Photo Friday: Baskin Robins Halloween Icecream

In honor of Halloween, enjoy this shot of our seasonal Baskin Robins treat:

In Japan Baskin Robins is called 31.  I have no idea why or how this happened, but it's actually handy for teaching kids numbers over 20, as every kid knows what 31 Ice is. This ice-cream was delicious by the way.  I have no idea if the same thing is being offered in America, but I highly recommend it if it is.

Kendo Kids

You may not know this, but my house stands next to a kendo dojo.  Practice is every Tuesday and Saturday, which I knew well before I talked to anyone about it, as the dulcet sounds of children screaming at the top of their lungs could be heard from my living room.  Even knowing all this, I’d never set foot inside the dojo until yesterday.

It’s hard to say exactly why I waited so long.  I know a part of it has to do with my innate procrastination, but there were other factors as well.  Fun as it is, practicing kendo is still more work.  I’m now regularly putting in ten-hour days by staying after and playing with the kids.  While my workday technically ends, as it always has, around four, it makes the exercise and practice no less tiring.  The prospect of getting home around seven and going out to do even more exercise is none too appealing.  Lastly, though I’ve been here for well over a year I don’t feel like I’ve made too many Japanese friends and the thought of any kind of social interaction still fills me with hesitation.  I no longer feel like I’m terrible at Japanese, but speaking has always been my weakest point, as I imagine it is for most people.

Putting all of that aside, I finally decided to go over to the dojo yesterday.  Like the junior high kendo club before it (which I went to on Monday), I was expecting to just go over and watch the kids smack each other with shinai (竹刀,bamboo swords) but was once again asked to join in.  I was paired up with the youngest kids who, like me, didn’t wear the full set of gear you usually need to play.  We practiced the proper way to perform the aisatsu (あいさつ, greeting) and strikes to the men (面, helmet).  Our teacher, who I believe is one of my student’s parents, assured me that I was doing well, but one of the girls thought otherwise and was helping to correct my form.  You’d think getting schooled by a seven year old would be embarrassing or degrading, but it was just too adorable for me to care.

Speaking of being adorable, the two girls were having such a great time asking me what random Japanese words were in English.  They started with the obvious kendo, dojo, shinai, etc. which are all the same in English because they originated in Japan.  I think they grew a little bored of me saying “X is X in English” and began what has to be the most random assortment of words I’ve been asked to translate.  They learned milk, ceiling, wall, clothes, good evening, and a number of colors.  One of the girls then proceeded to yell “milk” at everyone who entered the dojo.  Why is anybody’s guess, but it was certainly amusing.

At the end of the day, I joined the kids for their closing meditation, a stark contrast sitting alongside my tiniest kids, helped clean the dojo, and had my picture taken with everyone.  It was a fantastic experience.  I’ve been invited to go whenever I’d like, and though it may be a while, as my nearest free day is a week from Saturday, I’m definitely looking forward to it.  I’m beginning to get the feeling that certain sports attract certain kinds of people.  While not concrete fact, I’ve found that kendo kids tend to be very polite and, somewhat ironically, quiet.  This may help explain why, more than any other activity, I’ve received a warm and accommodating reception from my kendo clubs.

Shimotsuura Shindig

My home village of Shimotsuura had a festival last Sunday.  Rather than simply asking me to come, my neighbors once again invited me to join in.  My presence last year warranted an entire article in the newspaper.  This year drew somewhat less attention, but still turned a few heads.

The festival, as far as I can tell, has something to do with bringing a shrine to a nearby temple.  It also has to do with higanbara, a type of flower that blooms along riverbanks during the week of the equinox.  In fact, I believe the event’s real name might be Higanbara Festa.

At least, that's what all these banners said.

There is a long precession accompanying the shrine, and I was one of about twenty men who carried these long poles with feathers on the end.

 We also wore what I assume to be some manner of traditional dress.

 All my things were labeled in English this year.

I give them an "A" for effort.

The poles are quite heavy and the wind was rather strong that day, making the march all the more difficult.  To add to this, we were supposed to be dancing down the path to the temple.  I say supposed to because I was certainly not the only one having trouble and we all probably walked a better portion of the trail than danced.

As with most social events in Japan, there was a lot of drinking.

