Mizu's Desu Times in Nihon =^.^=

Giant Centipedes, Outdated Thinking, and Pricey Oatmeal May 24-25

Thu, 21 Feb 2013 00:24:53 +0900

So, I forgot to post in my previous… post that on Thursday night, May 24, I was riding home on my bike. The warm weather made nighttime riding pleasant, as stick summer had not yet settled in (yes, “settled”. I’m speaking in past tense because I’m writing this much later).
So as I’m going in front of the fantastic, addictive crack, er, I mean French Bakery’s vending machine, I noticed something on the road that was long and creepy. I didn’t think it was a snake (because snakes are practically extinct here), but I was still curious. I made a u-turn to see what it was. GAH! It was a centipede - the infamous Japanese mukade - nearly as long as my hand! It had been freshly run over by tires because its legs were still twitching. Even though it was gross, I still felt bad that it met such an end.

Okay, onto Friday, May 25. My employer (I’ll call her Mrs. N) makes bi-weekly visits to Shizuoka to pay us. It was lunch time, and the kids were all eating their lunches, the slimy bentos brought in by the lunch company every Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday. The parents give the kids utensil packs with chopsticks and forks, so they can use either at lunch. One of my students is a left-handed girl who prefers to use a fork. Mrs. N came in the room and spoke to me about something. Just then, she noticed the girl and started scolding her in Japanese that she needs to use chopsticks and in her right hand! Uh, what kind of backwards thinking is that? I know samurai were beaten as children if they used their left hands, but that was back 300 years ago (it was also forbidden for women to climb Mt. Fuji because they were considered “unclean”). Times have changed, honey. This is 2012. As soon as she left the room, I told the girl she can eat with her left hand all she wants, reminding her that I’m left-handed, too. She seemed relieved when I told her it was fine.

Let me tell you something: when you’re away from staple foods you became aware of their absence. Recently I began getting a hankering for oatmeal, but in my horror, I couldn’t find any. WHAT?! It’s just cheap oatmeal! Since it’s not a Japanese food, though, it’s not popular here. This place is weird like that - even though it’s modern times, it’s as if the borders are closed, as they were in past times. It’s like the nation as a WHOLE rejects the food, and only a handful of people accept it. Ah well, that’s Japan for you: stick to conformity. “The nail that stands up gets hammered down”. God Kakashi, I’ll always love that quote you told Sasuke, because it’s SO TRUE HERE!

Behind the school there’s a river, and since it was warm out frogs croaked along the banks. I was telling the kids that they make the sound “croak croak”, but the kids were telling me the sound was “gera gera”. I laughed at this, remembering that awkward scene in Code Geass when Suzaku was telling Nunally frogs say “gera gera”.
But I ramble. So after searching and searching for oatmeal, I find some at Jupiter Import Foods in Parco. Hallelujah! And it’s cheap, too (370 yen for a small bag). Having seen a box of Maple Brown Sugar (my drug) at Tom’s apartment, I located it at the store. But oh ho, it was 900 yen for a box?! As much as I craved the maple oatmeal, I didn’t buy it, but instead got the regular oatmeal.

And it was delicious.

But alas, I couldn’t rest. The next night was our required welcome party, in which we had to pay 3,600 yen per person. Yeah, nice welcome.

Classic shoujo coloring book! May 23

Tue, 29 Jan 2013 22:31:00 +0900

Before coming to Japan, I had known I’d be learning Japanese, and decided to take a crack at translating some vintage shoujo manga, like Kaze and Sunroom Nite (update: my Japanese grammar still sucks, and another scanlation group has taken over the Kaze task). Sunroom is a very obscure manga, so there are no scans of it online, which means I’d have to scan the thing myself. Now, to scan a manga you have to open the pages all the way, creasing the spine. Since Takemiya-sensei has autographed my copy of Sunroom Nite back in the early part of May, I now consider it a priceless relic, so I needed a cheap copy of Sunroom that I could abuse for scans. Weeks before I saw a copy on Amazon and bought it. It was a bit expensive, but it was one of the only ones available.

I told M about how no one came to my door for the delivery of the package, and of course she accused me of not paying attention of listening to music too loudly. I told her i was right near the door, but she brushed it off as me being irresponsible. Blow me.

Thankfully, that afternoon I managed to see the mailman, and he delivered my package. Yeah, my new book! All I had to do was buy a scanner and get started! I opened the package - huh? No dust jacket on the book? It was just the brown cover! As I flipped through the pages, I saw something that made me simultaneously laugh and cry: on two of the pages, someone had drawn over the characters in INK - in one of the panels Edouard’s hair had been colored BLUE! Who would color in a manga?! I contacted the seller in bad Japanese, informing him of this terrible atrocity that hadn’t been disclosed in the listing. I couldn’t scan a page with blue ink.

The mysterious, futuristic tower isn't open yet?! May 17

Tue, 29 Jan 2013 21:43:04 +0900

This isn’t a complaint post, but it’s ironic, and it’s out of chronological order (if I can figure out how to move posts around I’ll be set). So when I arrived in Japan I noticed the dark, ominous tower, which I later learned to be the Sky Tree, looming over Tokyo like a promise of totalitarian future rule. I didn’t know what it was, and I assumed it was just a building within Tokyo’s skyline.

After work one day I went up to the store and saw ice creams showing the Sky Tree on the fronts of the packages. The ice cream was blue with gum pieces, so I bought it. The flavor was a bitter, fruity cocktail with a chemical undertaste (which is apparently a general Popsicle flavor here and an air freshener scent). As I ate outside, I noticed a date printed on the wrapper in bold letters of May 22. Hmm? Was that the anniversary of the tower? It had to have already been opened, after all. Right?

I learned the following week that Sky Tree was, indeed, a new structure that hadn’t yet opened. Whoa, I thought it was at least two years old! I had eaten a special edition ice cream!

May 22 - Pink eye, Parent's Day, and the mail that never was?!

Sun, 02 Dec 2012 08:01:00 +0900

I woke up at 2:40 AM with itchy, bloodshot eyes. WTF?! No, don’t let it be pink eye! Being as one of the kids has an eye irritation, I wouldn’t be surprised.

When I got to school, all of my kids were wearing their morning uniforms. See, the kids arrive in a “formal” uniform, change into kindergarten uniform, and just before they leave they change back into the formal uniform.So the kids are wearing the formal uniforms so they look cute for the parents. I couldn’t find any pipe cleaners, so I decided to us string to tie the flower heads tightly to the stems. I started pulling out everything for the flowers, but I was a nervous wreck! After all, M Kept pushing to all of the teachers how important Parents’ Day is. What if I messed up? What if the kids misbehaved? I told the kids beforehand to be really sweet and nice, and a few days before I was working with them on the song “BINGO”, as well as “Old MacDonald”.

I told M about my failed delivery notice, so she called the company. Allie also had missed a delivery, so M tolf the company about both of the packages (well, I should say she yelled at the person on the phone, not “told”). She ended the conversation by screaming and slamming the receiver into the cradle. God, this woman is insane! She told us the packages delivery was later that afternoon, so we needed to stay in our apartments so as not to miss the mailman.

Oh dear lord, 10:00 AM! I had the kids sit on the mat as the parents started arriving, trying to calm down. When the parents did come into the room (all mothers with - you guessed it, cameras - I was aware how nervous I was. I acted pleasant, but inside I was so worried I’d mess up, because, you know, M kept reminding us how important Parent’s Day is, so we thought it was something essential to our assured survival at the school. I had the kids sing, we did radio taiso, and I read them a book. I then took the kids over to the table and had them make the flowers. Everything started going well…

…except…

There’s a boy in my class who, while generally is really happy and chipper, can throw a fit if the slightest thin upsets him. While he was peeling back the flower petals, a few tore, which is understandable, as tissue paper is super easy to rip. Well,he promptly crumpled up his entire flower, with the parents in the room, and sat down on the mats in a pre-pout. No, please not in front of the parents! The other kids made beautiful flowers, and the parents were impressed. Before I knew it we had made eleven (I salvaged the pouting boy’s flower and added it to the pile). I looked at the clock and wondered how else I should kill time, being as M told me that the songs, stories, and crafts would have to last two hours. Well, as soon as the hour mark approached, the parents scattered from my classroom and met in an empty class for a meeting. What?! But… weren’t they supposed to remain for two hours? I then realized I had been misinformed, again, by M. I found the pouting boy still on the ground and told him not to act like that in front of the parents again. Oh dear, I shouldn’t have said that. He then started bawling, rolling on the ground like a log. Geez, talk about sensitive! His fit last for about thirty minutes. Aside from that, everything went fine for Parents’ Day. Many of the mothers seemed to like me, and that’s a boon for me because the mothers practically run the school.

Oh, but the day did end on a crappy note. M demanded to know my address (for official reasons), so I checked what I had written in my phone. She then sneered, “Yeah, check, because you ALWAYS forget your address.” As in, I forgot it that SINGLE time during the registration stuff. M loves using absolute words like “always” and “never”, as in “you NEVER do this” and “you ALWAYS do that”. Yeah, it’s demeaning. Just writing about it makes me want to take a shot of whisky.

When I got home I waited for the mailman… and waited. I heard Allie get her package downstairs, but no one rang my door. I heard someone shuffling outside my door, but no one knocked or rang, so I assumed it was the neighbor just doing things outside on the shared pathway connecting out apartments. As the afternoon wore on, I decided to go down to the main mailbox that the mailman sometimes uses. I saw ANOTHER notice, saying that, indeed, the mailman had been there earlier. BALLS!

I rode my bike to the city, and later I stopped at Mochizuki’s, a large supermarkeT, for a bottle of water. While I waited in line I saw a package of rose gummies! What?! Like, roses? I quickly bought a package, ripped it open, and tried the candies. Holy shit, it was like shoujo in my mouth! I felt like Gilbert suddenly!

May 21 - The eclipse that caused M's fury!

Sat, 01 Dec 2012 21:46:00 +0900

Whelp, the total solar ellipse happened. How was it? I don’t know, I wish it had happened really! Why I say that is, yes, it did occur (the country’s been selling corny eclipse glasses for months), and it’s an annual event, but during it I didn’t notice anything - I forgot about it, actually, it was that unimpressive. It’s not like what they show in movies! The sky was exactly the same color as it is every morning. I was so saddened, because when I was younger a planetarium worker told my classmates and I during a field trip that, “The sky gets so dark that farm animals start going to sleep, thinking it’s dusk.”

