Yesterday I forgot to mention Chronos another show I really enjoy. This show is basically a high-tech version of adult, team hide-and-go-seek. Each week the show takes place in a different setting with a different theme. It could be in the heart of Shinjuku or in a small Edo period of town. The contestants try to avoid being caught by Hunters–basically Agent Smith type sentinals. If a hunter touches the contestant he is out. For every minute the contestant stays alive, they gain a certain amount of money. Throughout the show there are various missions that the contestants are alerted to via cellphone. They must complete these missions to stay alive–or sometimes just to earn extra money, or to make the Hunter’s job more difficult.

also, to add to the experience here is the most annoying commercial in Japan as of late. Also, by annoying I mean it is always stuck in my head and it subconciously makes me want to be a modern day Beatle with a speech impediment (the joke of this commercial is that they can only say the sound the spray bottle makes.)

This Chris Farely skit presents one of the many global stereotypes of Japanese television. If one were to put them all together the caricature created would be twenty-four hours of anime and shock and awe game shows. With any stereotype, there is some truth to it.  Yes, there is anime, and yes there are shows where comedians get dunked into a tank of eels  or have wasabi shot directly up their nose for reasons I still don’t understand (actually, the reason is pain is funny). However, in between, Japanese airwaves are filled with a mixture of programming that not much different from any other Western Country’s.

There are still many cultural  nuances to Japanese television that remain a mystery to me. One thing I have come to understand is that there is a larger percentage of shows in Japan on mainstream channels that are devoted to being informative as well as entertaining. Celebrities often appear on roundtable type shows where they present documentaries or examine surprising facts.  There is a real emphsis on the show being a learning experience. Of course, just as I typed that a program showed video of a cat that says “arigato” when it eats.

Within the last fews years (according to my Japanese Teacher) Kanji quiz shows have become quite popular. Kanji, which  are the adopted Chinese characters, are one of the three systems of writing in Japanese. There are about 2,000 “daily use” Kanji that every Japanese person is expected to know upon graduating High School, but there are many more beyond that Kanji can be very difficult to learn because most characters have multiple pronunciations that are used depending on the context. Also many Kanji can share the same sound, yet have a different meaning.

In these game shows often the objective of is simply to spell the Kanji correctly using Hiragana–a phonetic alphabet. In most cases, the contestants on then show are famous comedians, actors of athletes.  They are not scholars by any means and the mixture of questions ranges from simple immensely difficult. Many comedians have made a name for themselves by simply displaying a good sense of humor about being dumb. While there is a clear objective to the game there are often no prizes for winning. Rather the prize is simply the television exposure provided by being on the show.

As you can see from this clip, while it’s a stylized competition the production value is not exactly extravagant. In this clip the members of a team are trying to spell certain Kanji in Hiragana and get farther into the game than the two competing teams (seen mocking them on a separate stage).

From a cultural standpoint, I find it fascinating that a show like this popular. I can’t imagine what is essentially a prizeless celebrity spelling contest being a ratings draw in America.  Recent trends suggest Americans would rather watch an average-joe partake in a high-stakes match of wits that requires the contestant to only have a rudimentary grasp of some basic math to succeed… and yes, I I’ll admit I was a sucker for it too, I blame Howie Mandel.

This is easily the most amusing thing I have found in Japan. Be nice or it is also your Christmas present.

This is not what Back to the Future II had in mind

I found this contraption (The name appears to be haircut jumper-for Men) in the bargain section of JUSCO (The Japanese equivalent of Walmart). The first time I walked by it caught my attention but I was in such rush that I didn’t stop to examine it. I intially thought it was somesort of  vest used for doing laundry. A week later I had to fortune to come across it again and this time I was able to stop and realize that while my laundry-vest idea was absurd this self-haircut cleaning vest surpassed it on the absurdity meter in a most spectacular manner.

I can’t tell you how delighted I am to learn that there is a gift out there for the person who hates paying for a haircut but is bothered by the mess  created by cutting their own hair at home. Also this person would have to be of the opinion that garbage bags, newspapers, brooms, vacuums and affordable plastic sheeting all do an inferior job of hair-waste management .

I do have some questions though;

1. Why is this product marketed to people cutting their own hair? Theoretically, couldn’t this product be used by a person cutting someone else’s hair that doesn’t want to clean up the mess.

