Yatta! (I did it!)

I got into Intensive Japanese 400! “But Jeff, what does that mean?” “What happened to writing about life in Japan?” “Did I leave the oven on?” you’re quietly saying to yourself. Let’s rewind, because I’ve actually been here for ten days despite this being the first post (the host family has no internet and access here is surprisingly lacking; more on that later).

I touched down in Nagoya on September 2 after a 13-hour flight from Detroit (for total flight time, tack on another 2 hours to get from Philadelphia to Detroit) during which I intermittently slept and caught pieces of Spider Man 3, Shrek 3 and The Ex (the latter being the only film I cared to see in the first place). The entire time I was thinking about the placement test I had to take at Nanzan. Truth be told, I hadn’t studied as much as I wanted over the summer. Needless to say I was a bit worried; Japanese isn’t necessarily natural like, say, breathing.

Nevertheless I soldiered on, studying between naps, and soon enough we were beginning our descent into the Nagoya area. I was seated next to a woman en route to Manila (I believe) with her young daughter, who slept most of the way. As the mother pulled up the shade a bit, I noticed something very intriguing: windmills. “Green power,” I thought. “It DOES exist!” Given the recent resistance to windmills off the coast of New England in America, I was surprised to see them in Japan, and thought perhaps the whole country was moving in the direction of renewable energy.

Well, I’m almost half right. Those may be the only windmills in Japan for all I know, and a lot of people have cars, though the vast majority are small. What’s missing in windmills, however, is compensated by a TON of bikes. Everywhere I go, there is at least one person on a bike. On the rare occasion I don’t see someone riding a bike, there is evidence of bike use when I pass any one of a number of parking areas specifically for bikes. Depending on the area, it’s not unusual to have great difficulty finding a space for your bike if you haven’t arrived early in the day. When I travel to the subway station each morning, I pass an army of high and middle school students biking to class. As the roads in my neck of the woods are narrow, this creates a problem for drivers, who sometimes have to wait for opposing traffic to pass so they can use the other side of the road to get by. Even with all the driving, however, I haven’t seen a huge number of overweight Japanese (though I have seen a few—thanks, McDonald’s).

For those with doubts, yes the Japanese drive on the left side of the road. And yes, it’s a major adjustment to ride on the left side of the street. Several times I have had to correct myself, and thankfully no cars were flying around the bend at the time—and they sure do fly. My host mother graciously lends me her bike to get to and from the subway station each morning. I have repeatedly double-checked to make sure this is O.K. (all the host-family-tip materials warned me not to be a “cultural child” that thinks “Wow, they treat you like royalty!” when they’re actually making major lifestyle changes to accommodate you), as she doesn’t use the car very much. She insists it’s all right; she usually takes the public buses or walks—she doesn’t like using the car because it’s bad for the air. How’s that thought process coming along in America?

As I said before, riding on the left side of the road comes with a learning curve. Especially when it’s not your bike, and the bike you’re riding was built for someone roughly a foot smaller than you. Fortunately the seat adjusts to a reasonable height, but a tiny bike is a tiny bike. I’m getting used to it though, and it has handy baskets on the front and back with room enough for my camera bag and backpack respectively. So, on to an actual description of the host family and life in Japan.

For the fall semester, I’m living with Shogo and Satoko Shimozawa. They’re 76 and 70, respectively. (For anyone unfamiliar with Japanese names, Shogo’s the husband.) Shogo’s hobbies include golf, travel, and painting. Satoko’s hobbies include travel, flower arranging (ikebana, pronounced e-kay-bana), and ceramic arts. Sounds pretty “meh,” right? Well take into consideration that pretty much every plate or dish we use for eating or serving at any given meal was made by Satoko. Many of the paintings in the house are Shogo’s work. An entire hutch of ceramic figurines and teapots (save for a fishing Santa-esque figure from a trip to Minnesota) were also made by Satoko. It’s staggering. This hutch, for instance, is nearly bursting with ceramics:

That hutch is only a portion of Satoko’s work.

While I’m at it, I’ve got some more pictures of the house:

This is a picture of the genkan, of which the closest American equivalent is the foyer. Except in the foyer, it’s rare that you must take off your shoes. It’s the first thing you see when you enter the house (assuming you’re not a solicitor or other stranger whom would be kept outside at the gate).

This is a 180-degree turn from where I took the dining room picture. The Shimozawas frequently turn on the news during dinner (though they rarely watch it on that beauty of a TV), and the hutch on the right contains all the ceramic figurines Satoko made.

This is just outside the door to my room. Hanging on the wall is a piece of Shogo’s handiwork, with a few golf trophies on the shelf. Every Sunday Shogo watches golf on TV.

Kore wa watashi no heya desu. This is my room, as seen from just inside the door. I actually have a bed! Though the pillow is definitely made for back sleepers and the mattress is a bit stiff, I haven’t had any trouble sleeping thanks to long days around town and at Nanzan.

