My Students - (The Babies)

I spend a large part of my time in Japan teaching people English. For these people, they are taking one hour out of their day to interact with the brown-skinned, gaijin with funny hair. For me, it's like an endless parade of the same people walking in and out of my classroom, creating a collage of experiences and conversations that paint a picture of my day, and then week, and then month.

So being that I spend nearly 70% of my time with these people, I might as well tell you about some of them. Every week, I'll write a little about my experiences with the more interesting ones out of the bunch (until I run out). I'll start with the youngest of the group . . .

The Babies

The babies are cute, chubby and adorable . . . AT FIRST. Then you realize that you have to keep their attention, make them happy and actually teach them something. That's when they start to look like little samurai warriors that you have to conquer.

I have about 3 of these classes. In one of my classes (my most interesting one), I have a 2 year old student, who is adorable, energetic, talkative, curious and outspoken UNTIL I step foot into the room, that is. That's when she transforms into a limp, sarcastic, straight faced, bored, cigarette smoking, 50 year old woman that I can't get to do ANYTHING. "Can you say Apple?" I desperately plead. She gives me "the brick face" shakes her head "no" (sometimes actually says "no") yawns and looks out the window. Her mother smiles at me with the "kids will be kids" look. I plead some more and she smirks at me, goes limp and lays out on the floor. Try to touch her and she angrily jerks her body away from me as if to say, "Don't TOUCH me." And it's 40 minutes of this. 40 minutes of me (and her mother) begging, dancing, and pulling out a million-and-one props to try to get this kid up off of the floor. It's during this class that I always thank God that there are no video cameras to document what my life has been reduced to. I cannot begin to tell you how relieved I am when her class is finally over and I can relax my face from the fake smile that I have plastered on the whole, entire time. I guess the little girl is relieved too because she hops up off the floor, grabs her bag and cheerfully says "Goodbye Sensei!", goes wobbling toward the door and ushers her servant mom to follow. The funny part is that when I walk into the lobby, she tries to play with me and even attempts to have a conversation. By then, I'm so exhausted and frustrated that it doesn't even matter to me anymore.

My other baby class is with 3 three-year-olds. These children (2 boys and a girl) are cute and pretty smart but one of them is really strange and hilarious. When I first taught this class, the other two students were absent and he was crying and begging not to come in. With his strangely large head and tiny, frail body, I didn't even think he was old enough to be in the class in the first place. I ended up just holding him and singing the ABC song over and over again as he quietly weeped on my shoulder. The next week when all of the students were in the class, his mother carried his limp body into the room, propped him up against the wall and left. He slumped over in the corner and wouldn't move. His eyes were glazed over and he stared up at the ceiling in silence. At first, I was worried . . . and began checking his vital signs to make sure he was still alive, but then when I felt a pulse and noticed that nobody else seemed to care, I assumed that he was mentally handicapped and decided to treat the situation like Japan treats the mentally ill . . . just ignore it and act like everything's fine. Occasionally, I made attempts to involve him in the activities but being that he'd mentally checked out, my efforts were futile and I didn't waste too much time begging him.

In these particular classes, the parents aren't involved in the lesson, which is actually fine because at this age (for the most part) the children's independence level is starting to develop and they want to play games and be physical more-so than sit on mommy's lap. So the next week in class, everything is going as usual. "Silent Boy" as I called him in my mind, laid slumped over in his usual corner of the room and I sat on the floor showing flash cards to the other 2 children, singing songs and playing games when the weirdest thing happened. He stood up. And I have to tell you, it creeped. me. out. It just happened out of nowhere. He's slumped over in his regular spot, I reach behind me to grab a prop and when I turn back around, he's standing at eye level, right in front of me. My heart silently exploded in my chest. "Wha-what are you doing?" I tried to say in my bubbly, cutesy voice.

