While his host parents sleep, Benjamin puts his Golden Week plans into action...
4/28/2005
Bronze, Silver, and...
It’s been a grueling week; a week of pollen allergies, school physical checkups, extensive bike rides, and heated mahjong battles. But finally, the climax manifests itself as the unstoppable, overlapping block of holidays known simply in Japan as “Golden Week.” A time for me to get out of this small town and see the sights, lights, and fights of “big city” Japan.
In other words, and barring physical injury, a journey to the heart of the Rotary Exchange Student Dream.
In other words, and barring physical injury, a journey to the heart of the Rotary Exchange Student Dream.
4/24/2005
On Any Given Sunday
I’ve had a rather impressive week, meaning there’s plenty to blog, but I’d like to take some time and focus on a subject that does not receive the coverage or respect that it both commands and deserves. I am speaking, of course, of the fast paced, adrenaline driven, time-honored tradition of Japanese Elementary School Girl’s Volleyball.
I had the good fortune to experience one of these events “from the inside,” as it were, when my host mother coached the Hachihama Sho Gakko Volleyball Team at a qualification tournament this weekend at the Tamano Recreation Center. I entered the large complex to be immediately overrun by 4-foot tall girls in pigtails and knee pads, which I can equate only to crash-landing on Planet Cupcake in the Candyland Galaxy. I took my seat in the Hachihama section and let my vision blur as I absorbed the craziness of the scene.
Almost completely opposite from the sport of football, where standing next to players in 15-pounds of pads, helmets, and general body armor sends a shiver of fear down the spine, the volleyball girls exude an almost Rainbow Bright level of cuteness and appeal off the court. Yet when games are in session, the cute and cuddly disposition is all but disregarded as the girls become bloodthirsty bump, set, and spiking machines. Naturally, the nets are lowered and the volleyballs are more pint-size, but any of these girls could have taken my ass to the cleaners in a one-on-one game.
The only aspect scarier than the volleyball players on the court weren’t even participants themselves. They are the “Volleyball Moms,” cheering their offspring from a safe distance in the bleachers. You can be sure and spot these moms by their choice of waistline accessory, the fanny pack (something I thought went out of style with the Ring Pop and the Tamagotchi). Fanny packs are amazingly popular in Japan, especially among the “sporty” type, and come in many varieties (you’ll have to take my word for this, as I get enough stares already without photographing random women wearing fanny-packs from behind). Complete with entire sets of cheers, claps, and encouragement material to bark, bellow, and squawk at their children, the Volleyball Moms ensure no dull moment is to be had during the course of the game.
Despite the voracity of these moms they’re remarkably kind generous, often sitting beside or among moms from other teams (something I never found to be the case among American Soccer Moms, who always seem about an inch away from having their way with the opposing side using a broken beer bottle and a minivan). I found a seat behind the cheering moms, and waited for the first match to begin.
The girls spilled onto the court, practicing some warm-ups. I spotted my host mother giving slight direction, but for the most part the practice seemed autonomous. The girls eventually formed a line at the side of the court, bowed and shook hands with the opposing team, bowed to the referee, and donned their “Let’s Get It On” faces. Before the first serve, as well as every serve to come, the captain would shout something in a high pitched voice that the others on the team would then repeat. As the game progressed, and the girls fired shot after shot over the net (followed often by a bump, a set, and a spike), I started to notice a certain robot-like nature to the proceedings, much like Van Buren’s “Political Machine” of 1821. Imaginative and able to adapt, but in the end always keeping to the basics.
The Hachihama team did a good job of staying in the game, and as the score remained tied at 22, then 23, then 24 I regretted not taking a bathroom break before the action began. It was a true nail-biter, but a well-placed spike, slipping past Hachihama’s defenses, sealed the deal for the opposing team. It was a tough loss, but these Hachihama girls are from the streets, and the school of hard knocks, so it’ll take more than one loss to break their morale.
After the game I interviewed some of the players about their thoughts of volleyball, but their Pretty Princess responses of “fun” and “exciting” kept me from pressing the subject. I didn’t dare turn my back, though, lest a well placed spike make this 31st Annual Tamano Elementary School Volleyball Tournament my last.
I had the good fortune to experience one of these events “from the inside,” as it were, when my host mother coached the Hachihama Sho Gakko Volleyball Team at a qualification tournament this weekend at the Tamano Recreation Center. I entered the large complex to be immediately overrun by 4-foot tall girls in pigtails and knee pads, which I can equate only to crash-landing on Planet Cupcake in the Candyland Galaxy. I took my seat in the Hachihama section and let my vision blur as I absorbed the craziness of the scene.
Almost completely opposite from the sport of football, where standing next to players in 15-pounds of pads, helmets, and general body armor sends a shiver of fear down the spine, the volleyball girls exude an almost Rainbow Bright level of cuteness and appeal off the court. Yet when games are in session, the cute and cuddly disposition is all but disregarded as the girls become bloodthirsty bump, set, and spiking machines. Naturally, the nets are lowered and the volleyballs are more pint-size, but any of these girls could have taken my ass to the cleaners in a one-on-one game.
