The PUWYs: On coming home, reverse culture shock, and life after Japan

It’s been almost 3 months since I posted here, and I don’t now how that quarter-year passed so quickly. I moved countries, towns and houses, twice. I started a new job. I experienced a mellow English Autumn for the first time, made a lot of changes in my life, and had some powerful highs and lows.

I’d like to finish posting some of the pictures and memories from Japan I still having kicking around, while I still remember them. After that, I doubt I’ll be using this blog much, at least until another purpose for it comes along. For the first time since being a teenager, I have the compulsion to write a lot for myself – maybe because it’s a similarly transitional time.

A friend from work, 30 and comfortingly on top of her shit, actually has a word for this stage of life: the PUWYs (pronounced pewies) or Post University Wilderness Years. She tells me that almost all her friends of her age, who are now largely settled and happy in their careers, locations, relationships and lives, had no clue what they were doing at 23. The markers of adulthood our parents enjoyed at our age – relatively easy-found and well-paid jobs, cars, mortgages, marriages – are no longer attained so soon. No one tells you this, but these may be the most challenging years of your life.

I know exactly what she means. But that said, I’m ok with these new challenges. This feels like a time for taking time, for thinking about goals, working hard and enjoying the company of friends from school, university and Japan, all making our way in the big metropolis. It’s good to finally stay in a country where I’ve never lived but that always felt like home.

Leaving Japan in August was the right thing to do, but it was such a wrench saying goodbye to friends there, and home was a shock in unexpected ways. I’d been told to expect reverse culture shock, but the brusqueness of people in public still felt jarring. I still can’t help bowing in some situations, and miss the politeness and consideration of Japanese people very much. I came back to the Edinburgh International Festival in August, and would end days in town feeling exhausted by seeing the multitudes of varied shapes, sizes, ethnicities and fashion choices jostling around me.

On my first day in London, I stood helplessly by as people pushed in front of me in the taxi rank, until a tiny old man tapped me on the shoulder and said kindly, “You have to be forceful in London!” For the first few weeks in my new town, I found myself weirdly wishing that everyone on the streets were Japanese. Two months later the shock has worn off, and I’m so happy to be back in my own country where I can interact with strangers on trains and act with a different kind of self-reliance.

I’m working in a very academic boarding school doing alumni relations and fundraising. I like having the freedom to define my own role - which is a challenging one as it amalgamates 3 people’s previous jobs - being able to boss around an intern, and the business of building a community, something which I’ve found comes kind of naturally. I get to edit and produce 4 magazines a year, some with students, and organise events from galas in the Globe Theatre to memorial lacrosse matches.

The school is a huge campus including a lake, a forest and a horse paddock, surrounded by a high brick wall and suspiciously called ‘Narnia’ by the locals. We can buy eggs from the chicken coops and honey from the bee hives. Morning cake and afternoon tea happens every day in the staffroom, and the History Department secret drinks parties not that less often. The girls are intimidatingly ambitious, confident and focused, and I find myself setting higher goals for myself as I see what they go on to do. That said, I know I don’t want to spend my life making money for the richest people in the country, even with all the scholarships they do provide. I’m learning as much as I can while I work out how exactly I want to use it.

I’m living in a huge Victorian house 5 minutes’ walk from work, with a family of modern hippies and 3 other lodgers. While my room is neat and atmospheric, with high ceilings, a big old wardrobe and a fireplace, the rest of the house is stuffed to the rafters with old newspapers, paintings, bike wheels, plants, sacks of grains, telephones that don’t work, strings of fairy lights and dairy-free products.

I was assured on viewing the house that this was a intermediary phase while some rooms were prepared for foster kids (arriving in about 5 months, at which point I will be homeless). I soon realised that this kind of clutter takes years to accumulate and probably years to get rid of. But, it’s cosy and full of good cooking smells and there’s a pianola in the hall (the only house rule is it musn’t be played after midnight). We don’t use Wifi (it goes in your brain, you know), the microwave is safely placed in the pantry for the same reason, and all our soaps come from powdery paper bags. There’s an inexplicable, faint noise at all times that sounds exactly like the house has a heartbeat.

The family is sweet and laugh a lot watching TV in the room next to mine. The matriarch, my landlady, spends mornings a lot of mornings in her dressing gown composing songs on her guitar about how much she hates traffic. She married the 2 daughters’ father on the spur of the moment in City Hall, both of them and 6 of their friends all dressed as Groucho Marx. She grows herbs and vegetables and picks apples from the tree in the garden, and likes fixing things using the spare electronics she hoards. One of the other lodgers is editing the new Star Wars movie, one is a bald Finnish man with many granola products in his cupboard, and one is almost too Italian to function. He pronounces the word biodegradable (oft-used around here) ‘bee-oh-dee-grad-ablay’, and has been known to stand hungover in the kitchen, squeezing lemon after lemon into a glass and murmuring “Santa Maria!”