Now it's important for me to describe this kid because he has a really unique look. His hair is the typical "bowl cut" that you see from time to time around here. He's always sweaty (which isn't unusual because it's very humid in Japan right now) but the sweat makes his hair stick up in a strange way accentuating his large, egg shaped head. His mouth is always slightly agape and his eyes are always half closed, but rather than opening them completely, he tilts his head back to look at you. Also, he has the longest, straightest eyelashes that I have ever seen on a child.

So he's standing in front of me and staring down at me and saying something in Japanese. The other children are in shock because I don't think they've ever seen him move. I nod my head and say, "Hai" a couple of times and then he turns around and plants himself in my lap and slumps over. I guess this is progress, I thought to myself.

So the next week in class, he does the same thing. Except this time, he quietly wanders about the classroom, standing and staring at the ceiling (or me, or the wall). The little girl in the group, notices that occasionally I attempt to place the little plastic bowling ball into his hand in order to initiate his participation but he pays me no mind and allows the ball to drop from his limp fingers over and over again. When it's her turn to throw the bowling ball, she walks over to Silent Boy and places the ball in his hand and essentially tells him (in Japanese, of course, and in her 3 year old way) to say the funny English word that "Sensei's" been repeating over and over again and throw the ball at the pins. The little boy looks at her with his head tilted back and says nothing. She repeats herself in a gentle, coaxing voice and attempts to guide his hand in the direction of the colorful pins. They throw the ball together and knock down a few pins. He smiles a little bit. Success!

The next week, he participates a little bit more, as long as the girl is there to help him (typical boy). But for the most part, he still says absolutely nothing, pays no attention to the lesson and occasionally slumps in his favorite corner, stands in random parts of the room staring at the wall or just sits slumped over in my lap.

At the end of class the parents walk into the room and watch as I show them what their children learned that day. This usually consists of me holding up flash cards with pictures and a word and seeing if the children will say the associated language. In this class, the children never remember the word and I usually have to coax them into saying anything at all in front of their parents.

Well, one particular Saturday, the parents walk into the room and sit down next to their children and wait for me to start going through the day's vocabulary (as usual). I hold up a card and no one says anything (as usual). After a lot of coaxing and a weak, mispronounced response from the usual little girl and boy, I moved onto the next card - a picture of a bird - and to my amazement Silent Boy yells out "A bird, a bird!" I almost fell over and died. This child, who's slumped over in every square foot of the room at any given time and had never looked up at anything that I was doing (or so I thought) had grasped the English vocabulary better than the other 2 who were active participants at every stage of the lesson.

Even his mother was shocked. It was amazing. Now, every week I look forward to seeing what this strange child will do next. He is now an active participant in class, but it's always something different with him. Like last week, he and the other boy had some kind of huge falling out. They were both competing for my attention and things got heated to the point where they were arguing, ignoring each other and exchanging these prolonged, silent "hateful" stares. (I in no way condone "hateful staring contests" but I have to say it. was. HILARIOUS). This continued for about 30 minutes of the class until, I guess, they both came to a truce and decided that they would work together. It was nice to see them make up and for a moment, I wished that mankind would take a lesson from these three year olds boys.

All right, so now you've met some of my younger students or as I like to call them, "birth control."

Next week, I'll be talking about the kindergardeners.

What's Different?

If you look at my page, you may see something different. If you haven't already guessed I've changed the name of this blog. Anyone that knows me (and I mean REALLY knows me . . . not "Facebook" knows me), knows that it's in my nature to switch things up from time to time. However, I assure you dear reader, this will probably be the first and last time I change the name of this blog.

You see, the other day I was at work and one of my students, a bright and energetic 7 year old with a toothy grin began smiling at me as she usually does. She turned and tugged at her mom and said, "Look Mommy, the lady with the choppu stick in her hair." At that very moment, the room began spinning, some bells started to ring, "Sweet mystery of life at last I've foooound theee . . . " began playing and it hit me, THAT'S my blog's name.

So it's done. Oh, and for the record . . . I wear chopsticks in my hair.