Another view of my heya (room). Yeah, the TV has cable, although I haven’t watched much in order to keep electricity bills down. I just know I’d get sucked into some random Japanese show and stay up until the wee hours.

I don’t know where this came from or what it is, but it’s on top of the right hand closet in the last pic and it’s funky, so I thought you all should see it. Please comment if you can identify it; I’m striving for accuracy here.

The house even comes complete with its own stray cat!

Shiro-chan says hi! Shiroi means white in Japanese, and -chan is a name suffix used in addressing small children, particularly young girls.

Shortly after this picture, Shiro-chan said hello to me in her own special way (read: hissing).

So that’s a brief tour of the house. There are some rooms I haven’t been allowed into yet, and others (like the kitchen and bathroom) that would net me very concerned looks from the family if I were to wander into them with a camera. Now that you’re all (sort of) oriented, allow me to break down some of the more interesting events by day.

9/2 Sunday:

I landed in Nagoya at about 6:30 PM Japan time. Satoko met me at the airport, and we took a bus back into Nisshin-shi (Nisshin City), where the Shimozawas actually live. It took about an hour by bus, and I got a feel for the Japanese highway system: high speeds and high barriers. “Barriers?” you might be asking. Vast tracts of the highway have what appear to be plexiglass barriers similar to the concrete barriers found on some highways in the U.S. to reduce noise. These barriers, however, are part of the guardrail, and are even present on overpasses. It makes sense, and I wonder why it’s not more prevalent. I saw a massive Pachinko center, which is essentially the Japanese method of choice gambling money away, comparable to slots in the U.S. (though there are also Pachislot centers), and a huge ferris wheel lit up in various colors and patterns—that’s right, it was only a little after 7 PM and it was dark. Japan’s higher latitude means it’s only light until about 6:30 or so, and this will only shorten in the coming months. Satoko explained that the ferris wheel was part of an amusement park of sorts. When the bus dropped us off closer to home, Shogo met us with the Shimozawas’ car, which is a Suzuki SUV though the definition of SUV in Japan is quite different—my two suitcases and backpack fit just right in the cargo area behind the back seat. We stopped for dinner on the way home at a restaurant whose name had Kanji—complex characters borrowed from the Chinese; I know about 300 of 2,000—I couldn’t read, and I ordered one of my favorite dishes, Tempura Udon, to commemorate the start of my adventures in Japan. I nearly seared the taste buds off my tongue. The Japanese like their food HOT. And I mean HOT hot HOT! After I got over the fact that I would probably never taste again and even the green tea we were served was also burning my hand through the thick ceramic cup, the food was delicious.

Cultural Note: Many people wonder how the Japanese eat soup with chopsticks alone. In some Japanese restaurants in the States, curved spoons are served with soup. It’s true that these exist in Japan, but the generally acceptable method is to simply pick up the entire bowl and drink the soup. Further, slurping is not only acceptable, but practically encouraged when eating noodles or soup. Granted, I have limited cultural perspective living with 70-plus year old host parents, but frequently noodles and soup are slurped, and difficult-to-pick-up rice grains are also shoveled out of a lifted bowl. I’ve also noticed that to a certain extent it’s ok to be a little bit messy; both in the home and in some restaurants drinks are poured with speed in mind, and often some is dribbled or spilled. Of course, these are more casual situations.

After dinner we returned home, where I presented the Shimozawas with the gifts I brought and chat in awkward, limited Japanese. A tip for anyone even remotely thinking of studying abroad in Japan—and this is something they don’t tell you in the manuals—interactions with the host family can, and will frequently, be PAINFULLY AWKWARD in the first few days. This is because your host family has spoken Japanese for as many as 76 years, and you have been working on it perhaps two or three. So, after some painfully awkward Japanese speaking about my gifts and my room, I was shown how to use the shower. I find showering in Japan to be quite an adventure, and I mean that in the best sense of the word. You get a whole ROOM. “But Jeff,” you’re saying, “duh, of course you get a room—it’s called a bathroom, and it’s got a tub where you bathe or shower, so that counts.” Nay. Sure there’s a tub, but you don’t use it to bathe. The shower head sits outside the tub, and the whole room is fair game for showering. Could you imagine the havoc that would be wreaked if American children were given a whole room to shower in? I wish showers in America were this cool when I was little. Afterwards, it was off to bed because I was tired. It was about 10 PM.