The only aspect scarier than the volleyball players on the court weren’t even participants themselves. They are the “Volleyball Moms,” cheering their offspring from a safe distance in the bleachers. You can be sure and spot these moms by their choice of waistline accessory, the fanny pack (something I thought went out of style with the Ring Pop and the Tamagotchi). Fanny packs are amazingly popular in Japan, especially among the “sporty” type, and come in many varieties (you’ll have to take my word for this, as I get enough stares already without photographing random women wearing fanny-packs from behind). Complete with entire sets of cheers, claps, and encouragement material to bark, bellow, and squawk at their children, the Volleyball Moms ensure no dull moment is to be had during the course of the game.
Despite the voracity of these moms they’re remarkably kind generous, often sitting beside or among moms from other teams (something I never found to be the case among American Soccer Moms, who always seem about an inch away from having their way with the opposing side using a broken beer bottle and a minivan). I found a seat behind the cheering moms, and waited for the first match to begin.
The girls spilled onto the court, practicing some warm-ups. I spotted my host mother giving slight direction, but for the most part the practice seemed autonomous. The girls eventually formed a line at the side of the court, bowed and shook hands with the opposing team, bowed to the referee, and donned their “Let’s Get It On” faces. Before the first serve, as well as every serve to come, the captain would shout something in a high pitched voice that the others on the team would then repeat. As the game progressed, and the girls fired shot after shot over the net (followed often by a bump, a set, and a spike), I started to notice a certain robot-like nature to the proceedings, much like Van Buren’s “Political Machine” of 1821. Imaginative and able to adapt, but in the end always keeping to the basics.
The Hachihama team did a good job of staying in the game, and as the score remained tied at 22, then 23, then 24 I regretted not taking a bathroom break before the action began. It was a true nail-biter, but a well-placed spike, slipping past Hachihama’s defenses, sealed the deal for the opposing team. It was a tough loss, but these Hachihama girls are from the streets, and the school of hard knocks, so it’ll take more than one loss to break their morale.
After the game I interviewed some of the players about their thoughts of volleyball, but their Pretty Princess responses of “fun” and “exciting” kept me from pressing the subject. I didn’t dare turn my back, though, lest a well placed spike make this 31st Annual Tamano Elementary School Volleyball Tournament my last.
4/21/2005
I never did catch this man's name, but we had a great conversation in Japanese about Tehran and living in Japan
Rahul, Janna, Ohara-san, and I at Dazaifu Shrine in Fukuoka. The first and most important shrine honoring Sugawara Michizane, many people come to this location to pray for success in tests
4/20/2005
Fukuoka on a Tuesday is Decadent and Depraved
I found this slipped under my door at the Washington Hotel room 1346 addressed to a certain H.S. Thompson, c/o Raoul Duke:
“Jolted awake from the top of an unmade bed at 8 in the morning as Rahul buttons the high neck collar of his Fukuoka school uniform. Violent flashbacks of hurricane-like winds the night before, recommended Fukuoka microbreweries, and drinking rum at a place called “Beers.” Checking the phone messages and noticing many, I ask Rahul what’s going on with the state of the world. “There was an earthquake; I didn’t know what was going on.” The front desk of the hotel is on the intercom radio, blaring in Japanese. Elevator out of order, I’ll have to use the stairs from the 13th floor. Just like a bad movie.
How did I end up in an unkempt bed clutching a bottle of green tea for dear life, nerves recovering from the shock of being wired to the limit of sensory perception? My eyes focus on the New Testament, found even here in the Washington Hotel, placed by the ever present yet mysteriously shrouded “Gideons.” Who are these hotel-frequenting religious wraiths?
Luke 11:25 “And when he comes, he finds it swept and put in order.
This hotel room will not be seeing a state of order within the next few hours, especially following a mind-bending Tuesday night spilling my way down the street with my attorney, Rahul (a large 300-pound Samoan), and Janna (an innocent bystander we dragged along for the evening).
That damn elevator announcement again, broadcast to all rooms by a phantom speaker system embedded in the walls. Half a mind to ride that bastard straight to the bottom and fill the concierge’s face full of mace. At least until he’s “prim and proper” at this hour in the morning.
Rahul washes his face while I lay paralyzed on the bed. More flashbacks; playing guitar with a man from Tehran who has lived in Japan for over 22 years. He studied Psychology at Tehran’s “second strictest university” but now happily runs a hard rock bar called the “Black Shark.” Check my wallet to find a fistful of “Free Charge Passes, open Friday and Saturday, 3:00 AM to late morning.” Love to meet again over whiskey tonics for a nice discussion if I’m not run out of the town by late afternoon. Another swig from the bottle of green tea while the god-damn message blares for a fourth time. I don’t need this sort of interruption anytime before noon. Rahul and I shake hands, and he exits the tousled hotel room. Best of luck at school.
Also in my wallet, the card of Yoichi Takamoto, president and founder of TMSUK, premier robotic design company of Kita-Kyushu. Ah yes, finally uncovering the reason I made the 6 hour road trip to Fukuoka. You can find Takamoto by following the sound of his muffler tip, straight to a kitted Subaru with an obvious pirate theme dominating the interior. He prides himself with the pirate image, expressed through the TMSUK company slogan, “Pirates of Roboticians.”
Simply judging by appearances, Yoichi would strike most as an unconventional inventor. His beard and goatee would be better accustomed to the captain of any scurvy brigadier flying the skull and bones on the high seas. But the pirate façade is not one of laziness; Takamoto has been a busy man, putting 13 robotic models on the production line in the last 10 years. Known as a major celebrity in Kita-Kyushu, Takamoto finds the location an excellent working environment thanks to the local government bill legalizing robots on public streets, a luxury specifically banned in other parts of Japan.
