Once A Spring

There is little else better in life than to tell a true story whilst being idle on a stormy day.

Spring

     Yesterday, Tottori Bokujou was the picture of spring. The gnarled roots of cherry trees gave way to twisting branches which reached across from either side of a small road and created the most brilliant mixture of soft pink and white flowers, gently bobbing in the all too pleasant breeze that followed us. I had stopped in the shadow of one such tree; blossoms within reach dangled over the car. A few other patrons were parked along this strip, blankets out, food at the ready, perhaps already a few drinks in, enjoying the company of friends in mirth.
     After exiting, I threw on my gear (for there would be pictures) and as I walked away to commence my Hanami, a man came from the next picnic spot over and struck up a conversation with me. He first noted that he had a similar camera, and we talked about that for a minute. Then we went into a few minutes of small talk about various things from the weather to the flowers. He paused abruptly through one thought and asked, "Haven't I seen you on TV?"
      I thought for a second, "Maybe, I'm the ALT at the junior high school. Sometimes I'm on TV, I think." His eyes widened, but I could see that my answer only sparked more curiosity. I followed up, "I teach English." That did the trick.
     "You're not Japanese!?" He took a step back in surprise. "This whole time I thought you were Japanese!" He stepped back further then examined me in full. My mere presence was blowing his mind. I informed him that my grandma is Japanese so that probably helped a bit. He made a pinching gesture and brought that to his eyes before explaining that mine fit his template. I laughed a bit.
     "I'm from California." I explained. I'm not entirely sure he heard me amidst his bewilderment as he asked about my origins immediately after that.
     "Where are you from?"* He inquired. I explained again.
     "America," which I followed up by returning to Japanese, "アメリカのカリフォルニア出身です."He was awash in excitement telling me how much I looked and sounded Japanese. Around that time, Mitsuko walked from the other side of the car - having been busy organizing Koebi and her own camera. I could nearly hear the man's heart palpitations at the sight of someone else, possibly Japanese, literally turning the corner on him. He asked about her and we explained Mitsuko's case as well. He looked at her a bit too long before saying she was cute (thank you, I know, less creepy next time though!) but ultimately redeemed himself at the end when asking me to speak a little of English. It seemed to make him happy, which was a bit endearing to be honest. Eventually he shook my hand and said his goodbye.


And we still had Hanami to do.

-J

* Asking where a person is from comes in various flavors. Sometimes it might be more like, "どこから来ましたか？" (Doko kara kimashita ka? lit. From where do you come?). Other times it's quite direct in their assumption that you are not from Japan, which leads to being directly asked, "What country are you from?" though I'm not sure how common or polite that is. Yet another way though (and the way this man asked me) goes like, "どこの出身ですか？" (Doko no shusshin desu ka? lit. Where is your origin?). It really only translates as "Where are you from?" but there's something far less presumptuous and poetic about it. It's a common phrase, but it feels more like the way we (in English, that is) might ask where one hails from.
    

Fare Thee Well

Episode 09 - Yakult

After a long break we're back... or I am. Mitsuko is back in Kofu right now so this week is just me. On today's episode I share the story of my strange journey to Japan before being accepted into the JET programme, which includes onsens, and a bit of nudity. We also have special guests talk about what it was like leaving Japan, as well as what it's been like being back home.

Show Notes

First up is the Yakult. The journal entry I didn't read over the show is also depicted:

I wasn't joking, they're tiny!

From this older blog post:

http://theaeroplaneoverthesea.blogspot.jp/2012/08/arrival-recap-short-version.html

You can get a quick overview in pictures of my trip to Kofu as told in the story along with a picture of exactly where the bus dropped me off that one fateful morning.

Here's some pictures of David and Dale on the last night we were able to see them.:

David

Here's Dale on the left with Maria on the right:

A Baskin Robbins Send Off

Here's a group shot:

(From Left to Right: Maria, Dale, Mitsuko, Myself, Charlotte, Tom, and Dave the Tall)

Thank you guys for being awesome and some of the coolest people we've met ever - not just Japan. Thanks as well for letting me ruin your night of goodbyes with that interview!

I also want to through out a special thanks to Spencer Dillehay for contributing to this week's episode! You can check out his (excellently titled) blog of Japanese adventures right here:

How I Made My First Million

We wish all you guys nothing but the best!

We're on iTunes now so don't forget to subscribe!

As always if you have thoughts, comments, suggestions,

critiques, or maybe you want to find out how to be a guest on the show, send us an email at:

culturecafecast@gmail.com

-J

The Office Worker

Everyone is out practicing for Undoukai again.

A picture of the office for reference

     I hear a few voices from the office lady, the librarian, and another teacher, as they discuss matters in the room behind me. Only one of the two overhead fans is blowing, beneath which there is nary a soul. Atop my own desk sits a fan from the 100 yen shop that Mitsuko bought me some months ago; it hums as I type. To my left are windows which allow for a few faint rays of the already dimming sunshine into the staff room. Occasionally I hear the shuffling of shoes on carpet, heading to and fro, but I never turn to see who they belong to.
     My glasses rest atop my head leaving the rest of the room as a pastiche of color, shape, and silence. Strewn about my workspace are a phone with no messages, a bottle with no water, and a bag with its contents poured out. Among those items are two notebooks; one is filled with lessons, the other, notes on a book I'm reading. The one with book notes is open and yet I feel no desire to write anything presently.
     The printer whines as it spits out a single sheet of paper that no one retrieves. My head lifts slightly and I catch the sight of my Snoopy wood block calendar; it inaccurately shows that the day is Thursday the 11th. There are four blocks - two for digits and two with images along with abbreviated days. Snoopy wears a look of consternation, or at least he did for the 11th.
     Out of nowhere teachers return and like a parade that suddenly turns a corner into an unsuspecting street the staffroom becomes lively around me - my gaze remaining fixed on the screen. It is only at this point that I notice the lights were off the entire time.  They thank one another for their hard work and I pray in silence that no one passes along similar sentiments to me. I was not a part of anything that would deserve praise.
     And like that - they're gone.

-J