9/3 Monday:

Breakfast during the week begins promptly at 7:30 AM, but because I’d come so far the Shimozawas graciously delay until 8 AM. And what does this baka gaijin (stupid foreigner; literally translated gaijin [pronounced guy-jean] means “outside person”) do? He’s 10 minutes late. Dame! (pronounced da-may; Bad!) The typical breakfast at the Shimozawa household is toast with butter or a slice of ham on top, with a mixture of home-made yogurt with bananas, honey, and sometimes even jam and some sort of soy powder that tastes like graham cracker crust (but isn’t) on the side. That doesn’t even cover the grapes, which while I’m not entirely sure yet, may the Japanese plums that umeboshi (Japanese pickled plums) are made from. All I know is that they were nearly the size of golf balls and tasted like a grape and a plum at the same time—in some circles, this may also be known as “heaven.” Frankly, everything is delicious, and when I ask if this is the typical breakfast, the answer is a surprising yes. I was afraid this was all for the tall American student that must be impressed by Japan’s copious amounts of food, but it’s just the typical breakfast, because as Satoko explains, “Shogo eats a lot.” Shogo gave me a bicycle tour of Nisshin-shi. Our first stop is a small plot of land a short ride away that is home to many flourishing vegetables. It is my understanding that several people maintain and pick from this garden, as it is neither visible from the Shimozawa house nor fenced off or otherwise protected. Here are some snapshots of the garden and its surrounding area. Note the close proximity of farily high-rise apartments and suburban houses, and yet the high-rises don’t give it that typical “city” feel. That is, they’re not a total blight to the surrounding land.

Ok, so maybe this one is a little crowded.

Note the popped collar. Pops knows what’s hot. (Don’t be a fool; it keeps the sun off his neck)

The tool shed (which I might add was about one million degrees).

Shogo hard at work planting fresh seeds.

Afterward, we stopped back at the house for a little while to relax and have lunch, and then it was time for Shogo to give me a tour while also completing a practical errand: Dropping off the recycling. You know what that means—it’s time for another Cultural Note. The Japanese sort their garbage into five categories: Burnable, Non-Burnable, Plastic Containers and Wrappings, Empty Glass Bottles and Cans, and Oversize Garbage. These are all sorted into various bags and containers depending on their combustibility or recycling potential, and are usually collected. They may also be dropped off at various centers, and Shogo gave me a tour while also crossing an errand off the list. This makes me feel like less of an imposition, and a little more comfortable as a foreign guest.

Our first stop is a nearby park, which is an absolutely gorgeous shade of green considering the heat (upper 80s-low 90s every day, with humidity to match). Here’s a pic:

If you close your eyes and scroll down, I magically appear!

Note: The Packers cap is on loan from Shogo for sunny day bike rides.

The park pond is home to fish (not pictured) and turtles, and I’ve been assured the water is usually cleaner:

Obligatory awkward-gaijin pics of me on the pond walkway follow

So I look pained and/or constipated in both. It was my second day in Japan—give me a break.

From the park we traveled to the recycling center, where I found a nice, if a bit old, English-Japanese dictionary for free. You can’t beat free. After finishing that errand, we trekked to Nisshin Castle.

Doesn’t look like too much now, does it? Wait for it…

My first old-school Japanese castle. Excellent.

Once again, if you’ll be so kind as to close your eyes and scroll, I magically appear!

Ta-da! I look slightly less drugged!

Well, there it is, just begging to be visited…shall we see what the view is like from the top?

So it’s fenced in….but look at that view!

What’s that? You want to see the other sides, and not just another angle of the same view?

Also, while inside the castle proper, I had to wear really tiny slippers.

Hehe. Giant gaijin feet.

The castle was also home to a rock garden. Not as exciting as a flower garden, granted, but it’s certainly artfully arranged, and it’s part of the Japanese aesthetic.

Sadly (or maybe not, depending on your perspective), there’s no magically-appearing me this time. Just a picture of me in front of the rock garden.

Now looking less…! Well, no, I still look dazed.

There’s also some video of the castle:

By the time we left the castle and returned home, it was almost time for Satoko to return home (did I mention she’d been out all day as well, doing her own thing?) and prepare the first home-cooked Japanese meal, which if I’m remembering correctly was soba noodles served cold with a bowl of soy sauce in which to dip the noodles. It was perfect, considering how hot it was outside.

9/4 Tuesday:

I wake up to discover that after all the careful planning, after all the meticulous attention to detail and consultation of packing lists, after all the purchased backup items…my watch is dead. And not I-accidentally-pulled-the-stem-out dead. Dead dead. I meekly approach Shogo about adding it to the days errands, and he carefully examines the watch. The movement was made in Japan, which made the battery a snap to replace. Score one for Nautica! As Shogo was examining the watch, however, I noticed that the stainless steel was made in China. Oops. China and Japan have a history of not getting along well together, but fortunately for me that didn’t stop the watch guy from replacing my battery. I could’ve hugged him, and Shogo for taking me, but refrained from both because that would also garner a lot of concerned looks.

In an interesting move given the heat, Shogo stopped at the grocery store before heading to the watch repair. I was concerned that everything would spoil, but with the shade provided in most bike parking lots, this wasn’t an issue. I also became accustomed to simply leaving the bike with the kickstand locked and a small ring lock fastened between the spokes of the back wheel, preventing it from moving. As this won’t stop someone willing to carry a bike and look like a total fool, I was surprised that there aren’t more bike thefts. I have since left the bike parked at the subway station for an entire day with no worries. Since nearly everyone has a bike, I suppose bike theft is less of an issue.