Takamoto got an odd start in the robotic field, originally majoring in Archaeology before eventually switching jobs completely to manufacture conveyor belts used in food production (he holds the patent for the world’s first detachable belt). While contemplating the efficiency of conveyor technology in the home, he made the obvious jump to personal robot appliances for household use.
Takamoto’s first robot, A/ TMSUK-1, strikes the viewer as an oversized Duplo toy. A secretarial robot with large, friendly eyes, it can escort visitors to various locations within a building then return to recharge its battery. Much has changed over the years, and the more recent robotic inventions from TMSUK include a rescue robot, the T-62, capable of lifting small cars and supporting the weight of a falling building. Controlled either remotely or by a human inside the hull of the robot, the T-62 looks a bit like “Short Circuit’s” Johnny 5. Or perhaps his older, bigger brother.
Takamoto’s most recent invention, in conjunction with Sanyo, is the “Roborior.” A house robot that can be controlled by phone, the Roborior can relay video to almost anywhere in the world. Using the phone as a joystick the robot can be guided with directional buttons on the keypad, enabling a traveling Japanese housewife in London to view the status of her Tokyo apartment thousands of miles and one major ocean away. The robot, about the size of a soccer ball, radiates a friendly glow reminiscent of the glow worm, with all the cuteness and appeal of a small pet (which may even invoke a feeling of love). Patented and overpriced love, but love nonetheless, brought to you by a Sanyo/TMSUK partnership.
Slip his business card back into my wallet, and snap back to the reality of the moment. From my 13th floor overlooking the city of Fukuoka, the hotel is racked from an aftershock of the earthquake. Stronger than I expected, but not a rare experience when it comes to Japan. Janna knocks on the door and enters the room while sirens whine in the distance. Good to know she survived the previous night, returning to her room sometime after sleep got the better of me.
A message from Rahul comes over the Mojo wire. All trains in the city have been stopped, massive crowds in the station. Looks like he’ll be taking a bus to school.
Janna returns to her room to pack; we’ll have to rush to catch the continental breakfast. The lifts are working by now, which is good news for all. Descending with my baggage in the elevator, I meet Janna on the bottom floor. From behind her comes Rahul, in school uniform, sweating after a run up 10 flights of stairs (he made it that far when they announced the lifts would begin operating again). He says all the busses have been rerouted to highways only, and perhaps his school has been cancelled. Looks like he will be bumming around with us for the day. Earthquake day. And just another Wednesday morning in Japan.”
“Jolted awake from the top of an unmade bed at 8 in the morning as Rahul buttons the high neck collar of his Fukuoka school uniform. Violent flashbacks of hurricane-like winds the night before, recommended Fukuoka microbreweries, and drinking rum at a place called “Beers.” Checking the phone messages and noticing many, I ask Rahul what’s going on with the state of the world. “There was an earthquake; I didn’t know what was going on.” The front desk of the hotel is on the intercom radio, blaring in Japanese. Elevator out of order, I’ll have to use the stairs from the 13th floor. Just like a bad movie.
How did I end up in an unkempt bed clutching a bottle of green tea for dear life, nerves recovering from the shock of being wired to the limit of sensory perception? My eyes focus on the New Testament, found even here in the Washington Hotel, placed by the ever present yet mysteriously shrouded “Gideons.” Who are these hotel-frequenting religious wraiths?
Luke 11:25 “And when he comes, he finds it swept and put in order.
This hotel room will not be seeing a state of order within the next few hours, especially following a mind-bending Tuesday night spilling my way down the street with my attorney, Rahul (a large 300-pound Samoan), and Janna (an innocent bystander we dragged along for the evening).
That damn elevator announcement again, broadcast to all rooms by a phantom speaker system embedded in the walls. Half a mind to ride that bastard straight to the bottom and fill the concierge’s face full of mace. At least until he’s “prim and proper” at this hour in the morning.
Rahul washes his face while I lay paralyzed on the bed. More flashbacks; playing guitar with a man from Tehran who has lived in Japan for over 22 years. He studied Psychology at Tehran’s “second strictest university” but now happily runs a hard rock bar called the “Black Shark.” Check my wallet to find a fistful of “Free Charge Passes, open Friday and Saturday, 3:00 AM to late morning.” Love to meet again over whiskey tonics for a nice discussion if I’m not run out of the town by late afternoon. Another swig from the bottle of green tea while the god-damn message blares for a fourth time. I don’t need this sort of interruption anytime before noon. Rahul and I shake hands, and he exits the tousled hotel room. Best of luck at school.
Also in my wallet, the card of Yoichi Takamoto, president and founder of TMSUK, premier robotic design company of Kita-Kyushu. Ah yes, finally uncovering the reason I made the 6 hour road trip to Fukuoka. You can find Takamoto by following the sound of his muffler tip, straight to a kitted Subaru with an obvious pirate theme dominating the interior. He prides himself with the pirate image, expressed through the TMSUK company slogan, “Pirates of Roboticians.”