2. If someone is so cheap that they cut their own hair, are they really the type of people that are going to shell out the cash about $13) for a hair-catching vest? Are they really going to be able to justify this purchase?

3. It appears that for this “device” (I use that term loosely) to be effective you have to cut your hair standing up. Do not named Richie Tenenbaum people cut their hair standing up?

4. How do you cut the back?

5. Doesn’t it look like this guy on the package is smiling just a bit too much?

6. Does the vest qualify as appropriate attire for casual fridays? or is it too formal?

The 47 Ronin are Ako’s most notable contribution to Japanese history. In Edo Period Japan, 47 Samurai from Ako exacted revenge in the name of the former master- Asano, the Lord of Ako, against his enemy Kira. To accomplish this, they executed a masterful plan which involved them feigning disinterest and deceiving their enemy for two years before attacking. The immediate reward for their service was that they were forced to commit seppuku by the Shogun as punishment for the murder of Kira. The greater reward however, was that they had restored their honor (as well as the honor of the Ako domain)  and today their story is held in high regard as an example of loyalty and bravery.

Oishi Kuranosuke cat

I have noticed that the 47 Ronin are often depicted in cartoon form as black cats. There is even a series of black cat samurai dolls that seem to make a yearly appearance in Ako station as well as at local city events.  The choice to portray them as cats was something I questioned, albeit passively, never giving much thought into why they would be cats. I suppose that I casually  assumed that it was somehow related to the popularity of Hello Kitty.  However, since I am more of a dog person, I did think it was a little regrettable that these fearsome and treasured Samurai were not bestowed the honor of being a creature that perhaps inspired more respect. Also, cats are creatures more known for their independence and less for their loyalty.

Recently, I have started to do a little extracurricular study of Japanese history. My investment paid its first significant dividend last week as I was able to uncover and understand why the 47 Black Cats are black cats.

Last Tuesday a representative from the Post Office dropped by my school and asked if we would put up a promotional poster in our lobby. The poster was advertising a line of post cards which chronicle the story of the 47 Ronin using the Black Cat characters. While putting the poster up, I scanned through the listed of characters and noticed that one character, Tokugawa Tsunayoshi, was depicted as  dog.

During my reading I came across a short biography of him. He was the 5th shogun of the Tokugawa shogunate–the dominate shogunate of the Edo Period. He was also the Shogun who punished both Asano and 46 of the 47 Ronin by forcing them to commit seppuku.

The beginning of his reign as Shogun was actually rather successful. He enacted many popular reforms; He chose advisers for their merit as opposed to their lineage, he was known to reward common people who were generous to their parents and he kept close tabs on local bad governors.

Unfortunately, in his late 40’s he decided to hand over the daily mechanics of the government to his close advisers-which resulted in political chaos. In addition, the economy began to decline. This was partly a result of Tsunayoshi’s extensive government spending and issuing of bad currency.  Tsunayoshi’s decline in popularity came a direct result of his fondness for dogs.

He established a law forbidding the killing of dogs across Japan–which seems like a positive reform, but he also began to build large (and expensive) kennels for stray dogs across Japan.  Under normal circumstances this is a policy I would support, but  the fact that he was nick-named the “Dog-shogun” is probably evidence that he took his obsession to an unhealthy extreme. When people begin to think the government cares more about dogs than them, it usually is cause for dissent.

As a result his legacy is not one of a prudent and pragmatic leader, but instead he plays the snarling canine foil to the noble and heroic Black Cat Samurai from Ako. Let this be a lesson to us all; if you try to do something good and this is what happens.

Images via The 47BlackCats Blog

The Shi Shi; In better circumstances for dancing

The Shi Shi–a mythical snarling lion–bobbed its head up and down in a series of fluent movements. Occasionally, it would stop and erratically shake its mane, shedding white strips on the floor. The men surrounding it shouted “yanyoi!”(give up?).   Suddenly, in a quick direct movement is thrust its head up, inches from me.  After a momentary pause, it tried to drop its head back towards the ground, but stopped abruptly midway down. The Shi Shi was caught on something. With the light above me shaking, I noticed the pull-chain from the overhead lamp was protruding from the lion’s mouth. The two men operating the suit attempted to shake free. I wanted to yell “stop” but in the panic I had forgotten how. Instead, I thrust my hand into the beast’s mouth yelling “matte, matte!” (wait, wait). It was quite tangled; however, with some clever maneuvering we were able to free the costume and avert electrocuting any mythical creatures for the evening.

