I'm leaving on a jet plane...

Last night I arrived in Japan after one week in the states. I went to sleep about two and woke up around eight - jet lag, anyone? It was hands down one of the best weeks of my life. I saw mom and dad, who bought me a much needed supply of underwear and bras - buying undergarments with your parents is fun! - and Velveeta mac and cheese (8 boxes in all, I am the happiest girl alive!) We stayed up late on Tuesday night, and mom got so "happy" (aka sapped up on strawberry daiquiris) that she gave the waiter a ten dollar tip. On Wednesday we went shopping and hung out for a bit - isn't it just like their daughter to make them go to Target on her vacation?? - before going to dinner at a - suprise - Italian restaurant. Because mom and dad weren't getting enough Italian food in Utica...Thursday morning we went to breakfast at Denny's, which I will advise all of you never to do - it is a greasy hellhole of fake fatty butter and processed cheese and oily potatoes, which, while lovely when I was in college, does not now hold the same place in my heart. However, the company was good, and it was wonderful seeing them. Love you guys!

I was on a very tight schedule so the only other person I saw was Jenny, for just one dinner, but baby - it was worth it. I can't even begin to say what a bad influence over me you are - and I love every minute of it. Jenny is probably the most unpredictable person on the planet, and seeing her is like eating Velveeta - no matter how often you do it, it never gets old or unappetizing. Never stop being the crazy, wonderful, googling fiend you are inside! Only we know, Jenny...

So, what was I doing the rest of my wonderful week? Spending every waking moment with Gary, and falling in love all over again. I'll just say this to the most wonderful man I have ever met:

don't worry i'll catch you
don't ever worry
your arms in mine, anytime
i wouldn't trade anything
you're still my everything

It's nice to find someone for forever.

Staying out late on a school night; or, Why ghosts don't show me love

This morning I woke up at 8:15. I have to be at school at 8:20 to 8:30. Ahhhhh! I made it to school on time (don't ask how, just know that I am extremely experienced in deoderantizing, teeth brushing and dressing in just five minutes) but I blame the late morning on the late night I had last night. Last night was great - after language class, a bunch of us went out to a bar in Maebashi and just talked and talked for two hours about politics, Japan, how to get the most out of this experience: it was really lovely, and I say that without a bit of irony (although who really says lovely anymore?). Plus, I had the great privilege of paying 1000 yen, or about ten bucks, for two small cups of coffee. When the waitress told me, I felt like saying "wakarimasen" and walking out of the building right then and there. But such is life.

Anyway, more importantly, I realized today that I have neglected a very important topic in this blog: THE GHOST THAT HAUNTS MY HOUSE. And no, I do not jest, these are not the blitherings of a delusional female, just ask the very masculine, very outdoorsy Australian guy named Walt who lived in my house three years ago. Supposedly, he and his girlfriend not only heard this ghost, they felt and saw it. In fact, my predecessor Paul made the observation that perhaps the apartments next to me and below me (which have always eerily had no one in them, even though they are nice apartments) are not rented out because of this ghostly presence. Since I have not yet come face to face with my resident ghost, I decided to brainstorm as to why exactly Monsieur Ghost has been avoiding me when I specifically want to foster a loving, caring relationship with it.

10. It doesn't speak English. I don't speak Japanese. Could make for an akward first date.
9. Perhaps it is allergic to the kamikaze mosquito poison in my bedroom.
8. I like modern literature. It likes postmodern literature. We are completely incompatible,
7. It's girlfriend/boyfriend would be jealous. I mean, hanging out in another woman's bedroom in the dark? That's just not proper.
6. It is supremely offended that my sitcom of choice is The Office and not Six Feet Under.
5. I cook dinner every night. Do I ever offer it some? Do I ever think that maybe, just maybe, ghosts have appetites too?
4. It's a sexist ghost. Walt and Paul: worthwhile playmates. Deb: just a mindless bimbo.
3. Its intimidated by my beauty.
2. It's doubled over on the floor with laughter over the thought that it could be intimidated by my beauty.
1. It thinks I smell.

Oy I'm feeling Jewish...

Sorry for the week of relative silence, but after four and a half weeks of pure energy, I think that my lack of sleep/new environment adjusting/pure exhaustion is catching up with me. This week I have been really tired and unenergetic, and yesterday I literally stayed in bed until 5 in the afternoon (this coming from the girl who wakes up naturally at 8:00 even on weekends). But I think that just sleeping and getting all the exhaustion out of my system paid off: last night I cleaned my entire house, head to toe, and now I feel like a million bucks. So a quick synopsis of my week:

Wednesday: I corrected Tomomi's thesis on horticulture therapy and we met to discuss it in the evening. After all she has done for me, she ordered me a pizza (I left my refrigerator open an entire day at work and had to throw away a lot of food - I hate my tiny fridge!). And gave me homegrown grapes and bread from Tokyo. I told her that for Christmas I want to buy her and Yoshi (yes, his name is not Joshi either, I swear I need to work on this Japanese pronuncation) some camping gear, and its cheaper in America, so I will probably get it in the states and bring it back. However I was really tired, so I had to leave early. At least her work is done - the thesis was due this weekend.