I don’t have many photos to share of the time since I got back, partly because I’ve broken the iPhone addiction (a situation I intend to rectify ASAP. My Blackberry has taken to rattling randomly from time to time, like a Horcrux.) I like Instagramming and having a photo journal to look back on, but it comes with its own complications. When your life isn’t so photogenic, or you’re in transit and aren’t quite sure who you are or what you want, let alone how to present yourself, how can you communicate that authentically to such a broad group of people? Do you even want to? I think our generation has these questions to consider in a way only celebrities did in the past.

I’m coming a bit later to the PUWY party than many of my friends, and maybe I’m overthinking it. But I’m enjoying feeling alone and connected, and empty and full, and scared and brave, all at the same time. It’s pretty exciting.

In the name of posterity and nostalgia, Japan pictures to follow. In the name of not being too pretentious or rambling, I’ll shut up now. It’s good to be back.

two island nations

A while ago I wrote a piece for the prefectural office in Miyazaki about the similarities between Japan and the UK and a few of my mishaps in negotiating them. It's finally up on the site so here's the link! 

notes for my successor

It’s the time of year when new JETs are starting to pop up eagerly on the facebook groups and I’m thinking about buying my flight home. To fill time during the quiet long weekend of prefectural sports matches, I started filling out the forms with information to pass on to my successor. Reading over the forms my predecessor sent me, I can’t believe how quickly time has passed and how I’ve changed. I remember being so nervous, scanning the pages repeatedly to get every last clue on what my life would be like. 

As such, I thought I’d gather together all the bits of advice and things I’ve learned that don’t quite fit in on the forms – things that any other JET or ALT might find helpful (like this site - or this one), and that I wish I’d known. The points about school will probably be most useful for people like me, who previously had no teaching and little public speaking experience. 

Don't be afraid to make a fool/ crazed Scottish loon of yourself for the English club poster (as one kind student put it, "Now we know Sophie sensei is not vain".)

SCHOOL  

Keep a notebook from day one recording what you do with each class, including games, and what worked or didn’t work. Make notes on students to help you remember their names and abilities, etc. I would have been completely lost without this. Add nice things and surprises that happen to read if Stage 2 hits! 

Don’t underestimate an element of theatricality in the classroom. It ain’t what you say, it's the way that you say it. It’s up to you to enthuse and engage the students in what is normally a repetitive subject for them. The same activity presented in different ways can provoke very different reactions, so think about how you’ll build their interest in the task: capture their attention by asking them to turn around, close their eyes, call out suggestions, vote on a topic, etc. 

That said - remember you’re not there to be an entertainer or a comedian. If you’re feeling the pressure to perform in class, turn it around – it should be the kids who feel challenged (in a good way), not you. Focus more on what you want the students to be able to do than how a teacher is meant to act or speak. 

Accept that you’ll have good days and bad days at school. Don’t give up on the troublesome students – a perk of many ALTs' job is we don't have to worry about discipline. Continue trying to talk to them out of class, and meet them halfway: some of my ‘rowdy’ boys would often write risqué things playing shiritori etc – but I’d not bat an eye and just correct their grammar! For every kid who shouts “I don’t like English!” in your ear, there’s one who’ll bring you souvenirs from holidays and email you after graduation. 

Make it clear what you expect of students at the start of the semester. This year I told all my new first year students that I didn’t mind at all if they made mistakes: in fact it was a good thing in communication classes. But I did expect them to be vocal and active in class and to tell me if they didn’t understand. 

Don’t start a reward system, like passport stamps, unless you intend to follow it through. Perhaps wait until the second semester or new school year to implement it, once you’ve settled into your role and know what’s what. It will only be effective if you really commit to it and make it an integral part of classes. 

Don't be afraid to repeat questions. I didn’t want to check which was my pigeon hole a third time and ended up throwing out all my Vice Principal’s memos for a few weeks, thinking they were mine… 

With lessons, simple is often best. Some of the lessons I thought would be a bit boring turned out to be the most popular. Likewise, always have a back up or a time filler prepared, but too many activities in one lesson will feel rushed and will just stress you out. 

