Kevin: "Before I came to Japan, I was a journalist." *Holds up Magnet with Conor Oberst on the cover* "Does anyone know what 'journalist' means?"
Student: "You were a model?"
Thursday, April 24, 2008
Thursday, April 17, 2008
A letter to Bill Simmons
Hi Bill,
Greetings from Japan! When you miss a game live, what are the greatest lengths you've ever gone to in order to avoid finding out the score? Here is how I watched the NCAA final "live" from Japan (13 hours ahead of EST).
1. All day at work, I read no news sites.
2. At lunch, I ate hunched down at my desk so that I would not accidentally catch a highlight on the staffroom TV.
3. I judged all e-mails by their sender, opening them only if there was no chance the person would reveal the winner.
4. I pre-emptively sent out e-mails to friends warning them not to tell me the score.
When I got home from work, I remembered the terrible layout of NCAA.com (from watching the rest of the tournament). I'd have to click on a few different links to get to the actual game. To top it off, the final score would be displayed under the PLAY button. So I took off my glasses. I typed NCAA.com into my browser, removed my glasses, and hit enter. Remembering the layout of the site, I half-squinted and clicked a few times until the game popped up. I then resized the window so that only the video would be showing, since the site insists on displaying the score at the bottom of the page. I am not positive, but this may be the first time in history that being blind has helped a sports fan.
Greetings from Japan! When you miss a game live, what are the greatest lengths you've ever gone to in order to avoid finding out the score? Here is how I watched the NCAA final "live" from Japan (13 hours ahead of EST).
1. All day at work, I read no news sites.
2. At lunch, I ate hunched down at my desk so that I would not accidentally catch a highlight on the staffroom TV.
3. I judged all e-mails by their sender, opening them only if there was no chance the person would reveal the winner.
4. I pre-emptively sent out e-mails to friends warning them not to tell me the score.
When I got home from work, I remembered the terrible layout of NCAA.com (from watching the rest of the tournament). I'd have to click on a few different links to get to the actual game. To top it off, the final score would be displayed under the PLAY button. So I took off my glasses. I typed NCAA.com into my browser, removed my glasses, and hit enter. Remembering the layout of the site, I half-squinted and clicked a few times until the game popped up. I then resized the window so that only the video would be showing, since the site insists on displaying the score at the bottom of the page. I am not positive, but this may be the first time in history that being blind has helped a sports fan.
Friday, April 11, 2008
Is "business" two syllables or three?
Hot-sensei, gym clothes
Today, a business suit
Now, Hot Hot-sensei
Today, a business suit
Now, Hot Hot-sensei
Thursday, April 10, 2008
At least I didn't *think* I was turning Japanese.
As the new school year begins, my status as a fake Nihonjin has paved the way for some wonderful moments.
1. As I watched a soccer game after school, the new 1st years on the bench spoke to me in Japanese. "He's not Japanese," said a 2nd year student (in Japanese). "REALLY?! WHAA?" (in Japanese). Then they tried to sub me into the game.
2. Before the opening ceremony started, a 1st year student needed, from what I now gather, to know where to put his shoes. On his very first day of high school, he nervously looked around for a lifeline. Squeaky and half out of breath, he asked the Japanese teacher wearing a suit what to do with his shoes. This Japanese teacher was me, who obviously (in his mind) thought it would be hilarious to give the new kid a hard time and say, "Sorry, I understand just a little Japanese." He stood there crestfallen and blank-faced while I pointed to another teacher for help. I then introduced myself and extended my arm for a handshake. He was possibly still in disbelief or thinking I pranked him, for his handshake was more akin to a tender squeeze of my fingers. Cheer up, kid. Not everyone in high school is a jerk like me.
1. As I watched a soccer game after school, the new 1st years on the bench spoke to me in Japanese. "He's not Japanese," said a 2nd year student (in Japanese). "REALLY?! WHAA?" (in Japanese). Then they tried to sub me into the game.
2. Before the opening ceremony started, a 1st year student needed, from what I now gather, to know where to put his shoes. On his very first day of high school, he nervously looked around for a lifeline. Squeaky and half out of breath, he asked the Japanese teacher wearing a suit what to do with his shoes. This Japanese teacher was me, who obviously (in his mind) thought it would be hilarious to give the new kid a hard time and say, "Sorry, I understand just a little Japanese." He stood there crestfallen and blank-faced while I pointed to another teacher for help. I then introduced myself and extended my arm for a handshake. He was possibly still in disbelief or thinking I pranked him, for his handshake was more akin to a tender squeeze of my fingers. Cheer up, kid. Not everyone in high school is a jerk like me.
Thursday, April 3, 2008
Thursday, March 6, 2008
They are all me.
I walked into class the other day. This was on the blackboard. There were a few other, umm, depictions that involved gender reassignment and a lack of clothing, but they were not photographed. The kids laughed for five minutes.
Thursday, January 24, 2008
Find your power animal. Slide!
I guess I learned how to snowboard this weekend. I'd like to say it's easier than it looks (to brag) or that it's harder than it looks (to compensate), but no, it's just as hard as it looks. It's sliding down a mountain with a plank strapped to your feet.
This weekend was the annual Nagano ski and snowboarding trip, and the English teachers of Yamanashi made an exodus for the mountains of Hakuba. The caravan began in Kofu, reaching the Lady Diana and St. George hotel around 23:00.