Simply judging by appearances, Yoichi would strike most as an unconventional inventor. His beard and goatee would be better accustomed to the captain of any scurvy brigadier flying the skull and bones on the high seas. But the pirate façade is not one of laziness; Takamoto has been a busy man, putting 13 robotic models on the production line in the last 10 years. Known as a major celebrity in Kita-Kyushu, Takamoto finds the location an excellent working environment thanks to the local government bill legalizing robots on public streets, a luxury specifically banned in other parts of Japan.
Takamoto got an odd start in the robotic field, originally majoring in Archaeology before eventually switching jobs completely to manufacture conveyor belts used in food production (he holds the patent for the world’s first detachable belt). While contemplating the efficiency of conveyor technology in the home, he made the obvious jump to personal robot appliances for household use.
Takamoto’s first robot, A/ TMSUK-1, strikes the viewer as an oversized Duplo toy. A secretarial robot with large, friendly eyes, it can escort visitors to various locations within a building then return to recharge its battery. Much has changed over the years, and the more recent robotic inventions from TMSUK include a rescue robot, the T-62, capable of lifting small cars and supporting the weight of a falling building. Controlled either remotely or by a human inside the hull of the robot, the T-62 looks a bit like “Short Circuit’s” Johnny 5. Or perhaps his older, bigger brother.
Takamoto’s most recent invention, in conjunction with Sanyo, is the “Roborior.” A house robot that can be controlled by phone, the Roborior can relay video to almost anywhere in the world. Using the phone as a joystick the robot can be guided with directional buttons on the keypad, enabling a traveling Japanese housewife in London to view the status of her Tokyo apartment thousands of miles and one major ocean away. The robot, about the size of a soccer ball, radiates a friendly glow reminiscent of the glow worm, with all the cuteness and appeal of a small pet (which may even invoke a feeling of love). Patented and overpriced love, but love nonetheless, brought to you by a Sanyo/TMSUK partnership.
Slip his business card back into my wallet, and snap back to the reality of the moment. From my 13th floor overlooking the city of Fukuoka, the hotel is racked from an aftershock of the earthquake. Stronger than I expected, but not a rare experience when it comes to Japan. Janna knocks on the door and enters the room while sirens whine in the distance. Good to know she survived the previous night, returning to her room sometime after sleep got the better of me.
A message from Rahul comes over the Mojo wire. All trains in the city have been stopped, massive crowds in the station. Looks like he’ll be taking a bus to school.
Janna returns to her room to pack; we’ll have to rush to catch the continental breakfast. The lifts are working by now, which is good news for all. Descending with my baggage in the elevator, I meet Janna on the bottom floor. From behind her comes Rahul, in school uniform, sweating after a run up 10 flights of stairs (he made it that far when they announced the lifts would begin operating again). He says all the busses have been rerouted to highways only, and perhaps his school has been cancelled. Looks like he will be bumming around with us for the day. Earthquake day. And just another Wednesday morning in Japan.”
4/18/2005
Welcome To Reality
Here we go:
This Saturday, following a late-night Hanami party at Miyama Park the night before, I had planned to go fishing with my host father and two if his friends. My host father owns a small boat and regularly goes fishing with friends from work to relax and enjoy the ocean air.
We left the house around three in the afternoon, drove to a nearby fishing supply shop for new lures, then swung by a Konbini to pick up onigiri and o-bentos for dinner on the boat. Arriving at the harbor I met my host father’s friend (Asamura-san, a fellow banker) and climbed aboard the SS Kondou.
We spent about an hour fishing off the coast of Tamano (with little luck) before receiving a call from another friend of my host father who has just come from work and was waiting for us at the harbor. Stowing our fishing poles and bait, my host father maneuvered the ship back to port to pick up our fourth companion who introduced himself as Yokogawa-san. We spoke for a while (he mentioned that I had met his wife at a volleyball meeting with my host mother the previous week) and exchanged general introductions. He asked me about my future, what I was doing in Japan, and if I enjoyed fishing.
In regard to fishing, to be honest, I can’t remember the last time I cast a pole into any body of water. I have vague memories of fishing in the pouring rain as a child, and also recall a mild phobia of spearing worms onto fish hooks (which may explain the lack of fishing experience). Nonetheless I was excited to take a fishing trip, if only to get out to sea.
Wind tearing through my hair on the warm afternoon, my host father navigated the boat to his favorite location near Naoshima Island. Using a depth meter we found the “perfect spot” and dropped anchor to keep us in the correct position. My host father handed me a pole, gave me a quick run-through on its operation, and left me to my own devices.
I didn’t have much luck for the first 30 minutes or so. My host father、on the other hand, caught about 5 fish while I tried desperately to mimic his motions. After receiving a few pointers from Yokogawa-san and my host father, I got the hang of the correct depth and motion I should use with the lures. Soon after, I felt the first nibble on the line and reeled in a medium sized fish to add to the collection below deck. For the next few hours we chatted, caught fish, and enjoyed the relaxation that is inherent within fishing as the sun set over the Inland Sea. The wind began to pick up, but everyone was wearing heavy windbreakers and didn’t seem to mind.
Between the hours of 5 and midnight, the four of us caught what I would assume to be between 50 and 60 fish. I contributed about 15 of those, including one instance where I caught two fish at once on the same line. I also caught a few small squid in a net which my host father cleaned, and I ate right on the spot (still wiggling slightly). A little after midnight we decided to pack up and call it a night.