Be sure to make full use of Line's admirable range of stickers

DAILY LIFE

100 yen stores like Daiso are a godsend. From false eyelash glue to bike lights, waterproof trousers to champagne saucers, you can find just about anything there. 

Keep a towel and a fan on your person at all times in summer! 

Don't leave your bike unlocked no matter how trustworthy your town – the police or the mall attendants will lock it and you’ll have to locate them and retrieve the key. 

Make your peace with Japanese toilets early on. I know one ALT who managed to avoid using the school toilet for several months (going home at lunch instead), only to find out later that there was actually a Western toilet right there too. 

When studying Japanese, don’t bother making physical flashcards, unless it particularly helps you – websites like this are free and easy. 

Freeze your food garbage in a large plastic bag until the collection morning for non-burnable rubbish, especially in summer. 

Be careful when toasting – raising your glass higher than the other one clinking indicates you think you’re of higher status. 

Remember that things we take utterly for granted might be different here. I was non-plussed to see my colleagues smiling as they told me about another teacher's family troubles... until I did some digging and found that in Japan, smiling can indicate sadness, embarrassment, anger and more. After the initial honeymoon period, keep your mind wide open to these cultural variations. 

Be mindful of Japanese subtlety

GENERAL 

Make a list of goals and priorities before you come and refer to it often. It will help you on difficult days at school and help you keep a sense of purpose if you feel disconnected. 

Personally, I found moving to Japan was a chance to realise what had been habit and social expectation, and what is what you actually want. Transplanting yourself into a completely different life is a huge opportunity in this way. 

Try your best not to compare yourself to other JETs or ALTs in terms of teaching style, work load, Japanese ability – anything. It’s inevitable that you’ll come across Jets who are more or less experienced in or committed to teaching. JET is a unique situation in that most of your new friends have an extremely similar job and lifestyle to you, but try to focus on what is best for you.   

Say yes a lot and try to do new things that make you a bit nervous. 

I’ve never relied on or supported my friends more than this year. Unless your Japanese is great or you’re super independent, friends will be the ones helping you with hospital appointments, giving you rides to weekend events, and helping you with the little things like bills and train tickets that would be easy back home.  So be prepared to rely on them and to help them out in turn. 

Consider staying more than a year. For various reasons it was always going to be one year only for me. But it was only when a new school year started in April that I felt really happy and capable in the job, and realised how much of Japan I still have to see. So keep your options open... 

Someone told me to ‘give everything of yourself and expect nothing in return’, and I resolved to try it as best as I could. In the end, what I had to give was more than returned to me in kindness, patience and friendship by the people I met here. And I found that, in times when I was getting a little jaded with teaching, focusing on what I could contribute rather than how I could benefit made the work more effective and more rewarding. 

what's it like in a japanese high school?

This week I'm giving a talk to a group in Miyazaki - the British-Japan Association to be precise - about Scotland, being a foreigner here, and my impressions of the schooling here. I'm a little nervous, but just keep reminding myself that I won't have to teach them anything, use gestures and illustrations to make myself understood, or raise my voice to be heard, unlike every week day. So I guess it won't be too bad. 

I haven’t really written at length on the differences in attitude to education yet, so perhaps now’s as good a time as any. It might be interesting to some friends back home beginning their careers as teachers! I really admire some aspects of school life here – others not so much. I’m not saying that one approach is necessarily better than another, and I appreciate that different systems have arisen out of different social milieus and needs. Of course, I’m no expert, and this is just from my own observations in daily life. 

Here are the 5 main differences between Japan and my own experience of school education, for those whom it may concern.

1) A different approach to independence

When I first started teaching, I was surprised at just how reluctant the students were to speak or act individually. Group or pair decisions were made by playing janken (or rock paper scissors); many seemed confused when asked for individual opinions.  Indeed, far more of their assignments seem to consist of memorisation and drilling (not just in English) than in argumentation, critical thinking, or original work. It feels like knowledge is transmitted from the teacher, rather than arrived at through a more collaborative process. Furthermore, it’s rare for the kids (at least at an academic high school) to have a part time job, and for most of them, their school life takes up almost all of their time except sleeping. The uniform rules are very strict (right down to not being allowed to pluck your eyebrows, eek). 

However, in many ways the kids are far more mature and independent than in my experience. They take a lot of responsibility for leading club activities and organising school events like assemblies, sports days and trips (they’re in charge of lighting, sound, cleaning up, first aid, water provisions, etc.) They do all the cleaning off the school too, everyday after lunch for ten minutes along to classical music piped into the corridors, and for hours at the start and end of term (although the school could probably do with a professional deep clean sometime soon). 