Afterward, I was shown the post office, bank, Nisshin library, and the Nisshin government office, where I recently applied for my alien registration card. Next up was Nisshin station, which is for the above-ground train (not to be confused with the excellent, efficient, and clean subway—more on that later), and some of its surrounding shops. We stopped off at another large store, this one selling all sorts of media and video game material, before heading home. Along the way, Shogo pointed out that we were passing the bus stop where I got off coming back from the airport. It was unbelievable. Shogo was now sweating through his shirt, riding all over Nisshin city with a total stranger, up and down hills (though we did walk the steeper hills, and there are a lot of them—give me a break, I’m from Jersey), and did I mention he’s 76 years old? Say it with me: Wow.

During the course of this adventure, Shogo is testing my knowledge of his directions to get to and from the local subway station so I can get to school each day. I only screw up once on the way there. I’m pretty impressed with myself. Dinner and a shower precede bed, and tonight I got my first taste of homemade gyoza (dumplings). I LOVE gyoza, and Satoko’s are simply kick-ass. There’s just nothing like a tray full of freshly made dumplings to satisfy the weary traveler. Before dinner, Satoko appears surprised that I like gyoza. I take this as a good sign that I’m making progress. Yet every time we eat, there is a nagging sensation that they’re often talking about me, but I can’t catch all of what they’re saying. Gaijin this and gaikokujin (a longer version, essentially meaning “People from other countries”) that, and yet everything in the middle is too fluent-native-speaker fast for me to understand. It feels as though every time I get up from the table after dinner, it’s like the Southern Socialite dinner scene from Borat. “Well, I think the cultural differences are VAST, but I think in no time, he’ll become Japanized,” they seem to be saying. Then, I do something equivalent to bringing a bag of my own poop to the table. Please note that I have not actually brought a bag of my own poop to the table, but I have made some cultural gaffes. “But I haven’t seen Borat!” you may be crying. That’s both a blessing and a curse.

Today I made the mistake of asking for water when Satoko offered me tea. A rookie mistake given all the cultural videos I saw at Dickinson before leaving, and clearly I wasn’t thinking. Culturally, if you’re offered a drink in Japan, you may politely refuse it a few times before accepting, but you DEFINITELY don’t ask for something else. Baka! I’m sure it gave them something to talk about over dinner when I couldn’t listen fast enough.

9/5 Wednesday:

Breakfast is promptly at 7:30 AM, and shortly after 8 AM I leave a little bit ahead of schedule in order for Satoko to help me navigate the subway system. With one hesitation, I make it to Akaike (a-kai-kay) station, and find Satoko. Except I didn’t realize that she was helping me with the subway—I thought she needed the bike. After backtracking to drop the bike off at the lot, we’re ready to go. The subway station is amazingly clean, and the train is surprisingly not elbow-to-elbow, though we do have to stand. Just about everyone seated is a sleeping Japanese salary man or working woman, and while I don’t have pictures yet, I will sneak one eventually. The Japanese really are overworked. Yet this is totally acceptable, and most appear to be able to sleep sitting upright. The mantra here would be “That’s life.”

Of course, this works both ways. I have since sat next to a girl who appeared to have fallen asleep in the middle of sending a text message on her cell phone. Poor thing. So many friends, so little thumb energy. On the other hand, if she had fallen asleep like that in America, the phone, and probably a few other things, would be missing when she awoke.

Anyway, I rode the subway with Satoko, and was struck by the amount of English present. Every subway sign has English captions explaining which platform goes which direction, and which line you’re taking. Check out the map:

You may or may not be able to read it, but every station name has the English translation underneath it. Even the automated voice on board the train announces the next stop in Japanese and English! Crazy. With Satoko’s help, I successfully arrive at Yagoto (the first stop on the purple circle line; I’ve been riding the blue line from right to left) and negotiate the transfer to the Meijo Line (the purple cirlcle). I ride that for one stop to Yagoto Nisseki, and from there it’s about a five minute walk to campus. All told, it’s 10 minutes or so by bike to the station (I remember the route now), five minutes to Yagoto on the subway, another couple minutes for the transfer, a minute to Yagoto Nisseki, and another five minutes or so to campus. General travel time is about half an hour or so depending on how well the trains match up, etc. Here’s a picture of Yagoto station, where I make my transfer:

A limited view, I know, but it’s definitely clear that this subway system is cleaner than New York’s.

Here’s a picture of the typical vending machine in Japan. Why? Because I can:

Look at all the choices!

Sometimes the displays move, or have waving arrows pointing out a particular suggestion.

Anyway, I got off the train and followed Satoko to Nanzan University (oh yeah, I did come here to study!). More and more gaijin appear. Yep, this is the place. After negotiating a hill of San Francisco proportions, we arrive at the main gate.