Seconds from near tragedy. Don't try this at Home kids.

In some sense,  every season is festival season in Japan. Autumn can make its claim to the title as shrines across Japan hold festivals to celebrate the rice harvest. This happens nearly every weekend–and sometimes weekdays–throughout October, as the celebrations are for each shrine or neighborhood and are staggered throughout the month. As they are for different shrines, each festival has it’s own unique imprint on traditions costume and dress, and the festivals depending on where they are located and the size of the shrine can be local affairs or events with national recognition. Last weekend I had the pleasure of  attending my girlfriend’s neighborhood’s festival, which was a small, intimate but extremely lively affair.

In the morning the portable shrine, called a Mikoshi, is carried out of the shrine in a parade like manner with many locals carrying the shrine or playing the role of a fabled character related ot the shrine. The Mikoshi can vary in size and number– some being about the same size as a typical litter (not the cat type) while other can be large, multi-story tall structures that have to be pushed on carts.  The Mikoshi–which houses the temple god– is then taken to a sacred spot in town. Presumably, this is like a day trip vacation for the temple god. Everyone gathers for the day and depending on the shrine, there are usually some sacraments performed involving children and then at night a bigger parade forms when the shrine is taken back to the temple.

At the particular festival I attended, the night parade involved traditional dances by men dressed as both the aforementioned Shi Shi–which is the rather iconic looking lion figure as well Tengu–a half-bird, half-human demon (although not necessarily evil). Both of these creatures are major characters in Japanese folklore– from what I have read, the Tengu was traditionally a conniving villan of sorts until about two centuries ago when it started appearing as an aid to monks or travelers in certain stories.   Either way, I wasn’t able to discern what their roles where in this particular story, nor their affiliation to the shrine, but I did like their moves.

With the roadside fires lit, I knew they would be dancing through the street on their way back to the shrine–a route which passed just in front of my girlfriend’s house. What I did not know was that they would be doing a dinner performance as well. I heard them in the distance  as we ate, I was a little surprised to suddenly find myself dodging the jaws of the Shi Shi–and then ultimately rescuing from the danger of modern life.

Apparently, it is local custom for children of one year of age to place their hand in the Shi Shi’s mouth to receive good luck. I’m about 25 years too late for that(although I may act that age at times), but as I am one year Japanese I’m hoping I deceive the gods into the same result.

Trick or Treat. Tengu and Shi Shi

The train home from Kobe last night was bit crowded. My girlfriend was able to grab a seat, but I had to stand next in the aisle and brace myself by holding on to a ring hanging from the ceiling. Next to my girlfriend was an old man. The old man was part of some local tour group. He had a booklet, a full backpack and he was eating an assortment of rice balls. As a person who eats breakfast on the train once a week I’ll refrain from criticizing his etiquette too much, but it’s one thing to down a donut in an empty train and another to have a hot meal during rush hour.  My girlfriend didn’t seem entirely pleased to be sitting next to him, but she wasn’t about to give up her seat.

Then he opened his newspaper; double-page wide, his left arm stretched well into her personal space.  This is rude on it’s own, but it was exacerbated by the fact that that he opened to the exact page that happened to have a half-page black and white picture of a naked woman. Classy. I don’t want to get into detail, but let’s say the woman in the picture was proportioned in a way that made everyone in the area (did I mentioned it was a crowded train?) simultaneously double-take. Luckily for everyone involved (and extra luckily for my girlfriend), the old man was kind enough not to hastily turn the page.   For some reason, I want to name this man’s maneuver The Berlusconi–I just feel it’s appropriate.

This seems like a perfect moment to go with something completely different and share some cartoon mascot I have seen around Japan.

Ako's mascot.

Dad? what are you doing here?

Dad, why are you a castle?

all dogs repair locks.

