Fuji Summer, Again

You know the saying, "When the cat's away, the mice will play?" For a high school in Japan, it should go more like this: "When the cat's away and the mice are sweating like pigs, they all get to stick their heads in the freezer."

It's extremely humid, the way that makes you feel dirty after stepping out of the shower and that leaves your clothes constantly damp and stuck to your skin. Contrary to my tennis coach's recommendations to spend time sans AC and "climatize," or get used to the hot weather, nobody can adjust to humidity. Japanese people complain about it more than I do! So when the principal and both vice-principals went out of town yesterday for a business trip, the air conditioner suddenly came alive. It pounded out dry, icy air like I've never seen before in Japan. I forgot that the AC existed in the teachers' room, because last summer it was never used. But with no one to monitor school expenses, that baby was on full blast.

Which brings me to yet another thing I never believed I would believe before coming to Japan: I didn't want the AC on!! It was assaulting. It was like a snow monster came at the most inappropriate time to freeze us all out. My initial, 2-second relief was followed by a sensation that this cold air just didn't "fit." It was too much in contrast to the outside and, since I haven't been in such heavy AC for a year, I could feel my body trying to deal with the change. I'm not saying I don't need an air conditioner, but I am saying I don't need it on as high as I thought. When your body just surrenders to the seasons, it does feel like a more natural and comforting environment, even if it means you're sweating in work clothes.

Well, as long as you're not sweating too much. Not visibly, anyway. It's just that time of year called "summer," you know? We deal with it.

Today marks the start of exam week and my kids don't take the English test until tomorrow. That means I have free time until they finish and I am suddenly responsible for grading 400 papers. But I have plenty to do: I'm writing people I know in France to let them know I'll be there again, and I'm starting my goodbye speech for the school's closing ceremony. The letters are in far-from-perfect French, and the speech is in far-from-fluent Japanese. Of course, the speech is completely riddled with mistakes. But I can't tell you how happy it makes me to realize in hindsight that in the past couple days I've been using 3 languages to go about my business. I'm not saying I'm good at it, but for some reason it was always a dream of mine to be able to use 3 languages at once. Now that I'm doing it I can't tell you how satisfied it makes me feel.

Totally satisfied, until I remember how hot it is; until I have to peel the skirt away from my legs when I leave the computer, because in the meantime it has welded to me like saran wrap.

Cafe Break 2 - The Fantasy Shapes Up

Since I don't know how to insert links to old posts, I've reposted one below from many months ago (in quotations so you know it's not current). I'm doing this because I find it amusing. A year in Japan has taught me many things, and the old fantasy has since gone through some restructuring.

Before that -- In another post I made some hideous generalization to the effect of, "love doesn't exist in Japan." But recently the truth of the Japanese love story hit me like a smack across the face. How's this for a paradox: it's not that love doesn't exist in Japan. It's that the Japanese version of love exists when people want to love each other, but can't. Be it unrequited or star-crossed, "Japanese love" is desire that cannot actually be realized. So if you want to argue that yes, the Japanese do believe in love, I might have to agree with you. But if the only passion is the kind that can't actually happen...does that really count? If "love" is what occurs between two people who share one dream but cannot actually make it come true, is that really the same thing? Seems to me like this phenomenon should have another name. Something more along the lines of "shit happening" or "it's never enough" or "we tried but it was just too hard so life conquered our love instead." The two people who want to be together most certainly would not hesitate to call it "love," even though it was broken from the beginning. I can speak from experience, so I guess I must give this disappointing-yet-classic Japanese version some credit. Still, they ought to call it something else.

Here's the old post, and after, I'll talk about what has changed. If you've been following my blog I hope this gives you a good chuckle.

"I just received my recontracting papers in the mail. In short, I must decide whether or not to leave Japan after one year, or stay for two. John, the other ALT, is decidedly staying for two. I was discussing with him the possibility of leaving after only one year, telling him about my goals for Japan and my goals for the rest of my life. After hitting on many subjects, most of which were not related to love or romance, he snickered, turned his head to one side, looked at me shrewdly from the corner of his eyes and said accusingly, "You just want to get married."