They’re allowed to do far more risky things too, like sports involving running across each other’s backs, shimmying up huge poles and making giant human pyramids. At cleaning time they’re out on the window ledges sweeping. In winter they breeze past kettles full of boiling water balanced atop gas stoves, from which hazardous wires protrude (perhaps that’s just a different attitude towards health and safety). In any case, the consensus seems to be that it teaches them self-reliance and toughens them up.

Waiting for the storm to pass over at sports day rehearsal

Lastly, they seem far more comfortable conversing naturally with teachers and other adults. There just seems to be less of an adult/ kid, teacher/ student divide, and students confidently and respectfully address and greet teachers in the corridors and staffroom. 

Which brings me on to the next point…

2) The student teacher relationship 

… is very different here. From what I can tell, teachers are deemed more responsible for the students’ whole well being and behaviour, and know a lot about their families and life outside school. They’ll drop off homework at students’ houses and know a lot about their friendships etc. And vice versa – a lot of teachers seem very open about their lives and hobbies. 

Perhaps that’s part of why some students are very familiar with some popular teachers, draping their arms around them in corridors, flicking their ties or ruffling their hair! Likewise, it’s not uncommon to see a boy being playfully hit around the head with a workbook by a male teacher. 

And yet it seems that this is all built on a foundation of mutual respect. Students and teachers address each other formally; students say a formal greeting and explanation before entering the staffroom; they thank the teachers with tears in their eyes at graduation; and it seems rare for a teacher to publicly scold or get angry with a student, let alone send them out of class. Each class is started and finished with a formal “onegaishimasu” and “arigato gozaimashita” with bowing. 

Indeed this close relationship seems to foster a different attitude to discipline. Students might talk or sleep in class, but instead of demanding uniform attention, the group dynamic is allowed to keep the class flowing. It seems that a lot of rule breaking is dealt with by lengthy conversations, with students apologising and discussing their misdemeanour with several teachers in turn. A boy who recently cheated in an exam is being isolated from his peers for a week, while various teachers visit him to discuss what he did and try to change his attitude. 

The harmony of the group seems to be very important, and conflict is dealt with using exclusion from and reintegration into that group. I find this attitude of mutual respect is a pleasant change from the all-too common dynamic of an indifference, hostility and distance that can arise between teachers and students. 

Playing shiritori at the end of term 

3) The classroom set-up

Instead of students moving between classes, teachers have their desk in the large staffroom and move between rooms, carrying all their materials in a basket (unless it’s art or chemistry etc). The staffroom seems like the hub: students come and go with questions and papers, traveling salesman go from desk to desk with new textbooks, bento vendors and cooks delivery lunches in boxes. Yet this is one aspect I’ve actually found quite difficult. Sometimes it feels more like the students ‘own’ the classroom and thus the class rather than the teacher – but perhaps that perception just comes from my preconceived idea of a teacher’s role.

Nevertheless, I have very fond memories of my favourite teacher’s room from high school. Our history classroom was a little treasure box with not an inch of wall peeking through posters, poems, pictures, old wardrobes and jukeboxes and sewing machines, diagrams, plants, books we could borrow to take home, jars of coins we would give to charity each year, strange postcards and ancient coins. The atmosphere was inspiring and we felt like co-conspirators when we were in it. Our teacher was an enigmatic bald Glaswegian about whom rumours circulated – he’d been a microbiologist, he’d been in the army, he’d been a priest – and who changed his look every few years and then wore the same outfit and pair of glasses every day. Kind of like Dr Who actually…  He would use these objects from his room, as well as snatches of songs, youtube clips and projections, to make the subject come alive. 

In school here, the classrooms consist of desks and chairs, a lectern-desk at the front, a blackboard with chalk, and a cleaning cupboard at the back. Using technology or any other materials than notebooks is a bothersome affair. As an ALT, I know it would be a lot easier to enthuse the kids with the use of different media. But, necessity is the mother of invention. 

One of my first self-introduction lessons. I have since realised not to stand in front of the projector

4) The work ethic

This still constantly surprises me. Students arrive at school between 7.30 and 8.30, often rising earlier to do homework. Rather than doing several extra curriculars, they choose one club activity and commit to it like crazy, practicing till past 6 several times a week after the 4.30 school finish. They also are expected to participate for hours every weekend  (as are the teachers who oversee them). After this, many of them go to cram school till as late as midnight, then finish other homework into the early hours of the morning. It’s not uncommon for these growing teenagers to be getting 4 hours of sleep a night. 