Today many of the mothers were at the school, doing nonsensical stuff like taking countless pics of their kawaii children. (It’s sad when you look at the big picture in this society, because even though these parents put the kids on pedestals, the children usually never get anywhere in life here, being as Japan doesn’t offer much opportunity for people to succeed. Most guys become salary men (general office workers), and most women either become OL (office ladies, aka secretaries) or housewives with three kids). So all of the classes are out on the playground - the weather’s nice and warm, and the sky is blue. The parents were assembling my students and taking photos of them. After that, I was about ready to take my kids back to the school, when M (yes, she was there, too) told me to “gather” my students. Okay, I was already doing that so I could take them inside. One of the other teachers said M wanted to take a photo of my class. Ah, so that’s why she wanted me to gather them. I told the kids to pose for the camera, and M looked through her viewfinder. She told the kids to squeeze tighter towards the center; when I confirmed with M if everyone was in the viewfinder, she barked that I had to move them towards the center, even though they were doing it on their own. When I asked her if they were positioned correctly now, she said, “I’m not their teacher - you are. You have to get them under control!” What the hell? Did she not know what a viewfinder was? Could she not answer whether or not she saw them all? Keeping my temper in line, I asked, very slowly, if the kids were in the viewfinder, being as she’s stupid and doesn’t want to listen to anything other than what she wants to hear. Just then, one of the kids started pulling away, and I told him to get back in his position. M then screamed at me, saying I needed to keep everyone under control, not just him. Frustration… at… dangerous levels. I pointed out that I was only talking to him because he was the only one wandering. She then fiddled with the camera and said, “So stupid!” Whoa, was she meaning the camera or me? She sure as hell had better not been referring to me!

After we went in she stormed into my class, asking if I wanted to say something to her. What, did she want an apology, or did she want me to argue with her and knock that over-sized chip off her shoulder? I acquiesced to neither, leaving her boiling mad. She then snapped, “We have to change the music… it’s no good”. Now, at this point I wasn’t sure what she meant (I never know what she means - she babbles nonstop!). Since Parent’s Day was the next morning (Tuesday) , the regular music lesson would be moved to Thursday, which I already knew. Was she talking about that, or was she insinuating that the songs I had picked for the kids to sing for the parents weren’t good? When I asked to clarify what the hell she meant, she suddenly quizzed me as to when the music lessons were normally. I spaced my answer, not only because I had been sick for about three weeks, but also because she was staring at me until I answered, which was unnerving. She complained for about twenty more seconds before telling me, again, that that week’s music was to be postponed until Thursday.

Now, there are rumors floating around that she’s leaving the school, and she even said so herself. I hope that’s true.

UPDATE: It’s December and she still hasn’t left.

When I returned home later that day I saw a note in my door claiming a special delivery attempt had been made, yet I hadn’t been home to answer it. Argh, it must’ve been my copy of Sunroom Nite, a rare out-of-print shoujo manga from 1971. I knew I had to take the delivery notice to M so she cold re-schedule for me. Oh boy.

May 16-17

Sat, 01 Dec 2012 17:47:00 +0900

I attempted to start translating “Mesh”, a Moto Hagio manga. However, my Japanese level is still low, so forget that for now. I’ll have to return to it once I’m better with the language.

Okay, more drama. No, this isn’t drama - it’s full-out demeaning abuse. So a few weeks ago M demanded that I write up a list for the craft supplies I’d need for Parents’ Day, Yes, those capital letters are intentional. What is Parents’ Day (PD), you ask? Well, this school, as well as most in Japan, follow a hierarchy that caters solely to parents. That’s it. The parents. No one else matters - not the kids, not teachers. It’s a mess of vicarious bullshit in my opinion. So in a nutshell, PD are days throughout the year where the parents visit the school and observe the classes in which their precious pumpkins reside. Kids wear their “fancy” uniforms and act cute in front of the parents; some of the younger kids cry when the parents leave. What does this all mean for the senseis? A high-speed joke of a puppet show, that’s what. We’re expected to act even more like a subservient geisha than usual, smiling and agreeing totally with the parents, all while keeping the crafts going and the kids happy. Now, the latter isn’t normally a problem, but during PD many of the kids revert to momma’s boys (or girls), or they feel the pressure to also act accordingly in front of the parents.

All right, so I had to write up a supply list and instructions for the craft. I decided to make those large, gaudy tissue paper flowers. Being as this school shoots for 200%, I decided to go an extra step and make it an IKEBANA DISPLAY! Yes, a collection of about three flowers in a fake vase base, secured with a chunk of Styrofoam. I carefully wrote up a list, complete with illustrations. I made a copy and handed it over to M (I think I gave her the copy). She looked it over and thanked me. So why’d she need this, you ask? She said she needed to work out the budget for the craft. She also said she would order all of the supplies.

So weeks go by. Finally, Parents’ Day looms just on the horizon. However, I haven’t seen hide nor hair of my supplies. But this gave me some time to mull on the ikebana idea. See, the more I reflected on using the Styrofoam piece, the more I didn’t like the concept. After all, it takes literally days for glue to dry under Styrofoam, and I didn’t want the kids experiencing the frustration of having their ikebana displays sliding around. And so, I decided to go the route of a SINGLE flower, still showy, still beautiful, but a lot easier for the kids to make. I told M she didn’t need to buy the foam, and she said she liked that idea because the school couldn’t “afford” it.

Eh… what?

This was news to me - how could they not afford Styrofoam? Th school reaps in hefty fees from the regular kindergarten students and the juku kids (one time I saw a juku student’s bill: 9000 yen for the month, about $109.00. And he only comes once a week - some kids come twice a week, increasing their bill. In total there are about 50 juku students EACH NIGHT; and since we rarely use any supplies with the students, we hardly spend any money on them. The school’s pulling in some big cash each month… just for juku! Imagine the combined kindergarten funds, too!). How were we losing money? We never have new supplies and our pre-existing supplies are shot. Okay, I guess that was all sorted out then with the foam.

Parents’ Day was scheduled for next week. Still not seeing any of my supplies, I asked M where they were, as I had given her the list SHE requested a month before. I also wanted to know if I should put the supplies on the table while the parents were there or beforehand, as I had never done one of these before. To this she answered, “You have to have the confidence, because if you don’t the parents will worry”. Yes, she speaks this way. You could ask her if the sky’s blue and she’ll harp on about not being prepared and having to see the big picture. She’s fucking insane. She then told me to clean my classroom (which I had already done). I asked her if I should clean the filthy air vent in the class ceiling, but she said the parents wouldn’t mind that. Yeeeaaahhh… most of these kids have chronic respiration illness, but M says the parents wouldn’t mind the vent? Please.

SO! I finally asked her where my supplies were. You know, the ones she said she’d order. She said she didn’t have any supplies for me, AND she didn’t even know what a pipe cleaner was! She thought I was talking about a chopstick! Now panicked, I described it to her, because, you know, schools the world over (except perhaps in some third-world countries) use pipe cleaners, as they’re an extremely common supply. Well, she still didn’t know what they were (I found this extremely odd, being as she’s allegedly worked in Japanese schools and American schools for years. Of course, she also claims to have an accountant degree and a nursing degree, but then one has to question the validity of that - after all, if she’s so multifaceted, why is she working in a run-down kindergarten in small farmer community in the middle of nowhere? I racked my brain - I KNEW there had to be a pipe cleaner somewhere in the school so I could show her an example. I ran to my class, digging in all of the drawers. I apologized to her, telling I was looking. She sneered and said, “You keep saying ‘I’m looking, I’m looking’. How can I help you if I don’t know what it is?”

Oh… oh HO… I wanted to slap her so hard. Fucking bitch doesn’t know what a pipe cleaner is, but she’s an expert in sarcasm! And no, this isn’t just a language barrier thing - she knows exactly what she’s saying, and her body language screams volumes. I finally found a pipe cleaner in another class on a child’s project and showed her. She realized what it was and said the name in Japanese. She lied straight to my face and said she bought dozens of them the previous month, but the other teachers must have used them all. LIES! There are only two other teachers in the school, and they always hang up their children’s art projects for everyone to see; there hadn’t been any crafts with pipe cleaners, other than the current ones hanging in the class. But these were small snips of pipe cleaners, and not dozens. She said now I had to go buy them at a store. Psha, yeah right! Japan sells lots of paper, but stuff like pipe cleaners and split pins are non-existent (one of the other teachers wanted to make pin wheels with the kids, but because brass split pins weren’t in “the budget”, M suggested the teacher use wooden clothes pins. The teacher said she needed the split pins so the pin wheels could spin, but M refused).

So yes, I had a new mission: finding pipe cleaners in Japan. On a time limit!

May 16 How I hate that woman

Fri, 07 Sep 2012 18:34:03 +0900

What’s worst than an annoying bitch of a boss who thinks you’re stupid because you’re simply American? Yeah, I don’t know, either. In my classroom I have a collection of Disney VHSs that play either English or Japanese tracks, depending on which sound output you choose. Well, when I played Bambi, I heard English, but as I was grabbing something in the room I also heard Japanese. Simultaneous with the English. WTF? I went over and listened; sure enough, the characters spoke English and Japanese at the same time. I wasn’t sure if it was the VHS producer’s attempt to expose children to both of the languages, but it was maddening. A few days later I played another video with the same problem. I attempted to read the back of the Japanese box; from what I could tell it said that there were two audio tracks and you could select either by changing the audio settings. I grabbed the remote (which had batteries) and saw the kanji for audio. I pressed it, but nothing happened. I fiddled with the batteries, but it still didn’t work. Thinking the batteries were dead, I went to the office, as I had seen a pack of fresh batteries for weeks in there lying on the shelf. Well, the batteries were no longer there. I asked M where they were, but she said she didn’t know, and that someone must’ve used them. Yeaaaahh… someone used a full pack. She asked why I needed batteries, and I explained the situation. I then left, trying to find batteries elsewhere. About fifteen minutes later she came in with a few batteries (they looked used), so I out them in; still nothing. And then, stupid happened. She’s very closed-minded and only hears what she wants to hear (she’s the type of person who’ll get ticked if they ask a question and you answer it). See, earlier I had mentioned something about the television sound, but she obviously thought I meant volume, because she proceeded to show me the volume control on the television itself and said, “See, you don’t need the remote! You can make it louder here,” and she pushed the volume up. Wrong! I again told her I needed to change the AUDIO OUTPUT, not the volume. She took a quick glance at the remote and said there was nothing like that on the device. Now, I haven’t taken the time to take my kanji finder book into the class to identify the entire kanji, but on the remote there’s a button for “sound -“. I’m not sure what the next part is, but I’m 99% certain it’s the audio changer. Of course, I think M is illiterate, but I won’t go into that just yet. So yeah, she sure showed me, the dumb American! We don’t know ANYTHING about technology, M! Please enlighten me with your perfect knowledge! You know, being as she’s a nurse, an accountant, and is licensed to teach Japanese, she’s pretty fucking sharp (why she’s working in such a run-down school in the middle of nowhere is quite baffling for someone who has her “credentials” - perhaps she’s so great that other people, jealous of her abilities, ran her out of any viable town).

What else… I again got inspiration to make a Final Fantasy AMV. It’s so clear in my head, but I’m rather dumb when it comes to getting footage. So that will have to be a dream that must wait.

(TWEWY spoilers) I started drawing a picture of Joshua Kiryu in his Composer form. Ever since visiting the Kaze exhibit I had a burning desire to draw shoujo. Yes, I consider Joshua, especially his Composer form, shoujo. The first time I saw images images of Joshua (which was before I knew about vintage shoujo) I thought, “he looks like he should be in one of those old sparkly manga”.