I don't remember how I responded, but I can promise you, I was pissed off.

First of all, why does he say it like he's accusing me of something? Most guys act like this, and many women do, too: it's wrong, weak, old-fashioned, dependent, unadventurous and shrewish to desire marriage. Not to mention, everyone knows that marriage is a trap into which all women try to lure all unsuspecting men, with the single goal of making them feel miserable, trapped, and bored for the rest of their lives. In my experience, all guys seem to think all women want this. Guys want to sleep with you, and they have no qualms voicing these desires. But if you let on that what you prefer to a string of meaningless, soon-to-be-boring-if-not-confusing hookups is a real, intimate and fulfulling relationship with one person...well then by God, "you just want to get maried," and men should avoid you and your traps at all costs.

Second, what John "accused" me of is simply not true. My young-womanhood fantasy does not involve me running back to the US, spending my spare time curling my hair and reading Cosmo, desperately bar- and/or church-hopping to find Mr. Right, who will then propose to me and solve all my "single gal problems." No. Listen-up, fellas, this is what I really want. This is my fantasy:

I will live not under the same roof as my boyfriend, but alone. I will happily and ambitiously pursue my dream job as a successful novelist and creator of "real literature." I will get regular exercise and be a fantastic cook. Then, unexpectedly and without trying, I will meet a man and we will fall madly in love. He, in turn, will live alone, and he will also ambitiously pursue his dream-job that allows him to be financially independent. He will have his circle of guy friends with whom he can go out drinking, bowling, rock-climbing, or whatever it is he enjoys doing. And I of course will have my circle of girl friends, with whom I can talk about everything, shop, exchange cooking recipes and yoga routines. Our lives will be exciting with the security and comfort of knowing that my significant other is there for me. And I, in turn, will be there for him. We will spend our time together relaxing by visiting museums, going hiking, checking out new restaurants and bars, having intellectual discussions, watching college basketball, going on romantic picnics, reading in parks, playing tennis, going to hear quartets, staying on the couch all night to watch movies, grilling steaks and drinking red wine. Sometimes we'll cook together and then do dishes together. But the laundry, the vacuuming, the picking-up and the money-earning will be done on our own, independently, because we ultimately live in our own spaces. We'll have the comfort of loving and being loved enough to marry the other person, but we will also have the freedom and the space necessary to be truly happy in such a close, committed relationship if we are not actually married.

Then maybe, when I'm about 30, I'd like to marry this man, and take a brief hiatus from my career to raise our two beautiful children. I refuse to be one of those women who insists she can "have it all" and do everything at once, because that just triples her workload and makes her more tired, stressed, resentful, and frazzled than I ever care to be. One thing at a time, and I will make the most of everything.

Happily unwed until the day that I am wed.

PS -- There is nothing in here to suggest I cannot have all this with a man I've already met."

What Has Changed:

• Though I will always be passionate about writing (there's just no choice in that matter), the dream job has morphed into an idea I've kept close to me all along. This means that instead of returning to America, I'll move to France for a year.
• Ideally, I'd like to get married sooner than later. And that's all I mean. You can't force anything and I don't intend to. But I realize that the more I learn about myself, the more comfortable I become with the idea of "settling down."

What Has Remained the Same:

• I still think your own space is necessary unless you are going to marry someone. I imagine cohabitation requires tons of commitment and sacrifice, and I'm only interested in giving up my autonomy if it is a means to an end -- if there's a shared vision of a life together past the cohabitation step. Otherwise, it just feels like too much compromise too early.
• There will be no bar-hopping or Cosmo-reading.
• I still don't think the best way to happiness is trying to "have it all." I want to lead a peaceful, purposeful life, not a frazzled one in which I've tried to cram too much.

I hope that this time in Japan has made me less naive and more independent. I hope it has given me a clearer vision of what I need to be content. I think I've learned quite a bit, and for that I have many people to thank. :) Unlike one of my favorite professors, at age 23 I'm not daydreaming of "a man, a house, and a child" yet, but I can feel myself getting closer. I'm just paying attention to my cards and playing the best hand I know how.