Last week was Silver Week in Japan. “Silver Week” is actually not a holiday, it’s a branding construction contrived by the adwizards in mainstream media. It’s actually three separate holidays that happen to fall within the same week (this year). Also it’s not even a whole week; it’s only three days, Monday–Wednesday. Still, someone wanted to be clever and craft and autumnal cousin to Golden Week–which actually is a full week, yet runs from a Wednesday to a Wednesday. It goes without saying that Japan could use some lessons on how holidays work.

Still, contrived or not, I’m a fan. This mostly hinges on the fact that, unlike other commercially constructed holidays, Silver Week actually gets me out of work. Thus, I used my three-day holiday to visit what could be described as Esoteric Buddhism’s Cozumel (most people do not describe it this way), Koyasan.

Koyasan, as I learned from a series of painted doors in a temple and their accompanying placard descriptions, was founded by the monk Kukai during the Heian Period. In 804 AD, Kukai returned from a trip to China where he had studied and developed new ideas about Buddhist methods and teachings. The defining characteristic of his new ideas about Buddhisms was that enlightenment was not an unachievable state taking multiple lifetimes to approach, but instead an attainable reality for everyone based purely on their spiritual devotion and training.

Upon his return, Kukai sought to form a new school sect of Buddhism based on this belief. Hiking in the forest one day he encountered two dogs, a black one and a white one (there were not dogs, but indeed Gods), who lead him to a mountain surrounded by eight hills This shape resembled a lotus–a prominent Buddhist symbol—and convinced Kukai that the Gods had led him to the site of his future monastic complex.

Today, Koyasan serves as the headquarters of Shingon Sect of Buddhism–or as it’s translated, “Japanese Esoteric Buddhism”. The city is filled with beautiful wooden temples and is home to one of Japan’s most famous cemeteries, Okunoin.

Koyasan looks a bit like Candyland (R)

Several of my friends had traveled to Koyasan before nad had given it a favorable reviews. Many of the temples allow you to stay in them overnight and participate in Buddhist services and ceremonies.

The promise of the possibility of eternal spiritual enlightenment was all too enticing. It really is the ultimate trump card (well that and heavily-backed will) at any family dinner table argument. Also, eternal salvation and inner piece is probably pretty nice too.

Thus, I made the four hour trip to Eko-in temple in Wakayama Prefecture which included two trains, a subway, a bus and a cable car.

On the bus, I discovered, via eaves dropping, that the two French couples sitting in front of me were staying at the same temple as me (I later learned that this is the only temple you can make a reservation at online, and as such is pretty much the foreigner hub of Koyasan).

I noticed the French couples were having a small debate amongst each other regarding the bus map. As I had directions translated by my girlfriend, I considered intervening, but as the directions were untested and I didn’t want to be the one to lead everyone astray–especially considering that their bags looked heavier than mine. Furthermore, I believe it’s a global axiom that one should never get in the middle of a French debate. I feel like Churchill would have stayed clear of this one, and I would be smart to do the same.

The bus approached the stop my directions designated me to get off at. I quickly hurried to the front of the bus and disembarked. When I got off, I noticed one of the French girls had made her way to the front of the bus behind me and was attempting to ask the bus driver question for directions.  I didn’t catch all of their conversation, but as the door closed it sounded like the bus driver has as much enthusiasm for this interaction as bus drivers have for…well, anything.

It was short twenty-yard walk from the stop to Ekoin. As I entered the gates I noticed the the bus had made it’s next stop, about a hundred and fifty yards beyond the temple. I didn’t wait to see if the French couples got off the bus, but evidently they did because they ended up staying in the two rooms next to mine. One way to look at it was that it was nice to have some international awkwardness of a European variety. I had missed that.

As I check in a women explained ot me the Temples rules and schedule. However, because my girlfriend had helped me make a reservation in Japanese, she explained it all to me in Japanese. Unfortunately I know know enough Japanese where I can sound like I know Japanese but where I am also to proud to ask for clarification during the many moments when I should.

Dinner would be brought to my room at 5:30. The bath/showers were open from 4:00-10:00. The morning services were either at 5:30 or 6:30 (I forgot) and the zen meditation course I had signed up for was at…. some time…maybe tomorrow.

The room was nice, it had a simple table, tea, a television, a phone and tatami mats. I dropped of my stuff and went for a quick walk around the city. I returned at 5:15, just in time for dinner.