We had our own sake cart!

Years of being the designated, responsible driver have made it to where I have very little tolerance for alcohol.  By the time we got to the temple, I was pretty giddy.

Look at that smile.

And just in time to meet Amanda and my friend Emily, who came out to this obscure event from Kuratake, a good 40 minute drive away.

Amanda, pictured here with her new moth friend.

Emily helped carry my pole afterward.  What a sweetie.

The temple gate is the site of the most important moment of the festival, at least as far as my role is concerned.  We approached the gate in pairs, dancing in rhythm with the taiko drums.  As we neared the gate, there were lines on the ground indicating stopping points.  Once we reached the last line, we took three big steps forward, lowered our poles, twisted them to the right then the left, and charged through the gates.  I still have no idea why we do this.

After reaching the temple, my part in the festival is pretty much over.  From then on, there are performances by the kids involving taiko drumming, flute playing, and short, silent plays involving things like tricking demons into tying themselves up and then killing them.  I have to say that the girls look stunning and the boys very cool in their traditional dress.  I made sure to get some really great pictures of both groups this year, as did Amanda.

Finally, there was a door prize giveaway and the catching of mochi, a delicious Japanese treat.  Amanda and I won matching bags.  Emily didn’t win anything, but was given a badminton set by one of the other guys.  I hope she can get some use out of it.  The amount of mochi you get is supposed to be reflective of the luck you will have and people are pretty serious about snatching up as much as they can.  Thanks to her new bag, Amanda was able to snag quite a few for us.

Thankfully, there was no after party.  I really don’t think I would have had the energy for one this year.  Instead, we headed home after dropping off the clothes.  Along the way we ran into one of my neighbor’s girls and helped her carry her things home.  She was adorable and she and Emily took great delight in tipping the bag Amanda was trying to balance on her head.  All in all, the event was about four hours long.  It was another really great day.

English Recitation Contest I: A Brief Summary

Lately, I've been preparing a handful of junior high students for the English event of the year, the annual All-Amakusa English Recitation Contest. Not sure if that's the official title, but it's an apt description.  The contest is slated for next week, so I thought it a good idea to give some background on what it's all about before it drives me mad.

The contest is designed to encourage students to learn natural speed and pronunciation of English.  To be honest, I don't care in the slightest what my kids sound like as long as I can understand them.  The delight many experience from hearing "Engrish" quickly fades when you're around it all the time and have some idea why it exists.  I don't like having to correct minor discrepancies in how my kids say certain words, their intonation, or the speed at which they talk.  It's also really frustrating when you correct something, the student gets it right, but then they go back to how they were saying it earlier the next time they practice.  To sum up, it's really hard to change the way people are used to talking, but that's what this is all about. 

To add to my annoyance, it's become clear that American English is the focus here.  Not that I have much room to protest this myself, seeing as I am from America, but I imagine it's tough for the ALTs from England, New Zealand, Australia, Jamaica, and the myriad of other English speaking countries JET draws from.  Pretty messed up that we ignore that whole international aspect of illustrating English is slightly different all around the world by insisting that there is only one right way to speak it.  As a bit of poetic justice, however, our contest will be judged by our New Zealand couple.  Also, Emma's American accent was awesomely entertaining.  Just try to wrap your head around listening to Japanese kids speaking American English faked by a girl from England. It was bizarre to say the least.

All complaining aside, I would be lying if I said that what my kid's care about isn't important to me.  And while some of my students seem content with participating and are only in it for the experience and maybe a day out of school, it has become apparent that my second grade team is taking this pretty seriously.  Not to say we aren't having fun with it, but they are the only group, to my knowledge, who have asked what happens if they place and have said they want to win.  They have been putting in an amazing effort in spite of being busy with so much other work.  I think they sound amazing, of course, but I don't want to get my hopes up. Generally speaking Ushibuka and Hondo, the two densely populated areas of Amakusa, have come out on top in this competition.  Not only do kids from these areas have better access to the English cram schools, but there also noticeably larger, think of 3A schools in Texas going up against 1A schools.  There are more kids, which translates to a better chance of having the rare child who genuinely cares about English and wants to try hard.  All the same, I still have hope that my kids can do it.  Wish us luck!