I truly respect my students and colleagues commitment and dedication. Their self-discipline is remarkable, especially compared to the little we expect of teenagers back home. The students have little time to be bored and commit petty crime, and they’re part of a structured social world that is perhaps a good antidote to the alienation many teenagers feel. 

Yet I do worry quite a lot about their health. Lack of sleep is seen as an indicator of loyalty to the school and determination. For a country that is very aware of physical health (more on that later), lack of sleep is disregarded in favour of cramming all too often. Teenagers at this age need plenty of sleep so that their memory and mental growth is unimpeded – and it’s also vital to avoid depression, anxiety and other mental disorders, let alone the more tangible health effects later in life. 

There’s also the fact that hard work isn't always good or creative work, and long hours don’t always signify productivity. I want my students to have time to develop curiosity about personal interests, to have the leisure necessary to be creative, to make their own connections and form their own opinions. Sometimes it’s necessary to be bit bored – it gives your brain the space to think laterally. So much of what I ‘learned’ in high school came from reading novels on my bed at 4pm; catching random documentaries after the 10 o’clock news; conversations with friends in shops after school. I think that the emphasis on ‘productive’, group activity needs to be balanced by some more individual downtime. 

Singing the Miyazaki anthem with the Miyazaki mascots

5) The attitude to health

All through the winter months, my mailbox was bombarded with pamphlets featuring cartoons of runny noses and thermometers. People were on constant guard against catching ‘influenza’, and indeed whole classes were often sent home for days at a time to contain flu outbreaks (I don’t know if it’s more strains or more susceptibility). People were very concerned about wrapping up warm, eating healthily and not going out too much. 

This was all very well except that Japanese buildings are built for sweltering summer months and have no central heating. Multiple electric heaters at strategic points, an electric blanket, and the kotatsu heater under my dining table kept my flat livable. At school, no one took off their coats and huddled around gas stoves in temperatures that would have had Scottish students sent home. Still, it was do-able.

Except for the fact that all the windows would be kept open! Freezing breezes blew through the school as staff clutched hand warmers and hot water bottles, and students worked with blankets across their legs. The theory behind it was that the fresh air keeps us healthy, gives us strong bodies and stops us catching a cold… needless to say this reasoning was lost on me. 

When this method didn’t work and I did get ill, everyone wanted to know my exact temperature and how it differed from the normal figure. They seemed confused that I could just feel or know that I had a fever. At the doctor’s I was given 3 different types of medication, even though I mainly went there so I could take sick leave. Most teachers use up all of their annual leave before even thinking of taking sick leave, even for surgery, so a doctor’s certificate was necessary. One ALT had to get out of bed and be taken to the doctor every day to get such a certificate, thus prolonging her recovery period somewhat. 

The last thing to get used to was everyone wearing the famous white masks, covering everything below the eyes: they’re worn as a matter of courtesy to the people around you if you’re sick. Of course, this proved a little difficult in English class. However, it was kind of nice being given Grandmotherly advice by teachers and students alike every day and being urged to “Please take care of your health Sophie sensei!” 

Aside from those things, there were some other little surprises I encountered when I started working here  - 

• The noises in the classroom. Teachers gargle, spit in sinks, talk to themselves, yawn, clear their throats and groan in way unlike any other office environment I’ve been in! 
• Work parties. A big part of teaching is socialising with other teachers in numerous drinking and dinner parties at different times in the year – I’ve gone out with my department teachers, female department teachers, year group teachers, new teachers and leaving teachers. Everyone knows and socialises with each other. If you go on a trip, a box of omiyage (generally edible treats) is expected to thank everyone for working while you were not. 
• Dealing with bereavement. A colleague recently lost his mother and I was unsure what the normal behaviour was. Back home I would definitely send a card or let them know somehow that I was sorry for their loss. Here, the norm is to give some money as a group to the person. When I asked, I was told that it was better just to say, “I’m happy to see you” or something similar. 
• The interactions of male students. I often see the boys sit in each other’s laps while completing an activity, massage each others’ shoulders and generally interact in a far more tactile way than schoolboys from back home. 
• Tooth brushing! Every day after lunch students and teachers go about their  business with a mouthful of foam and a toothbrush sticking out the side! 

To finish, here are a few links that got me thinking about young people and education recently. 