Cafe Break

Suddenly, I have a lot to say. Everything I've been observing in Japan and everything going on in my own life is suddenly coming together. I feel like I'm seeing things I didn't see before. It's enough to keep a girl in a coffee shop for at least a few days straight.

Of all the things I struggled with in Japan, by far the most confusing, sensitive, and shrouded topic is love. I'm still trying to understand it but I am beginning to get the hang of things. Much more on that later.

For now, here's a list of things I NEVER BELIEVED I WOULD BELIEVE OR DO before I came to this country:

• try, much less enjoy and repeatedly attend, a public bath. I never, ever would have considered even the possibility of doing this before Japan.
• want to eat sticky white rice and gooey fermented soybeans for breakfast
• spend 3 dollars on one peach
• teach (Hah! Believe it or not! But sometimes I REALLY love it)
• see any value or merit in an arranged marriage. Now I think I GET it, and simply understanding those values is scary.
• prefer to sit on the floor
• dream in broken Japanese with an albeit very limited vocabulary
• meditate in a temple under the rule of a man with a giant stick
• be so fascinated by bugs and plants I've never seen before

Really, though, the most shocking one is the first one on the list. Right? Would you ever imagine you could feel comfortable bathing and lounging around totally naked in front of 80 other people who are also completely naked? But trust me -- writing it and reading it sounds MUCH more awkward than it actually feels.

Also, I want to revisit two old posts and re-think the way I see Japan in light of my own views. Or perhaps, the way I see myself in light of Japan. Everything is basically summarized by this poem (so the second post will come later):

By the time you swear you're his,
Shivering and sighing
And he swears his passion is
Infinite, undying --
Lady, make a note of this:
One of you is lying.

--Dorothy Parker

And don't give me any of that boo hoo, isn't she cynical. The truth is I am quite the romantic. It's just that my timeline is different. I don't believe in anything fiery lasting. That doesn't mean it wasn't beautiful and completely real. But in order to keep the whole universe going, everything with energy has a life span. If you burn brighter then most likely you will burn out faster, simple as that. I mean this about all things, like when my brother and I stood in my bedroom, doubled over in hysterics because of the crazy way our dog was running circles on my bed. I never thought an animal could bring so much pure joy into a home. And when I stepped back from that picture and looked at my brother with tears in our eyes from laughing so hard, my insides felt a little reverent, because I thought, "Anything this amazing is not going to last. This little thing is going to use up her energy and leave us sooner than we want." And sadly, that is what happened. I was overcome with grief when she prematurely passed away, but I couldn't ignore the fact that I had sensed it would be that way all along.

Yet you don't have to stop there and be cynical. You have to see everything in terms of your own big picture. It's not cynical to say that the most beautiful things have the shortest life spans. (In fact, it's very Japanese. It's why the cherry blossoms, which last only about one week, are so loved and celebrated.) Instead, you have to look at the good things and tell youself, "Look what I got to experience. Look what happened in my lifetime. Look how lucky I am to have had that at one point."

It doesn't MATTER that it's gone, because you HAD it. In reality you can't own or control or keep or protect anything. So when people ask themselves, or ask others, "What happened? Where did it go wrong? How did you lose it? Why did it stop? What screwed it up??," and they struggle to understand why they couldn't hold on to something, the real question should be, "Why on earth did you think it would last?"

And that, my friends, is very romantic.

Blurring That Line

You know, the one between fate and chance. I shuffle between the two, usually clinging to the fence and declaring the events in my life "a lax version of destiny" or "a major version of coincidence." By now my arms are getting tired because I find myself once again holding fast to that line.

My mother told me about a dream my grandmother had right after I was born. I was only a few days old, but in the dream, my grandmother phoned my house asking to speak with me. "Oh, I'm sorry," my mom replied. "She's in the south of France."

And then we would all laugh like it was the wackiest thought to ever enter a grandmother's brain just days after her granddaughter was born.

