Guest post

When Adelle asked me to write a guest post last night, I thought, "oh, yeah, that'll be easy, I have so much to say." Which is true, but after a week of relative wordlessness, it is surprisingly hard to put my faith and feelings into language again.

In the beginning, all I could feel was the child-like vulnerability of illiteracy and cultural ignorance. I sat in a Euro-style cafe, after believing I might never eat again because I had no yen (until I found the citibank) and no communication skills, and just watched people. I stared at every person who walked by and tried to find something in their walk or in the way they looked around that I could understand. Finally, some comfort came when a young Japanese woman in the cafe casually threw her purse over her shoulder--"aha!" I thought, "that is a familiar gesture: this life is normal to her, she is on her lunch break and to her, this is nothing special." And seeing that was both comforting and eerie to me: comforting in that it was just circumstance that made Tokyo so unfamiliar to me, and eerie in that I could not possibly imagine in that moment the distance from where I was to that woman's casual acceptance.

When Adelle's work week ended and we began to be out in that cultural ocean together, I felt my emotional frequency level go down. Everything began to settle, and some semblence of peace and security entered my overwhelmed consciousness. In addition to the natural comfort of being with a good friend, (it becomes like family, I've found, these college friends we visit with--you know you need nothing and to do nothing extra in their company,) there was the fact that she DID know what was going on, and did know how to get around.

By today, sitting in her tiny Tokyo apartment, (with 'cubicle walls,' as a Navy boy we met described them,) I find that my focus is not on the strangeness of this foreign land, but on the beauty of the day-to-day life Adelle has created here. I've met many of her friends, and they are really good people. Lovely people, likeable people. She has that traveler's capacity for spontenaity and trust in strangers--exemplified by our going for a drink with a Japanese man we met in the train station last night--but also a solid base of people and things she knows well. She has found the balance between the sort of "fuck it all" free-spirited mentality of 18-year-old European backpackers and a more mature, liveable mindset that can support her whims and wanderlust. My Shakespeare teacher talks about technique as the trampoline on which you jump, to go higher than you thought you could. I think Adelle has a solid base for bounding up to the highest heavens of freedom in cultural exploration.

So, I will return to the States impressed with my friend and excited to know of one more world I do not yet understand. Some poet said, "What will you do with this one wild and wonderful life?" or something like that. I am marginally closer, because of this trip, to knowing what I might do, what is possible in this wild and wonderful world.

Oh! And I will miss Adelle! It has been so good to see her.

When in Rome...

forget everything you were ever taught about safety. Or maybe just when you're in Tokyo.

Walking alone in empty streets after dark jamming to my iPod? check. Accepting rides from strange men? check.

Thursday night I got lost on my way to the train station after seeing a friend in a part of Tokyo I had never visited. When I first got to Tokyo I hated to appear 'lost'. I was reluctant to ask for directions, or even consult my incredibly comprehensive Tokyo street atlas. Somewhere along that way that changed, and on Thursday I unabashedly held my map in plain view as I stared at buildings and signs trying to make sense of where I was. I had just decided to continue in the same direction when a Mercedes pulled up and a salaryman got out. He started speaking to me and gesturing, and while I couldn't understand I figured he was probably trying to help me. So I said, Waseda-dori (wa doko desuka)? He indicated that it was parallel to the street that I was on. Takanodababa? The other direction. Then, although he was only a few blocks from home, he offered to take me - "Takanodababa, I take you. Practice English." I was simultaneously hit with my (American) better judgment and my increasing (Japanese) sense of safety. It seemed so wrong to jump into a car with an older man in a confusing city when I can't speak the language. But he offered me a ride to the station; and I was lost. It seemed so right!

I jumped in, with a few gracious thank-yous and a couple rounds of arigato gozaimasu. En route to Takanodababa we did indeed practice English... He told me - in very broken English - about how he loves golf, and now that he is older and in a senior position at work (the president of his company, in fact) he can leave work early to play golf in the afternoon. He also offered me his number, saying something about dinner in Shinjuku. I was like, oh - you like to eat dinner in Shinjuku? That's nice!