The meal was quite interesting, It was three trays of dishes, including a separate bowl of rice and a beer that I had ordered–which happened to be the champagne bottle size. The Monks are vegan, so the meal, save for some tempura, seemed to follow their dietary guidelines. I ate some soba, a variety tofu, an orange, and a lot of rice. I ate rather slowly and helped some of the more interesting bits down with the beer–which i finished.

I assume I was the last to finish dinner, because the monks checked to see if I was finished three times. After the third time, I gave up–realizing that I was perhaps holding things up.  A monk came to collect the trays and set up my futon. After he left, I switched into my pajama pants and sat down to read for a bit. About ten minutes later the monk came to my door and announced it was time for meditation practice.   I should have asked for the woman to repeat that last part.

Instead,  I was off to meditation practice in a a collared shirt, pajama pants and a bit buzzed from drinking a magnum of Asahi. I also happened to be the only foreigner participating, so my eccentric attire was doubly ensure that I stood out.

The practice itself was great. As  I entered, a monk asked me to sit in the back so he could translate the instructions for me. There was about twenty minutes of instruction followed by twenty minutes of meditation (I think). I’m not sure if I achieved enlightenment or not, but considering I couldn’t even sit in the proper positions, and spent the entire time thinking about trying to think about nothing (insert Seinfeld joke here), I perhaps have a bit to go on the road to Nirvana.

The next morning I woke up just in time for morning services. Again, as I was confused as to what attire people wear to services–regular clothes, or the robes they provided us with, I opted for the hobo option of wearing pajama pants and a t-shirt. It really was my only option as there is too much kneeling to be comfortable in jeans and I don’t have enough confidence in my Kimono tying ability to risk a wardrobe malfunction. Still, I scored poorly on the group-think quiz as everyone was wearing jeans.

The services turned out to be one of the memorable hazes. I can’t really recall a specific moment but the experience as a whole really stands out. I think it’s the chanting. I don’t know if death has an internal sound (it probably does) but if it does, I am confident it sounds like the chanting at the service. It’s that odd mixture of being both beautiful and haunting–sort of like French Cinema (which let’s face it, is what death looks like).

After services, there is a fire ceremony. This sounds cooler than it really is. Basically, one guy makes a small fire, while another bangs a drum and chants. I am sure in the spirit word this resembles the Fourth of July. I, on the other hand, was starting to get tired of sitting on the floor. For all it’s cracked up to be, enlightenment involves a lot fo time switching between sitting Indian style and risking a a rather mundane ACL/MCL tear.  Achieving oneness should incorporate more chairs and cushions but I understand why others see differently.

After the fire, I had a quick breakfast and checked out my room. I walked through the cemetery (not pictured), which was really beautiful. A lot of wealthy and famous people are buried there and many have chosen ornate, perhaps even eccentric, grave markers. There was one rather larger mausoleum type tomb that had a stone marked at the front that read “Panasonic Corporation”.

AND Japan's largest Rock Garden!

I then headed back to the station and caught a train home. While I didn’t discover full spiritual enlightenment,  I did find a bakery selling blueberry bagels and upscale bacon, egg, and cheese McMuffins in the Osaka Train Station, so close enough for me.

This weekend I went to the Hyogo Prefectural Museum of Art. The museum is a little far from me– about an hour and half away (one stop past Sannomiya); however, their current exhibition, Visual Deception, seemed like proper impetus to make the trip.

Tadao Ando designed the museum, so the building itself was part of the draw as well. I have been impressed with his buildings whenever I encounter them. The Contemporary Art Museum in St.Louis was probably my first cognizant exposure to Ando’s work. I also like the that a former boxer from Osaka who never received any formal architectural training has this great sense of shape and framing the amazing views his buildings create. It’s like someone gave Avon Barksdale a T-square.

Ando is perhaps most famous for his concrete construction method where many of the interior and exterior walls are simple, smooth (yet not flawless) exposed concrete slabs. He is not the first architect to use this method (so I’m told) but the way he uses it and his consistency with the material have made it a signature of his work.

play stairway to museum

The Hyogo Prefectural Museum was unlike the Contemporary Museum in many ways; namely it was bigger and used a much darker color pallet for the ceiling and walkway ornamentation (if one could call it that). A first I wasn’t sure how I felt about the building. From the exterior there are hints that it might be part of some terrible future dystopia imagined in the 80’s. Inside, however, the building is really quite elegant. There are a number of long, geometrically-magnificent spaces. The stairways range from the massive and wide forum variety to winding Escher-like narrow stairs that spiral down wall of rectangular corridor.  The darker pallet also helps to balance out large amount of light pulled from the outside. Without a dark colored ceiling the contrast between the spaces and the sight lines created would be lost.