With no particular prompting, this memory came back to me long after it had faded from conversation and my short-term memory. So I ask you, is it fate? Coincidence? Or is my grandmother hiding some special powers? (Read "What's Next" for an update if you're confused.)

I shouldn't let this go to waste! Manana, when I was born, did you ever dream about where I'd settle? Or who I'd marry ?

Sing Us a Song

In 10th grade I was thrilled to land a role in a musical production of Sleeping Beauty. I was the queen, which meant I had a lot of speaking parts, but mainly, I had to sing. Where this came from, I have no idea. After the show my brother told me his friend leaned over to him and said, "I didn't know your sister could sing," to which my brother replied, "I didn't either."

That's because really, I can't. I lucked out with that part and did a good job because it didn't require much of a range. I'm a pretty good actress, but in general I am not a singer. So you can imagine the sharp increase in my blood pressure when a teacher said to me at 8am this morning,

"On Friday I would like you to give a farewell speech to the students, and I would like you to sing Sakura. If you sing it I think students will be very impressed."

Sakura is a traditional Japanese song with a very haunting melody. I learned how to play the intro on a Japanese harp, but I wanted to learn the words so I could sing it when I left Japan. (So I could sing it to myself.) The teacher was happy to write down all the lyrics and sing it with me a couple times so I'd get the hang of things. Sakura's mysterious, lullaby-esque melody forces me to duck my chin in a most unflattering way just to produce some of the sounds. Basically, I can't sing it. So I was quite surprised by the request.

Belting out maternal concern to Sleeping Beauty in front of 1,000 people I can't see due to spotlights is VERY different from eeking out a delicate Japanese melody solo in the intimacy of a classroom. No, no, no. I'll do the speech, but as for the song, I refused in the nicest but firmest way possible.

The teacher was very disappointed, but if I had agreed, I'm sure her disappointment would have been greater. :) Sometimes it's best to quit while you're ahead.

What's Next

To all the people who have asked, and to all those who have wondered but have not asked for fear of stressing a girl out, thank you for caring. Now I can finally share my plans for after Japan. (I want to maintain the blog, though I might change the title...details to come later.)

I leave Japan at the end of July and will return home. (Yay home!) From there I plan to see lots of people I have missed during my year in Japan, write about Japan, rest and ward off reverse culture shock, exercise, and work to save some money. In September, I'll move to France in pursuit of my dream job. Remember in February I quoted my friend Doug, who said, "It's time to chase my dreams somewhere else"? Well, I was lucky enough to have that chance. I'll be attending The Fragrance Academy (at Groupe ISIPCA) outside of Paris to study perfume -- how to make it, modern industry, advertising, chemical regulations, etc. -- in short, everything you can think of related to the production of fragrance.

So, how did I get here? I studied French, I didn't let go when people said it was frivolous, I went to France for access to perfume factories and other sources of information, I read and read and read, and I applied to the school from Japan. (Thank you to family and friends for all your support!) Maybe you are wondering "Why?" but the simplest answer is, "Because." How can you really explain why you love someone? It's the same feeling. I can talk about the comfort I feel even now when I smell perfume my mom wore 18 years ago; the first bottle my grandmother ever gave me; how it's such a romantic blend of science and technology and art and nature and beauty and history and the modern world; how when I baby-sat I deliberately wore the same perfume every time so the child would feel like he knew me; how I find neuroscience and our not-yet-understood sense of smell so fascinating that it makes my heart rate increase; how when I've changed or learned something important, I have to change perfumes because all the memories associated with one scent just don't feel like the right 'me' anymore; I can talk about how I get excited when I know who was in a room before I was; how dogs can "sniff out" cancer; how of all the senses, olfaction is the most instantaneous, the most entangled with learning and memory and identity, the most heart-wrenching, the most crucial to our evolution and survival as a species, the most mysterious. So, why do I want to study variations of a liquid mix of chemicals that is the most marked-up commodity on the market?

Because.