Why am I including a picture of yogurt? Because this is the best yogurt in the world. If I were a pagan I would set up yearly rituals to celebrate just how good this yogurt is. If I were Christian, this would be the yogurt that I received when meeting St. Peter at the pearly gates.



Japanese grapes are huge and so flavorful, a bit more bitter than American grapes but twice as juicy.


Thursday: After school I did absolutely nothing. As far as I can remember. Except talk to Gary for hours, as usual.

Friday: After doing some house shopping at Tori-Sen (the grocery store I go to - it plays the most irritating LINE (not lines, plural, but just one line) of music over and over again. I know it by heart, completely involuntarily of course. Then I met with my shiatsu teacher, Uehara Sensei, because my back was hurting more than usual and I thought he could help. However, I learned my lesson about asking people things in Japan. I called him on Friday and asked him if we could meet before I went back to America, if he had any free time. He said, sure, lets meet on Saturday. Then one hour later he calls my JUNIOR HIGH SCHOOL and, with a very concerned voice, tells me he wants to meet me that night because he is very concerned about my back. Now I tried to explain to him that it was ok, it wasn't an emergency or anything, but he wouldn't listen. So that night I find out: he took NENKYU (paid time off) to come help me because he was so concerned! Yeah, I felt pretty bad about that. I had heard this happen before - Amy's supervisor missed the Maebashi fireworks to help her set up her internet, and he never told her he had plans that night - she found out from other JET teachers. I guess that this is very common in Japan: people will sacrifice their own time/happiness in order to help people out. So from now on I will make it clear that there are no deadlines, I can meet whenever Uehara Sensei wants to, and I will not even mention if my back hurts or not. Part of living here is learning how to read a person's behavior, and I got a good lesson in this on Friday night.

Saturday: This day I met up with my friends Shane and John to go to the Maebashi pool. We drove all the way to the pool and it was closed. Sigh. I had to head back without even a little cool chlorinated water to take away from the stifling heat. On the plus side, I went out to dinner with some friends in Takasaki (again, I had pizza - Japanese pizza is sooo good, very thin crust just like I love it - the only problem is that the pizzas are very small (after all, this is Japan) and the toppings are a little on the light side). Then we went to the movies and I saw "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory" (Japanese theatres get American movies about six months after they come out in America). Well, it definitely wasn't worth the 1200 yen I paid to see it. I love Tim Burton, but Johnny Depp was a horrible Wonka - he had no heart, rather like the movie itself - it was purely this cold, stylistic, weird movie without an ounce of humanity. Its funny how a movie like "Nightmare before Christmas" - with no people in it - can be more touching and human than a movie with an all-human cast.

After the movie, Shane, John and I had a go at "Dance Dance Revolution," this crazy arcade game where you have to dance on certain directional arrows at varying speeds. I have to say, it was kind of fun, although I kept thinking about this one class in graduate school where a student examined the philosophical, socio-cultural implications of "Dance Dance Revolution" (and no I am not kidding, for those of you who remember, it was Stefan - ah, Stefan) and so it wasn't as much mindless fun as it could have been. After this go at the arcades, we went to White Bar, where our friendly Japanese bartender Ken was wearing an afro wig and dancing to Smashmouth. Boy, gaijin bars are fun...

Sunday: I slept. And talked to Gary. Then slept some more. I did not get up and dressed until five, probably something that I have not done since college. But honestly, although it was painful to actually get up and my legs are still stiff from lying down so much, it was worth it. I woke up refreshed and with new spirit. I cleaned my entire house (I have done that before, but I never really made it immaculate - you should see some of the things I had to scrub and clean because my predecessor never cleaned them, it was rather putrid). Then last night I watched the Christmas Special of The Office, which by the way is the funniest show ever, if you have never heard of the BBC version, rent it and you will be blown away. My stomach is still not completely back on track (while I have been tired, I have also not been able to stomach much food) but other than that I am feeling refreshed and renewed. Onto another week!

And you thought I was a couch potato...

Ok, so maybe I am. But here are some pictures that prove that I ain't so lazy after all.



Look at the funny gaijin in the Japanese hat, flanked, of course,
by the dog in traditional Japanese yucata...Me at the Isesaki fireworks



A bit foggy, but gorgeous nonetheless.



Me, Hanami, and Joshi (or as I, in my idiocy, once called him,
Jisho,which by the way means dictionary in Japanese)



Don't let those smiles fool you,
climbing mountains is hard work


Me and little Hanami, Tomomi's neice



So adorable...