Looking down the hill…

…And looking out at eye-level from the top of the hill. Yikes.

At last!

Unfortunately, the buildings don’t have a whole lot of character. Note, however, that these pics were taken on a cloudy day.

This is the library.

And that is something else entirely. Ah, well. There’s plenty of green around!

After some waiting we gaijin were ushered into the recently opened B building (don’t worry, it’s concrete like the others, just without the orange) and given our placement tests. It got progressively more difficult, and if you can remember all the way back when, I somehow managed to place into IJ 400, which is good news (I needed to get into 300 for Dickinson credit, but that’s also more or less a review of the first two years at Dickinson from what I understand). I met up with Paris, Katie, and Chloe, and finally began to feel more comfortable. Don’t get me wrong, Japan is fantastic, but at this point I was dying to have some English conversation. My limited Japanese was leading to the primal frustration of not being understood—and not being able to effectively communicate—at home, and it was good to start building up a support group at Nanzan.

Katie, Myself, Chloe and Paris.

Of course, meeting up with the rest of the Dickinson crew didn’t stop me from meeting other people. I met a guy from Poland named Gregory (in Polish it sounds like Dragush, if anyone knows the language please help me convert that to proper Polish), a girl of Korean descent who is actually from Australia (!) named Sim Sim Van, and even a guy from Russia named Moses. Seriously. I don’t have pictures yet, but I will.

After lunch orientation proper began, and form…after form…after form…after form…after…wait for it…form! rolled our way. Whoever said America or France or China was bureaucratic lied: Japan has a form for everything, and sometimes a form for that form. I only slightly exaggerate.

After just three days of orientation and an Alien Registration (the green envelope is a city guide packet).

Sadly, most of this will probably end up in the “burnable trash” bags. So much for those windmills.

Orientation sessions tend to run all day, so there really isn’t much else to report here. Today’s session ended at 2:30, but I spent the rest of the time reading the forms I received.

9/6 Thursday:

More orientation, more forms, and the aforementioned placement test results. I had lunch with Gregory and Moses, and alphabetical seating during the Student Life Orientation afforded a nice chat with Sim Sim between presentations. We ordered our Inkans, or name stamps, and got some belated tips for living with a host family. Cultural Note: The Inkan takes the place of a signature in the U.S. In order to open a bank account, I MUST have the Inkan, because signatures are not accepted. After handing in a couple forms and receiving even more, we were treated to guided tours of the Nanzan campus. My tour guide was Ayumi. She absolutely loves The O.C., and is currently working her way through Season 2. She is majoring in French, and wants to study abroad, possibly in America if not France. She also happens to speak English pretty well. There was a welcome party at the end, but due to the fact that a typhoon was due to hit at 6:30, I decided to heed my host family’s wishes that I not stay at Nanzan too long. Unfortunately, all Nisshin and Nagoya got was a spot of rain and howling winds comparable to a wild thunderstorm back in New Jersey. Bummer. On the upside, dinner was once again fantastic. And by the way, I’m totally having a love affair with Calpis. But don’t worry, it’s not a person, just the best drink ever created.

The label reads “Carupisu Uootaa” (the approximation for “Calpis Water” using the Japanese Katakana syllabary), and if you say it fast, it kind of sounds like “Cow Piss,” but don’t be fooled by the funny name or deterred by the idea of drinking “water” that’s white. I really don’t consider it water, but if it in fact is, then the Japanese really know how to do the whole “flavored water” thing. It looks milky, but isn’t milk either. It’s just a sweet, refreshing bottle (or glass) of Calpis. It’s smooth like milk, but not really creamy, and it’s sweet like nothing you’ve ever tasted. Apparently it is a remedy for upset stomachs (which I can believe, it’s soothing), and also a great treat. They even have fruit flavors! The grape tastes like every great grape-flavored cough syrup you remember having as a child, but without the risk of overdose! Maybe I’m alone on that, but it tastes bloody good…after dinner, it was a short rest, shower, and bed in preparation for a few errands before tomorrow’s orientation.

9/7 Friday:

The typhoon passed without event. No visible damage, no downed tree limbs; nothing. Orientation started late today, so I went and took care of the Alien Registration at the government office. Internet orientation (I know, it seems pointless, but we had to log into Nanzan’s system and create an account) started at 1:30 for my group, so I stopped by the Lawson Convenience Store at the base of the San Francisco hill (not its actual name) and bought some Grape Calpis. The orientations are beginning to get a bit mind-numbing, but we do need to be aware of everything, particularly the confusing, save-your-school-e mail-to-a-floppy-or-USB-key system. It’s the same feeling as going through Dickinson’s—or any other institution’s—Orientation, particularly including the Dickinson Pre-Orientation: by the end of it all you’re so sick of being oriented that you long to be dropped off deep in the Sahara with only a cantine and a bit of string. After orientation I wandered up and down the main drag in front of Nanzan to see what was around. There was an interesting looking Italian place that I almost tried, wondering what the Japanese take on Italian would be like. There were also several take-out places, but none of them gave off a “That looks tasty,” or more importantly, “Wow, that’s cheap!” vibe. I took the subway back to Akaike station and walked around a little more of Nisshin, coming to the realization that there isn’t a ton of stuff to do in the immediate area. I looked around the Hyaku En Shoppu (100 Yen Store), which is a Japanese Dollar Store, and browsed the Yuu Stoaa (U-Store, I imagine), where a Casio Keyboard, lyric-less synth rendition of “Everybody’s Got a Hungry Heart” was playing. Yes, really. I have also heard a similar rendition of “Somewhere Over the Rainbow.” It’s a little creepy, especially when you realize that you’re filling in the vocals in your head. I had some Chicken Katsu (cutlet) at a small restaurant nearby, and then stumbled upon the Comtech Plaza. I’d taken notice of this when Shogo was showing me around (it’s right next to Akaike Station), but hadn’t bothered to ask what it was. As it turns out, it’s a sizable arcade. I indulged myself with a round of Virtua Fighter 5 for 100 yen, even though the place reeked of cigarette smoke. Afterwards, Satoko was rather shocked that I went to the government office by myself (though I swear I had told her that’s where I was going…what we have here is a failure to communicate), and wondered why I would go on a Friday, when it’s busy (I’m new in town?). After a bit of back-and-forth, I think I’ve managed to convince her that I must go back to the government office to purchase an Alien Registration Card placeholder of sorts (the real deal won’t arrive until the 25^th) and enroll in the Japan National Health Insurance (which with the student discount means I’ve only got to pay about 19% of any medical costs I happen to incur while I’m here), but I will definitely double check. I once again felt the primal frustration of not being fully understood, as the words for Alien Registration and its placeholder are similar, and she kept saying “That won’t arrive until the 25^th, you can’t open an account yet” and I kept saying “But Nanzan specifically said that I can use the placeholder to do so; it will be accepted.” It all sounds easy in English, but you try saying gaikokujin toroku shomeisho every other minute. After that was all sorted, I was ready to sleep.

9/8 Saturday:

Breakfast on weekends is at 8:30, a welcome break from the every day early-rising routine (though I am tired earlier because it’s dark out, and it’s bright early on in the morning, so I wake up naturally). I spent most of the morning looking over course descriptions (I’ve settled on the required IJ 400, Japanese Foreign Policy, and Japanese Culture and Art I), and got my Commuter Pass taken care of at Yagoto station. I was off in search of internet (the host family has none, hence the late, megaton post of the first entry here), and planned to go to Kamimaezu (ka-me-my-zu), where Satoko informed me there are a lot of Internet Cafes, but “a lot of weird people” go to said Internet Cafes. Also, some homeless people or poorer people staying in hotels apparently frequent these cafes. Excellent. As I was leaving the Yagoto ticket office, however, I bumped into Guy and Susanne, who were headed to Sakae (sa-kai) to look at cell phone options. No one was ready to buy yet (we don’t have that much money, or bank accounts to put said money in), and they graciously let me tag along. We were soon joined by Iyana, but Brian, the fifth and final member of this merry band of gaijin, didn’t show. So off we went to Sakae, where I had my first real elbow-to-elbow train ride. Once we pulled into the station, I realized why. Sakae station is a massive underground shopping mall. At the center is Crystal Square, with an ornate centerpiece and fountain:

After choosing a random number out of the 16 (!) exits—of which stations like Akaike have three—the four of us hit the town. And my, what a town it is—rather, what a city it is. Sakae is huge, and it’s a total blast. Right out of the gate, we hear music playing. There’s a Japanese band setting up for a concert! REALLY shaky video follows (I was walking and filming)

Note the guy in the green shirt. He’s both amazing and weird. I know I can’t get that low.

We decide to seek out some food and come back for the show. Along the way, we find another performer, singing along to what are presumably selections from his favorite songs. YouTube’s upload limits are giving me trouble though, so I don’t have the video of this guy’s set just yet. I’ll let you know if I manage to post it elsewhere or cut it down to size.

En route to food, I noticed some (unfortunately) familiar names, and took a gander at a Times Square-esque video advertisement.

We were soon distracted yet again by…you guessed it, a giant, multi-story arcade. So if you’re keeping score at home, the Japanese really know how to do: 1) That weird flavored-water thing and 2) Arcades. Not to say that they don’t excel in other areas, but my god…this was brilliant. We decided to see how the concert was coming along, and on our way back performer #2 had quite the following going. And this time, YouTube was O.K. with the file size.

Finally, we made our way back to the plaza. Not yet…they’re still performing a sound check, though the bits they’re playing sound pretty good. Unfortunately…yeah, YouTube’s limits are a pain. A little help? There’s got to be another service out there with no limits on file size or minute length.