I'm a little scared. I'm incredibly excited. I have many mixed emotions regarding being away (from the US) for another year. I'm so excited to live in France another time and brush up my French and get to know life there again. I regret that everybody I love can't be in the same place. I'm sad to leave friends in Japan because I know in France they are much more difficult to come by. Japanese culture extended vines of friendship that rooted somewhere in me to make me feel warm and safe and secure. France is not like that. But I do have some connections there, including a friend my age from Duke, a kind host family, a fantastic friend from my internship who married and settled in Paris, a fabulous conductor who is often in the area...so I won't be unaccounted for.

Let's not forget the most important part. I'm going to France for a year to spend 6 hours a day, 5 days a week, studying something I thought was too ephemeral and romantic to be within reach as a career. Because I'm trying to grasp that doesn't mean that I will miss you any less.

It also doesn't mean that I'll stop writing. So stay tuned. :)

Reminders

Even if things are going so badly, by keeping your eyes and heart open, you will be reminded of the ways things can go so well. If you stay receptive, you will receive. And eventually you can find the courage to give back.

I had to teach my students that "taco" in English and Spanish is different from taco in Japanese (here it means "octopus.") One taco I like, the other taco not so much. After class, a teacher asked me, "What food from America do you miss the most?" Without hesitation, I answered, "Mexican." (Luckily, there is delicious and affordable Indian food not too far away.) Then this morning, the teacher swung over to my desk with a big yellow box. It was a taco kit--not of the seafood variety--complete with corn tortillas, sauce, and spices. "For ME?" I asked, wide-eyed. He just smiled and walked away.

In my senior English class, students have to write and present short speeches. I always encourage them to be creative and dare to be the nail that sticks out, because I promise that they won't be hammered down in my class.** One student spoke about why he wanted to be like a bean sprout. This was daring because the Japanese word for bean sprout has the diminuitive -ko added to the end. Ko means "child," and is unfortunately common in female names. But anyway, the student said that because of the bean sprout's name and size, it is easily made fun of and overlooked. It's a shrimp of a vegetable. But, he said, when cooked in stir-fry with other vegetables, it's the only one that remains crisp. It remains strong and true to its original form, despite the heat and the blending with other ingredients. Though it may rank low in the vegetable world, the student said he wanted to be "a bean sprout person," and stay strong. His 2-minute speech lifted me.

Today, it wasn't easy for me to face a class of 42 freshman, all expecting their young teacher to dish out educational entertainment for an hour. As class began I turned my back to write on the board, and when I returned to face the class, something caught my eye and made me stop mid-sentence. Suddenly perched on my desk were 15 TINY origami frogs, each colored differently, each gazing up at me with its own quirky, endearing, penciled-on smile. They were innocent, joyful little creatures, happy for no reason at all. I couldn't hide my delight, or my surprise at my own sudden happiness. For a second everything faded away and I felt nothing but joy as a boy in the front row gingerly pushed them forward as a gift. I was so touched in that moment that I burst into Japanese, much to the delight of my students, who have only heard me speak English. "How cute!" I laughed. "Are those really for me? Thank you so much!!" I can't look at them without smiling, just because.

And then somehow I realized, the way to give back to people who give you so much, is to just be happy to be with them. As Mother Teresa said, "We cannot do great things, only small things with great love." Sometimes people can do great things, but to get you through day-to-day life, the small things make such a huge difference.

Nikko

Sorry for the delay, but here are pictures of Nikko, a beautiful little mountain town stuffed with temples that I visited with my parents. It's famous for the 3 "evil" monkeys, that is, "Hear No Evil, Speak No Evil, See No Evil." The bridge was pretty nice, too.

Amateur Origami-er

I'm visiting Mayumi's family next weekend to say goodbye, and I wanted to leave them something a *little* better than a bottle of sake. I don't know how much better this is, but at least it was something that required a few hours of effort. Those folds have to be exact! When it's not up against a white door (for a solid photo background) it will hang freely like a mobile.

"Delighted" is an Understatement

Besides balmy sunsets and soothing percussion to help you sleep--the sound of rain to me is like massaging warm oil into a brittle soul--the rainy season in Japan brings two more good things: 1) tons of pink flowers, in multiple shades and varieties, and 2) the frogs. I was so happy to have finally heard frogs, I actually clapped with excitement. I couldn't walk with Meegan without stopping to catch at least five of them. Their croaking reminds me of home, and the little ones are so much fun to play with. When Meegan showed me these pictures she had taken the day before, I was so mad that I hadn't brought my own camera. Perhaps it's cliché, but this was not a set-up, and it makes me so happy. And yes, I had to show you four.