May 12-15

Sat, 18 Aug 2012 22:34:05 +0900

(Yes, I’m writing this retroactively, so I’ll be writing in the past tense.)

Happy Birthday, Moto Hagio!

All weekend I had the chore of find a swimsuit hanging over my head like Damocles’ sword. See, the school at which I work REQUIRES that I have a swimsuit for the swimming classes, even though nothing was mentioned in my contract. Oh no, I don’t swim; all I do is stand in the water while the Japanese teacher instructs the kids. Why I’m needed in the water… I’ll never know. M (my bitch of a boss) said I had to buy one by Monday. For a while I had been searching for a swimsuit and even asked my family to send me one. For SOME reason no one had one, even though it was May. M had told me earlier in the week about a place called Murazaki Sports in the city that had swimsuits currently. Emi also told me to try her gym in the city.

The gym didn’t sell any (even though they have a pool?). Murazaki had some, but they were anywhere from 15,000 yen to 20,000 yen! That’s about $175.00-$220.00! Sorry M, the kids (or you) will have to wait to see me in a swimsuit while the suit my family sent traveled through the mail.

Thankfully, on Monday the 14 M didn’t say anything about me not having a swimsuit. She told me to watch one of the kids who didn’t swim at the pool, so I did. However, M went, too. Why did she go if I was going to watch him? Because she’s fucking lazy and will do anything to get away from the school, even if it means she’ll do work where she’s not needed. As usual, I noticed the bruises all over the kids’ bodies, but since it’s Japan, things like child abuse are best ignored, especially when brought up by a foreigner.

That day many of the mothers were there, taking photos of the kids swimming. One of the mothers could speak English very well; she seems to like me, which is good because she’s high on the mother hierarchy at the school.

On the 15th I was SO sick. I kept extremely low-keyed around the kids. My head was so clogged and dizzy, and I was burning up. I told the kids I was sick, but it didn’t slow them down much. Near the end of the day, I was helping a girl fold a paper crane. The girl’s bus was almost at the school, so I had to hurry. Two other girls in the class wanted origami paper (simply for cutting), but I told them to please wait while I folded the other girl’s crane. Well, they clearly thought I was simply being stubborn in regards to getting them origami, because one of them whispered something to the other; in the next moment the girl who’d been whispered to told me to “hurry up please”. No. A child does NOT tell an adult to hurry up; adding the “please” does not make it sincere. Who the hell taught them that that was okay to say? I already explained that I was helping the other girl. I instantly reprimanded them for such rude behavior.

Returning to reality (May 7-11)

Thu, 16 Aug 2012 15:23:00 +0900

Upgraded my DA account, as it had reverted to a regular membership.

So, I’m bad about writing down my life. I recalled the Kaze Exhibit wonderfully, because, hey, it’s what heaven’s made of. Other than that, I slack off when it comes to keeping journals. So apologies for that.

I at last got a new bike from my employer. It’s used, but at least the brakes work. I rode it up to the city of Shin-Shizuoka on Monday. It was quite a trip, being as the humidity here makes even the simplest activities difficult.

Nyah! I got my OATMEAL! Oatmeal is an unheard of average-priced breakfast item in Japan, unless you’re willing to pay a small fortune. Therefore, I have to ask my family to send me care packages. I also got a bottle of Listerine. No way I’m paying $11.00 for a bottle here!

So I’m discovering that so many food items here are sugary, even when they’re not advertised as such. I bought a bag of “regular” cornflakes, but they were sweetened.

Maurice Sendak’s death was quite a shock to me. I’d been talking about him the day before. It really made me realize how even steadfast things like things and people from my childhood aren’t permanent.

I started watching videos for Kingdom Hearts: Dream Drop Distance. I have a real love/hate relationship with KH currently. I’ve been a fan since 2007, but each game that was released following re:CoM has been, in my opinion, crap. The storyline has been changing, and much of it no longer follows the timeline established in Ansem’s Notes in KHII. It seems Square Enix is just releasing sub-par titles on different handheld systems, forcing fans to buy new systems for each game. I have all the games except for DDD, and I’ve defeated all except BbS and re: Coded due to my lack of interest. Squeenix really needs to wrap up the series like now; it’s been going on for ten years without an end in sight. However, they’re put a hold on practically anything major due to FF VS XIII, which I KNOW will be a financial failure for the company.

In the same week I discovered a French bakery up the road that sells a mean namu karimu pan (raw cream-filled pan bread, which is one of the most delicious things on Earth), and I also learned more about the new KH game, Dream Drop Distance, much of it making me facepalm.

I started planning my trip to Shibuya. I found an image of a “Cat Street Cafe”, but the guy who took the photo said it was closed when he went.

I also found Japanese raw milk. I’d first seen it in Naruto, but I wasn’t sure how it differed from regular milk. Raw milk is creamy and rich, and raw cream is the same.

Follow-up to the exhibit

Thu, 02 Aug 2012 21:22:13 +0900

Feeling regretful that I didn’t accept the woman’s offer regarding the possible Terra book, I wrote to both the English speaker at the gallery and the English-speaking woman who had assisted me the week before at the exhibit, seeing if they knew who the merchandise woman was; I gave them a physical description and said she’d given me her email but I “lost” it. The gallery worker said she spoke to the woman, yet she (the merchandise woman) claimed she never gave anyone her email address. Okay, either the gallery worker spoke to a different woman, or the merchandise woman is lying. The other lady who’d helped me speak to Takemiya-sensei said she didn’t know who it was. I just hope the merchandise woman wasn’t mad enough at me that she threw away my form that she helped me fill out regarding which art was my favorite and getting the updates/discounts with future exhibits.

On Monday I went out with the other teachers for a night of udon. It’s an okay udon shop, but the woman can be quite rude. For example, one night I went in, as no sooner had I sat down she asked me if I was ready to order. Uh, NO, let me look at the menu! But I digress. So we had udon. I had the niku udon, which is bland meat in an udon soup. Becca had the curry udon, which smelled great. Next time, I thought.

I felt pretty good all week. On Saturday I felt a little sad, knowing this would be the first time I didn’t travel to Tokyo for two weeks. I missed the exhibit so much!

UPDATE: It was only recently that I discovered why Takemiya-sensei was getting emotional concerning the picture “Summer Make-Up”; on tra.pro she wrote about some of the drawing having faded; now that I think about it, the picture did look a bit washed… just a bit.

Kaze Exhibit, Part 2

Sun, 29 Jul 2012 16:15:00 +0900

Up and at ‘em for my revisit to the Kaze Exhibition on May 5, aka Boy’s Day! As there wasn’t a time limit, like last visit’s “first come first serve” practice concerning the autographs, I was able to sleep in a bit later, as in, about half an hour. Damn Shizuoka - why are you so far from Tokyo? >.< But what was this? My stomach was feeling a bit upset? Too bad stomach, you’re just going to have to wait!

I got ready, grabbed my conference ticket, made sure my camera was charged (just in case I had to get a photo of something), grabbed Sunroon just in case, and left. My load was A LOT lighter this time, as I didn’t have art books and watercolor paper pads!

Again, the Shinkansen was 5,600 yen for a katamichi kippu (one-way ticket) to Ochanomizu Station. Normally, a price like that would make me cringe, but this is for a Takemiya-sensei exhibit! I paid, got my ticket, and went to the tracks.

Ah, Shinkansen. You can look at pictures, watch videos, and read about them, but nothing quite replicates seeing one in-person. While waiting on the platform a few raced by; the roar of a Shinkansen is so loud, and the wind it produces is terrific.

I bought a canned iced cocoa for 120 yen at a vending machine on the platform. I was mindful of my stomach, as it was still feeling a bit sensitive. At last the train arrived, and I boarded. For some reason, this Shinkansen smelled like the toilets backed up. DX As I sat in my seat, I cracked open the cocoa - it was good, and it didn’t upset my stomach. I saw a clear view of Fuji, as well as the surrounding city. Ugh, Fuji City is industrial, spotted with factories - it’s not like the picturesque photographs at all. :P

During the remainder of the ride I stood in the hallway connecting cars 11 and 12 . It was an especially peaceful and spacious area, containing two sinks, the regular toilets, and two “multi-purpose rooms”. What are those, you ask? The rooms are simply large bathrooms, to where nursing mothers or people suffering motion sickness can retreat. A lolita girl went into one, but I never recall her coming out. :O I wanted to take a picture of the room, as I only caught glimpses when people entered, but they’d lock after the people left. It said to ask a crew member to use one, but I don’t know how people were entering on their own. As the train made turns along the tack the curtains around the sink kept unfastening themselves from the narrow clips holding them open; a crew member kept walking by and refastening them, almost compulsively.

Ochanomizu at last! I knew exactly where I was going, so I got to the gallery quickly. Before I went upstairs I saw one of the many posters advertising the exhibit. Now, because this was the final day I decided to ask for a poster - it’s not like they’d need then the next day. I had asked the previous week, but they naturally denied me. I dunno, Japan is extremely stingy when it comes to advertising posters, even if you offer cash. I asked one of the workers, and they told me something. Of course, I couldn’t catch anything she said, so she got the English speaking worker from the week before. She said she may work something out for me after the exhibit.

I went up to the fourth floor, greeted by Gilbert’s over-sized, pouty face. As it was still hours away from the conference, I revisited all of the paintings. The flowers from the previous week were still there, but some had wilted, and they didn’t smell as fresh as before.

The woman who spoke English at the merchandise table saw me, and sure enough she gave me a whole slew of Takemiya-sensei goods! Old postcards from previous exhibits! They were gorgeous! I thanked her repeatedly. I bought more regular postcards, and I kept eyeing the 15,000 yen pocketwatch. Only 300 were made, and it came with a card signed by Takemiya-sensei. There was one in particular that was framed, surrounded by leaves. Now, if I got a watch like that I’d never use it for telling time - I’d promptly get it framed. Since the watch was already framed, I asked them how much it was. Turns out it wasn’t for sale, as it was Takemiya-sensei’s personal watch, numbered 213 (her birthdate). Okay then, I’ll pay double! But yeah, it wasn’t for sale. >_<

As I walked around, the English-speaking merchandise lady approached me and asked that I sign a form for the exhibit. The entire form was in Japanese, so she helped me. The form was saying tra.pro (Takemiya-sensei’s website) would notify me when a new exhibit is approaching. I glady gave all of my info. There was an area where I could write her a personal message. I explained I couldn’t write in Japanese, but she said English was okay. I basically said what a great artist she is, and how she’s inspired many people throughout the world. I handed back the form and continued more viewing.

Now, you may be reading this and thinking, “But you’ve already looked at all of the pictures!” True, but they were SO fascinating; I easily could’ve looked at them for days. I kept returning to them, seeing new details each time. I was never bored.