So, waiting once again, we finally sought out (and found) food. We ate at a great curry rice place, and I had shrimp curry rice. Mmmmm, tasty. Once again, it was time to check in on the band—only we’d missed the band that was setting up last time! No matter, it was a double-header. We’d missed Spyair, but were just in time to catch heavy-metal act Abnormal Voltage, who answer the question “How angry can you be on a nice, sunny day in Sakae?” Answer: Pretty angry, and for 26 minutes. If you’re so inclined, or just curious as to what 26 minutes of Japanese heavy metal sounds like, you’re in luck: the whole thing’s right here. Unfortunately, by “here” I mean here in Japan, as this one is way beyond the YouTube 100 MB or 10-minute ceiling, and at the moment I don’t have a way of cutting it into chunks (though I hope to soon). Again, if anyone has pointers as to another hosting service with less stringent limits, let me know, because I’d really love to share this one with you all. I’m not much for heavy metal, but it was quite a treat.

Afterward we went to SoftBank to look at phones. The Japanese are thoroughly leaving the U.S. in the dust. Cell phones in Japan not only e-mail as well as text message, but they also receive TV signals. And I don’t mean that V-Cast stuff pre-configured for your phone. I mean actual TV stations. It’s flippin’ insane. We also found an Internet Cafe, but it was really expensive and only had stalls with desktops inside, so I decided against it for the time being. I like my laptop, and I didn’t want to know why there had to be stalls for each computer.

As we headed back toward the subway station, we heard more music coming from the plaza across the way. More bands! And a massive fountain. Pics of one band and the fountain follow:

So, internet-less but riding high, I decided to stick around for a bit when the rest of the crew hit the subway to be back with their host families by 6:00. I’d already called to cancel dinner at the house, so I walked around town for quite a while, taking the time to stroll into several of the above-ground shopping centers (not to be confused with the big one underground, which had a Nissan showcase with actual cars in it). These department stores are unbelievable. As many as 8 floors of various clothing shops of all types, including names like Coach, Dolce & Gabanna, and Louis Vuitton. Parco, a particularly stunning store spanning three towers (yes, three) consisted of two towers with mainly clothes to sell, and a third with a bookstore, Tower Records, and a movie house and live music club inside (not all on the same floor, mind you, but still impressive). I was constantly floored every time I arrived at one floor only to see another escalator stretching up to another floor (no pun intended). Parco is also home to a crazy rendition of the Mona Lisa on its Art and Music floor, which sells musical instruments, rather than CDs—that’s Tower’s job.

On a side note, Sakae is home to what might just be the creepiest neon sign I’ve ever seen.

Wait for it…

For dinner, I decided to take the plunge. I chose a 24-hour Japanese fast-food hole-in-the-wall that basically serves bowls of rice with your choice of meat piled on top. I walked in, ordered from a (mercifully; the Kanji was difficult) picture-based menu, selected a size, and in about half a minute out came a bowl of rice, onions, and shaved chicken. Maybe it was pork. I wasn’t entirely sure, and I didn’t really care. There were businessmen sitting in the corner talking and laughing, a beleaguered employee trying to fill orders while simultaneously getting tea for everyone, and a steady parade of people, though it wasn’t terribly crowded. It was quick and dirty, open 24 hours every day, and it was delicious. After all, it was fast food, but it was Japanese fast food. Heck, it was mostly rice.

Having had my fill of big-city Sakae life for the day, I headed home, and almost immediately to bed. It was the best day since I touched down, and it’s not one I’ll soon forget. I mean come on, Japanese Heavy Metal! Rawk!!

Also, I did my first load of laundry today. Hooray for line drying without shrinkage!

9/9 Sunday:

Not nearly as exciting as Saturday, because I did another load of laundry and spent all day writing about a week’s worth of Japanese experiences for you all. I hope you managed to read it all without dying, and I’m doing my best to include lots of pictures and video to keep those short attention spans open.

9/10 Monday:

We got to register for courses today! Well, sort of. Today was the preliminary registration, after which we have two weeks to go to various classes and see what we think of them, and then on the 26^th we get to choose for real. Nevertheless, I think I’m going to stick with my original choice of Intensive Japanese 400, Japanese Foreign Policy, and Japanese Culture and Art I. “But Jeff, that’s not a full load! Slacker!!” you’re shouting at the monitor. Not only am I in the level of Japanese above what Dickinson requires for credit, any Intensive Japanese course counts as 8 credits. I need at least 14, and with the two other courses being 3 credit courses, I meet that requirement. Thank you for your concern, but I’ll be ok.

After registration madness, today’s orientation sessions were all about safety, and it started with the Earthquake Simulator. Having never experienced an earthquake, I took a ride, and then took pictures of Paris, Katie and Chloe’s response to a 7 on the Richter Scale:

Good job, Paris! You’re under something sturdy.