No Samurai Swords or Cigarettes, Please

When you're raised in America, spend time in France, and live in Japan for a year, one thing is certain: nobody knows romance like America.

Surprised? French romance might look good in black and white, but film noir will never speak to me like The Notebook. Romance in Japan, from my perspective, has yet to debut. This is a whole other ballgame I have yet to write about seriously or respectfully, a project I plan to tackle soon. But if you try to unlock the doors to what we call "love" in Japan, you can quickly become jaded. Unless, of course, jealous servants to the emperor, suicides, forbidden and unrequited love, or comic book porn fits your ideas of romance.* I prefer the more wholesome American kind, the difficult, innocent, infuriating, passionate, unending, fateful, star-crossed-with-happy-endings kind. I'm not even a big chick-flick fan, but The Notebook stole my heart. Here's why:

Allie: Stay with you? What for? Look at us, we're already fighting!
Noah: Well that's what we do, we fight. You tell me when I'm being an arrogant son of a bitch and I tell you when you're a pain in the ass. Which you are, 99% of the time. I'm not afraid to hurt your feelings. You have like a 2 second rebound rate, then you're back doing the next pain-in-the-ass thing.
Allie: So what?
Noah: So it's not gonna be easy. It's gonna be really hard. We're gonna have to work at this every day, but I want to do that because I want you. I want all of you, for ever, you and me, every day. Will you do something for me, please? Just picture your life for me? 30 years from now, 40 years from now. What's it look like? If it's with him, go. Go! I lost you once, I think I can do it again. If I thought that's what you really wanted. But don't you take the easy way out.

* * *

No samurai or cigarettes. Just two people fighting about how they want to love each other despite everything else. It's enough to sweep a girl off her feet.


* I haven't seen Memoires of a Geisha yet, but I can't wait to watch it and compare it to what I've learned in Japan. Many years ago I liked the book, but I have a feeling the movie will bring a different reaction.

Disclaimer

I just want to apologize to people I have hurt or confused with my posts. A few of you have said something to me, but I assume that means at least 10 more people have misunderstood. Please know that I say everything with the best intentions, or if I'm being sarcastic, I assume it's obvious.

Straw Exit

Today I'm here to tell you about 2 of Japan's less-discussed conveniences: the 7-11, and the juice box.

7-11 and other convenience stores cover every block of Japan. You know you're in the middle of nowhere when you walk for 60 seconds yet see no Family Mart in your field of vision. Unlike American quick-stops, Japanese ones offer a range of healthy and unhealthy foods, spare toiletries, cheap underwear (?), office supplies, wedding and funeral cards, DVDs, beauty products, appropriate and inappropriate magazines, a mini coffee bar, and (my favorite) raw purple octupus tentacles on sticks.

They also offer juice boxes. However, Japan fills these cardboard portables with many things besides fruity sugar water: milk, watered-down yogurt, iced black coffee, sugared coffee, English milk tea, bubble tea, plum wine, rice wine, wine coolers. Silly American, juice boxes are not just for kids!

The most amusing part is that, no matter what's in the box, they all come with straws. On every box there's a little foil circle labeled "Straw Exit." At least, this is the literal translation. Perhaps the Japanese word for "exit" also means "entrance," but for some reason every time I read a juice box that says "Straw Exit," I crack up. Be they convenient, juice boxes are really quite complex.

Couldn't Help It

Outside what I affectionately call "The Kill Bill restaurant," known in Tokyo as "Gonpachi." (It inspired Tarantino during the set-building of some of my favorite movies.) Never mind that the photo is horribly back-lit and blurry -- what a fabulous lunch.