One cRaZy Weekend - Part I

Part I

It all started on my way to work. I hopped onto my bicycle this particular Saturday ready to conquer the day and start my weekend. While dipping and dodging people and vehicles which is something you will find yourself doing every time you get on a bike in Japan, I heard a jingle sound as I rolled over some train tracks. I didn't turn around to see what happened and assumed that I must have ran over some coins or bottle caps. Littld did I know that this very jingle sound would haunt me for the rest of my life (or maybe just for a couple weeks.)

When I got to work, I pulled my key out of my bike and realized that the key seemed a bit lighter. I thought nothing of it as I chased and wrangled up a bunch of 3 and 4 year olds for the next 5 hours. While getting ready to go on my lunch break, I grabbed my keys and realized that I'd only grabbed "a key." The other key (my apartment key) and my keychain loop was missing.

Now before I continue with this story it's important for me to explain that I have a delayed reaction to things. Maybe it's a defense mechanism but my brain is like a convection oven that takes a while to heat up, but when it finally does . . . things get way too hot. Either way, I don't usually get the gravity of situations until it is nearly after the fact. (It's also important to note that my first reaction is ALWAYS a strange smile or a nervous laugh.)

So after telling my coworkers that I misplaced my key and giggling a little bit, everyone assumed I had it under control and we all went to lunch. At the end of the day I hopped onto my bike with the assumption that I would just look for my keys on the ground on the way home. Just to be sure, I told my manager that I lost my key and she hands me a spare set. At that point, my confidence was through the roof and I was grateful that my "delayed-reaction-convection-oven-brain" didn't heat all the way up.

While on the way home, I made a feeble attempt to look for my keys and suddenly found myself sitting inside of a Starbucks enjoying my new favorite treat...a green tea frappucino. While sipping on this refreshing beverage, I ran into some fellow (young) Americans, introduced myself and found out that they were also English teachers (aren't we all?). They invited me to dinner and before long, I was eating meat on a stick in the historic Bikan Chiku district of Kurashiki with about 9 people that I didn't know. It was REALLY REALLY strange, yet wonderful.

So after this, the friendly group invited me out to Okayama to enjoy some karaoke. It was then that I probably should have headed home, but then my story wouldn't be as interesting would it? (Intrigued yet?)

I'm sure you can guess that I took them up on their offer, but first decided to run home and grab some cash (because I was very broke) and I also wanted to change out of my work clothes (because I was still wearing a very stuffy suit that literally buttoned all the way up to my neck). And the humidity was FIERCE! So while stomping my way up the stairs to my apartment complex, I called my friend from Okayama. "I just met some other English teachers at the Starbucks," I told her, "and we're all going to the karaoke place near you. You should come!"

"Sounds good! I'll get ready." she replied. *Click* I hung up the phone thinking about how much fun my first night of karaoke was going to be, tried my spare key in the lock of my door and it didn't work.

. . .

(If you want to read Part 2, email me at blackginjapan@gmail.com and I'll send it to you!)

My White Water Rafting Trip

3 days ago, I went white water rafting in Shikoku. This was a trip one of my coworkers put together and I wish I could put into words the amount of pure joy and unadulterated wonderfulness I experienced that weekend. But I can't. So I'll just say, (as my students would put it) "it was velly fun!" I laughed, I ate really good barbeque and I drifted around in a river for about 5 hours. Well, actually it was a little more complicated than just "drifting."

I'll start from the beginning.

It was Sunday morning and my day was already off to a late start. I'd just found out the day before that it was an overnight trip that I was going on, so I stayed up late being nervous and overslept by 3 hours the next day, missed service at my local congregation (which I absolutely NEED to survive - and I mean that literally and figuratively) and had only 20 minutes to pack and get ready to take a train to meet up with my coworkers in a neighboring city. I overpacked my bag and met up with a group of about 12 people.

We all bonded through our crazy work experiences and then took the train to Shikoku . . . a beautiful, magical city where dreams come true. Well, I'm actually exaggerating a little bit, but Shikoku was truly beautiful. It was hard to believe that this was going to be the backdrop to our experiences that weekend.

When we got to our abode, everyone chose rooms and I was blessed to be able to have a room all to myself.