• Is the modern school system really preparing young people for their future? 
• How about further education?
• Perhaps too many rules are diluting what children learn from play
• The importance of freedom and playing in children’s growth 

I’d love to know the thoughts of any fellow ALTs or teachers back home, especially if you’ve had a different experience than me! 

leaving japan and musings on the jet programme

This week was my first full schedule with the new first years, and I’ve enjoyed it immensely. With the end of our contracts a little over 3 months away, everyone is posting about whether their decision to leave or stay was the right one, and I totally understand that.

Starting afresh with a new group of students, knowing what I’m doing, and having experience behind me, the difference between these self introdctions and my ones in August is marked. Recently, waking up in the morning, the way I feel before teaching has tipped to the excitement outweighing the nervousness. It’s not even that the content of my lessons has changed that much, more that I can now feel at ease in front of a 40-strong class; not feel compelled to fill an unsure silence; exert a little more authority and know more instinctively what will and won’t work off the paper lesson plan. Because of the difference in the academic calenders between Japan and English-speaking countries, it makes sense for us to arrive here one semester into the school year. But I’m only realising now why they say two years gives you the best experience, and it’s undeniably better for the kids. 

Crazy good drawing a student just casually did one night for their school-trip book cover

In terms of being in Japan, staying for a year makes sense for me and I’ll have accomplished my original goals. I’ve traveled all over the country; gained a measure of understanding of Japanese society and culture; tried teaching; kept up writing; got experience with public speaking and leading that I never had at university; become more self-sufficient; learned how to communicate with just about anyone regardless of age, background or language; lived as a minority; and become totally financially independent straight after graduating.

Nevertheless, I think two years is optimal for real job satisfaction.

If the JET Programme and the Japanese Ministry of Eduction is serious about improving English teaching in schools, they need to focus on quality and not quantity of ALTs (which seems to be the plan.) In real terms, I think that might mean a 2 year minimum contract, and more training both for us and the JTE’s who will team teach with us. And although the Programme seems pretty good at finding the right placements for participants, they also need to do a lot of streamlining. I’ve heard so many stories of JETs being paid to sit at their desks for weeks on end – making bulletin boards, writing newsletters, studying Japanese and eventually knitting and watching movies. Great for those who want a gap year lifestyle while pursuing their own projects – not so great for those who actually want to teach, or for the state of English learning in Japan.

The Programme has changed a lot since its early days in the 80s, when it was just a handful of top graduates given 4+ weeks of training. It’s hard to say how long it will survive as it is, and it’s most definitely not perfect. Nevertheless, I still think ALTs have a huge part to play here, in pushing students to communicate in real English rather than memorised chunks of grammar, and in providing rare and real foreign interaction.

Yesterday I went on a school trip with the new first years to the famous Saito Burial Mounds. We climbed hills to view the vistas, wandered through a cherry orchard, and played dodgeball among the barrows. My students were relaxed, witty, unbelievably energetic. It was a perfect spring day, the likes of which I’ve only really read about. A cool wind ran over the sun-warmed meadows and the rice paddies were punctuated by tiny white trucks and old women in bonnets. The air literally smelled sweet. I’m going to miss this country so much. 

gaijin invasion of an ume matsuri

Way back in February we had a national holiday and, as is my wont here, I took up a complete stranger on their extremely kind offer of a day’s traditional Japanese culture. A bunch of ALTs from around the prefecture met at a tiny town called Kiyotake to try on kimono and enjoy the new plum blossoms (ume) at a mini traditional festival (matsuri). In Japan, people like to talk about the weather and the changing seasons lmot as much as Brits. Each passing month appears to be marked by a special produce – cherry blossom themed candy was this March’s speciality.

We gathered in a large hall, along with several families of other foreigners, and were helped on with our kimono and obi. In actuality it was kind of a cross between a yukata – the simple, one-layered, thin-material worn in summer- and a real kimono, which is thicker like the layer we wore, but includes many complex layers of material and padding.

Somewhat restricted, we slowly made our way to the matsuri, which of course kicked off with all of us displayed on stage and asked questions about our origins! As I may have mentioned before, the population here is 99% Japanese. This means that any foreigner outside of a big city is often de facto a local celebrity, and people will unabashedly stare at you.

At best, they will pepper you with questions about your country and your opinion of Japan; invite you randomly to their home for dinner and parties; leave their shops to accompany you places if you’re lost; explain things to you slowly; and treat you like an honoured guest. I appreciate all this very much, even if I feel I don’t deserve such special treatment all the time. At worst, they cross to the other side of the street on sight or give you the evils (I’m looking at you, Miyazaki grandmas); prefer standing in a choc-a-bloc rushhour bus to sitting next to you; fall off their seat in surprise every time you use chopsticks or a Japanese word; and ask very personal questions about your religious and political beliefs, how much your possessions cost, your exact relationship status, etc.