How To

I'm sure you are wondering: what does a young woman, after almost one year of living alone in Japan with the freedoms and joys and responsibilities of paying her own bills, wanting to celebrate a Friday night alone in her own single apartment, working on a self-imposed budget, feeling too tired to cook, eat for dinner? What would make her feel relaxed and shrewd and lazy and satisfied and healthy and indulgent at the same time?

The answer to this question, which could serve you well on a similar night, is:

• edamame (boiled soy beans, green and popped right out of their skins, yum)
• imported chips and salsa (my little taste of home)
• cherry tomatoes and a raw carrot (sweet and crunchy goodness)
• 2 spoonfuls of peanut butter (must eat slowly for full effect)
• plum wine with a shot of sparkling water (Japanese, classy)
• green tea (much later when I'm feeling dehydrated from my 1 serving of alcohol)

Throw in a hot bath, some real peace and quiet, a little self-reflection, some promises to do better, an approaching weekend...and you've got yourself an evening that costs about 10 bucks (including the hot water!) but that will leave you feeling like a million.

Arthropods of Asia

Lunch break. I grabbed my wallet and skipped out of the locker room, on my way to the 7-11 for a rice ball, iced coffee, and origami paper. (Yes, you can find all this and more at your nearest Japanese convenient store). As I flipped down the stairs, I looked out the huge picture windows, hoping to discern Fujisan through the haze. No such luck. But what I did see made me gasp. One of those I-just-pulled-my-head-up-from-drowning gasps. One of those I-just-felt-the-air-knock-against-every-ribbed-ring-of-my-trachea gasps.

There, calmly and patiently beating the window in a hopeless attempt to escape, was the biggest mother of a hornet (or related insect) I have ever seen. It was literally four inches long and you could see every curve and outline of its segmented body from 20 feet away. Was that thing real? Was it supposed to be real? This wasn't something that actually lived and flew around my head, threatening a venom-induced death with one sideways prick. This was a prototype for a bug in "Honey I Shrunk the Kids." This was something you see in a natural history museum, stuck to the wall with a huge pin behind thick glass below a sign that declares, "ARTHROPODS FROM ASIA" and makes you shrug, "So basically, it's an alien."

Stuck behind glass, he was, but dead and securely glued to the wall, he was not. This guy was alive, he was real, he was right in front of my face, and I had to tell someone. I was so excited. The nearest person was the school gardener at the bottom of the stairs. He was arranging some flowers on a small table. I ran down the stairs and practically tackled him as I pointed frantically at the window. I yelled at the nice gardener man in informal Japanese.

"LOOK! IT'S VERY BIG! IT'S VERY BIG!"

The gardener looked up, eyed the bug without interest, smiled at me politely, turned back to his flowers and said,

"Yes. It's very big."

I stood there, confused.

"BUT IT'S VERY VERY BIG!" I yelled at him again. "SO BIG! WE DON'T HAVE THOSE IN AMERICA! THIS IS THE FIRST TIME I'VE SEEN ONE OF THOSE! IT'S VERY BIG!"

This time, without looking away from his flowers, the gardener smiled and said,

"Yes. It's very big."

I looked at him, incredulous. He must have seen a million of these things before, and the excitement--had it been there in the first place--must have worn off for him a long time ago.

"We don't have those in America," I repeated dumbly, and headed out the door. I floated to the 7-11, still amazed that bugs like that could exist on the same side of the glass as I.

As you have probably gathered from previous posts, I have a morbid, delightful fascination with bugs. I can't stand them, yet I can't stop talking about them. The first picture I ever drew, ever, was of a dead cicada I found in our driveway. I could never get his wings even and I remember agonizing over drawing them the same shape. But to no avail -- one wing was round and stubby, the other long and elliptical. Mom and Dad saved the picture anyway.

A dead bug does seem like an odd subject for a little girl's first work of art. How fitting that when I first came to Japan, a cicada was the first bug I encountered. As terrifyingly loud as they can be at night, I hope they come out again to yell at me in my tatami room before I leave Japan.

The Look

"the look...of love...is in...your eyes..."

Not quite.

I first heard that song on "Austin Powers," and I love it, but beyond those lyrics I know nothing about it.

