Not since my first six months in Korea have I lived for the weekend. Back then, I didn't feel like I had much choice - I didn't know any of my fellow teachers well enough to want to hang out with them, so it was my Mormon friends who kept me going that whole time. The end of February that year we got an infusion of new blood at GDA, and those teachers - particularly my Missouri homegirl Sara - transformed my expat life.
Ever since then, I've had a pretty good work-life balance, finding friends to play games with or try out new restaurants on weeknights, and not just on the weekends. Hopefully that will be the case here, too, but until I find my feet socially, I at least have no intention of letting my weekends go to waste.
I've written about how sometimes it is ridiculously difficult to find out about upcoming events in Mongolia. In Japan, it seems to be the opposite. Last Monday Savvy Tokyo published a list of events in the area this weekend. I felt totally spoiled - would I go to a jazz festival? Dance in the streets of Minami-Koshigaya? In the end, though, I decided that what I really wanted was to attend a yelling contest in Yokosuka.
Now, in spite of being jam packed with people - or perhaps because of that exact thing - Japan is actually a fairly tranquil, quiet place. Case in point, practical knowledge gained from watching anime #1: you shouldn't practice music in your apartment. This came up in orientation and I thought, "Aha, I know that one." Even talking on your phone on the train is frowned on. So the kind of crazy screams I used to let loose riding my little dirt bike around the farm in Excelsior are pretty much a no-go...unless you were at Myozoji Temple in Yokosuka yesterday.
In theory Yokohama is a great place to be, and everything is relatively close together. By American standards, for sure. However, in practice, the 41km (25 miles) separating me from my first temple this go-round took 1.5 hours to transverse (or they would have, if I'd actually gotten off when Google Maps told me to, instead of deciding that I was fine taking the express train all the way to Shioiri Station. Dumbass). When I woke up yesterday, I questioned whether or not I actually wanted to go all that way, but the whole point of living in Japan is that I'm already here for all of these experiences, so I decided I could be lazy another day.
Registration started at 10, but it was almost 11 by the time I got there, thanks to my detour. To my relief, it actually wasn't as crowded as I'd feared - it may only be two weeks since I got here, but even in that short time I've seen some crowds, man. I'm not sure if that was because it was off the beaten path or because it was Too Darn Hot...
Actually, I'm beginning to think I have superpowers. The past week was almost pleasant. I mean, once you got past the rain, and I didn't actually mind the rain since, you know, vampire... And then last night, after whinging about how hot it was a huge storm blew in and I was able to open the windows and get by with just the fan. I'm sure nobody would be surprised if I actually turned out to be a mutant, but there ya go.
There was a tent where participants registered, receiving a number for their turn. Another tent had chairs set up underneath, although most people were milling around the temple grounds. My number 1 favorite part of the festival, though, was that they had a booth handing out shaved ice - for free! Or if it wasn't free, they didn't ask me for money, so hey! In the last two weeks I have improved my Japanese abilities by 0%, but I already knew the Japanese word for strawberry - thanks again to my anime obsession! - and if it wasn't the most delicious thing I've tasted in the last two weeks, I don't know what was.
There was also a stamp rally for the kids. They had tiles to paint and crawdads to fish for, and probably one or two other things that I couldn't figure out because I've been living in Japan for two weeks and I still only know 3 kanji. Suffice it to say that like almost everything in Japan, it was kid friendly.
The main event, though, was the yelling contest. Participants stood on the front porch of the temple, in front of a microphone, and shouted whatever they wanted, as loud as they wanted. The temple was surrounded by a cemetery, so no worries about bothering the neighbors. I recognized "OTOUSAN!" and "OKAASAN!" in a couple of the shouts, and wondered if maybe they were yelling to their deceased parents - this week was the Obon Festival, which welcomes back the souls of departed ancestors.
The microphone wasn't for making sure they were heard, though - most people didn't need any help with that! They had some kind of measurement going on, I'm guessing decibels, and after each person finished their shout, we all looked at the score to see how loud they were. My favorites were the macho guys who thought they'd been super loud, only to get beat by an old obaasan (granny). The crowd responded with laughter, and in spite of being incredibly hot and having everyone yelling their hearts out, and the mood was light and happy, which I needed after spending the week reading about everything going on back home.
If I had chosen to participate in the contest, I would have had plenty to yell about. As it was, I thought my pent up anger about my batshit crazy countrymen might put me at a distinct advantage. Instead, I found myself wishing I was home, to counterprotest this insanity and add my voice to everyone else's saying, "This is wrong. This is not what our country is about." Instead, I'm half a world away, and I just hope that at some point I'll be able to make a difference.