That night we barbecued, took pictures, listened to music and danced. We told jokes, played games and had conversations that ranged from clothes and fashion to religion and politics. It was everything we needed to reconfirm exactly why we were out here on the other side of the planet. And I can honestly say that it was totally necessary to rejuvenating our desire to be on this side of the planet in the first place.

So I had a beer, got sleepy and went to bed. Everyone else went to bed at around the same time and the next morning, we got suited up and ready to hit the river.

Now after putting on what seemed like multiple layers of rubber suits and a helmet, we trudged to the sand and planted ourselves on some big rocks where we listened to the "safety spiel."

"I have to give you the procedures for what to do in case you fall out of the raft or your raft flips over," a small, balding Australian guy explained to us. "Yes, it sounds bad and we hope it doesn't happen but there's always a chance it will and if white water rafting were 100% safe, you probably wouldn't be doing it in the first place." He's got a point, I remember thinking to myself, but he probably just has to go through this spiel with everyone. I told them that I can't swim very well, so I doubt we'll be going down rapids that are too wild.

So while we sat and received our spiel, I observed the other two rafting groups around us. One of the rafts was filled with some of my American coworkers and maybe about 3 or 4 Japanese people. The other raft was filled with only Japanese people. The latter group was actually in their raft, planted at the edge of the water, going through rowing simulations. "Ichi, ni!" "Ichi, ni!" they shouted while pretending to plunge their paddles through the water. That's nice, I thought to myself. I wonder if we'll get to practice our "rowing technique." Right at that moment, a big, grizzly, long-haired New Zealand man comes walking up. He was wearing a rubber sleeveless shirt, some torn up shorts, multiple bags around his waste and a helmet shaped like an old army cap. He summoned us over to our raft and we all jumped in, the boys heading to the front, two girls right behind them in the second row and two other girls in front of me . . . and I had to be stuck in the last row with Captain Kiwi. "Great!" I remember mumbling to myself. And he smelled like sweat. (Which, I have no idea how that was even possible considering that he was already drenched in river water . . . but then again, maybe he was just drenched in sweat.)

So Captain Kiwi gives one swift movement of his paddle and the next thing we know the raft is floating in the water. He gives us a few (and I mean very minimal) instruction and we were rolling down the river. (And don't think we didn't sing the "Rolling down the River" song a few times, either). Now it didn't take long for us to realize that Captain Kiwi was a bit . . . how do you say . . . crazy. And I don't mean insane. I mean "Crocodile Hunter" crazy. He was looking for excitement. He'd traveled the world, riding the rapids and searching for waves. And on top of this, he was as masculine as humanly possible. He was like something out of a Foster's beer commercial. (But I soon found out that I shouldn't dare call him an Australian because he was from New Zealand and apparently, this is not something you want to get mixed up.) Either way, he was glorious and it didn't take long for all of the girls to have a crush on him. A big, hairy, smelly, crazy white guy. And I must admit, I was a little drawn to him as well . . . but just a little.

I think it hit me that I had the best seat in the house when our raft flipped over. Oh, yes . . . you heard me right. OUR RAFT FLIPPED OVER! I was trapped under the raft and flapping around like a carp (breaking rule #1 of "what not to do when your raft flips over" which is panic) when I heard a soothing voice out of nowhere that said, "You're okay." And then again, "You're okay, you're okay." I looked up and saw Captain Kiwi reaching out for me. I grabbed out for him and held on until I realized that my life vest was doing an already nifty job of keeping me afloat. Everyone around us was screaming and floundering around in the water as well. Then (and I'm serious about this) Capt. Kiwi literally flew up into the sky, jumped onto the overturned raft, gave a hearty laugh and pulled a rope that turned the whole vessel right side up. He hopped into the raft, grabbed me and pulled me in beside him and began pulling more people into the raft until suddenly we were all sitting in our former seats, looking around confused. It was obvious that this man was in his element.