As I was looking at one of the drawings made for Sanctus, the woman again came over with the same form from before. There was an area on there that asked which were my three favorites pictures for possible consideration of becoming a “One And Only” series prints, the expensive reproduction pictures framed by Takemiya-sensei herself. I knew instantly my favorite… the red image where Serge appears to be speaking into Gilbert’s ear, with the blue rose between them. I LOVE that picture. My second choice… I couldn’t decide between the image where they’re in a boat and Serge is reaching for a twig (which I had on my birthday cake. I was thinking of showing her an image of the cake on my phone, but I was too flustered to think) or the cover image from volume #1; I eventually chose the latter. For my third choice, I walked around for a while by myself, carefully choosing. My decision was “Summer Makeup” (the image of Gilbert in the lilac and white sailor suit in the vibrant forest).

I kept looking at the One and Only prints, wondering if I should spend 5,000 yen on a 1 1/2”X1 1/2” image of Serge and Gilbert. Near the pictures was an amateur sculpture of Gilbert (his facial features were printed on plastic and sealed under glaze on his face). I decided to hold off and go ahead and buy a pocket watch instead. I was given a choice of numbers from which to choose; I was planning on getting the lowest number available -243 - but I then went for 275. I just liked the number. The woman showed me the watch and card for verification. I agreed, and she packed it for me.

Around 1:00 I took a water break, where I left the floor to drink water -I would NEVER eat or drink around Kaze originals. Seeing her art inspired me t get some new water colors, and boy, did Bunbou-dou have those… for a price. 900 yen for EACH color?! The tones were so bright… but I couldn’t pay that kind of fee, not when my current palette utilizes around 10 colors.

I returned to the exhibit; the Q&A was fast approaching! I has resigned myself that I had 2% listening comprehension. I did learn “kono” at the exhibit the week before. X> I saw that the small SergexGilbert picture was missing meaning someone bought it. The gallery worker who spoke English came to me and said she’s acquired a Kaze poster, so after the exhibit ended I should go up to the 6th floor to meet her. Sweet! The workers moved the piano on which the picture had been. I knew this was to accommodate everyone for sitting spaces. They had us line up in the back gallery (there were two separate areas of the exhibit; the back area held many of the manga panels, Augi as an angel, Serge and Gilbert on the boat, the red picture, the death scenes, and the Paris scenes). I pulled out Sunroom Nite, getting ready for anything. A woman saw it and excitedly spoke about it, pointing to the character Edouard/Edward and saying his name. I must say, it’s so nice to be in a room where everyone’s a member of such a small fanbase. XD

The workers next… SWEPT THE FLOOR?! Was it so Takemiya-sensei would have a clean area to walk? Nope, it was because the floor was to be our seat. People were called due to their card number; the first ten people got to sit right in the front; 11-20 were behind them, and so on. Crap, I was #69; a befitting number, but it meant I was far in the back. Luckily, the workers were placing chairs along the walls, and when I told them my number they told me I could use the chair. I was right in front of the original version of the large Gilbert canvas. After everyone was sitting, she entered. She wore a peachy top, cropped jacket, and skirt. People clapped. She thanked everyone and apologized that her being late was due to having lunch. She got right to speaking. Surprisingly, not many people asked questions, but she spoke a lot, primarily about the auction pictures (behind her). At one point someone asked her a question, and she answered with a long reply, She sounded like she was going to cry. She then indicated the drawing “Summer makeup” (Gilbert in the sailor suit in the forest), her voice wavering. What was she saying that got her emotional?!

I couldn’t understand anything, but I was so friggin’ happy. Someone had their baby with them (dressed up for the occasion in a sailor outfit), and the baby started crying! Takemiya-sensei asked if everything was all right. Eventually the staff escorted the woman and baby out.

After an hour her manager brought out a large basket with slips of paper. Oh, what’s this? The pulled out prints from Kaze, and Takemiya-sensei started grabbing the slips from the basket. The manager read the slip and called out a number. Ah, I see: they were drawing numbers for prizes! I have zero luck with drawings, but I kept my hopes up. People all around me were getting picked; a woman next to me got a beautiful picture of Augi. C’mon, call 69! New prizes! Large calenders with artwork from Takemiya-sensei. Oh hell, yes. People to my left were called, people to my right. They gave out the last calender; I was heartbroken. New prize: a color picture of Gilbert. YES! Please call me! But no. New prizes: Terra E artbooks. My mouth literally dropped open - yes, yes, THAT! Please, please! Three numbers were called, three books were given out. NO! A number was called, but no one replied. They kept pulling out more prizes, like stationary and prints. A set of the Kaze artbooks worth 25,000 yen was a prize. What was with my lack of luck?! T_T Finally… at last, my number was called. I got a calendar, as they had more in the back! For some reason, people around me congratulated me with light applauds. Perhaps I stood out, not only because of my platinum hair, but also because I had also been there the week before, got her autograph first, and bought practically everything at the merchandise table, save a few postcards?

What happened next blurred past me, but I’ll never forget it. Takemiya-sensei pulled out a pair of high heels and said something to the audience. People were oohing and ahhing; what did she say? The shop woman asked if I wanted them; even though it was a personal item of hers, I wasn’t impelled, and I kindly declined. People then stood and they, as well as Takemiya-sensei, started a round of jan ken pon (paper rock scissors). She ended up with scissors (if I recall); everyone who had paper sat down. They all started again, and again everyone sat down that lost to her hand. Ah, she was eliminating people. For what though? There were only two standing; they competed against each with another round; the winner got the shoes! It seems like the next item was a hat (again, it was a blur); I tried for the hat, but lost on the second round. The third item… oh boy, even though I couldn’t understand the language, I KNEW it was important! From out of a bag she pulled a crocheted scarf, skirt, and beaded top. She explained what this set was, and the audience went NUTS. She held the top up to her chest in a playfully risque manner, and she draped the shawl over her shoulders. With this prize EVERYONE stood, myself included. First round… I passed; half of the room sat. Second round… I passed again! More people sat. OMG, how was I doing this? I never win at jan ken pon. I was, however, focusing all my efforts on winning, so perhaps I was picking up something in her body language regarding what gesture she’d pick, unbeknownst to me. Anyway, I also won the next round, and only myself and a woman remained. The audience watched intently. Suddenly Takemiya-sensei said something quickly and started a new round. Whoa, I wasn’t prepared! I said “Chotto matte, sumimasen!”, and I then indicated I was ready. My attention all on winning, I cast me hand. Saisho wa gu, jan ken pon! We tied! Aiko de sho (the follow-up round to break the tie)! Another tie! Sho, sho sho (the tie-breaker round)! I won with rock. I won! Oh hell, I WON! The applauds, OMG. The staff congratulated me, Takemiya-sensei congratulated me! A staff member gave me the bag with the top, skirt, and shawl. And the prizes were over. The talk was over. The exhibit was over, and not just for that day… forever. The Tokyo Kaze To Ki No Uta Exhibit had run its course.

People who won prizes went up to Takemiya-sensei for autographs. I wanted her to sign my Sunroom, so I hung around. I tried browsing the gallery again, but the staff said it was over. They started taking the pictures off the wall and the tables. It was a mildly-empty feeling, knowing it had ended. People got farewell gift bags with a small Kaze Exhibit poster and postcard.

I went over to the merchandise table and asked the English-speaking woman what I had won. Turns out it was an outfit made for Takemiya-sensei by her mother that she wore only once. No wonder people were congratulating me! I then told her that I wanted a Terra E artbook if there were any left; I didn’t care about the price. She spoke to Takemiya-sensei’s manager about if there were more copies present; unfortunately, there weren’t. The woman at the table told me after the exhibit she could speak to tra.pro once tHey were back in Kyoto and see if she could obtain an artbook then. The price would be 10,000 yen. I hesitated. Did she want me to pay her there? Or would I send her money if she told me there was a book? Something made me a bit skeptical about either giving her that kind of cash now or sending it in the mail. I mean, yes, she did bring the promised postcards, but what guarantee did I have that I’d get the book in the mail? She started writing her email, which meant she wanted me to send the money. I kindly told her I could just write to tra.pro myself for the book. She seemed slightly offended, and she took back the email. She then gave me an exhibit postcard with tra.pro’s website. She told me the manager speaks Japanese only, so it may be difficult go inquire about the book. Oh great, she seemed ticked now.

I noticed a box of Maboroshi no Hata posters to my left I’d seen earlier. There had been a few, but now there were only two. I waited to ask the manager, as she was talking to someone, but another person snatched a poster! I had to move! I asked her if I could have it, and pointed out that the exhibit’s start date was my birthday (truth). She gladly handed it to me! Yes!

I was one of the only remaining people at the exhibit. Takemiya-sensei bid visitors farewell, signing a few more artbooks, and people still approached me, telling me “omedetou” for winning the clothes. I approached Takemiya-sensei and asked to get Sunroon autographed, and she agreed. I thanked her repeatedly. Although my Japanese was bad, I still conveyed how marvelous she is; I told her “sugoi… tensai!” (awesome… genius) (had I known then what I know now, I should’ve said “Takemiya-sensei wa subarashi to tensai desu!”, subarashi being the word for “wonderful”, but sugoi is okay, too). I got two more pics of her (one was fuzzy, the other was better). They asked if I wanted the pic with her, but since I had already done that the week before I said it wasn’t necessary. With a final look around, a final inhalation of that sweet perfumed air, I went to the elevator. After I got on I took my final, lingering gaze at the beauty I would never again see. Not for this year, at least (I feel so impelled that for future exhibits, even if I’m not living in Japan, I’ll come out solely for that). Takemiya-sensei signed another book… and the doors closed. I went up to the sixth floor, and the lady was there with the poster! It was larger than the small Kaze posters they gave as gifts. I went to the first floor and left the gallery.

I had a strange mixture of happiness and melancholy. I was so happy I got to experience the exhibit and meet Takemiya-sensei, but now it was over. Something that I’d just found out about less than two weeks before - the exhibit - had so profoundly touched me, and I don’t think I’ll experience something so inspirational for a long, long time. I poked my head in the large bookstore across the street, still wondering if Kaze was banned in Tokyo due to bill 156, but there were so many people talking to the workers that I just left.

As I returned to Ochanomizu Station I passed a used VHS shop and saw that the copies of Rose of Versailles were still they. I took a quick photo and left, not sure if the owner would get angry.

At Ochanomizu I bought a Shinkansen ticket. I was tired, and I had a heavy load with my new merchandise/prizes. I went to the train platform and waited. Oh, Ochanomizu Station… such a beautiful sight. It sits on a wide river, surrounded by ample foliage. It’s a nice respite amongst the concrete frenzy that is Tokyo. The gallery had been tucked in a side street with a few trees, but it was still Tokyo. I got on the train and headed for Tokyo Station.

