get the wrong impression here. I truly think my experience abroad will ultimately be much more rewarding, but I'll have to work (no pun) for that. So when a student falls asleep with his cell phone open, I just listen to the Cure.

Race and Rice:
As strange as it sounds, a large number of Japanese people have had trouble understanding, err, my existence. America, through the media or whatnot, is black and white. One student had a two-minute conversation with a co-teacher in front of me trying to figure out how I was American. First, she thought I was from Korea but knew English. Whaa? Second, she thought one of my parents was Taiwanese and the other was American (read: white). Finally, the co-teacher said something about Japanese people moving to Hawaii in the past. That somehow did the trick.

The first time I went to Norin, I was supposed to meet with a co-teacher. She could not find me because I "looked Japanese." I was sitting at the only ALT desk.

When I go out with fellow ALTs (read: white), Japanese people approach me (understandably) as if I am the tour guide. I usually produce a blank stare (I'm perfecting it watching my students) or mumble something about wakarimasen, wakarimasen. In the end, I'm pretty sure they think I'm just cuckoo for cocoa puffs. I wish this were true, as I am currently looking for a sweet alternative to rice in the morning.

Rollercoaster... of whaa?

After day 1 of school, I was ready to leave Japan. I considered the cons in departing, in having to pay for my ticket home and accepting failure. Teaching? What was I thinking? There's no A/C in the classroom, every student is on their cell phone or sleeping, and my co-teacher is grinning as if it's business as usual. I'm doing a self-introduction lesson three to five times a day (meaning I talk about myself for 50 minutes straight), and I'll be doing it for another two weeks.

I am Kevin's beating heart. Please answer me when I ask if you have a Nintendo DS. Everyone in this country has a DS. Are you no one?

Day 2, in the improperly used words of Jason Kidd, was a complete 360 turnaround. (He was going for 180.) I met up with some JETs after school on Monday, and I asked if they got the same blank stares that I was receiving. I was told to think back to high school Spanish. Did anyone care then? Would anyone care now? I tried to embrace the great times I'd had in the past month, and I took that into school on Day 2. I tried harder to be myself, which is the hardest thing you can do.

And something happened.

The kids perked up. They answered questions. One student, who reminds me of the talk-show host Matthew (seen in Lost In Translation), would inexplicably stand up at random times during class and yell "I ruv Kevin!" (in the talk-show host kind of way).

Another student, in a similar vein, would raise his hand throughout class.
"What is your favorite sport?"
"I love you."
"Who knows why peaches grow in both Yamanashi and Georgia?"
"I love you, Kevin."
Later, I walked by his desk and said, "So you love me, huh?"
He hung his head and smiled.

On Day 3, I went to my other school, Norin High School, which specializes in Agriculture and Horticulture.

The good vibes from day 2 carried on, and I found out that I have a third year (seniors) elective class (meaning they want to be there) two periods in a row. These kids were especially great, and they understood much more. One girl looked exactly like Sara Kim from my 3rd grade, and another one was the Japanese version of Kyle Berkman, Mr. Levitt's friend from LA. I need a picture of this guy. It's uncanny. This class took a special interest in me after I played a song that I wrote, and they wanted a Japanese translation and to know who it was about. This, of course, resulted in my co-teacher asking if it was rude to ask if I was married. Did I have a girlfriend? I was quickly reminded of a story Tyler told me just the day before, of how this line of questioning follows form. 1. Married? 2. Girlfriend? 3. Gay? I thought I would nip this in the bud by answering yes to #2, but that only spurred more questions. Umm, she lives in America. Her name is Art Vandelay.

One of the best things I've heard this month happened here, and that was a student doing an American accent. My accent, to be exact. Do I sound like Clint Eastwood on a ferry headed down the Mississippi?

Today, a very enthusiastic third year student at Nirasaki approached me. His English was quite good, and I am sorry I will not be teaching him (as I only get first and second years). He tried to say "I don't have your class this year," but he ended up saying, "Your class is nothing this year." Domo arigato gozaimasu.

The internet, sorta

Thanks to my lovely neighbors, Priscilla and Chris, I may or may not have the internet in my apartment right now. I may or may not be typing this while I sit in my apartment that may or may not have access to the internet. How they managed to get it set up two weeks before my scheduled installation when they arrived in Japan one week after me, well, I may or may not know. You can now find me on AIM. Just know that I exist 13 hours in the future (for those on the east coast).