Living here, you are generally excused almost any faux-pas or silly mistake by virtue of being a foreigner, and so you kind of oscillate between trying to disprove assumptions by integrating, and just doing "gaijin smash" and lazily taking advantage of your perceived special status! I think that this ‘free pass’ results partly from necessity and from genuine consideration, of course, but also perhaps partly from the assumption that foreigners could never possibly understand, integrate, or conduct themselves like anything but a thrashing fish out of water. This assumption may not seem particularly problematic until you imagine applying it to Japanese living in the UK.

But, this is only one side of the coin – the other is tremendous kindess and forbearance – in a country still quite unused to the foreigners. Despite the cliched image of the Japanese tourist, leaving the country to go on holiday is still pretty uncommon here. I’m only beginning to learn about Japanese history, but it was still illegal to leave Japan until 1868, and in the preceding couple of centuries no foreigner was to enter on pain of death – so it’s little wonder that immigration and gloabalisation works a little differently here.

I say all this not to detract from the perfect day or from my experience generally in Japan, but to give a balanced picture of what it’s like to live here. I have zero problem with showing off on stage in a kimono and receiving applause for existing! I’m sure most ALTs will take all these things for granted, but perhaps not the people reading back home!

After our moment in the limelight, we shuffled off to enjoy yakisoba, tea ceremony, archery (called kyudo), and of couse, the ume! (Sakura are the famous cherry blossoms that come later in the year, while ume are the smaller fore-runners.) We also twitnessed the talents of a group of precocious pre-teens shake their thang to Beyonce. The spring sun was bright and warm as we drove back through the snow-capped mountains.

 

This woman was a kimono-folding powerhouse! 

Waiting for tea ceremony to begin

Getting involved with some pounding 

leibster award: in which we ask intriguing things of each other

A few weeks ago the swashbuckling Sarah of Bookshelf Pirate – fellow St Andrews almuna, book worm and blogger – nominated me for a Liebster Award. As far as I can tell, it’s like a very interesting update of the chain letters you used to send in school, without the playground gossip and infighting, and a fun way to keep in touch long-distance! The rules are as follows.

1) Thank the person who nominated you and link to their blog.

2) Answer their 10 questions.

3) Nominate your blogger friends and give them your own 10 questions.

Thanks Sarah for nominating me with such kind words! Here are my answers…

What flavour of tea defines you as a person?

The only type with any kind of personal resonance is good old-fashioned builder’s tea: Tetley with milk and two sugars. That’s the kind my Gran would give me with a slice of toasted white bread slathered in salty butter (Scottish Grandmothers, driving the obesity epidemic singlehandedly), as well as to my dog in a little bowl! The perfect antidote to cold, fever, drowsiness, jitters, shock, and homesickness, for me it’s the taste of comfort and familiarity.  I was roundly mocked on my first summer home after university for drinking  herb and mint teas “just like a student”. 

That said, green tea is becoming an addiction...

If you were to become a super villain, what would your one weakness be?

My weakness would be the ability to envision the world from everyone’s perspective, to the point of immobility. I’d have my prey captive, tied in chairs back-to-back with the saw/ laser/ steamroller approaching them, when they’d begin, “But Sophie, what you’ve got to remember is that from where I stand…” and before long I’d be second-guessing my villainous plans and sympathising so much that I’d have no chance but to press the big red stop button.

What is your favourite poem?

This is like trying to choose my favourite friend! So many poets spring to mind – Larkin, Ovid, Catullus, Rumi, Cummings, Bukowski, Neruda, Breton, Yeats, Duffy – so I’ll post one here from a poet I don’t know anything about, but love nevertheless. I think I found it on the back of a worksheet in high school and liked it ever since.

C Major

When he came down to the street after the rendezvous

the air was swirling with snow.

Winter had come

while they lay together.

The night shone white.

He walked quickly with joy.

The whole town was downhill.

The smiles passing by –

everyone was smiling behind turned-up collars.

It was free!

And all the question-marks began singing of god’s being.

So he thought.

A music broke out

and walked in the swirling snow

with long steps.

Everything on the way towards the note C.

A trembling compass directed at C.

One hour higher than the torments.

It was easy!

Behind turned-up collars everyone was smiling.

Tomas Transtromer

You can only eat the cuisine from one nation for an entire year. Which do you choose?