At Tokyo I carefully navigated my way through the crowd. Tokyo Station is a mad jumble of people. It’s not the busiest station in Japan (Shinjuku Station is), but it feels like it, possibly because the ceilings are low (I’ve been to Shinjuku Station, but to be honest it doesn’t feel NEARLY as crowded as Tokyo Station). I got to the Shinkansen tracks and waited for the train. I wanted to get a photo of the food cart girls (who push the food carts on the train) as they stood on the platform cart, but I decided against it. There were people sitting inside these large glass boxes, awaiting the train’s arrival. Thankfully, Tokyo is a major hub of the Shinkansen trains, so when it arrived a ton of people exited, allowing me a seat. It was packed after that.

I rode back, still feeling badly about turning down the woman’s offer of sending her the cash for the possibly book. I could only barely remember her email, too. I felt in hindsight I should’ve accepted her help. But I still considered the possibility that I’d send the money and never hear back from her.

Two twins were standing in the area connecting the trains (yes, Shinkansen get packed, and many times it’s standing-room only, even though the whole train can carry about 1,920 people at a time); they were wearing matching pinafore dresses and had cute bows and hairstyles. A guy to the right of me carefully and methodically opened his box lunch, but he was obviously starving, because as he did it he was practically drooling. He finally got it open and ate. Some guy hit the bag and caused a crease in the Maboroshi poster, but it wasn’t so bad.

We finally got to Shizuoka. I got the bus home and dropped my stuff of at the apartment. I then got some dinner (I can’t remember what). I took out all of the merchandise afterwards and really looked at it all. Turns out the calender only contained one drawing of her’s (it was a tire calender with art from a dozen mangaka, all depicting a particular brand of tires). Wow… I can’t believe I bought/won it all! It was fantastic, just fantastic. Suffice to say, I slept very well that night.

UPDATE: I read on tra.pro that some of the Kaze drawings were in danger of/showing signs of fading. Perhaps “Summer Makeup” had faded some, and that’s why Takemiya-sensei was emotional while talking about it.

Great week!

Wed, 18 Jul 2012 21:15:32 +0900

The week was fantastic. Now, whether it was actually great or I just didn’t notice/care on account of being in a veritable dreamland from meeting my idol, I’ll never know. Into the late hours of Sunday night/Monday morning some duck started quacking loudly. This wasn’t the first time, either. They’re punctuated the night before with their night serenade. The thing is, I don’t think there’s such thing as a night duck.

And in the day another bird problem arose. Now, what you must realize about Japan is, for some reason, the sun rises at an ungodly hour; at 4:30 AM it’s already bright outside, as in, you could easily read a fine-print book outside easily. So as I’m trying to sleep in my bright room I heard fluttering of bird wings, which turn out to belong to a pidgeon. Suddenly, the dove starts cooing! Aw, how romantic! NO! I’m not sure if this thing was a mutant or what, but it sounded AWFUL; imagine a bullfrog trying to sound like a dove. It was literally right outside my window. I looked outside into the blinding 5:00 AM light, but saw nothing, meaning the pigeon was roosting on the apartment roof (I’m on the top floor). I got back to sleep eventually, but it was difficult what with the bird’s calls.

Since I now had my insurance card, M said I could go back to the doctor and get a partial refund. And good thing, because I had to go get my results, anyway. Since I had no school on account of it being a national holiday (the Emperor’s Birthday) I headed over to the doctors. The local doctor office was closed, but the larger one wasn’t. Aside from having “higher liver levels” and “lower thyroid levels” he said everything looks fine, and the swelling was either from the medication or the illness. WELL THAT’S EXTREMELY VAGUE. He gave me a package of cookies and a dual color pen with a dog keychain. I asked him if I could get the refund then, but since it was a holiday he said the receptionists - who control the funds - weren’t in. He said he was there for only a short while and I happened to run into him.

In the city I saw an advertising for a One Piece park in Universal Studios Japan. This place is nuts for One Piece. While I was in the city it began raining.

School on Tuesday. Again, I was still on Cloud Nine. During juku I was working with the 11 year-old kids on pronouncing “Seal”, which they couldn’t do - they kept saying “Shi-ell”, like Lizzy in Kuroshitsuji. I mentioned that to the, but they didn’t have any clue as to what Kuroshitsuji was! Oh, but they know what One Piece is!

I had some good ol’ fashioned bread finally. Roman Meal brand, to be exact. However, it’s Japanese Roman Meal. Which means, the bread is horrible. It’s chewy and tastes/smells like alcohol. Eh, no thanks.

Oh dear lord, I found a new dessert shop: Eclair. They sold a beautiful strawberry and whipped cream pate choux for 180 yen. I was worried it’d be fake ream, but it was real!

While in the city I found a Lancelot Knightmare Frame model at the model shop in 109. It requires painting, though, and I’m terrible at painting models.

The rain. Yes, it was still going. As a matter of fact, it continued for 33 hours! There was no lightning, but there was plenty of wind.

Back to the school! M wanted the teachers to have the kids make Boys’ Day crafts, i.e. the koinobori. She printed up some desu pictures of bunnies riding on the backs of flying koi fish. I had seen a cool koi fish craft in the classroom from the previous teacher. I couldn’t copy it because it was already colored, so I kept looking around. I found a nice image of a koi for a koinobori flag. I printed that up, and the day before Children’s Day I had the kids work on both crafts. They all finished their desu rabbit pics, which we glued to paper cups so they’d stand, but not all of them could finish the koinobori the way I had intended, which involved gluing shiny plastic onto the colored fish to give them a shimmery look. Oh well.

After school I went up to the city. It was a radiant Friday afternoon, and the sky was a perfect blue. I walked up to the city with my camera, taking photos of the sights. There was a large koinobori near the city, and I got a photo of that.

In the city I went to 109, and I decided to try the crepes at Pearl Lady, a crepe/boba tea shop. The lines were always long at the place, so I assumed it must be popular with the locals.

I waited for twenty minutes. There was a girl behind me who sounded JUST like Gilbert! She was talking to her friend, and from what I heard they were wondering if I was French.

Okay, I knew what I wanted: Namu Kariimu Ichigo (raw cream strawberry crepe). I got up to the ordering window, noting that everyone was buying boba tea, which was terribly expensive at $5.50 a glass. I at last go to the window and ordered. Suddenly, my confidence was shattered when the woman asked me a question. Wait, she wasn’t asking if I wanted a bag. I couldn’t understand her! I told her I didn’t understand, and she jst stopped the process of getting my crepe. Uh, what? Keep making it! I had the money clearly in my hand. She asked again, and again I couldn’t answer. Another worker asked me the same question, but it was no good. I seriously thought they’d turn me away, when suddenly, the Gilbert girl asked me if I wanted to have it prepared for take-away. I happily said “yes”, and she gave her friend an exuberant high five. I thanked them repeatedly, got my crepe, and left. I took a photo of it in the basement of 109. It was smaller than other crepes I’ve had here, and when I tried it at last outside, I determined it wasn’t my favorite.

Leaving the city, I stopped by the Shizutetsu in the Suigetsu area (I call it that, due to an apartment bearing that name). At the store they were selling these massive sushi rolls of fried rice and tofu for Boy’s Day, and they were on sale. I bought one - it was fantastic!

Welp, I had to wake soon for the Kaze Exhibit, Part 2.

The morning after, or, Rodin at the art museum

Fri, 06 Jul 2012 19:47:38 +0900

Waking up a few hours later from my late-night wine escape, I got ready for the picnic. I was to be picked up by the same woman who threw the Mexican food night, Kazu. I was exhausted, but since I still had the remnants of the Kaze exhibit still surging through me, I didn’t care.

Around 10:00 AM Kazu came over to get me. Beside Kazu and I, her daughter, Tom, and Ally were there. It was already warm outside, one of the first noticeably warm days I’d felt. We all went to the store and bought some last minute items for the picnic - I picked up a bottle of water, but in my stupor put it in my purse, not thinking! Good thing Ally pointed out my error. I swear, I wasn’t trying to lift it, but I guess I mistook my purse for a shopping bag.

We drove for a while, stopping at a bakery that had a wonderful aroma coming from inside. Kazu bought a baguette; I was tempted to buy something for myself for later but refrained.

We arrived at what appeared to be a city park. We parked across the street and went inside; the entrance was guarded by two fu dog statues. We walked for a while down the path; trees lining the path were labeled with their Japanese and scientific names. Crows cawed loudly.

We got to a clearing, which was basically a large soccer field/sloping hills spotted with trees on the edge of a college. Already the place was packed with people crowding under the tree shade. We found an unoccupied spot and laid the blanket on the ground, which was exposed soil and tree roots. The spread included a wonderful ratatoulle made by Kazu, edamame tuna salad, the bread, cookies (Country Ma’am [I know, it sounds like a brothel mother] soft chocolate chip cookies, soft roll cookies, and chocolate waffle cookies), juice (Japan’s idea of orange juice is something like Tang), and sausages. Kazu’s daughter played with Nao in the field with a badminton set. While we watched Tom talked about blood sausage and the possibility of climbing Fuji this summer. He explained that there’s a ramen shop on the top! Ally, on the other hand, talked about eerie places in Australia, and I spoke about the places with reported ghost sightings in the US.

There was a family next to us that had a rabbit on a leash, and their pet dog was acting leery of the rabbit! It was so funny! I got a photo of the rabbit, since it was so epic.

Following was the art museum. Massa was supposed to join us, but he was working at the school, despite it being closed. The art museum had a Rodin gallery of original castings (not the original sculpture, but bronze castings). On our way to the Rodin gallery we went through some halls with local art; one was a modern sculpture that looked like dripping paint; I wanted to get a photo, but no photography was allowed.

The Rodin gallery was a huge wing lit with natural sunlight. The centerpiece was an enormous door complete with smaller figures of twisted, writhing souls all around it; it turned out to be “Dante’s Gates of Hell”. It reminded me so much of Fullmetal Alchemist’s Gate, and one of the figures was even a small faceless baby, just like the Gate’s overseer, Truth.

There were about 35 pieces on display. They were all impressive bronze pieces, and there were smaller stone pieces. There was also one of the castings of “The Thinker” - it was huge! Photos were allowed in the gallery.

Following the hall I saw one of my student’s mothers - she was selling tickets to the Rodin exhibit. She’s very nice.

In the gift shop I saw a postcard with Hokusai’s “Great Wave Off Kanagawa”, and thought perhaps it was in the museum. I found out it’s in Tokyo.

Before we left the museum we saw the exhibit “Hotaru”. Only a few people can see it at a time. Basically, you all enter a small room with mirrored walls and a narrow walkway over water; the inside of the room is lit with small, hanging lights that reflect off of the walls and water. As the entire room is mirrored, the reflection is infinite, so there appear to be thousands of fireflies! It’s beautiful. No photography allowed.

Afterwards Kazu drove us back home. We saw Massa at the school and talked to him for a few moments.

The wonderful weekend was over. Time to return to the school the following morning, but I had the next weekend to look forward to!