While I was winding fishing line and stowing the fishing poles below deck, Yokogawa-san and Asamura-san began to raise the anchors out of the water. All of a sudden, Yokogawa-san fell onto my host father who was standing in the back of the boat near the engine. I though he might be having a heart attack, so my host father called an ambulance while I tried to clear a space on the boat for Yokogawa to lie down. He wasn’t conscious and I didn’t think he was breathing so Asamura-san cut the ropes attached to the anchors while my host father gunned the boat back to the Tai harbor.
I couldn’t find a pulse in Yokogawa’s wrist or neck, so Asamura-san tried to perform mouth-to-mouth. The boat was too cramped for CPR, and it was very hard to keep Yokogawa-san in an upright position because his muscles seemed very stiff. As we approached the harbor, I grabbed a headlamp and flagged down the ambulance. At that point my host father and his friend tied up the boat while I was left with Yokogawa-san. I still couldn’t feel a pulse but kept his head and chest elevated with whatever I could find until the men from the ambulance finally arrived with a gurney and portable defibrillator.
The paramedics had to cut off Yokogawa’s shirt and jacket to get the pads attached to his chest. The machine was flat-lined and showed no heartbeat, and kept scrolling the phrase “no shock advised” in English. The paramedics said he should be moved to the ambulance, so we quickly lifted the gurney off the boat.
My host mother arrived as the ambulance pulled away, and I could see the men attempting CPR through the back window. My host mother suggested we go home while my host father docked the boat and drove to the hospital. Back at home my host mother asked me a few questions then left for the hospital. Keiko was awake, even though it was very late, but I had a difficult time getting to sleep because I assumed Yokogawa-san was dead.
In the morning I awoke to find my host father downstairs. He looked as if he didn’t get much sleep, and told me that the paramedics were able to get Yokogawa’s heart started again in the ambulance on the way to the hospital. I don’t know much about his condition, but the doctors said they are hopeful that he will make a recovery. I was amazingly relieved, because I had assumed we didn’t make it to the harbor in time and Yokogawa-san had died in my arms.
It was certainly a tragedy, but I am glad that there were four of us on the fishing trip because with only three people it would have been much more difficult to navigate back to shore. The whole experience gave me quite a shock, with a stern realization of how quickly situations can change for the worse.
I will be visiting Yokogawa-san in the hospital soon to check on his condition but for now I can only hope that he will make a recovery. He was only 49 years old, and ten minutes before he collapsed I had no idea he was in any trouble.
I might be taking a break from any more fishing trips.
This Saturday, following a late-night Hanami party at Miyama Park the night before, I had planned to go fishing with my host father and two if his friends. My host father owns a small boat and regularly goes fishing with friends from work to relax and enjoy the ocean air.
We left the house around three in the afternoon, drove to a nearby fishing supply shop for new lures, then swung by a Konbini to pick up onigiri and o-bentos for dinner on the boat. Arriving at the harbor I met my host father’s friend (Asamura-san, a fellow banker) and climbed aboard the SS Kondou.
We spent about an hour fishing off the coast of Tamano (with little luck) before receiving a call from another friend of my host father who has just come from work and was waiting for us at the harbor. Stowing our fishing poles and bait, my host father maneuvered the ship back to port to pick up our fourth companion who introduced himself as Yokogawa-san. We spoke for a while (he mentioned that I had met his wife at a volleyball meeting with my host mother the previous week) and exchanged general introductions. He asked me about my future, what I was doing in Japan, and if I enjoyed fishing.
In regard to fishing, to be honest, I can’t remember the last time I cast a pole into any body of water. I have vague memories of fishing in the pouring rain as a child, and also recall a mild phobia of spearing worms onto fish hooks (which may explain the lack of fishing experience). Nonetheless I was excited to take a fishing trip, if only to get out to sea.
Wind tearing through my hair on the warm afternoon, my host father navigated the boat to his favorite location near Naoshima Island. Using a depth meter we found the “perfect spot” and dropped anchor to keep us in the correct position. My host father handed me a pole, gave me a quick run-through on its operation, and left me to my own devices.
I didn’t have much luck for the first 30 minutes or so. My host father、on the other hand, caught about 5 fish while I tried desperately to mimic his motions. After receiving a few pointers from Yokogawa-san and my host father, I got the hang of the correct depth and motion I should use with the lures. Soon after, I felt the first nibble on the line and reeled in a medium sized fish to add to the collection below deck. For the next few hours we chatted, caught fish, and enjoyed the relaxation that is inherent within fishing as the sun set over the Inland Sea. The wind began to pick up, but everyone was wearing heavy windbreakers and didn’t seem to mind.
Between the hours of 5 and midnight, the four of us caught what I would assume to be between 50 and 60 fish. I contributed about 15 of those, including one instance where I caught two fish at once on the same line. I also caught a few small squid in a net which my host father cleaned, and I ate right on the spot (still wiggling slightly). A little after midnight we decided to pack up and call it a night.
While I was winding fishing line and stowing the fishing poles below deck, Yokogawa-san and Asamura-san began to raise the anchors out of the water. All of a sudden, Yokogawa-san fell onto my host father who was standing in the back of the boat near the engine. I though he might be having a heart attack, so my host father called an ambulance while I tried to clear a space on the boat for Yokogawa to lie down. He wasn’t conscious and I didn’t think he was breathing so Asamura-san cut the ropes attached to the anchors while my host father gunned the boat back to the Tai harbor.
