English camp. It’s just what it sounds like….only not. If you’re from the North West and at all schooled in the history of the San Juan Islands you’ll think the English Camp is where the British built a fort and a beautiful garden surrounded by maple trees on the North end of the island during the Pig War in 1859.

You’d be wrong.

In Japan, English camp is where all the 6th graders in the district come together for 3 days and two nights in one gym, split into teams and enjoy activities administrated by Wakakusa teachers.

Thankfully our team is so small this year that they had to split up the groups into 4 camps, further reducing the program to a 2-day program from 9am-3pm. Much more manageable.

As a team we split up planning and teaching responsibilities weeks in advance, preparing materials, planning programs to the minute, and cutting out hundreds of eyeholes from paper plates. It’s our “make a mask for Halloween” craft project. The few basic elements of the program include making a team name and poster, learning basic shopping dialogue and pretending to be a shopper/shopkeeper. The second day boasts Halloween masks and candy bags for crafts, learning ABC’s while playing fun games, and participating in a Halloween party.

Halloween…oh my. Well, it’s much different here than in America. Japanese people just think it’s all about trick or treating and dressing up, usually bringing the “cute” factor up a few notches. You thought a witch was scary? Now it’s vying for first place against kittens, puppies, and little girls with pigtails.

Yes, we teach them about trick-or-treating, make masks and decorate paper bags. All the teachers dress up and have a little entrance parade. Most of the female Japanese teachers were witches, though one sported an Obama mask. Have I mentioned that “Yes, we can!” is a popular phrase over here?! The male teachers were a little more diverse though namely revolved around fictional action heroes such as the power rangers, samurai-jedi, and Doraemon. Us Americans showed up as a Japanese high school student, a cowboy, Cat in the Hat, a bumble bee, a Native American, a manga character, a pirate, and a rockstar. The last one was me….but all it took was one look at my afro wig and I was immediately labeled “Lady Gaga!” Probably because she’s the only American rock start they know, because I KNOW I don’t look crazy enough to imitate her. I don’t even know her songs, just the chorus to “Poker Face.” I played the part though and had a pretty snazzy entrance complete with a fake mic made of a Sharpied paper towel tube and a dress sock stuffed with a small ball of yarn.

Almost all of our evening classes were mercifully cancelled during the weeks of English camp to lighten our load a bit. I appreciated that, considering I battled with losing my voice each morning and drank a ton of tea to compensate. At the end of camp Enchou sensei  and his wife took us on a trip to onsen and a Fall tour. We enjoyed onsen and initiated Travis’s mom who was visiting from the U.S. to the ritual of continuous bathing. Looking out the 10th floor steamy bath window, I watched the clouds turn a delicate pink as the sun set behind the foothills. The hills themselves were showing their Autumn colors of reds and oranges, dotted between the evergreens. In the evening we went to the downstairs outdoor bath where the hot spring water was a welcome contrast to the cool and fresh night air. Poking my head out from the overhang I saw the cloudless night sky twinkling with stars.

I love Fall.

I loved it even more when our trip continued to the 5 colored lakes, my 3rd trip there since arriving in this prefecture. This time the trees were clothed in an array of colors instead of a uniform green. Enchou sensei rowed me and Janelle out on to one of the lakes for a picturesque ride in the perfect weather. I was sure to wear my favorite new red scarf that wrapped my neck and chin in fuzzy warm feelings.

We trekked further up the lakes to the larges of them all and boarded a touring boat. The friendly guide chatted about the history of the lakes and how the eruption of Mt. Bandai in 1881 created over 300 of them…and destroyed a village in the process. I’m determined to summit the mountain next year.

After lunch in an American-inspired restaurant called “Monterey,” we rode the van up the mountain to look at the leaves and check out the trailhead. It was a bit windy on the way down and I felt a little queasy but we got back safe and soundly late in the afternoon. It was just enough time for Rachel and I to stretch our legs in the park, watching the sunset as we threw around the frisbee. From the park we had an uninterrupted view of Mt. Katasone; the sun was setting, thrusting rays of pink and red across the sky while the sharp cresent moon lingered low over the mountain top. What a perfect night to climb a mountain and watch the sunrise.

So we did.