It’s just too bad you’re tall like me! (At one point he lifted the table)

A round of applause, please!

I’m positive it was nothing like a REAL earthquake, but at least we have some idea of how sudden it can happen. Afterward, we had self-defense training, through which we learned some valuable techniques for escaping creepy people whom might accost us one night in a dark alley. The techniques were demonstrated by two Japanese police officers, one of which was the persistent Crash Test Dummy who had all of the techniques performed on him, and because they are Aikido martial arts techniques, they looked painful at times, even though they’re only intended to allow you time to escape rather than harm the attacker. During the orientation, a popular mantra, “Japan is Not Safe,” popped up once again. Apparently everyone at Nanzan is out to dispel this myth that Japan is a totally safe country. They seem to think we all assumed this when we booked our tickets. Did we think everything in Japan was made of baby-proof Legos? You’ve got to keep your head on straight no matter where you are. It seems obvious, but I’m sure there are legal reasons for that speech.

Anyway, there were several television news crews covering the safety exercises, and a helicopter circling overhead. Sadly, I didn’t see any of the footage on television, but given that two separate stations may have run the footage, and would have done so over the same stretch of time, it’s possible I may have missed both in looking for one. C’est la vie. (Gasp! He remembers high school French!) After school I went to the ward office and got the papers necessary to open a bank account. Hooray, that happens in two days! And that’s about all for today.

9/11 Tuesday:

First things first—a moment of silence for those affected by 9/11 (and NOT the 9/11 Rudy Giuliani and other politicians use to further their own flag-waving image). Today was a short day school-wise, because we only went to purchase textbooks. Well, sort of. Not only are my funds beginning to run a bit low (thank goodness I can open a bank account tomorrow…I can exchange the rest of my American cash and have money in the bank!) thanks to all the commuter passes and name seal purchases, but there’s a major discrepancy on which textbook my Japanese Foreign Policy class will use. The handy pocket-size (read: giant, nearly newspaper-sized) schedule sheet has the name of one textbook, while the yellow student handbook lists a completely different book as “Required Reading,” and not a textbook. The bookstore didn’t seem to have either. In fact, other than the Japanese courses and a few select others, the bookstore didn’t appear to have a lot of the necessary books. Many were confused. Japanese Culture and Art I has no textbook on either listing, so fortunately that’s taken care of, and that’s the class that meets this week. It’s time to get to know Professor Potter a bit better however, with an e-mail asking about the textbook situation.

So, with these classes, what’s my schedule going to look like? I’ll have Intensive Japanese 400 every day, but at varying times (I think. The schedule sheet is terribly confusing, and at times lists two sections of 400 but four rooms…in the words of Jon Stewart, “Whaaaaaaaaa?”). Monday it appears to run from 9:20 AM-12:35 PM. Pray for breaks in between. Tuesday is from 10:05 AM-12:35 PM, and Japanese Foreign Policy meets on this day as well, from 3:15 PM-5:30 PM. Wednesday is really short, because Japanese wraps at 10:50 due to other morning classes (none of which are mine), and there are never classes after 12:35 on Wednesday afternoon. Thursday Japanese is again a bit short, from 10:05 AM-12:35 PM (ha ha, I just said that was “short”). Friday, there’s a full suite of Japanese from 9:20 AM-12:35 PM, and then Japanese Culture and Art I meets from 3:15 PM-5:30 PM. Yikes. Notice anything unusual about this schedule (other than the unbelievable amount of time I’ll have to sit in one spot for class)? The other two classes only meet once a week. In fact, all the classes only meet once a week, unless they’re Intensive Japanese classes. It will be interesting to see how that plays out. Do international students look at Dickinson’s schedule and think “Cripes, how many times can you meet in a week?!” Will I be able to keep all the material in my head without frequent meetings to reinforce what I’ve learned? Will my head explode from the long classes? Will Rocky and Bullwinkle unwittingly wander into Boris and Natasha’s trap? Find out next time in “Like a Moose Caught in the Headlights” or “Bullwinkle the Brilliant.”

For now, it’s off to bed with me. I’ve got a big day of Japanese ahead of me tomorrow (the first day of class! I have a feeling I’ll be thankful it’s the short day), and then I get to open my bank account! Woohoo!

Mata, ne!Jeff

P.S. So, everything seems to be going great so far, but I can feel the first comment coming already…“Do you have any complaints?” So far, my only complaint is that the host family has no internet. It’s trivial perhaps, but it keeps me from updating everyone on how I’m doing, both blog-wise and “Are you still alive?”-wise. That’s the only really frustrating part of the trip so far: because of no internet at home and bureaucracy at Nanzan (the forms…the forms! Though I do finally have access to stable internet on which I can check all my e-mail accounts and access my blog), I’m having a lot of trouble sharing the trip with everyone at home, and that’s troublesome. But I will find the time to keep this up-to-date now that classes are starting and there’s a definite routine coming together. And the beat goes on…