I couldn’t find a pulse in Yokogawa’s wrist or neck, so Asamura-san tried to perform mouth-to-mouth. The boat was too cramped for CPR, and it was very hard to keep Yokogawa-san in an upright position because his muscles seemed very stiff. As we approached the harbor, I grabbed a headlamp and flagged down the ambulance. At that point my host father and his friend tied up the boat while I was left with Yokogawa-san. I still couldn’t feel a pulse but kept his head and chest elevated with whatever I could find until the men from the ambulance finally arrived with a gurney and portable defibrillator.
The paramedics had to cut off Yokogawa’s shirt and jacket to get the pads attached to his chest. The machine was flat-lined and showed no heartbeat, and kept scrolling the phrase “no shock advised” in English. The paramedics said he should be moved to the ambulance, so we quickly lifted the gurney off the boat.
My host mother arrived as the ambulance pulled away, and I could see the men attempting CPR through the back window. My host mother suggested we go home while my host father docked the boat and drove to the hospital. Back at home my host mother asked me a few questions then left for the hospital. Keiko was awake, even though it was very late, but I had a difficult time getting to sleep because I assumed Yokogawa-san was dead.
In the morning I awoke to find my host father downstairs. He looked as if he didn’t get much sleep, and told me that the paramedics were able to get Yokogawa’s heart started again in the ambulance on the way to the hospital. I don’t know much about his condition, but the doctors said they are hopeful that he will make a recovery. I was amazingly relieved, because I had assumed we didn’t make it to the harbor in time and Yokogawa-san had died in my arms.
It was certainly a tragedy, but I am glad that there were four of us on the fishing trip because with only three people it would have been much more difficult to navigate back to shore. The whole experience gave me quite a shock, with a stern realization of how quickly situations can change for the worse.
I will be visiting Yokogawa-san in the hospital soon to check on his condition but for now I can only hope that he will make a recovery. He was only 49 years old, and ten minutes before he collapsed I had no idea he was in any trouble.
I might be taking a break from any more fishing trips.
4/14/2005
A myriad of instruments including the shamisen (guitar-shaped), koto (long board of wood), and shakuhachi (bamboo flute)
Correct Orientation
I’m in a perpetual haze of pain following the first day of Kendo practice as a second year student at Tamano High School. As of today I have spent a little under a week with my new host family in Hachihama, which is proving to be a slightly different style of life than the previous two host families. The events of the past week have been fast and furious, but I’ll see what I can recall over the dull throbbing muscle aches. First of all, being a second year student comes with a healthy dose of seniority at Tamano High School. My new classroom, situated on the second floor of the main building, allows for a keen vantage point where I can get a better view of the first-year students and their respective first-year activities (giggling, mulling around in little groups, wrestling, etc).
My classroom also comes equipped with two new homeroom teachers. Yamasaki-sensei would make for the perfect Prohibition Era gangster with his slim facial features and pinstriped suit. Put a Tommy gun in his hands and you’ve got yourself a first rate Mugsy. Nomura-sensei, his apparent partner in crime, is new to Tamano High School. On the first day of class he was asked to tell a little about himself. He prefaced his personal introduction by stating his love for alcohol, and drew a likeness of his favorite shot glass on the board. He continued with an anecdote about drinking and driving, and then went on to describe his various trips outside of Japan, his family, where he currently lives, etc. A stark contrast from personal introductions in America, where even the mention of alcohol might put a damper on your teaching career. However, I found the speech rather informative (and probably more truthful). Two fine Senseis.
The rest of the day was business as usual. I have new teachers for Japanese Society, Chinese, and English, but I’m still waiting to see how the rest of the week will unfold. Judo class remains the same, but I have a different partner who weighs a good deal more than stick-like Fuminori who I was often paired with last year.
After school I found my way to the Kendo Jo for the first practice of the year. Sadly, the previous Kendo teacher, Sakaguchi-sensei (who had the best English of anyone I have met in Japan) retired last year. The new teacher, Ishii-sensei (I would soon come to discover) is a viable replacement. Although he speaks no English at all and appears to be between 55 and 60 years old, he is the craziest man I have ever seen with a bamboo sword in his hands. His high-pitched squeals of "Kote!" and "Men!" were enough to deeply frighten me, and he ended up pushing me all over the Kendo floor (giving me a workout I could feel for a few days).
Aside from school, the other activities for the week included a trip to Okayama where I happened to meet Saeki-san at a Shamisen concert. We then went to lunch with her sister and brother-in-law after viewing some lovely Ikebana on the 6th floor of the Tenmaya department store.
For the most part, I had forgotten how much time school seems to take out of my day. While I miss the solid month of waking up at the crack of noon, it is nice to see my friends again.
So far, I have discovered the bike ride to school lasts about 35 minutes (25 if I’m in a hurry) but isn’t very daunting. I will devote a later entry to the actual process of arriving at school due from Hachihama to its lengthy yet beautiful nature.
Until then, if you feel the need to reach me in Japan, direct your comments, concerns, and fan/hate mail to:
Raoul Duke
613-1 Hachi
Hachihama, Tamano 7060223
JAPAN
I am also able to receive mail at my previous three addresses.