Yes, we got up at 3am and rode our bikes not to the close Katasone, but the further and higher Mt. Utsushigatake, an impressive 994.5 meters compared to the former. We climbed it in the summer, if you remember, and got caught in a torrential downpour at the top. This time the sky was perfectly clear and as we rode our bikes past empty rice fields and dark country houses we continuously looked into the heavens to comment on the intensity and sheer number of glowing celestial bodies blinking back at us. Orion’s belt? I thought it consisted of 3 stars but it turns out there are like, 50 stars up there. Who’d have known?!

We were pretty surprised to pass 4 cars on the road at that hour of the morning. I bet they were equally surprised to see bikers out for a pleasure trip.

Then we got pulled over by the police.

Yeah, they were out patrolling…seriously, patrolling WHAT?!?! The rice paddies??? They’ve already been harvested---there’s nothing to steal, nothing to graffitti, and nothing to DO. I have no idea why they were out there, but that made them more interested in asking about our business.

The officer turned on his flashing lights, pulled over the car and walked across the street to where we stood waiting with our bikes.

“Wasldjfasdhfiuwhoqiwuebvbvasdivbasiuebka?”

“Um, one more time please?” I asked in Japanese.

“Wasldkfjeiwopqwoeifaoidnvdinvaosefpqowieka?”

I looked dumbly at Rachel, who didn’t offer any assistance.

“Eeto…” I stumbled around to try and ask for clarification.

“Oh, you don’t understand Japanese, do you?...” He inquired.

“Well, just a little bit.”

“Wfahsidofewifhasodfhowhefwoppqpaasdnneuka?” He asked a slightly different question and I decided that since I couldn’t understand what he said I would just offer information and see if it’s what he wanted to know.

“We’re on our way to climb the mountain. We want to watch the sunrise.” I ventured in poor Japanese.

He understood right away, agreeded that it was great weather for it, and energetically encouraged us to continue and be careful.

You betcha.

As the officers pulled away We walked our bikes a few feet in silence, then burst out laughing at being pulled over on bikes by the Japanese police at 4am.

“Well,” I said, “That’s one thing to check off on our adventure list! Next thing is to be startled by a strange noise in the woods and discover it’s a very small animal! Hahaha!”

Well, that did in fact happen not long afterwards as we walked up the mountain and nearly jumped out of our Under Armor at the sound of an owl lifting off of a metal construction sign.

P.S., backhoes look like monsters in the nighttime.

Ascending the mountain I realized that a little cirrus cloud was creeping up from the West. I actually welcomed it, thinking it would make for a more interesting sunrise. What I didn’t anticipate was the huge cumulous clouds barreling in from the East. I couldn’t have seen them anyways for two reasons: the mountain was in my way, and it was dark.

So, we finally made it up the rocky trail, traversing the ropes like Indiana Jones to the summit only to find it completely enveloped in a cloudy mist. We had 45 minutes to kill and hoped it would blow off, considering the small breeze that was chilling the sweat on our backs. We hid behind the rocks on the summit and I sipped my thermos of tea waiting for the light to appear.

It did…eventually, but only filtered through that stupid cloud. There was no sunrise, no epic display of beauty and power, no 360 view of the surrounding mountains and villages, and no sight of my beloved ocean.

It was most disappointing.

However, we made the best of it by taking a different path down the mountain and exploring a few new places on the way back.

After arriving back home we quickly took showers and headed out for a new kind of adventure: a festival!

It was the annual offer-grain-to-the-gods-and-drink-lots-of-sake festival. Men carry a shrine on their shoulders and chant incessantly as they approach businesses who offer sake in return for a blessing. The shrine is an offering of thanks for the harvest. All the guys are either wasted before they start, or become wasted during the walking. Two men per shrine have a specific duty of blowing a shrill whistle. Each blow signals something to the group, directions and other things that I’m not sure about. There are also men who linger on the sides of the group, pushing them away from hazards and prevent them from crashing into bystanders like me. Yes, it happened and I have a video of it J There are a few people who switch in and out and they take a few breaks now and then. I mean drinking breaks. They make use of the alcohol though as some groups slip and slide down the steep river bank to wade upstream…with the shrine! You’d have to be drunk to want to do that, and you’d need the booze to keep you warm in the cold water.