On Saturday, I went with a group of friends to see Dragon Park, which is roughly a twenty minute bike ride from my home. It’s all uphill, which makes the ride back quite easy (especially if you just ran around playing soccer for a few hours).

Like many things I have seen in Japan, the facilities are immaculate. Take a look at these badboys. Umm, nix that. The sorta internet is not letting me post pictures. Soon, friends.

We played a few small-sided games, the second one with two high school kids. We later discovered that one of them was on the Ventforet junior squad (the prefecture’s professional team), and he possessed the skills to back it up.

It was a hot day, and the sprinklers and fountains attracted tiny children wearing only underwear.

At night, we went out to Kiyosato, a mountainous area to the northwest of Ryuo. It’s at least 10 degrees cooler out there, and we had a lovely hamburger and pasta dinner at a café called Back Country, which we have renamed Bat Country as a tribute to general humor and Hunter S. Thompson.

We went to Tyler’s apartment for some chit-chat, and Tiffany drank sake from juice boxes and ate ice cream with chopsticks.

Let me clear my throat

I'm currently watching a group of students play rock, paper, scissors to decide who will have to eat the licorice jelly beans in the batch that I brought. It is hilarious. One student cringes as the flavor hits his tongue. It is possible this student has never tasted licorice before. His classmates laugh. More gather around.

This morning, I gave a speech to the whole school. I will be teaching 1st and 2nd years (sophomores and juniors in high school), and there are already 360 of those. I guess I spoke to 500 people? Massive. The first half of my speech was in Japanese, and the second was in English and translated by Kagami sensei. I've mentioned this before, but there isn't sarcasm in Japan. I am unarmed in this battle of wits.

After the speech, the teachers examined each and every student for haircut regulations. Your entire ear must be showing, and your hair cannot grow beyond your eyebrows. I would venture to say that more than half of the students were in violation, as they just returned from a one-month vacation. Still, each student seemed to fuss with his hair in order to fudge the requirement. One student gave me the thumbs-up, pointed to his hair, and told me to say "Good job," as if this would save him from the shears. Teachers held clipboards with columns and check marks. Kagami sensei asked about dress-codes in the States and cited this as a reason for some students wanting to move across the Pacific. So far, the two things I miss about America are the trash cans (they hide here) and the napkins (ditto).

I will teach my first three lessons on Monday, with a teacher I have yet to meet. I am not sure how this will work synergy-wise, but I suppose synergy is a lofty demand. If I get out alive, it will be a great day.

I have created a crossword puzzle filled with fun facts about myself. Did you know that I was born in Detroit? I often forget.

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Random info: I never realized how often I clean my glasses until I started wearing collared shirts to work. Try wiping away the smudges with your shirt tucked in.

Football is football

On Monday night, I got my first taste of Japanese soccer. Irish Dave invited himself to the prefectural team practice, and I, in turn, invited myself. Kentucky Chris, also known as the Governor for his political ambitions, rounded out the new male ALTs, while British Becks (what a soccer name!) and Jamaican Ayesha represented the women.

There are two tournaments a year held in Nagano for the JET teams, but there are weekly practices and games here and there. Over the years, the Yamanashi crew has made a bunch of Japanese friends, so the majority of people who showed up were not ALTs. Sports and extracurricular activities are highly valued in the Japanese school system, so it’s easy to find some quality talent.

As this was my first experience with soccer in Japan, it was also the first time meeting South American Japanese people. Peruvian, to be exact. They speak Japanese. They speak Spanish. They speak English. They are good at soccer. The game is the same everywhere. This might be the simplest way to learn Japanese.

We rented out a nearby high school field for $2 a person, but the best part is that you can play under the lights. I haven’t done this since high school, and I forgot just how nice it is to play in a breeze without the sun. No offense, sun. I still have a crush on you.
Since there was a large turnout, we split into three teams and played 10 minute games on small goals. The pace was quick (as there was little grass), and everyone out there had some fancy moves on display.

Thinking back a bit, I wrote a college application essay on the universality of soccer. It’s possible I was pulling crap out of crapola back then, but this was words in action. The game is the same everywhere. I missed a lot of easy shots and I nutmegged the keeper, and we all spoke without words. I cut up my leg and bandaged it with a cotton ball and a rubber band. People said it would take away circulation, and I argued citing low elasticity.

I think they liked me, they really liked me, because I was asked to swing around next week. I might. I just might.

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.