My classroom also comes equipped with two new homeroom teachers. Yamasaki-sensei would make for the perfect Prohibition Era gangster with his slim facial features and pinstriped suit. Put a Tommy gun in his hands and you’ve got yourself a first rate Mugsy. Nomura-sensei, his apparent partner in crime, is new to Tamano High School. On the first day of class he was asked to tell a little about himself. He prefaced his personal introduction by stating his love for alcohol, and drew a likeness of his favorite shot glass on the board. He continued with an anecdote about drinking and driving, and then went on to describe his various trips outside of Japan, his family, where he currently lives, etc. A stark contrast from personal introductions in America, where even the mention of alcohol might put a damper on your teaching career. However, I found the speech rather informative (and probably more truthful). Two fine Senseis.
The rest of the day was business as usual. I have new teachers for Japanese Society, Chinese, and English, but I’m still waiting to see how the rest of the week will unfold. Judo class remains the same, but I have a different partner who weighs a good deal more than stick-like Fuminori who I was often paired with last year.
After school I found my way to the Kendo Jo for the first practice of the year. Sadly, the previous Kendo teacher, Sakaguchi-sensei (who had the best English of anyone I have met in Japan) retired last year. The new teacher, Ishii-sensei (I would soon come to discover) is a viable replacement. Although he speaks no English at all and appears to be between 55 and 60 years old, he is the craziest man I have ever seen with a bamboo sword in his hands. His high-pitched squeals of "Kote!" and "Men!" were enough to deeply frighten me, and he ended up pushing me all over the Kendo floor (giving me a workout I could feel for a few days).
Aside from school, the other activities for the week included a trip to Okayama where I happened to meet Saeki-san at a Shamisen concert. We then went to lunch with her sister and brother-in-law after viewing some lovely Ikebana on the 6th floor of the Tenmaya department store.
For the most part, I had forgotten how much time school seems to take out of my day. While I miss the solid month of waking up at the crack of noon, it is nice to see my friends again.
So far, I have discovered the bike ride to school lasts about 35 minutes (25 if I’m in a hurry) but isn’t very daunting. I will devote a later entry to the actual process of arriving at school due from Hachihama to its lengthy yet beautiful nature.
Until then, if you feel the need to reach me in Japan, direct your comments, concerns, and fan/hate mail to:
Raoul Duke
613-1 Hachi
Hachihama, Tamano 7060223
JAPAN
I am also able to receive mail at my previous three addresses.
4/10/2005
A Whole New World
I have moved to my final host family and I now come to you live from the living room of Kondo-san’s house in Hachihama. Upon arriving, I was shocked to find a spanking new computer from which I can continue to easily blog Japanese lifestyle (of course I would have kept writing even if I didn’t have a computer in the house, but this way I don’t have to hang out in libraries, internet cafes, or shady wi-fi hotspots to give you the daily recount of Japan).
The move from Kawai-san’s house was emotional (you grow rather attached to a family when you live with them for any amount of time), and after spending 100 days in Kawai-san’s house it was strange to see my bags packed and room clean (for once). Aketa-san came to help move my bicycle and large number of suitcases to Hachihama, and some of Tomoya’s friends also came to wish me goodbye (and rummage through my bags looking for exciting things to play with/break/ask to keep).
It was perhaps a little more difficult for Kawai-san when the time came for me to leave. I packed my bags into a new host mother’s car, and moved on to another exciting adventure in Japan while she had to wave goodbye. The night before I left we exchanged gifts from American and Japan (Tomoya, instead of the mayor of Tamano, ended up with the massive West Virginia flag), and she told me that she and her husband were taking a trip to Fukushima so she wouldn’t feel too sad. She also added that I could stop by anytime, especially to eat some of grandma Kawai-san’s delicious yaki-soba (an opportunity I fully plan to exercise).
Kondo-san, my new host mother, came to pick me up in a sporty green car decked-out with a variety of Snoopy dolls. We piled my suitcases into the back of Aketa-san’s truck, and shoved the remainder into the back of Kondo-san’s mini (I was surprised it could still move with all the weight).
I waved a final goodbye to my host family, and was soon on the road to Hachihama. First, a little bit about the location:
Hachihama, translated as “eight beaches,” is unique in that there are actually no beaches in the area (due to reclaimed land). The sea is very close, however, and I can reach it with a short bike ride from the house. Location-wise the house is reasonably far from civilization, but aside from distance there aren’t too many mountains separating me from the Hachihama bus station, Tamano High School, and Okayama (if I’m feeling adventurous on the bicycle). Also, the scenery is magnificent with a large mountain (Kinko-zan) rising from behind the house and rice fields stretching out toward the sea (last night I witnessed someone with a blowtorch burning old leaves in a field, a definite first since arriving in Japan).
The family of Kondo consists of my host father (Nobuharu), mother (Junko), sister (Nobuko), and dog (Boss). My host father works in a bank and is an avid fisherman (he owns a boat and has offered to take me to an island where the fishing is excellent). Junko-san works as a counselor for the Hachihama Middle School, but is also an ardent volleyball player and coach. Nobuko is a college student at Okayama University studying Intercultural Communications; a major that she says is difficult yet exciting. She has a part time job at a local café, and plans on becoming a flight attendant. She traveled to New Zealand to study English last year (although she couldn’t find any pictures of the trip aside from her host father giving the dog a bath) and plans to study in America (perhaps Miami) next year. The dog, Boss, is 14, friendly, and very fat.