While I enjoyed the building, the way the exhibition was highly imperfect. Apparently in Japan, and exhibition cannot sell out. This means people funnel in to the exhibit as quickly as they can. Unfortunately for me, this was a fairly popular exhibit.

more stairways

My girlfriend and I were smart enough to buy tickets to the exhibition at the train station–who knew you could do that–and this allowed us to bypass the ticket-buying line which reports suggested was about an hour long. However, we still had to wait ten minutes in the Exhibition entrance-line. This was not terrible, however the opening room to the exhibition was extremely crowded. The room itself was large, however everyone was crammed along intermittent pieces of wall space  that held the works of art. The Exhibits signature pieces by Giuseppe Achimboldo (below) were particularly crowded.

This guy's a vegetable

The entire scene was pretty much a foreigner’s nightmare museum experience.It hit a number of the bad museum experience pressure points;

1. It’s lots of people who are used to being crammed into trains at rush hour, so they abandon all respect for personal space and cram around you as much as possible.
2. It’s a crowd that skews slightly on the elderly side, so they are moving as slowly as possible.
3. I am the tallest person, so if I’m in front, I am the one ruining it for everybody–as such I am forced to observe from the back of the pack
4. There’s around round of “the new” flu  going around (perhaps this is swine flu II, I don’t know) so everyone is either wearing masks that don’t work or sneezing on people wearing mask.

It was a tad bit hellish.

After a few minutes I made the executive decision to forgo context and simply move to ahead of the crowd when possible and try to intimately view a few pieces of art rather than try to see everything trudging along with the mases.

It was a good decision. There were several rooms dealing with the Dutch and French master who developed and played with the depiction of depth and perspective. This was followed room tying in Japanese scroll and Ukiyoe printing into the development of visual illusions and depth before finally taking off with the modern pieces.

The exhibit had one a the more interesting collections of Magritte’s work that I had seen and I really did enjoy, what I perceive to be, his sense of humor about perception and reality. The highlight of the exhibition for me was a piece by Patrick Hughes, which depicts a Venetian style sea city. The piece is painted on a 3D canvas, where the triangular blocks of wood just out from the wall towards you. The scene is painted in such a  way that as you move the depth and lighting changes altering what you see and creating the illusion of an actual cityscape.

Overall the exhibit was pretty great. The modern pieces at the end were a nice pay-off. The crowds however did little to change my perspective that museum visits in Japan should be remain rare occurrences.

Farewell to freedom party

On Sunday I attended a farewell party for one of the teachers at the Himeji branch of our school. It’s been my observation that in Japan–and especially in my company–it is strict tradition to have both a Welcome Party and a Farewell Party for every staff member.

There are also Parties in the literal sense of the word;  not group-email organized, laissez-faire, happy hour get-togethers that seem to be all the rage amongst modern Corporate America. In Japan there is sign-up sheet, a restaurant reservation, and weeks of advance warning.  Also, sometimes there are balloons.

While I’ve never been a proponent of work-related functions, I do find something pleasant about a well-executed tradition. It’s first class of no class. The types of parties I experienced at my previous jobs–impromptu drinks at a bar around the corner or cake in a boardroom–weren’t terrible, but they were awkward gatherings, devoid of any sort of sentiment other than obligation and the thrill of drinks on the company tab.

The idea of making a big deal about both your entrance into and exit from the company seems logical and appropriate–it mirrors life; you have a party you barely remember when you get here and one you can’t enjoy when you leave.

Still, these parties in  Japan fill me with a modicum ofanxiety and trepidation. As a foreigner, participating in a Japanese custom(even if it’s just a party) with large groups of Japanese people always has the potential to be a terrifying affair.  As a stranger in a strange land you are always on the precipice of a international incident, and the more people that are there to witness it, the more loaded the powder keg is.