Perfect day (Kaze To Ki No Uta Exhibit and Keiko Takemiya meeting)

Thu, 28 Jun 2012 22:37:00 +0900

What an absolutely glorious, fantastic day I had today, Saturday, April 28 2012. As many of you know, I have been planning to go to Bunbou-Do Art Gallery in Tokyo to attend the Kaze To Ki No Uta Exhibit, as well as get the legendary Keiko Takemiya’s autograph. I have been writing to Bunbou-Do, and thankfully a woman writing to me could speak English. She told me I had to buy at least one of the artbooks in order to get the autograph, as well as be one of the first 100 people to buy said book(s). I was tempted to offer double for the books to assure a spot, but I refrained. If worse came to worse, I would.

I was supposed to wake at 6:00 AM; screw that, I could barely sleep and stirred at around 5:00 AM. As mentioned in my previous posting, I had taken a shower the night before, as well as had my hair roots bleached, so my morning was again making sure I had everything prepared. I had already written the destination in kanji in case I got lost, and I wrote all the train stops going - I decided it wasn’t as crucial that I needed to know the return stops. I had prescored the panting the night before so it’d come out easily from the pad and grabbed Sunroom Nite. I decided to wear my blue glass necklace, as I consider it lucky. All right, all ready.

My bike’s kickstand was rusted, so I lost time there. I quickly walked to the bus stop, but just missed the bus; the next was in twenty minutes. I knew I couldn’t make the train I had intended to ride, but I knew there were other Shinkansen to Tokyo on a Saturday.

I finally got on the bus and was on my way to Shin Shizuoka. I was going to ask the bus driver if the bus actually went to the station, as I had never ridden the bus long enough to get to the station, but I then saw the kanji on the bus display showing “Tsugi wa Shizuoka eki mai” (next stop, Shizuoka Station). We drove in front of the station, and after some complicated maneuvers on the bus’ part, we stopped. I ran inside, asking where I could buy tickets to Tokyo. They pointed me to the Shinkansen ticket office (yes, the Shinkansen are THAT elite that they require separate ticket areas). It was a room, actually with a glass wall. Using my guide book, I asked for a ticket to Ochanomizu station in Chiyoda, Tokyo. The price they quoted was cheaper than what was on the website, so awesome!

I boarded the Shinkansen and found a seat. People at the school were saying there’d probably only be standing room, but there was barely anyone on it. I sat on the left side of the train, spending most of the time practicing what to say to Takemiya-sensei (yes, since she’s a well-known mangaka she get’s the title “sensei”). Mt. Fuji was cloudy that day, so I didn’t see it.

I kept checking my phone, camera, and money. I couldn’t believe it: I was off to Tokyo to meet my idol at a Kaze To Ki no Uta art exhibit! As the greenery gave way to concrete, I knew I was close. I would make a transfer at Tokyo to Ochanomizu, so I kept my yes open for Tokyo; I even double checked with the conductors as they walked past.

I transfered at Tokyo. OMG, the place was so packed! It was so alive! I asked the attendants which gate I should go to, as the tickets aren’t marked with gate numbers, but track names. They showed me the way thankfully. The regular trains were so small! Of course, you couldn’t have a Shinkansen racing down the small, old tracks in inner city Tokyo at 150 mph.

Off we went. Tokyo spread out in every direction in what seemed like forever. I caught a glimpse of Akihabara! There was a multi-story Sega building, but while tempting, it paled to what I was about to do. Every inch I got closer to my destination, the more excited I became.

I finally arrived at Ochanomizu Station. Remembering the photos showing the river on the left, I exited and found myself at long last in Tokyo. It felt so different from Shizuoka! I got to an intersection and saw the sign in the photos: “Karao” (karaoke). Perfect! I walked for about four blocks, past shops that hadn’t yet opened for the day (including a curry restaurant) until I saw the Shotsu building, and oh God, I at last saw the gallery, glimmering. When I arrived there were so many people already, even though it was only 9:30 AM! How lucky these other people are, I thought, as they more than likely lived in Tokyo. I went to the end of the line, which wrapped behind the building. More people arrived after me, so I didn’t feel too badly. There were younger people and older people, mainly all women; some were normal, others were eclectic. There were a few guys, and I had to feel sorry for them. A woman worker started handing out cards, but I wasn’t sure what they were for. As soon as people got the cards they dispersed. What were they thinking? I got closer to the door, and a man associated with the exhibit handed me a card: #67, with a picture of Gilbert and Serge! I was a giddy fangirl. People rushed in and out of the gallery, carrying what I could tell were padded pictures. The artwork! Another worker handed out a paper written entirely in Japanese. I asked someone if there was a person available who spoke English; the man could speak some, but the woman worker went inside the gallery to fetch someone. The person she got was the woman who’d been writing to me! She explained that the note explained the auction. Auction?! Yes please! It also had the prices of the art books (the one from the previous exhibit and the new exhibit) and postcards. Numerous flower displays were taken inside, adorned with notes addressed to Takemiya-sensei. I kept looking for her, but I didn’t see her.

10:00 AM! The man announced something, and people lined up. I figured I was close to the door, so I could get in first, but it turned out our card numbers designated our entry order. They let five people in at a time, who would then ride the elevator to floor 4. I was already mapping my entry - I HAD to get up there quickly to acquire an art book. I noticed stairs; should I take them instead of the elevator, I wondered.

It took FOREVER for them to call 67 (I kept going to the door at the wrong time), but when they did all time stood still. I only had time to glimpse my surroundings: a very artsy store with expensive art supplies. The elevator opened; on the wall was a poster for the exhibit. We pushed 4 and up we went.

If there’s a heaven, I’m sure it exists on the 4th floor of Bunbou-Do Gallery during the exhibit.

I was met with an enormous canvas image from Kaze showing Gilbert’s face amongst the trees. I stepped out onto the hardwood floors and was certain I was in paradise. All around me were Kaze pictures. Originals. Fucking originals. The flower arrangements were everywhere, and the placed smelled like a flower garden. Soft music floated around the air-conditioned room. I quickly spied the line and got in. It moved slowly, but while it did I saw the postcards on the wall with images of Takemiya-sensei’s works. There was a gold pocket watch with Gilbert’s face for 15,000 yen. As I browsed the postcards, I allowed a woman to pass me,but then I remembered that I had to buy my books! I quickly got in line after her and approached the table, where they sold the items. I asked to see both of the books, but it wasn’t necessary for me - of course I’d buy them,which I did. They threw in two free pics, so that was good! I also got some postcards. One of the women there spoke English, too! And then I got my autograph card number: 49! There were people signing secret ballots for the auction near the merchandise table (as well as around the gallery); there was a woman that I thought at first glimpse was Takemiya-sensei, but it turned out to be her manager! The guy who’d been outside and letting us in before the exhibit started was somehow associated with the manager.

Books in tow, I started looking at the exhibit. I felt like I was watching it from afar, as I was in shock. I first really noticed the clock picture. Or dear lord… it was beautiful. No photocopied image of it can replicate its beauty. It’s so vivid, even though it’s nearly 40 years old. I took out my camera, but a woman worker told me no photos were allowed. What? NO photos?! No, no, I had to remember this! What would I do? I realized I had to take in every detail, never allowing myself to forget. I next saw the main cover image. Gorgeous. I saw everything in the pictures: the correctional fluid, eraser marks„ pencil lines, food stains, half tone film… it was magic. The pictures were behind a high-glare glass, which was unfortunate.

On a piano and table there were framed photos with high prices (60,000 yen, 120,000 yen). Were these originals?! I asked a worker, and from what I could tell they were reproductions. But they were framed by Takemiya-sensei herself! As much as I wanted one, I thought it was expensive for reproductions.

Over near the gigantic image of Gilbert were the original works available for auction (no Kaze originals, but pictures Takemiya-sensei has recently made). I HAD to get a picture. As quickly as possible, I got a photo without flash, but the workers came over and politely told me that Sensei would be upset if she found out. Welp, that was enough to stop me - I couldn’t stand the thought of her being upset!

I continued looking at the exhibit. It was so exciting seeing pictures I’d only witnessed in books in real life right before my eyes. It started in order of chronological history, telling an abbreviated rendition of Kaze starting with Serge’s parents and how they met. At the end of Serge’s history, told over a time of about 7 pictures, I got to one of the cover art paintings randomly placed in the exhibit; it was the drawing of Augi standing in the blue forest and Gilbert is tangled in the branches; Serge is a centaur in the background. When I saw it, it all really impacted me. Here I was, in Tokyo, seeing these masterpieces in person, about to meet my artistic idol. I couldn’t help but quietly weep. I continued forward, eventually viewing “Summer Make-Up”, the gorgeous picture of Gilbert wearing the sailor outfit in the forest. When I got to the final pictures of the exhibit (showing Gilbert’s death and after it) I again got teary-eyed.

I met a woman who could speak some English. She asked if I was going to get Takemiya-sensei’s autograph, and I said yes. She informed me she was a friend of the staff’s and offered to kindly translate anything I wanted to say. I thanked her, but assured her I already had my script (I showed her the words, and she said they were fine). She said she’d still hang around, so if I needed help, she was there. Lucky!

I went back to the merchandise table to buy more postcards, and then continued perusing the exhibit. I pulled out my Japanese dictionary for translating some of the pages (the workers were watchful as I opened my bag, but when they saw I only grabbed a book they lost interest. It took time, but I could translate a bit of what was being said. At one point I was working on the page with Gilbert and Serge watching the seagulls, and a girl about age 18 came up to me, asking if I could understand the words. I told her I had an idea, thanks to my book (I roughly read the seagull page to prove it). She asked if I liked Kaze, and I answered yes with much gusto. She was surprised to hear that Kaze isn’t for sale in America; I told her that I was wanting to understand Japanese so I could translate the story. She then proceeded to ask if I like BL genre. Of course I said ‘yes’, and what happened next was unexpected: she told me to wait, and she ran to her backpack. She then returned with a beautiful compilation manga magazine with various stories, but the main feature was a shounen ai story. I thanked her and her friend, who was sitting nearby and watching. And that’s not all - a little while later she brought over a small manga of the same yaoi story! Excellent!

The rest of the afternoon was spent with me practicing what I’d say to her, looking at the art, buying more postcards, or going downstairs to drink water. I DARED NOT drink water in the exhibit, as I didn’t want to spill a single drop and possibly ruin something. There was a bathroom downstairs on the third floor. Most people were leaving with later intention of coming back with their number for the autographs. I was too… everything, to leave the building: nervous, excited, scared… my emotions were so wrecked. I managed to get an allowed picture of a banner with Serge and Gilbert in the auction nook area near the merchandise table.

I bought more postcards. There were so many! The English-speaking lady at the table was impressed that I was such a hard-core fan, and she told me that if I went to the conference the following weekend she’d give me some out-of-print postcards from previous exhibits, including postcards from “Tenma no Ketsuzoku”. I was at first hesitant about buying the 2,000 yen ticket for the conference, but I finally gave in. My number… 69. How appropriate. X) I also bemoaned that there weren’t any Takemiya-sensei manga shirts; she informed me that there were shirts at one time of Tenma, but they were counterfeits.