After nearly one year of living as a minority in Japan, you start to take inventory of "the looks." By that I mean, the various expressions with which strangers check you out and make sweeping decisions about your character and your place in life after a 2-second glance. Sometimes they stare much longer than 2 seconds, but the judgment is clearly passed in 2 seconds or less. After thousands of strangers give you these looks, you start to become outside the outsider, or outside of yourself, and you see the entire situation from another point of view. You look for a way to amuse or entertain yourself while patiently enduring the gazes you can otherwise do nothing about. You start to notice a pattern. And then you start to categorize all the ways people see you before they know you.

• The Alien. What is that thing? I've never seen anything like that in my life. Is it hostile? What is it doing on my street? Should I be afraid? Can it eat rice? Has it heard of chopsticks?
• The Foreigner. Look at that girl, she is white, but does that mean she's from America or France or Brasil? I think Brasil. None of it really matters, because she's not Japanese. She is different, different, different. If I don't look at her maybe I can forget that she's different.
• The Invader. Foreigner. Damn foreigner. You don't belong here. Go back to wherever you came from.
• The New Species. Hmm, that's interesting. Don't see one of those every day. In fact it may be the first time I've ever seen one like that. Sure is interesting. Kind of nice to look at. I wonder what it eats. I wonder what happens when you poke it right there.
• The English Teacher. Ah, she must be an English teacher. Typical.
• The Exotic Babe. Whoa, a white chick. Dude. Whoa. A white chick. Do you have a boyfriend?
• The Princess. She is so white, it's like she's from a fairy tale. I can't believe people can have skin like that. She's so beautiful. I wish I had skin like that. She looks so refined.

I'm sure there are a few more that I'm forgetting...but when you hear people whisper as you walk by, or when they look at you so long and hard you think they've turned to stone, or when they take 1 second to decide they don't want to sit by you on the bus, language barriers and lack of words don't matter anymore. The messages are clear.

School Festival

Sorry I haven't updated lately but 2-months-in-advance departure preparations have made life hectic. I've been busy mailing boxes home, requesting return dates from the board of education, worrying about pension returns, compiling helpful information for my successor, etc. Nothing too exciting as of late.

However, it looks like somebody threw a party in my calendar -- almost every weekend is booked until my return to America: firefly festival with Mayumi, movie weekend with Meegan, dance performance with a teacher in Kyoto, perfume museum visit with me myself and I, a couple going-away parties, and the fastest-approaching: the 3-day school festival. It begins on Saturday and lasts until Monday, so I will be working through the weekend with regular work hours. (Luckily, pending rain changes, I will have Tuesday and Wednesday off). I'm really looking forward to the festival because the students have been preparing for MONTHS, and I'm excited about spending time with them outside the classroom. I should be tired but happy when that is all over, and hopefully students will feel the same.

Dan Is Coming to Visit - AGAIN!

On Sunday we'll meet in Tokyo and travel around a bit before coming back to Fuji. This time we hope to work in some karaoke, a fish market or two, and sushi -- there's a great conveyor-belt restaurant I want to take him to. I took the whole week off because the kids have exams and I wouldn't be teaching anyway. So this week I've been working overtime to complete everything ahead of schedule.

Between now and the time Dan arrives, I'll be summer-proofing my apartment again. It is slowly but surely getting warmer, wetter, and more humid. This means I have to re-vamp my closet fresheners and dehydrators to prevent my clothes from growing mold or mildew. This also means I have to reinstate the lovely roach traps that look like insect party barns. Like where sororities and living groups held their semiformals in college -- the roach traps are little cardboard barns with sticky dance floors. Only the poor roaches don't get to tap their feet too long.

Roaches are gross, yes. But I prefer them to something that stings or bites.

Please Remember

No matter what is going on in your life, no matter how many mistakes you've made or how screwed up you think things are, no matter how much baggage you carry, no matter how much is weighing on your shoulders, no matter how convinced you are that you're not good enough...please remember that people love you, and would rather have you and each and every little thing that is "wrong" about you than to have no you at all.

This is a fact.

I am so very sorry.