The worst is over, I thought to myself. Long story short, I was wrong. There was one point while rafting that Captain Kiwi told us to steer our rafts a little closer to some big rocks. We did as we were told and soon, we were docked. "Get out," he says. Everyone got quiet. Suddenly, I decided to be brave, stood up and made my way over to climb the rocks. If I'd have known that once we were all on the rocks Capt. Kiwi was going to hop back into the raft, untie it and start rowing away, I would have thought twice. I continued to climb up the rock until I reached the highest point which oddly, looked like a diving board. When I looked down, I saw Capt. Kiwi in the water holding a camera and gesturing, yelling, "Jump!" Crap! I thought to myself. Crap! Crap! Crap! What am I doing here?! How did I get here?! After 3 seconds of self therapy, I jumped and as you can see by this blog post, I survived.

So after this, we're back in the raft drifting along in an odd silence. I guess this was a little too slow and calm for our dare devil Captain because almost out of nowhere, he starts talking about the next little . . . I don't know . . . "rapid area" and how easy it's going to be to go over and we all might as well just jump out and swim through it. No one responds to this. Then, after a couple of seconds he calmly says, "Get out." Everyone laughed a little and kept rowing. "Get out, or I will personally throw each and every one of you out, one by one" he says slowly. At that moment, I stood up and just jumped out of the raft. I saw how easily this man had pulled people into the raft two by two and had no doubt that he could probably throw us out of the raft with even more ease. So as soon as I jumped into the water, the current carried me along down the river. I saw the rest of my crew floating downward toward the little rapid area and reemerging gingerly, like going down a small sliding board. I (on the other hand) had a different experience. As I went down the little bubbly stream area, I started to drift closer and closer to some rocks. No matter how hard I tried I could not escape. Finally, I felt the water beginning to pull my feet under. Preparing for the inevitable plunge, I tried to take a deep breath and ended up with a mouth full of water. I was swirled around as if I was in a washing machine and as the water pushed me back up I yelled out "Help!" and heard nothing but laughter. At that point, I realized that I was now floating above the water and drifting even closer to the huge rocks. I reached out and held onto the rocks, attempting to catch my breath. It was not a good feeling. It was then that Captain Kiwi and I realized that I didn't need any more adventure. After catching my breath for a couple of minutes, I swam over to the raft and without a word, Captain Kiwi grabbed me and flipped me in.

After this, there was lunch. Delicious, tuna, lettuce, cheese, tea, juice, fruit, and homemade bagels made by the rafting company. Everyone was starving and gobbled up the lunch with quickness. I remember looking around at everyone and thinking . . . "well, that was fun!"

That's when I found out that we'd only done about 2 hours of our rafting excursion and there was 3 more hours left. So after lunch, we put our helmets back on and went back to the river. There was more swimming, more diving and more rapids but no more flipping over, thank goodness!

I really don't know how to end this post except to say that everyone went home tired, happy (and alive). We had a blast and if you are ever in Japan, I suggest you look up the HappyRaft rafting company and go white water rafting. And if you happen to run into a crazy Kiwi named Sam, tell him that a Black Geisha owes him her life.

and more pics just for fun . . .

the "red rocket" rafting group

For some odd reason, my American flag dart kept hitting the bulls eye. My coworkers kept saying it was because it was the 4th of July, but I just think it was because I had good aim.

2 of the lovely ladies from my group chowing down on some tuna bagels.

"Kiwi Sam" (or as I called him, "Tucan Sam") showing off his masculine diving skills.

Our group

The "Red Rockets" again.

Some members of the Japanese raft group.

Me and another sistah that happened upon this wonderful rafting trip.

the guys, striking a pose

the living room . . . notice the coffee table that's filled with snacks.

One of the guys, getting a little too into the music.

My friend, using body language to encompass the way we were all feeling. Pure joy!

The night was fun, yet mature and clean. I loved the fact that nobody had to get drunk or belligerent to enjoy themselves. It was just a bunch of grown people relaxing and having a good time.

and last, but certainly not least . . .

Ms Black Geisha herself!