Gone fishing...and I'm not coming back

Back to basics

So my last entry was my symbolic "moment of silence" for everything going on with Katrina. But just in case you are fed up with hearing bad news and reports of anarchy and violence among the Superdome refugees, I thought I would barrage you with tales of the wonderful people here who are making my life supremely livable every day. Call me an idealist, but I truly believe that (most) people are good at heart; when they are treated like animals, herded into a place where there is no food, water or healthcare, and when they are brought up in a world of poverty besides, they may resort to animal-like behaviors; but when they are cared for and respected, most people will go out of their way to help others. After travelling in so many countries where, in the words of Blanche DuBois, I had to "rely on the kindness of strangers," I feel like this is time to share my stories.

First, my friend Tomomi, who lives close by in Maebashi. She lived in Seattle for three years, and speaks wonderful English, and is about the closest thing to a free-spirited hippie that I have found in Japan. She is currently publishing an article on horticulture therapy: how to use gardening as a therapy for the elderly. From helping me to buy a cheap ticket to the US for Christmas (only 800 dollars in total, including my bus ride to Tokyo) to helping me buy and install a device that kills the kamikaze mosquitoes that have terrorized me at night, she is a dream come true. We meet every Wednesday to study Japanese, speak in English, and just hang out. She took me camping and mountain climbing and taught me how to fish (I almost caught this huge fish, but it was so heavy that it broke the line). Plus, this weekend she went out to karaoke with me and never complained when, while singing Japanese songs, I literally sang one out of ten words because I can't read kanji. She took me to the Isesaki fireworks last weekend, which were absolutely amazing: 30,000 fireworks lit up the night sky for an entire hour, it was the most beautiful display I had ever seen. Plus, she is going to teach me how to shop for and cook Japanese food, a talent which I do not naturally have (as I cannot read kanji, see above). I'm a very lucky woman to have her as a friend.

Then there is Shizue Uehara, my shiatsu teacher. After commenting at orientation that "you have a baaaad back," he called me up last week and said he wanted to teach me shiatsu. Well, not only did he invite me and two of my friends to his house to teach us shiatsu for an hour, he allowed me to play his piano and then he and his wife took us out to a wonderful dinner at a very expensive restaurant. He wants to take us to onsen later in the fall, and told me that he will allow me to use his piano anytime I want. He and his wife were so lovely, it was a wonderful evening.

But besides the people whom I know well and who are my friends (Tomomi, Shizue-san, Negishi-san, Tomomi-sensei just to name a few), there are the random people who help me out every day, whose names I never know but who are always willing to lend a "gaijin" a helping hand. There is the random man who helped me out when I was lost in Takasaki, trying to find the station. He not only tolerated my completely broken Japanese, he got out a map and showed me exactly where I needed to go. Plus, there is the random man who, when I was lost AT Takasaki station, stopped the work that he was doing and tried to explain to me for five minutes that all I needed to do was drive straight and I'd reach Gunma-Machi. The five minutes was due to the fact that he did not speak English and I don't speak Japanese; considering this little problem, his patience was astounding. Then there are the restaurant workers who, when I have no idea what they're saying as I stop by for some Korean barbecue, will wait for ten minutes as I try to order in Japanese and then, when I think all is lost, will go in the kitchen and discuss amongst the staff how they should say certain words (and questions) in English - all without losing their friendly smiles.

For Negishi-san and Tomomi; for Shizue Uehara and Saito-sensei, an English teacher I work with who is always helping me out when I can't use the copier at school; for all these people who are willing to help out and support us stupid gaijin, they are why I wanted to live in another place, to get back in touch with why traveling is so great in the first place: for the people.

I haven't written in a while. With the devestation of Hurricane Katrina and its aftermath, I haven't had the heart to share the small details of my life. This tragedy has affected me more than I thought possible; I still cry at every article that I read, every small tragedy that I am so far from yet feel so close to. But even in this sad time at least people can still fall in love. So wherever you are, remember that "Colleen hearts Jeff." That's a far more wonderful story than anything I can share right now.

If I could give my hands to you
so you could feel my world,
I would.

If I could give my eyes to you,
so you could see
block signs in foreign
script that I can’t read,
and know that everything
is what comes of distance
between us, in this place,
this life, this
untranslatable time,
I would.

If I could give my breath to you,
so you could push the air
around me, in and out, and in
this moment sense the
silent, still, soft lull of
night without you, with you,
always rushing, moving, lurking,
staying, here and not one year
from now where breath is
just a fragment of a dream,
I would.

I would give them, if I could,
exhale my body into yours,
so you would feel the breath
of now, of here, of everything
inside yourself.
I will give them, if I can,
if you will have them.