On the way, we encountered the strangest of oasii [sic], a rest area with not only soap but warm water for washing hands. I have been holding off on mentioning what I will now mention, but Japan is a big proponent of the 'grin and bear it' theory. Houses are built with no insulation or central heat, but you grin and bear it and turn on your kerosene heater. The kerosene fumes can be toxic without the proper ventilation, so you must keep your windows open while the heater is on. In most sinks, the water is whatever the temperature the pipes are, so you wash your freezing hands and face with freezing water. The availability of soap can vary from place to place, but it's not uncommon to do your business, freeze your dis-disinfected hands, then have no way to dry them. Shake, shake, shake. Wipe on pants.
Sometimes you get to combine the 'grin and bear it' theory with the 'we are all suffering theory,' meaning a room full of teachers with cold bento lunches will eat their food cold rather than go through the inconvenience and red tape of every single teacher taking a turn with the microwave. At least we have soap in our bathrooms.
Back to Nagano. The great thing about these big events is that they often bring people out of the wood or mountainworks. The prefecture is filled with lovely people, yet you don't always see them for various reasons. Nancy and Jessica, for example, invite each other over to their respective homes in Fujiyoshida and sit in the same room on their computers typing 'lol's and 'omg's to each other over the internet. That's what you do, right?
I often joke with Charlotte that she is overly concerned, obsessed even, with the things that I do. After I had sarcastically boasted of my snowboarding prowess (before even seeing a snowboard), she proceeded to draw a picture of me upside down in the snow while vomiting peas, of all things. Other people seemed to be really concerned with my attire for the night, as Seth immediately yelled "What are you wearing?!" when I removed my coat. Lee asked if I had "come directly from work," before the argument arose of whether my sweater looked more Cosby or Mr. Roger's. My shrinking self-esteem put me right to sleep.
I picked up my rental gear the next morning. My snowboard had a picture of a clown on the front and a picture of JESUS on the back. With him on my side, I was ready to hit the slopes. And hit them I did, falling backward, falling forward, spinning and then falling. I never managed to land completely upside down (as Charlotte had foretold), but snow, once a pillowy paradise, quickly turned into father winter's comedy of errors. But I learned... to fall less and less until there was more and more actual snowboarding.
Halfway down the mountain was a bar serving mulled wine and meat pies. Mmm, "m" words. In the late afternoon, Sachi and Kim played their guitars there while singing. This is known as a concert, gig, or show. The after-party reached a peak when we locked the Aussie bartender out of his own bar and took pictures behind the counter. It was no coincidence we were asked to leave shortly afterward. He was cool about it, though. No worries.
This weekend was the annual Nagano ski and snowboarding trip, and the English teachers of Yamanashi made an exodus for the mountains of Hakuba. The caravan began in Kofu, reaching the Lady Diana and St. George hotel around 23:00.
On the way, we encountered the strangest of oasii [sic], a rest area with not only soap but warm water for washing hands. I have been holding off on mentioning what I will now mention, but Japan is a big proponent of the 'grin and bear it' theory. Houses are built with no insulation or central heat, but you grin and bear it and turn on your kerosene heater. The kerosene fumes can be toxic without the proper ventilation, so you must keep your windows open while the heater is on. In most sinks, the water is whatever the temperature the pipes are, so you wash your freezing hands and face with freezing water. The availability of soap can vary from place to place, but it's not uncommon to do your business, freeze your dis-disinfected hands, then have no way to dry them. Shake, shake, shake. Wipe on pants.
Sometimes you get to combine the 'grin and bear it' theory with the 'we are all suffering theory,' meaning a room full of teachers with cold bento lunches will eat their food cold rather than go through the inconvenience and red tape of every single teacher taking a turn with the microwave. At least we have soap in our bathrooms.
Back to Nagano. The great thing about these big events is that they often bring people out of the wood or mountainworks. The prefecture is filled with lovely people, yet you don't always see them for various reasons. Nancy and Jessica, for example, invite each other over to their respective homes in Fujiyoshida and sit in the same room on their computers typing 'lol's and 'omg's to each other over the internet. That's what you do, right?
I often joke with Charlotte that she is overly concerned, obsessed even, with the things that I do. After I had sarcastically boasted of my snowboarding prowess (before even seeing a snowboard), she proceeded to draw a picture of me upside down in the snow while vomiting peas, of all things. Other people seemed to be really concerned with my attire for the night, as Seth immediately yelled "What are you wearing?!" when I removed my coat. Lee asked if I had "come directly from work," before the argument arose of whether my sweater looked more Cosby or Mr. Roger's. My shrinking self-esteem put me right to sleep.
I picked up my rental gear the next morning. My snowboard had a picture of a clown on the front and a picture of JESUS on the back. With him on my side, I was ready to hit the slopes. And hit them I did, falling backward, falling forward, spinning and then falling. I never managed to land completely upside down (as Charlotte had foretold), but snow, once a pillowy paradise, quickly turned into father winter's comedy of errors. But I learned... to fall less and less until there was more and more actual snowboarding.
Halfway down the mountain was a bar serving mulled wine and meat pies. Mmm, "m" words. In the late afternoon, Sachi and Kim played their guitars there while singing. This is known as a concert, gig, or show. The after-party reached a peak when we locked the Aussie bartender out of his own bar and took pictures behind the counter. It was no coincidence we were asked to leave shortly afterward. He was cool about it, though. No worries.
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