The Difference Between Me, a Mentally Handicapped Adult and a Baby

The next time you go into a restaurant and order something to eat, I want you to take a good long look at any toddlers or young children that may be in the building. What are they doing while their parents order? Are they looking up at the ceiling or focusing on the exchange happening between their parent and the restaurant staff? When it's your turn to order something, listen to the words that come out of your mouth. Did you order some complicated French dish or perhaps the "Rooty Tooty Fresh and Fruity" (Don't act like you don't know what that is!)

So while you're doing all of this observing, I want you to imagine what it would be like if you couldn't read, write, or understand what anyone around you was saying. Imagine that whenever you went somewhere to fill out important paperwork, you had to rely on someone to negotiate everything for you and then explain in the simplest English terms possible what it is that's happening. Imagine walking into an eating establishment alone and watching people smile at you out of pity as the restaurant staff show you menus with big colorful pictures and the only thing you can do is point and grunt. If you can imagine what that feels like, you would know what it's like to be a mentally handicapped adult, a toddler or . . . me, in Japan. You may think I'm being a little harsh, but honestly, I'm not. When you get down to it, I can't read, I can't write, I can barely speak and to put it bluntly, I'm not considered to be the smartest crayon in the box out here in Japan . . . wait, I think I said that wrong.

Me and a Baby

So me and a baby have a lot in common. When we walk into a room, people smile at us. It's not expected for us to know how to speak or read and we always live up to that expectation. The main difference between me and a baby is that a baby understands what's going on around them a lot better than I do. They understand the language, but just don't have the motor skills to be able to repeat it in the sophisticated way that an adult can. If I had the brain of one of these Japanese toddlers walking around (first of all . . . does that statement alone give you a glimpse into the twisted mind that I have?) but yeah, if I had the brain of one of these Japanese toddlers, I would probably be navigating my way through this country a whole lot easier. I just wouldn't be able to read.

Me and a Mentally Handicapped Adult

So this category is a little muddled, because there are different levels of mental illness. While I could compare myself to someone with an extreme mental handicap, maybe like Sean Penn's character in I Am Sam, I'd rather go the route of the Idiot Savant like Dustin Hoffman's Rain Man or Tom Hanks in Forrest Gump. I bring up the latter characters because - for the most part - they walked around looking like your average "special" person but it's revealed gradually throughout the movies that they had an advantage, a kind of genius uncommon to the so-called "normal" people around them. In my case, my genius would be my sudden ability to speak English fluently and with "general American dialect." Honest to goodness, these people are very impressed by that. And that is the ONLY thing that lets them know that beneath all of my idiot-ness there lies a savant. . . a genius if you will. (And oh! . . . I will.)

Just one of those little things floating around in my brain from time to time.

:-)

Getting Lost Finding Myself in Japan

After a long Saturday featuring a bunch of screaming children and "judgey" parents, 7 o'clock finally hit and the weekend was officially upon me. I was a little happier than usual because I was looking forward to having some Yakiniku with friends in a neighboring city. Long story short, that plan fell through and I found myself alone, standing at the train station at 8:30pm, trying to figure out what to do with myself for the rest of the night. So almost instantly a shuttle bus appeared. I'd been told earlier that week that there was a shuttle bus that goes back and forth between the train station and the mall. Segoi! <---that's Japanese for "Great!" I thought to myself, I'll just take the shuttle bus to the mall and see a movie. So I straightened up my backbone, and with head held high, marched up to the shuttle bus, and barely heard myself squeak out a feeble "Sumimasen" (which means excuse me) before the driver shut the door in my face and drove further up the parking lot. I should have taken this as a sign from God that this was the part where I turn around and go home, but instead I chased the shuttle bus up the road like a lost puppy and asked the driver if I could board. He waved me on and 10 minutes later I was at the mall.

And boy was I happy!

So I decided to see Sex and the City part 2 because it was the only English movie that I hadn't seen yet. (The other 2 English movies were The Book of Eli and Iron Man part 2.) I anxiously waited in the lobby, trying to decide what to eat while I enjoyed my first American movie . . . in Japan. I decided on a hotdog, a coke and some caramel popcorn <--- that I'd heard was really good.