Kids participate in this too, carrying their own mini shrine and substituting Coke and sports drinks for alcohol. Starting them young….

Yeah, basically they walk around chanting, drinking, and spinning their shrines for 5 hours….I watched a bit and took a fat nap. There were a few street vendors out so I supported the local economy by buying some yummy food.

Yep, that’s pretty much the exciting business of late. School is back to normal this week, with the exception of a random holiday on Thursday.

I wish I had an inspiring or funny bit to leave you with but I’ve got nothin’. Good night. 

You remember field day, right? That day in elementary school when you go out for an extended gym period and play relays and field hockey? Japan has that too…only different. Very different.

Their field day is called “undokai” (oo-n-dough-ka-ey) and it warrents an entire extra day. The local elementary school, also the largest, hosted it on a Saturday so the following Monday was a day off for the kids. We three English teachers were invited to go and watch, along with the 500 other families who went to watch their children compete in various events on the school field.

So, after my 6am run with Dan, I hurried back to shower, eat breakfast, and walk down to pick a spot. The festivities opened with a speech from the principle and other important people at 8:15am. From then until noon I saw many of my student in grades 1-6 compete in foot races by grade, relay races of various kinds, obstacle races, dances, and band performance. I took lots of pictures…

After that I  hopped on the 1:15 train with Janelle for a shopping day in Koriyama. I had a few things on a list, and of course came back with more than I intended. New indoor shoes were a must, since the heating inside many of the school buildings is either non-existant or minimal. Fur lined short brown boots? Yes, please. Let’s not forget a furry faux sherling-lined lap blanket for inside my apartment…everyone needs a snuggle blanket for those cold winter nights when you just watch movies and drink cocoa. New kitting needles for my latest project, yarn, 3 boxes of on-sale graham crackers, gouda, and an apple crumble Starbucks latte were among the purchases. What better way to top off the evening than watch the conclusion of Anne of Avonlea with Rachel. “I don’t want sunbursts or marble halls. I just want YOU.” My heart melts every time. Oh, Gilbert Blithe, where are you?

My most recent excursion was completed Monday when I returned home from Tokyo. I left early Saturday morning, arriving by Shinkansen in Tokyo at 9:12am. I fought a sore throat most of the weekend but ended up fighting it off and getting the better of it…this time.

Saturday I hung out with Takae and her family. We went on a shopping hunt trying to find cottage cheese. I have since reconciled that Japan does not make or import cottage cheese, at least not by American standards. They do, however, market and import two variations of cottage cheese: one with the consistency of feta cheese, and one with the consistency of whipped cream cheese. I bought three small tubs of the latter, and combined with other imported ingredients I was able to whip up a delicious lasagna! The recipe requires a 9x13 pan…those don’t exist in Japan—I looked. So I split it between two pans. Everything that went in it seemed normal enough (except the cottage cheese…that was kind of a surprise) but the bigger surprise was the amount of mozerella cheese I put in it! Yes, this is how we cook in America.

On Sunday we all went to Yuko’s opera concert where we met some old friends and relatives. Together we sat and watched “Don Giovanni” produced by the university’s master program. The orchestra was rendered entirely by piano reduction, as two pianists took turns playing the entire score. It was quite fabulous and  lovely Sunday matinee. We went out to a family restaurant for dinner afterwards…can you guess where?



Denny’s!

Before you turn up your nose in disgust, let me disclose that Denny’s in Japan is entirely different from its American origin. Sure they have a large yellow sign and weird color-schemed booths, but the menu is Japanese…which means it’s better. Selections from ramen, soba, spaghetti (with vegetables), and other fare even melt a little into traditional selections like steak and club sandwich…which are in fact the ONLY things on the menu that are similar. I opted for the chef salad. I was informed that this particular dish was intended for 2-3 people to which I replied, “Yes, but that’s two or three Japanese people…I’m American.” I ordered it. I ate it all.