After Kondo-san brought me back to the house, I was introduced to two more members of the family, Obaachan and Baba. Obaachan is Nobuko’s grandmother, but I have not yet discerned the relation of Baba (in Japanese “baba” translates as “old woman,” so I decided to simply leave it at that). They live in a large house adjoining Kondo-san’s, with a large Japanese garden that is shared between the two houses.
My first night, the whole family gathered for “maki-zushi,” a type of make-your-own-sushi, with fried shrimp and miso soup on the side. I showed my family pictures from America (slightly outdated by this time), and some more recent DVDs from Japan on the computer.
Pictures, as well as a more in-depth description of the house and surrounding area will come soon, but for now I can safely say I will have dedicated (high speed) internet access and computer, which leaves me feeling relieved.
For now, delicious smells are wafting from the kitchen, which requires my investigation.
The move from Kawai-san’s house was emotional (you grow rather attached to a family when you live with them for any amount of time), and after spending 100 days in Kawai-san’s house it was strange to see my bags packed and room clean (for once). Aketa-san came to help move my bicycle and large number of suitcases to Hachihama, and some of Tomoya’s friends also came to wish me goodbye (and rummage through my bags looking for exciting things to play with/break/ask to keep).
It was perhaps a little more difficult for Kawai-san when the time came for me to leave. I packed my bags into a new host mother’s car, and moved on to another exciting adventure in Japan while she had to wave goodbye. The night before I left we exchanged gifts from American and Japan (Tomoya, instead of the mayor of Tamano, ended up with the massive West Virginia flag), and she told me that she and her husband were taking a trip to Fukushima so she wouldn’t feel too sad. She also added that I could stop by anytime, especially to eat some of grandma Kawai-san’s delicious yaki-soba (an opportunity I fully plan to exercise).
Kondo-san, my new host mother, came to pick me up in a sporty green car decked-out with a variety of Snoopy dolls. We piled my suitcases into the back of Aketa-san’s truck, and shoved the remainder into the back of Kondo-san’s mini (I was surprised it could still move with all the weight).
I waved a final goodbye to my host family, and was soon on the road to Hachihama. First, a little bit about the location:
Hachihama, translated as “eight beaches,” is unique in that there are actually no beaches in the area (due to reclaimed land). The sea is very close, however, and I can reach it with a short bike ride from the house. Location-wise the house is reasonably far from civilization, but aside from distance there aren’t too many mountains separating me from the Hachihama bus station, Tamano High School, and Okayama (if I’m feeling adventurous on the bicycle). Also, the scenery is magnificent with a large mountain (Kinko-zan) rising from behind the house and rice fields stretching out toward the sea (last night I witnessed someone with a blowtorch burning old leaves in a field, a definite first since arriving in Japan).
The family of Kondo consists of my host father (Nobuharu), mother (Junko), sister (Nobuko), and dog (Boss). My host father works in a bank and is an avid fisherman (he owns a boat and has offered to take me to an island where the fishing is excellent). Junko-san works as a counselor for the Hachihama Middle School, but is also an ardent volleyball player and coach. Nobuko is a college student at Okayama University studying Intercultural Communications; a major that she says is difficult yet exciting. She has a part time job at a local café, and plans on becoming a flight attendant. She traveled to New Zealand to study English last year (although she couldn’t find any pictures of the trip aside from her host father giving the dog a bath) and plans to study in America (perhaps Miami) next year. The dog, Boss, is 14, friendly, and very fat.
After Kondo-san brought me back to the house, I was introduced to two more members of the family, Obaachan and Baba. Obaachan is Nobuko’s grandmother, but I have not yet discerned the relation of Baba (in Japanese “baba” translates as “old woman,” so I decided to simply leave it at that). They live in a large house adjoining Kondo-san’s, with a large Japanese garden that is shared between the two houses.
My first night, the whole family gathered for “maki-zushi,” a type of make-your-own-sushi, with fried shrimp and miso soup on the side. I showed my family pictures from America (slightly outdated by this time), and some more recent DVDs from Japan on the computer.
Pictures, as well as a more in-depth description of the house and surrounding area will come soon, but for now I can safely say I will have dedicated (high speed) internet access and computer, which leaves me feeling relieved.
For now, delicious smells are wafting from the kitchen, which requires my investigation.
4/08/2005
All packed and ready to go. Arguably the first time my room has been clean since arriving at Kawai-san's house. See you in Hachihama
Ceremony to honor retiring teachers from Tamano High School. Each teacher was allowed to give a speech, but one waved the right to instead play his favorite Oldies Japanese song
Interesting photo of my teacher when he was a high school student. Everyone in the picture has to be middle-aged by now, but it made me smile
At Neil's house, a BBQ was thrown in honor of Miwako's new job at the Mitsui Ship Company. The BBQ consisted of charcoal encased in stolen bricks from a nearby construction site, and topped with a mesh metal frame. But boy was the meat delicious
Micah and I spent the day in Okayama. He bough some records at King Biscuit, the smoothest place in town
When was the last time you rode a slide? Really, you should take the time and do it every once in a while
Everyone in this photo is devoting an amazing amount of concentration to their own personal activity