When I first moved abroad - thinking it was only for a year, hahaha - that was my justification, that when I came home I would be able to share a broader perspective with my students. I'm not sure anymore if I'll ever go home, and if I do whether I want to deal with the enormous shit-storm that constitutes teaching in the good ol' US of A, but I still hope that all my years as a prodigal will teach someone something, even if it's only the niblings.
Til then, Japan has it's everyday delights to balance out the everyday frustrations. Walking back from the temple, I came across a little walking path criss-crossing a stream, and instead of hurrying to get on the bus back to the station, I took the stairs down and walked along it. This is the kind of discovery that speaks to my soul - a little slice of nature hidden between the jumbles of houses.
Ever since then, I've had a pretty good work-life balance, finding friends to play games with or try out new restaurants on weeknights, and not just on the weekends. Hopefully that will be the case here, too, but until I find my feet socially, I at least have no intention of letting my weekends go to waste.
In theory Yokohama is a great place to be, and everything is relatively close together. By American standards, for sure. However, in practice, the 41km (25 miles) separating me from my first temple this go-round took 1.5 hours to transverse (or they would have, if I'd actually gotten off when Google Maps told me to, instead of deciding that I was fine taking the express train all the way to Shioiri Station. Dumbass). When I woke up yesterday, I questioned whether or not I actually wanted to go all that way, but the whole point of living in Japan is that I'm already here for all of these experiences, so I decided I could be lazy another day.
Registration started at 10, but it was almost 11 by the time I got there, thanks to my detour. To my relief, it actually wasn't as crowded as I'd feared - it may only be two weeks since I got here, but even in that short time I've seen some crowds, man. I'm not sure if that was because it was off the beaten path or because it was Too Darn Hot...
Actually, I'm beginning to think I have superpowers. The past week was almost pleasant. I mean, once you got past the rain, and I didn't actually mind the rain since, you know, vampire... And then last night, after whinging about how hot it was a huge storm blew in and I was able to open the windows and get by with just the fan. I'm sure nobody would be surprised if I actually turned out to be a mutant, but there ya go.
There was also a stamp rally for the kids. They had tiles to paint and crawdads to fish for, and probably one or two other things that I couldn't figure out because I've been living in Japan for two weeks and I still only know 3 kanji. Suffice it to say that like almost everything in Japan, it was kid friendly.
The main event, though, was the yelling contest. Participants stood on the front porch of the temple, in front of a microphone, and shouted whatever they wanted, as loud as they wanted. The temple was surrounded by a cemetery, so no worries about bothering the neighbors. I recognized "OTOUSAN!" and "OKAASAN!" in a couple of the shouts, and wondered if maybe they were yelling to their deceased parents - this week was the Obon Festival, which welcomes back the souls of departed ancestors.
The microphone wasn't for making sure they were heard, though - most people didn't need any help with that! They had some kind of measurement going on, I'm guessing decibels, and after each person finished their shout, we all looked at the score to see how loud they were. My favorites were the macho guys who thought they'd been super loud, only to get beat by an old obaasan (granny). The crowd responded with laughter, and in spite of being incredibly hot and having everyone yelling their hearts out, and the mood was light and happy, which I needed after spending the week reading about everything going on back home.
If I had chosen to participate in the contest, I would have had plenty to yell about. As it was, I thought my pent up anger about my batshit crazy countrymen might put me at a distinct advantage. Instead, I found myself wishing I was home, to counterprotest this insanity and add my voice to everyone else's saying, "This is wrong. This is not what our country is about." Instead, I'm half a world away, and I just hope that at some point I'll be able to make a difference.
When I first moved abroad - thinking it was only for a year, hahaha - that was my justification, that when I came home I would be able to share a broader perspective with my students. I'm not sure anymore if I'll ever go home, and if I do whether I want to deal with the enormous shit-storm that constitutes teaching in the good ol' US of A, but I still hope that all my years as a prodigal will teach someone something, even if it's only the niblings.
Til then, Japan has it's everyday delights to balance out the everyday frustrations. Walking back from the temple, I came across a little walking path criss-crossing a stream, and instead of hurrying to get on the bus back to the station, I took the stairs down and walked along it. This is the kind of discovery that speaks to my soul - a little slice of nature hidden between the jumbles of houses.
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