In the back of my head I always know the next move could be the one that sets it off. To avoid this, I try not to make any sudden movements and I try take good notes. In my quest to always be aware of my environment  I have begun to notice a rudimentary pattern of events at these parties:

1. Japan’s Fastest growing Quiz Sensation; How’s your English.

I don’t work in Himeji, so I don’t know any of the students at this party. It can be hard enough to start a conversation with a complete stranger, but as an English Teacher and representative of the company I have a responsibility to make friends without stressing anyone out about their English level on a Sunday.  So I have to make sure when meeting anybody to keepmy conversation in their realm of their English ability. This requires a lot of work:sticking to simple questions, keeping your statements concise, yet at a slow and well-enunciated rythym. Managing all of these things inspires a lot of nodding a smiling  as well.

This is difficult for me to maintain for more than fifteen minutes.  I start to feel like a cross between a amateur hypnotist act and prospective religious cult founder on a recruiting mission.

2. Monopolizing the Fluent speakers and burning them out.

Because of #1, when I find a student at an English level who I can carry on a reasonably detailed conversation with I tend to trap them into a conversation until I exhaust their mind.

On Sunday, I hit a bit of a gold mine: a former student at a pretty high level. This was great because a former student, limits the amount of financial damage I can do. Unfortunately for him, I also found out he likes soccer. I imagine that before the party he presumed he would show up, greet a few people in English, but conversely primarily with former classmates of his in his native tongue.  Instead, he found himself attending a football debate/inquisition in a language he probably hasn’t practiced in months.

3. The Foreigner Table:

No matter how great the effort to mix and mingle, inevitable the party starts to break into comfortable sects of conversation and the “foreigner table” appears.  God forbid any of  us bother to make the effort for the entire duration of the party to avoid the temptation of fluent conversation or to shun the chance to sprinkle obscure references and jokes into a conversation and where they have meaning. It either says something said or great about the human condition that I got a minor rush from being able to drop a David Brent line from The Office and watch it resonant with someone who had seen the show.

4. Can You use Chopsticks?

At every party, even as I am in the act of eating with chopsticks (or hashi as they are called) a students will ask me,”Do you know how to use chopsticks?” and then the group at the table will  marvel as nod and a crudely shovel a piece of lettuce into my mouth with two pieces of wood.

On one hand you have to applaud and admire the student’s effort and desire to instigate conversation. On the other hand, it’s frustrating because it is often the same conversation.

The worst culprit, by far, of these stock questions is “why did you come to Japan?”.

At face value, it’s a perfectly reasonable question. It’s probably even a good question. However, having been bombarded by it so many times, you want to make it into a person and berate it and tell it how ugly it is.

It’s also tricky because it’s not a question we would usually ask someone in the US. Let me rephrase that: it’s not we would ask because we want to know why you came to the US. We know why you came to America–same reason everyone comes–it’s awesome.  Have you seen how big the drinks are? Do you know you get free refills? You can infinity gallons of Diet Dr.Pepper for $1.50 (did you even make that much money in a month in your country? a year?).

Instead, we want to know what terrible unbearable condition caused you to leave your previous country–”was it political oppression? were you escaping a robot dictator? child labor? doglabor? do they make dogs work in factories in your country? awwww That’s terrible”.

Thus, despite being fully familiar with the question, I’m not entirely sure what constitutes a suitable answer. I could be honest, but being honest is boring–which highlights the other problem with this question: it’s begging for sarcastic answers .

Off the top of my head; “I came here to do Godzilla Research”, “I was fleeing an undisclosed zombie invasion that the government hasn’t made public yet”, ” I am a zombie invader”, “I’m allergic to Cheeseburgers and Freedom”.  Unfortunately, I happen to live in one of the countries (maybe there are many of them) where this brand of sarcasm doesn’t resonate and is in fact a spark waiting to set off that international incident I fear constantly.

Maybe next time I’m asked I’ll just I cam to Japan because I really like good Welcome and Farewell Parties. I think that will earn me some Japan points.

OTHER NOTES:

1. Over the weekend, the government shifted drastically for the second time in 50 years. It was probably my fault.

2. Someone stole my Wedding: http://mdn.mainichi.jp/photospecials/graph/gundamwedding/index.html