"Cheese dog, chili dog or normal?" the clerk asked.

"Chili dog" I said and he handed me what looked like a slim jim with some tomato sauce on it.

I settled down into my chair, took a bite of my disgusting hotdog and began to panic. What if I just walked into the wrong movie just now? What if the whole movie is voiced over in Japanese and the subtitles are in English? I sat through a few corny/confusing commercials (Japan's specialty) and listened as the Alica Keyes/JayZ "unofficial New York City anthem" started. When I heard Sarah Jessica Parker's voice speaking English, I took a huge sigh of relief and silently thanked God for allowing me a couple hours of sanity in a public place.

I watched the movie and despite the fact that I am thirsty and desperate for all things American, it was not enough to quench my thirst. The movie was okay, but not good. After it was over, I walked out of the mall and noticed how empty and quiet everything was. I checked my cell phone and saw that the time said 00:06. "What the heck does that mean?" I thought to myself. There were three people in the parking lot and one of them was headed to their car. The other two sat at a bench, waiting for something.

I waited too. Maybe there was another bus coming. I waited for 15 minutes and decided that it was time to try to head home. So I took a deep breath and walked across the parking lot, secretly praying that that very same shuttle bus that appeared out of nowhere to take me to the mall, would appear again and take me back to the train station. No such luck!

I made it out of the parking lot and decided to turn left. I wandered along the sidewalk, beside a wall of dark trees and loud bugs. Things got darker and darker the further I got away from the lights in the mall parking lot. Then I decided that I was going the wrong way and turned around. I did this about 5 times before deciding that I needed to flag down a car and ask for directions. All of the cars were too fast and being that it was so dark outside, I'm sure they didn't see me. At some point, however, a man on a bike appeared and I was able to ask him (in broken Japanese) what direction the train station was. He pointed down the road that I'd gone up and down a few times already. I thanked him and started down the long country road, lined with houses and dark garages. Things got creepy, especially when I walked alongside the rice fields which buzzed with all kinds of disgusting creatures.

After a half an hour, I reached the train station and five minutes later, I was home. I then realized that this whole trip would have taken less than 10 minutes if I'd just taken my bike. In other words, I was pacing back and forth, on the verge of a nervous breakdown, about 10 minutes away from my own home.

And that ladies and gentlemen is how a bill becomes a law.

Goodnight!

Silly Ahmeddicans

Okay, so I've already covered the common stereotypes that (most) Americans have about Japanese people. But do you reeeally think that they don't have some stereotypes about us? Well, if not then you're sadly mistaken and you might want to prepare yourself, because I plan to name a few of them right now. To a degree, I feel like this post is a little premature because there are some students that I have yet to ask about American stereotypes and they are a colorful group so their input would be greatly appreciated. But I'll list what I have so far and if there are any additions, I'll give you an update. Let's get started, shall we?

#1 - Americans LOVE to party

We party every single night, my student told me. We just love to get our "fun" on. But what's a party without beer and about 50 or 60 of our closest friends. This leads to the next 2 stereotypes.

#2 - Americans LOVE liquor and drink a lot

"Americans can drink lots and lots of liquor," my student said.

"Really?" I asked her.

She nodded.

"Well, I can't."

She tilted her head and looked confused. "You can't?"

"No," I told her. "One drink is enough for me."

Her - "WOW!"

And at that moment, an angel got their wings.

#3 - Americans LOVE large bars

The bars that we go to have the ability to hold hundreds of people and we fill those suckers up. People everywhere, with lots of yelling, drunken dancing, and spilled drinks. Now I've gone to a couple of those in my college days, so I had nothing but a smile and a guilty expression when she mentioned this stereotype. Also, it's important for me to note that a lot of the "watering holes" (at least the ones that I've gone to in my little town of Kurashiki, Japan) are very small and quiet. They can hold a capacity of maybe 20 people.