At long last, 2:00 pm approached. People started returning, and there was a sort of electricity in the air. I kept looking around for a glimpse of Takemiya-sensei; was she in the building? The workers handed out pieces of paper to people and told them something; the woman who spoke English explained that I was to write down a message I’d like for Takemiya-sensei to write in my book; I didn’t want her to write a message I prompted, so I said she could simply write my name. I asked if it was okay if she signed “Sunroom”, but they said that may be unfair to other people. The woman then told me that since she’d be leaving soon that she could get me to the FRONT of the line so that she could translate and then be off. OH. MY. GOD. I informed them that I wanted to give her the drawing, and they said that was fine. The woman told them that I came from Shizuoka on the Shinkansen, and they were impressed by that. The art gallery woman who’d been emailing me also spoke to the manager.

I will try to describe what happened next the best I can, for it was all a blur to me. The manager kept talking to someone on her phone, the guy talked on his walky-talky. They then took me over to the area where people were filling out their auction info, the place in front of the banner. I knew she’d arrive any minute, so I bent down to get out my camera, check my Japanese words again, and find the drawing, allthewhile muttering the phrases under my breath, which we basically an introduction, telling her how I loved Kaze and Terra, that I drew her a painting with an English message of gratitude on the back, and it was nice meeting her. I saw people out of the corner of my eye walking in the nook, and when I looked up… my mind went blank. There she was, my artistic idol, talking to her manager and smiling at me. She was wearing a beautiful cream-colored shirt and skirt. Her hair was lighter than what it was in the Terra interviews, but everything else was the same about her. I forgot EVERYTHING that I wanted to say, and I instead had a 2-second crying spell. I apologized for my brief breakdown, and handed her the picture with a sharp, “Hai!” I did remember to tell her that the message was in English, as my Japanese was minimal. She was saying something,and I think the woman was translating my words, but I can’t remember. I showed her the copy of Sunroom and she laughed in surprise. I asked, begged, her manager if I could get a picture with her, and she agreed. Oh hell! I asked the manager to take photos with my camera, as I couldn’t miss the opportunity to get the photos on my camera. She took one photo, then told Takemiya-sensei to hold the drawing higher. She was POSING with it! I was a trembling ball of happiness! They then took me over to the area with the large banner, where she sat at a small table with an arsenal of markers of gold, silver, and black. The woman gave her the note with my name on it, and Takemiya-sensei asked if I wanted her signature in kanji or romaji; I said kanji. She signed, and while she did I recalled how to say the sentence of my admiration for Kaze and Terra; I said it, but I’m not sure she heard. I felt like that scene in Terra when Makka’s rambling about his strange abilities and seeing his friends becoming facets of society, but Keith is thinking about Makka’s obliviousness of being a Mu. So yes, I talked, while she signed her kanji name in black ink and her manager said something. I thanked her repeatedly, not wanting to leave. She even shook my hand! The woman who helped with translating brought a woman over, and the new woman turned out to be the owner of ticket #1 in regards to autograph order. The translator told me to apologize for “cutting” ahead of her. Now, I didn’t ask to be number 1, but I apologized anyway. She was understanding.

With a final glimpse, I left the exhibit with the woman who had ticket #1. I watched as the doors closed, cutting off my view of Takemiya-sensei’s face. I made small talk with the woman as best I could; she, too, had tons of merchandise, and we were both in great moods. My hands were so sore from all of my merchandise, but I didn’t care.

I got outside… what a glorious day! The sky was blue, the air was fresh! I realized I had a huge grin on my face, which hasn’t happened to me for a long, long time. I felt so alive! There was a large bookstore, and I wanted to explore it, but my hands were full, and now that I was out of the exhibit, I was exhausted. I went back to the train station, feeling on top of the world. There were some people selling stuff outside the station, and I threaded my way past them. I bought a train ticket home, opting to use the regular train rather than Shinkansen (the exhibit drained me financially that day). The guy asked incredulously if I really wanted to use the regular; yes, I knew it’d take three hours. -_- He then explained it’d be making numerous stops, and that I’d have to transfer at multiple stations. He wrote the transfers (Tokyo, Atami, and finally the stop at Shizuoka).

I got on the train, unable to find an area to sit. There were reserved areas for elderly and families with children; hey, the things in my hands were like my children - did that count? It was hot and crowded, and my mind kept wandering back to the air-conditioned Shinkansen, with its toilets, vending machines, and real seats.

I panicked at one point, thinking I was heading in the wrong direction. See, Shizuoka is west of Tokyo, but I was going south to Kawasaki. I exited the train at one point and asked a station attendant as the train was pulling away; yes, I was supposed to have stayed on it. DX Fortunately, the trains arrive every ten minutes.

My journey home continued. The trained snailed by, stopping at every station. At the Atami Station I waited for my new transfer. There was another train waiting at the platform (“The Black Ship Train”), which had decals to resemble an old steamliner ship. I laughed, because for some reason it reminded me of some Ciel Phantomhive would own.

Finally, after hours on an uncomfortable seat, I arrived at Shizuoka Station. I longed for Tokyo, mainly the exhibit and everything that had happened there. I stopped at Cenova (the new mall) and splurged on the 500 yen dessert “Spring Has Come” at Bluberry Bakery; I also bought a chocolate mille fiuelle from Shizutetsu store. I was considering dinner at the beef place that smells wonderful and brings you sizzling meat, but I didn’t want my stuff getting grease on it. I went outside and took the bus home.

I discovered that I got a small piece of the mille fiuelle on one of my books, causing an oil stain (fuck!). Thankfully, it was so small. Exhausted, I went down to Ally’s (my neighbor’s) apartment and asked if she wanted to join me for dinner at the local udon shop. She accepted, and we left. I told her about my day, explaining that if I had the money I’d easily spend thousands of dollars on the auction art; she was bewildered by this, which I find baffling. WHY would anyone NOT consider spending such a piece for an original Takemiya piece? I knew I was nerding out, and I jokingly apologized for it. We both got the tempura udon. It was an okay place, but nothing so spectacular. Afterwards we went back to her apartment, drank wine and gossiped until about 3:30 AM. OMG, I was up for nearly 24 hours!

It was magical. Argh, but I had to get up in four hours for a picnic!

(Pay no attention to these following words - they’re notes to myself for a later post: Red Forest, Greek profile, Summer Make-up)

Two steps forward, three steps back

Thu, 14 Jun 2012 22:14:15 +0900

My bills paid, my drawing completed, I was set for Tokyo. M said she’d go with me to pick up my registration card inn the city; I also told her I was going to try getting my hair bleached, and she agreed to help me make an appointment at the place I’d seen in the new mall, which had quoted me 7600 yen.

I was extremely giddy that afternoon. The kids couldn’t do anything that angered me. After school M and I rode on the bus to the city. I told her I needed to get my hair bleached that afternoon, but she said I should dye it darker. No. On the bus she asked if I intended to renew my contract with the school. Talk about pressure. I gave her a runaround answer.

We got to the insurance desk, and they told us to go to the alien registration desk. We went over, and I held my breath, wanting to pen in my address ASAP. The guy handed me the card, but when I looked the incorrect address was printed on the front. As calmly as possibly, I told him it was incorrect - gasp, they must’ve printed it wrong! However, he told M they don’t make mistakes like that, and he proceeded to show us the form I had filled out. My stomach fucking flipped. M was furious. I had transposed ONE number, but it was enough to make it incorrect. M started insulting me, saying I wasn’t responsible. (I still don’t know why she just didn’t fill it out - the address is posted on the wall in her office. She spoke to the people and they “corrected” the error by writing it on the back in ink. M told me to thank them; I wanted to slap her so much. I was already apologizing to them and being humble. For some reason, though, and she’s told me this multiple times, I don’t act like a “typical American”, but more like an Asian. Eh… what? I’m American, and that’s what I act like. I assume when she says “Asian” she means quieter. Hell, she’s Asian, but she doesn’t fit her stereotype. Regardless, even though I was apologizing she demanded I thank them, and she was SO condescending. She then took me over to the insurance counter and told them that I’d given an incorrect address. However, they hadn’t sent it, because they had the card right there. M tried calling Ally, but she claimed the reception was bad and demanded 100 yen from me. I mean, she just thrust her hand at me for the money. I don’t care if I messed up; you get your damned hand out of my face, woman. After I forked over the money, she went to a payphone. While she was gone, the people at the counter asked for ID; I gave them my CO driver’s license, which was the ID I had on me at that time, but they said that’s not valid identification. Um, what? It’s issued by the US government. In the meantime M came back, unable to get in contact with Ally. She then remembered Ally was at juku presently, so she called the school, but had me speak to Ally, I guess in a way of shaming myself. I explained to Ally what had happened, but M ripped the phone from me and starting yammering with her poor English at her. You must realize, M’s English is mediocre at best, as she uses incorrect grammar, and has a horridly-thick, unintelligible accent; plus, she doesn’t understand simple question the teachers ask her. Something M does that drives me NUTS is she’ll throw around English swear words. Honey, it’s not going to make you hardcore if you throw around curse words, trust me. Just then, the people called me over again, apologizing that they couldn’t allow the driver’s license, meaning they’d mail it to me. I was on the verge of a breakdown when they suddenly saw my corrected registration card. They said they could use that as ID.

Cards in hand, M and I left, but she continued her berating. Here I had been, feeling so good before, and even though everything was rectified with me, she was still bemoaning. Right there, I had reached my tipping point and started crying out of frustration. This stopped M instantly, even though she was still stand-offish.She changed from attack mode to “I don’t want you getting in trouble” excuse. Allegedly, one of the earlier teachers had been running a scam and had used a phony address. Please M, I really doubt anyone was running a racket at the school; if that was the case, the school would be keeping EVERYONE’S address on file. She took me to a coffee shop and paid for my coffee; good thing, too, it was expensive and small. She took me to the smoking section where she lit up a cigarette. Right to our left was a table with people speaking a middle eastern language, and to our right was a guy passed out at the table. M was telling me that she can’t understand English if it’s spoken with an Irish accent. Honey, you can’t understand neutral English accents!There was a poster behind M’s head I kept looking at: it was the shop’s mascot (a dog made of triangles), and it said “I had been always dreaming”. Ugh, incorrect English! I was tempted to point it out to M, but knowing her she’d probably think it’s correct.

Afterwards we went to the hair shop, La Supreme, and she told them to bleach it. They asked if a later date was fine, but I insisted I need to have it done that night. The owner of the shop came out and agreed to do it. M said she needed to leave. I swear, as soon as she was gone I let out a sigh of relief.

The owner, along with another worker, began working on my hair. I told them my American hair stylist uses volume 20 bleach on my hair, and even though they said they use it, the stuff they put on me wasn’t volume 20. He asked me, by way of a tablet translator, if I’m sensitive to bleach. I told him no, but he said Japanese bleach is stronger. So the bleaching is going smoothly. They put ear covers on the customers so bleach gel doesn’t get into the outer ear area, but they kept falling off. He told me he was 25 (I’m sorry, but he looked 45) and asked what my job is in Japan. He then wrote me a message that basically said he’d cut my hair next time. Whoa, next time? I was paying 7800 yen - didn’t that cover the cut?Allegedly for just 5,000 yen I could have them bleach my hair but not style it, but as M told me that, I doubt it.