The beautiful goodness of tomato ramen

Right now I’ve got to say Japanese! Before coming here my knowledge only extended to sushi and sashimi, but now my favourites include nabe (a delicious kind of hotpot), shabu-shabu (thinly sliced meat and vegetables instantly cooked in boiling broth), tempura udon (battered king prawn with thick noodles in broth), tomato ramen (tomato broth with ramen, chicken, melted cheese and whatever else you fancy), okonomiyaki (omelette stuffed with layers of cabbage, bacon, shrimp, rice wafers and barbecue sauce), chicken nanban (fried chicken with tartar mayo), guidon, tonkatsu and oyakodon (all combinations of meat and egg over rice). That’s not to mention the sushi – which is cheaper, fresher and tastier here of course! Are you drooling yet?

Tempura udon for lunch at school

If you could live a happy and healthy life without ever needing to sleep again, would you give it up to save time? Or are you a contented bed bug?

I think I’d save it for weekends – I’d miss dreaming too much to give it up completely! I read a book once where a character savoured sleep so much that she could taste it, “like good bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwich” and I can understand that perfectly! Plus it’s what happens either side of sleeping that’s interesting ;)

Rainbow fairy lights or white ones?

White for ambience and general classiness – but you’ve gotta break out the rainbow ones at Christmas.

Fairy lights galore!

Are you a good driver? Are you an honest judge of your own driving abilities? What do you family and friends have to say on the matter?

Much to my dismay, I’ve yet to take my driving test. It’s number one on the to-do list when I get home. In the mean time, I pride myself on being an excellent listener, chat partner, and music/ snack provider for my designated drivers.

Would you go into Outer Space if given the opportunity?

Absolutely. My plan is to wait till I’m old and it’s commercially available, like a bungee jump or deep sea dive. Then I’ll go see the sun rise on the earth and be jolted out of my old-person habits, assumptions and cynicisms. Plus if it goes disasterously wrong, I’m old anyway.

Do you prefer reading/ writing outdoors, in public spaces, or at home in the peace and quiet?

Reading is best done in peace, quiet and warmth: either in a sunny patch of a sheltered garden, or lying in front of an open fire. My favourite place to write, particularly poems, has got to be public transport – trains preferable, buses tolerable. You have just enough distraction to be stimulating rather than irritating, an end-point to motivate you, and a window of unused time to feel completely free and relaxed. Try it!

What’s the best book you read in the past year? Why do you recommend it?

Around this time last year I was writing my dissertation on media coverage of the Congo conflict, and reading The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver to try and enhance my knowledge. I’d recommend it to anyone, but especially if you’re interested in the region, colonialism or anthropology. It follows the family of an American Bible Belt missionary who move to a village in the Congo in 1959 just as it is transitioning into the post-colonial era. She can fool you into thinking you’re reading only about home or guilt or loss – hefty themes in themselves - when boom! You realise you’ve somehow acquired a far more nuanced understanding of power and oppression along the way. Aside from that, Kingsolver’s ability to inhabit the voices of all five women in the family as they age is extraordinary and utterly convincing (she displays this virtuosity in her other fantastic novel, The Lacuna, too). I’ll definitely be re-reading it soon.

And now I present my (12, not 10) questions for the next round of nominees! Johannah, Francesca,  Kayla, I like you and your writing very much and, if you have the time and the inclination, would love to know what you think.  Or, if you have only one or neither, no worries - just an invitation :) 

Sarah, I’d love to know your answers to my questions too in the comments section.  And that goes for anyone reading this post!  Or you could just answer a select few – whatever floats your boat.

1. What is your earliest memory?
2. If you could live in any period and place in the world, where and when would it be? You’d be the same person and your family, opportunities etc would be generally the same too. (When we played this at Christmas my uncles answered unequivocally and gloweringly, “Scotland in the days before the smoking ban.”)
3. What would your last meal be?
4. What’s your favourite book?
5. Name eight people, dead or alive, fictional or real, who you’d invite to your ultimate dinner party.
6. What is a law, custom, common assumption or norm you would change: why and how? (It can be as serious or as trivial as you like!)
7. Describe your perfect day.
8. What is something you have learned in the past year? (It can be a skill or specific interesting fact, but general realisations about yourself or the world are more fascinating).
9. Name three qualities you most admire and three you most despise in a person.
10. Which three places do you most want to go in the world?
11. When do you feel most yourself?
12. Name a skill/ ability you have and wish you didn’t, and one you don’t have and wish you did. And, one you do have and do enjoy or value, just to end things on a positive note!