#4 - Americans Will Drive a Car Until the Wheels Fall Off

In Japan, people change their cars every 5 years because it's cheaper that way. Otherwise, they have to pay really high fees to get their yearly checkup. When she explained that it costs the equivalent of 1,000 American dollars a year JUST for the checkup, not counting of course the oil changes (which get more expensive, the older the car is) as well as the taxes, I understood why one would just shell out the bucks yen to buy a new car. She said that Americans drive cars until they die. After living in a country where every car is shiny and new, I can totally understand why she feels that way.

#5 - Americans Eat Hamburgers Every Day

That's prettymuch it. We eat them every day, kind of like the equivalent of English people drinking tea at a certain time every day . . . except our tea would be hamburgers. Big, greasy, hamburgers.

#6 - American Children Are Fed Ice Cream Every Night

And not just a regular bowl of ice cream . . . a huge bowl with scoop upon scoop of ice cream, towering as high as the child's head. I only say this because when I repeated my student and asked, "Children eat ice cream every day?" she shook her head vehemently and said, "No, no, no . . . BIG . . . big bowls of ice cream." and began to make what looked like a hand signal for humongous mountain or something and began shoveling it into her mouth. "Got, it!" I said.

#7 - Americans Are Very Nice

Maybe she just said this because she'd unloaded a few gut punches on me - with the "Americans eat hamburgers every day" (and drink, and spoil our children and pretty much have no class, LOL). But I don't think so, I actually think she meant this. She made a reference to a famous Japanese comedian who has a funny skit where he goes to America and jumps out of odd places, attempting to scare (and anger, I guess) the Americans. She says that everyone just laughed or smiled but no one got angry. She said if he'd have tried that mess in Japan, he would have gotten punched in his face. I laughed. I suspect that if some small, asian man jumped out of an odd place, attempting to scare me, my laughing, getting angry (or crying) might depend on the situation. Either way, it was hard for me not to think about the guy from "The Hangover," when she mentioned this.

#8 - America Is At the Top of the Technology Food Chain

According to my student, America has the latest gizmos, gadgets, whatchama-doozits and computers. I was shocked to hear this particular American stereotype because I assumed that Japan was the technology capital of the world, but when she said it . . . I couldn't help but to nod my head and grin. Yeah! One point for us!!! :-)

#9 - Americans Put Our Children to Bed Early

I then asked her, "What's early?"

And she says, "Nine pm."

So then of course I had to ask her what time Japanese people generally put their children to bed. She said maybe around 12am. Now, of course this is a subjective question. Maybe there are some Japanese parents who put their children to bed before 12, but generally all of my students have told me that they go to bed pretty late. Either way, my bedtime (and all of the bedtimes of the children that I grew up with - who had decent families - went to bed at around 9pm.) I thought it was really strange that she thought this was early. But if this is a stereotype about Americans . . . I feel comfortable enough to generalize and say that it's true.

#10 - Americans Have Happy Children

Because they all eat so much ice cream and go to bed early, of course.

#11 - Americans Travel All Over the World

I told her that only the Americans with lots of money and lots of time to do this. When she mentioned this stereotype, however, it helped me to understand why so many people looked at me cross eyed when I told them that this was my first time out of the country. A lot of times when the Japanese mention to me all of the places that they've been, they'll ask me if I've been there too. "No," I say. And then comes, the look followed by, "Why not?" Either way, my student told me that it's a common belief that Americans are very worldly and it's nothing for them to hop on an airplane and go to a foreign country. I guess my very presence in Japan does nothing to discourage that stereotype.

#12 - All Americans Have Big Houses and Big Yards

Well, not all of us, I told her. But yes, there are a number of big houses and spacious yards in America. Especially where I used to live in New Jersey. In Japan, I've seen a few nice, large homes . . . but I have yet to see a large yard.

So that's all I got for now. Personally, I thought about a lot of these stereotypes and I can totally understand why some of these views about American culture exists. You can really see the differences between the Japanese and American culture by examining some of them. Either way, I refuse to substantiate or oppose any of these stereotypes . . . I'll leave that to you. What do you think?