I noticed there were some brown areas of my hair near my temples, and I had to point it out to them, which they then covered in bleach. They then left me to sit. I was confused, as this was the time my American hair stylist applies heat to my hair. Oh well, maybe the stuff was strong enough - after all, my scalp burned for about ten minutes after he applied it. The bang area, which was all I could see, looked fantastic. I must admit, I was a bit skeptical about a bleach job in Japan, as I didn’t want my hair damaged, but this was great as far as I could tell. A woman worker brought me some herbal tea.

He took me over to wash my hair (“relax time”, as he said.) The wash area was open to passersby looking in, but it was lit only with the reflected lighting from the mall’s white floors. He put a thin cloth over my face as I lied there, and that’s good for me because I always feel lazy when I close my eyes at a hair place; this way he couldn’t see my face. He also put a slinky, red blanket on my lap. The shampoo was okay, it was nothing special. No head massage, so that was sad. When he took me back to the chair he gave me a back massage, which is terrible for for me because I’m super ticklish, so I kept tensing up. He asked if I was okay, and I lied saying I was. He then started straightening it with only a flat iron. It came out being very limp-looking. I wasn’t very happy. And what’s worst is that as he was straightening it I noticed darker yellow areas near the roots on top of my head.

After I was all done I paid, and they set up an appointment that would cost 10,500 with a cut. I didn’t know how to tell them I wasn’t happy with the color near my roots, so I kindly set up the appointment and left, knowing full well I would not return.

As soon as I walked outside my hair got wavy due to the humidity. I got the bus home, as it was getting late and I knew I had to get up VERY early for Tokyo. I wasn’t sure how popular Keiko Takemiya is in Japan, but I didn’t want to be met with a long line in case I was late.

When I got back to the apartment I ate and took a shower. I cut out the painting, I had all of my notes and directions, I had my money. Everything was ready.

Hope abounds!

Sat, 02 Jun 2012 12:17:50 +0900

First thing, I gave Kou his swimming bag. I’d been drying the clothes outside, so hopefully his mother wouldn’t complain too much.

I worked with the kids on a craft of butterflies (I think that was it - there have been so many crafts that now they’re running together in my head). My main employer, who returns to Shizuoka every few weeks, was back again, and I asked her for a partial advance in payment. Remember, the last of the month fell on the following Monday, but I needed the money NOW. Now, my regular employer is a bit ditzy, and sometimes her actions seem blunt, but she’s nice, unlike M. I just like her approach better. She agreed! *_* Really? Sure enough, she came in later with a cute envelope decorated with three owls from the company “JA Koufukurouzu (Shizuoka prefecture branch”. Inside shone a glorious sight: half of my pay! At the time I thought it was one-third, but my regular pay was less; also, taxes were removed. Still, whether it was one-third or half, I was ecstatic. There was MORE than enough to get to Tokyo and back on the Shinkansen, It looked like pure gold to me! I hid it nonchalantly in my purse (yes, I adopted a purse that belonged to the previous girl, as it’s very large and can hold my stuff easily much better than my pockets). I didn’t want the kids to see it and color on it or something. Yes, these kids can be wild.

On my way back to my apartment I was extremely mindful of my cash, but I felt grand. I paid a few bills and bought food. Oh, food! How I missed you! And I could now get my hair bleached! Good thing I got paid, because Bunbou-do wrote back and told me the art books were 5,000 yen and 10,000 yen.

All I had to do was get my insurance card, which would be ready the next day. I hoped I could just quickly write my address on the back, or maybe say they wrote it wrong. Please!

How to say "freak" in Japanese.

Thu, 31 May 2012 15:54:00 +0900

After a night of my mom’s Japanese friend calling throughout the evening, I went to work, hopeful of getting my paycheck early. Around the afternoon I was folding paper cranes, as I had decided to decorate my class walls with them. Just then, Masa and M came into the class; Masa was holding an envelope, and he asked if I knew someone named Ichi. I answered yes, and he told me that the school had not only just received a letter from him, but numerous phone calls as well, asking for my address. He’d gotten the school name from my mother months before. I opened the envelope and inside was 10,000 yen and maps to the train station. M came right out and asked if I was having sexual affairs with him. I repeatedly told her no, but I’m not sure if she believed me. She kept saying she didn’t care what I did outside the school, but not to bring it there. Again, I insisted that I didn’t even know him other than being my mother’s pen pal. I was quite freaked out and just wanted to return the money. I asked Masa and M if I should just return it, saying there’s no person at the school; M said that may only antagonize him. I suggested that I say I wasn’t going to go to the exhibit, and M thought that was a good idea. She said I should call him from the school and tell him I have lots of friends to help me in Shizuoka… you know, let him know people are aware of me. So I dialed his number and waited. He answered, and I told him the lie about not going to Tokyo; M kept writing me notes to say about friends. Now, Ichi allegedly has poor English skills, but what he said creeped me out: “What are your reservations of telling me your home address?” What the fuck?! That’s higher level English! Needless to say, I was happy when I hung up. I asked Masa and M to send his letter back; at first they said I could do it, but then they agreed. Thankfully, they never told him my home address.

Argh, I felt dumb for returning the money, but I didn’t want any trouble from that guy. Remember, I still wasn’t sure at that point if I’d get paid before the exhibit, and I needed funds to get to and from Tokyo, not to mention money for the artbooks. I was worried that he’d still go to the exhibit, but thankfully the only picture my mother has shown him features me with wigs or my real hair color of mousy brown, not my current bleached platinum blonde.

Tuesday

Sun, 27 May 2012 01:49:22 +0900

M informed me that I forgot to give Kou, Kojiro, and Hime their swimming bags containing their wet clothes; sure enough, the kids’ bags were in my classroom. Damn it, they must have forgotten them in Kou’s rush to the door. Hime’s mom took the bags for Kojiro and Hime. However, Kou never came to school, so I had to place his clothes outside to dry, as M complained about mildew possibly forming on the clothes. I felt foolish all day.

Masa came to me and told me that he researched the exhibit (I told him I was going); he also said I had to buy the art book to get her autograph.

Juku was that night. Minami was giving me trouble, in that he kept mimicking me everytime I spoke. I told Masa, and he pulled Minami out of the room. afterwards, the kid’s mother came in the class and begged that I not “kick him out” again, being as the juku classes are expensive. Hey, I didn’t kick the little snot out. Also, he was being disruptive.

The next day shit would start!

Countdown!

Sun, 27 May 2012 01:12:58 +0900

I spent Sunday doing basically nothing rather than practicing my Japanese, drawing, and wasting time on the internet. On Monday I got the kids ready for swimming, which breaks down into this simple equation: buses come along all morning and drop off a few kids here and there. At 10:05 AM the last bus arrives with the kids. The kids change their uniforms to the casual uniforms, but within a few minutes of arriving the swimming bus shows! I have two slow dressers in my class (actually, they’re slow with eating, too), so I had to dog them to change faster. Because I didn’t have a swimsuit, I couldn’t go. All of the kids were out in the courtyard, clamoring to get on the bus; M yelled at me to put the wet clothing baskets on the bus, which she handed to me. After the bus left, I assisted Emi with her kids.

After everyone got back, it was lunch time. I started getting the bento boxes ready for the kids. Just then, Kou came up to me and pointed to his shirt (he has barely any English skills). I noticed some spot of something yellowish on it, and my first thought was it was vomit somehow. I tried pushing the possibility from my mind, as he looked fine to me. God, how I wanted it o be something other than vomit!

So everyone was eating lunch happily, and I was reading my Japanese language books, like I usually do at lunchtime. Suddenly, there was a commotion at the table, and one of the kids came up to me and simply said “Kou”. I looked over and saw Kou had vomited all down his front. I got him out of the classroom, telling him if his stomach hurt again to run to the toilet. I started cleaning up the vomit, which was primarily undigested rice from his lunch. Just then Kou vomited again in the hall! I told him to use a toilet! Now, we had just gotten over the whole rotavirus thing, and I was wondering if this was it again. I told M about Kou and she thought it was more rotavirus, too. M came into the classroom with another brand of disinfectant spray, sprayed where Ko had thrown up and sprayed everyone’s hands. UGH! Ko then lied down in the classroom, eventually falling asleep. And because Kojiro is his little accomplice, he, too, didn’t finish his lunch.

The other kids spent the afternoon playing in the class while Kou slept. When his bus arrived a few of the kids tried waking him, but he wouldn’t budge. My mind thought of the worst scenario in that whatever he was sick with put him into a coma; the kid wouldn’t wake up! We all were calling his name and nudging him. Thankfully, he woke up, and he grabbed his bag and ran out the door, followed by Kojiro and Hime (they’re all on the same bus).

Not all was well, though.

Doctor's visit

Thu, 24 May 2012 22:07:00 +0900

The next day my leg swelling had diminished slightly, but they were still large. As he promised, Masa came and picked me up. He also took a package of the ramen to show to the doctor if necessary.

The doctor office was near Shin Shizuoka. It’s in a beautiful house near the Ando Chome 2 bus stop; Masa said the area is expensive, and it does appear so.When we went inside, the office said they were closing for lunch, so Masa and I walked around until it was time to return. We went through a lovely park, where he told me he was going to America to study cultural anthropology of Africa. We went to a Coco’s restaurant. I told him I barely had money, but he paid. I got a chicken Caesar salad for about 375 yen, and he got a taco salad with French fries for about 700 yen. He insisted I share his French fries, as he’s a light eater. Afterwards we went to the library. I looked for Keiko Takemiya books, but the results showed nothing in English; I had to search under the Japanese entry. Everything was checked out, but as I was walking back to look at their other vintage manga I saw an artbook of Riyoko Ikeda’s works in the return bin. And right next to that was a copy of Kaze! I then went over to the Japanese language books, taking photos of phrases such as “I’d like to buy a train ticket to…” and” I made (these cookies) for you. I hope you enjoy” to prepare for my trip to Tokyo, as well as how to present my painting to Keiko Takemiya.

At 1:45 pm we left and went back to the doctor’s. Masa explained my problem to the doctor. The doctor said the swelling may have been from the drug. I told him my neck was still sore, so he started pressing sharply against my cervical vertebra, saying a bone could be out of place. It hurt! I explained it felt like it was the muscle rather than the bone before he cause any more pain. Just to make sure, he took a sample of my blood. Even to this day, I’ve always been nervous about needles, and when the nurse brought it I was tempted to say, “What, now?” However, she inserted the needle with barely any pain. When she asked if I was okay and I said yeah, she seemed pleasantly surprised.

He did an ultrasound on my kidneys, and they checked out okay. He told me the ultrasound was free!

Afterwards, Masa paid. I told him as soon as I got my money I’d pay him back. He gave me a bus pass card with a 300 yen credit and I took a bus back to Asabata. I decided to lay easy on the salts that day, being extremely cautious concerning my legs.