Life as it is... living in Japan

Japan is HOT! I mean this in the literal sense, although I am sure after the announcement of the Tokyo Olympics 2020, Japan is hot gossip as well. This has been one of the hottest summers on record for Japan. Some places topped over 40 degrees, which is unheard of. Of course, coming from the land of scorching summers and skin cancer, I shouldn't complain, but I am going to anyway. Since coming to Japan I have taken a liking to eating out pretty much every day. This habit has been a contributing factor to some unforgiving kilos, which has motivated me to take up running. I try to run twice a week. During the summer this was made difficult by the scorching heat and blanket of humidity that seemed to hang around for months on end. It has finally started to subside now, thank goodness, but as I was running through the blazing heat, sweating a river, I decided upon a new theory. My new theory is that there is a much more repulsive level of perspiration that is in existence only in J

Do you know who really impresses me in Japan? Actually, pretty much everyone does. Some of the nicest people I have ever met, I met during my time here in Japan. For a prime example you can go back and read my blog entry about gaijin traps, the story of the random Japanese men that lifted my friends car out of the ditch for her. For a few recent examples, keep reading. Although I should warn you, you may end up doubting whether you yourself are actually a nice enough person. Today I was impressed by the ramen shop owner who gave my friend and I an umbrella when we were caught without one after eating lunch at his shop. We would have been drenched without it. He even had the audacity to apologize that he only had one to give us, and we would have to share. Impressed! Also today, I made an appointment for an electrician to come an fix my intercom. He was at my door at 3:58, quickly analyzed the intercom, removed it, and put a rental in its place. He was done in less than 20 minutes.

I have to say I’m a fan of Yankees. I am not referring to the baseball team or the American population, although I don’t have anything against these two parties. I am instead referring to the bad boys of Japan, nicknamed ‘Yankees’. These boys are recognizable by their dyed hair, piercings, baggy clothing and general loudness. Most teachers find them a nuisance, always skipping school or sleeping in class, but there is a special place in my heart for these kids.   Miura Hamura Playing a Yankee boy in the movie Koizora I was walking along the corridor the other day and found myself surrounded by the troublesome trio; the pierced punk, the schemer and the brawn. The punk wanted to show me his new earring. It was an awesome looking black hoop, that is definitely covered in the schools absolutely no piercings allowed policy. Growing up I never considered getting more than the standard one piercing in each ear, it didn’t interest me whatsoever. The one piercing I did have,

I’m not sure if teachers are allowed to have a favourite, parents certainly aren’t supposed to. But sometimes, chance brings together a special group of kids, and you just can’t help but think to yourself, if I were to have a favourite, it would be this group. March 16th was the day I had to say goodbye to that group at my first Japanese Junior High School graduation ceremony. It was a heart-breaking yet heart-warming experience that I am so glad I had the opportunity to have. This is how my day proceeded. To my horror I was seated with the third grade teachers, special reserved seating right at the front for all to see. Thank goodness my boss had told me the day before to wear a suit. There wasn’t a person present, parent, teacher or other that was not in formal attire. My original plan to sneak in and hide at the back would have been an absolute failure. Once everyone was seated, the third graders processed in through the back entrance by class. The clapping was endless

“Gassho” “Itadakimasu” “Gassho” “Gochisousama deshita” These words are now permanently inscribed in my mind. Once a day, five days a week I hear these words. The first two before lunch, and the second two proceeding it. A chorus comprised of 30-40 students and 2-3 teachers is giving thanks for the delicious food provided. It’s a non-religious affair. We are giving thanks to the farmers who grew these vegetables, the nutritionists who planned this meal, the staff who prepared it, and the class representatives who donned their aprons, hats and masks, collected it from the preparation area and served it before us. In 15 minutes the entire class will have inhaled it, and we will once again put our hands together in thanks. Thank you for making my stomach full for the reasonable price of 270yen per day. Throw in an extra big thank you if I don’t feel sick from eating too quickly.   As a teacher, I must set an example for the students. Eating everything on m