 The next day we celebrated the Monday holiday, Tai’iku no hi (sports day) by playing baseball and badminton in the middle of the street with otoosan. Then the family went for a walk around town, through the backroads and a woodsy trail ending up near a town park. The park was a little wood-surrounded golden rice terrace where familes parked their cars, spread their plastic ground covers, and busted out the onegiri. Dads and sons searched for crayfish in the rice field moats, little girls chased dragonflies and moms sat around chatting holding cups of cold green tea. It was rather picturesque.

Our own evening turned out to be epic in a different way…we ate some amazing ramen sitting around the coffee table in the living room watching a VHS tape: Apollo 13 with Japanese subs. YES!!! It was awesome. We didn’t get through the whole thing though because at just the right time we all jumped up, scrambled into the car and drove to the train station to drop off me and Takae. We said goodbyes and I followed my guide onto the train.

We didn’t get very far.

The train stopped and annouced that there was an “accident” along the line. Unfortunately this usually means that someone tried to commit suicide by leaping onto the tracks.

We deboarded at the next station and caught another train going in our desired direction, but it wasn’t long before we had to get off again due to the change in trains. We had planned this trip to the minute and now we were losing precious time. There were only a few shinkansen trains left….ahh! But, we kept calm, got some Starbucks, and called otoosan who graciously left home again to come pick us up and drive us all the way into Tokyo. There wasn’t even any traffic! Hallelujah! I caught the last train with about 6 minutes to spare.

Just this past weekend I had another shopping extravaganza with Janelle, completeing my shoe search and rescuing a cute pink pig from the toy shelf. Han-kun is now happily occupying my pillow, keeping guard during the day. My friend Kenta came to visit Funehiki Saturday night and hung out with us crazy people, picking up some cheap curry soba, playing improptu music, and watching The Shining. I declined the latter, since I was exhausted by 10:30 and went straight to bed. It was a surprisingly early morning, rising at 8:30 to eat and prepare for the race. We walked up to the sports complex and checked in, taking notice of the parent-child race that was finishing and walking past the food vendors selling fresh kabobs, soba noodles, and icees. We watched Dan run his 5 K and soon us girls were warming up for our races. I got onto the field and browsed the signs written kanji for some familiar characters that would indicate “womens 10K A.” I discovered that I was racing against 4 other women, decidedly more in shape than myself…and their running attire looked legit compared to my haphazard mismatched goodwill clothes.  The weather was pretty overcast, though there was some blue sky in the distance. I almost wished it was raining like it had that morning.

The gun went off and my little group joined the older women’s group and the 7 other groups of men who jetted off like little rockets. It only took me once around the track to realize I wouldn’t be winning first place because that lady was already 100 yards ahead of me…and I was pushing my 9 minute pace.

What surprised me most was when we exited the stadium and proceeded to follow the road out to the rice paddies. Who was there but Kenta, having changed into his pajama shorts and was ready to run with me! He slipped into the mass of people and we ran a few miles together….then the sun came out. REALLY came out. It was just as hot as summer time, minus the humidity. I slowed down a bit and suddenly people started to pass me. Oh well. Even Kenta, who just decided to take a little jog was running ahead of me!

I barely made it. As I ran past little roadside homes the dwellers were clapping and shouting encouraging words to me. I actually stopped to walk 3 times (when there were few people around, of course) and get my legs back under me. I pushed myself up the last hill, willing my legs to eat any kind of energy they could find. Despite my struggles I came into the masses and the stadium looking like a champ, running my fastest on the verge of a sprint. I saw a lady up ahead…maybe I could catch her! I pumped my arms and got on my toes, closing the gap as the finish line loomed closer. I just barely was on her heels when we crossed the finish line…oh well. Exhausted I slowed immediately and proceeded to cool down when an official came up to me and told me to go one more time around the track. ARE YOU SERIOUS?!?!! I just used every last bit of strength to finish strong and now I could barely get a pace back to jog around the whole track again. I was slow, but I made it.

Turns out I got second place afterall! The first girl was a whole 12 minutes ahead of me…I wasn’t even close! The 3rd girl was 2 minutes behind me, and the other two were 12 minutes behind her! Quite a gap. I shook some guy’s hand who was probably important, stood on the podium, and received some fancy papers with my name printed on them and a plaque. Yay!

Then I went home and ate brownies since I hadn’t eaten chocolate in a month and a half.