I Do Judo

My promotion has been a long time in the coming.

Much too long in fact.

I have been nestled in the bosom of my fair maiden Japan since August and just only this past week has my inspired brilliance and general perspicacity received the recognition that it rightly deserves.

I naturally assumed that after a month of working as a teacher I would be invited to be principal of the school. At first I would play coy and politely refuse their offer, as is the Japanese way, but after a second bout of pleadings and threats of hari-kari by teachers and students alike I would ascend to principaldom as so befits my lineage. Much to my dismay, these dreams of grandeur have proven elusive.

However, as of this week I am no longer just Tomu, English Teacher Extraordinaire, but have been also preferred to the post of Judo Throwing Dummy. After making the hesitant decision to join my school's judo club, I found that I have quite a knack for being tossed into the air and landing with a thud. My judo sensei was quick to notice my adeptness at soaring Concord-like at the hands of my opponents and so invited to partake in gym class with my first-year students.

Working with the first-year students was actually a nice change from working out with the judo club. The club comprises two members, one weighing in at 200 lbs. and the other at 250 lbs., both of whom are blackbelts. Needless to say, my efforts to knock either of these boys down is akin to using a swiss army knife to hack down a giant sequoia. The first-year students, on the other hand, have had only 3 hours of judo training and weigh about half of what the club members do. In other words, I got to lay a smackdown on my students on the school's time. Pretty nifty, eh?

Anyhow, after two weeks of practice my body and every muscle in it is in a considerable amount of pain. As most people don't know what judo looks like, I found a video on YouTube to illustrate what exactly it is I am doing. Enjoy:

Winter Vacation, Shikoku Style

Contemplating life in the mountains of Shikoku.

Sleeping quarters on the ferry to Shikoku.
You are allowed use of only one mattress ( 1 matress = 1/2 American).

Salted fish on a stick is a delicacy of Shikoku.

Tomu enjoying the rice balls cooking next to the salted fish on a stick.

A samurai house.
We drove a half hour up a twisting, single lane mountain road to find that
it is closed to tours until March AND no samurai live there anymore. WTF?

At the samurai house there was a sign talking about a Shinto shrine just 15 minutes into the woods.
A 25 minute walk up a snowy mountain, we were a bit disappointed to find
that I had misread the sign and that it must have said Shinto shack.
However precariously placed firewood is rather interesting.

The boat we took on a ride down a pretty sweetass river valley.
(Notice the tables on the boat. They have heaters underneath them - absurdly cozy)



Burger and Tomu on boat ride in said sweetass river valley.

A cable car ride down the side of a mountain to the hot spring bath below.

A particularly classy Buddha we saw passing through a little town in Tokushima Prefecture.
We are told the style is Early Ronald McDonald.

A nifty little riverside town.

I am aware that this picture is not that good,
but I could not pass up a pic in front of 24-hour rice vending machines.





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It's Christmas Time in Oita

As it would turn out, the JET community has the ability to come together for a purpose other than getting completely blitzed together on the weekend. It seems that on occasion we can come together for real, honest, purposeful activites. Take for example, last Sunday. A fellow Oita JET arranged for a fairly large group to go to a local orphanage for the day and spread some Christmas cheer in the form of crafts, games, and Christmas carols. And, because no Christmas cheer-spreading would be complete without it, Santa paid the kids a visit.

To facilitate our merrymaking, the kids were divided up into age groups.When I found out I was placed with a group of kids ranging from 0-6 years old, I will confess that I was more than a little bit nervous. What if I accidentally stepped on one? What if they peed on me? Do I look like the kind of guy who is good with young children? NOOO. However, two second after meeting them, I learned the joy of becoming a human jungle gym. For the next 4 hours I had kids crawling all over me. I must admit that although I'm not a huge fan of kids, these were some of the cutest kids I had ever seen (please see the pictures of my two favorite munchkins).

As for the orphanage itself, I was surprised at how immaculate it was. I do believe that if they started renting out rooms, I would be the first in line. When I hear the word orphanage I conjure up images of Annie and showed up there expecting to see shackles and whipping posts scattered about the grounds. Much to the contrary, the facilities were, in a word, lux. The orphanage had a full size gymnasium, a video/computer room, and dorm-style bedrooms that were way nicer that the dorms at SLU. Though it is still sad to think that these kids don't have families it is comforting to know that they are so well taken care of.

In other Oita christmas news, the Burger-chan and I have bought a most gorgeous fake Christmas tree. We lucked out because we were able to snag the last 60cm model in the store, which happened to be the display model. Rather than boxing it up, the clerk took the more Japanese route and put are pre-decorated tree and put in a bag and gave us the box to take home seperately. The decorations that came with the tree were very... interesting. It appears that the tree was decorated in the motif of Early White Trash. Only pictures can tell the whole story:

Before
(straight out of an Arkansas trailer park)

After

(If it were a little bigger, it would proabably
be making its way to Rockefeller Center)

Until next time... I hope you are having a wonderful holiday season!

Take me out to the ball game

"Do you have plans on Sunday," asks my supervisor who is also my high school's assistant baseball coach.

"No I do not," says I.

"Do you want to come to our baseball game."

"Yes. Where is it?"

"It is quite far away. I will pick you up Sunday at 7:30 in the morning. Do you have a glove?"

"No."

"Ok then. Here is a number to put on your back. I will see you Sunday morning."


After reading the above conversation, what do you think will I be doing on Sunday morning? Select from the choices below:

A) You will be going to watch a high school baseball game and
perhaps throwing some balls around with the students.

B) You will be going to a high school baseball game and acting as
the 1st base coach.

C) Other____________

If you answered a, as did I, you would be completely, utterly mistaken.

If you answered b, you would be equally as wrong.

However, if you answered c and filled the blank in with the sentence, "You will be going to and playing in an all-day baseball tournament for teachers, many of whom played baseball in high school and presently participate in local adult teams, and compared to whom you are completely worthless as a player so we are not exactly sure why you got invited but you did so try your best even though it will still be ugly," you would be spot on. And such was my Sunday.


In truth the games weren't that eventful. I spent a good part of my day standing in right field, strategically placed so that very few balls would come my way. Though we in fact lost our first game, we managed to finangle our way into the second round because the team we played against had lots of high schoolers on it because the team was short on teachers. Our second match was some three hours later and we won 7-4. Boo yah! (sp?). This victory of course means that I can not retire my bat and cleats for good because in a few weeks we must return to play in the championship. You can only imagine what bliss I am in.

On the bright side of this, there will be at least one drinking party to celebrate our victories on Sunday and another to generally celebrate going to the championship. So, until next time... batters up!

How to Spot a Foreigner in Japan

One would expect that it would be my white skin or the enormity of my
nose that makes me stand out in Japan. And while those features do indeed contribute a great deal in my conspicuousness, it is my ineptitude in the subtleties of Japanese life that betray my gaijiness even when I am not around.

Case in point: I was working out at the gym a few days ago and a woman came up and asked me if I was airing out my futon that day.

Somewhat surprised I said, "Why yes indeed I am good Madam" (in short bus Japanese of course).

To this she responded, "I thought that was your house. A Japanese would never air out their futon on a day like today."

Apparently, there are certain types of weather in which, no matter how skanky your futon is, you simply do no air it out. One might think that if they rain lets up for only one day out of nine, you should take advantage of that one day. One would be mistaken. It turns out that humidity, to the same extent as rain, factors into a Japanese's decision to deskankify their futons. No guidebook would ever tell you this.

So, now not knowing exactly what to write, I will tie this blog up into a nice tidy bundle and provide you with a take home message. The moral of today's blog is:

When in Rome, carry a barometer.