I let him write down his number but I left it at that. I'm not above trading rides for English, but thus far in my Tokyo adventure I’m not interested in upping the ante to dinner dates. I still have a few shreds of my better judgment left.

Pet Peeves

One of my biggest pet peeves occurred this morning -

I'm on the packed morning train, as usual, when all of a sudden the huge mass on the train empties and individuals are furrowing their brows and noticably recalibrating their morning commute.

Technically its not ALL all of a sudden - it is in response to an announcment, but since I can only understand about 1/6 of what is said on the trains (up from 1/10!) I view most responses as random.

It's just totally one of those c'mon!!! moments. Like, even the Japanese people look confused; what is an illiterate Gaijin to do?

Harriet Rosa Mayfield Bledsoe, or The Revolution Will Not Come Through Your iPod*

On Friday, January 5th, my maternal grandmother died; at 92.

In her life and after her death, I continue to marvel at all the history she experienced. History for me, life for her. In her lifetime occurred:

• World War I
• Women's Suffrage
• the Harlem Renaissance
• the Great Depression
• World War II
• Civil Rights/Integration/African-American Suffrage
• the Space Race

... and the birth of so many modern technologies. I started thinking - the 20th century was so jam packed! Revolutionary, really. So many facets of life - culture, politics, and education just to name a few - were transformed, some rapidly, others over the course of the century. I thought, even I live as long as she did, I'll probably never see as much as she did. The chances of having another packed century are slim to none.

Then I thought, why not? Why can't we make the 21st century totally remarkable? iPod phones are now a reality, as are computers for the developing world that cost under $150. Hybrid cars and efficient solar homes are both efficient and a reality. Why can't we drastically reduce global poverty? Why can't we bring education and technology to remote locations around the world? Why can't we fight AIDS and cancer? Why can't we have standard technology that is environmentally sustainable? We can. Cancer deaths in America have dropped for the 2nd straight year. Carbon neutral solar homes are taking off in California. Now that we have modern technology, let’s make it available. Let this be the century where modern medicine is affordable. Where wealth does not remain isolated, but can be used to affect change wherever resources are lacking.

And then last week I finally watched An Inconvenient Truth, Al Gore's documentary on global warming. The question 'why not' became 'we must'. It's not about politics, or economic development, or military action, or American leadership. All of those have failed. It's about you and me. It's about recognizing the issue, and making it a personal priority. Each individual contributes to global warming, and has collectively caused the problem. And yeah, it has been contributed to by humans since the industrial revolution. But guess what? They're dead, and they can't do anything about it, except turn in their graves that we have not learned from their mistakes.

The good news is that individuals can solve the problem. In fact, we are the key. Last Saturday I was out to dinner with friends and we got on this subject. One of my friends said, well, what can we do? It’s all up to the government and the big corporations. In that moment I got so excited because, as I told her – IT’S NOT! Turning off your computer during the day makes a difference. Sharing rides makes a difference. Using energy efficient light bulbs makes a difference. Are hybrid cars great? Yeah! Is mass transit great? Yeah! Are they practical for everybody? No (not yet). The problem is massive, and requires radical change; but here is what’s really radical: the sum of the solution is greater than its parts. THE SUM OF THE SOLUTION IS GREATER THAN ITS PARTS. So it’s you and I - you, I, our families and friends that are going to solve global warming. I’m there, are you with me? Let's make this century exceptional!

*No guessing about the song/artist/album. Listen to “The Revolution Will Not Be Televised” – Gil Scott-Heron; “iGeneration” – MC Lars; “Change” – Joy Denalane; visit www.climatecrisis.net, and of course, watch An Inconvenient Truth!!!

A Writing Disorder?

Some people binge drink (hello Tokyo!). Some people binge eat, or even binge shop... I binge blog. As much as I would like to be regular about it, and as I much as I think of things to write just about every other day, I don't. Until nights like tonight. And I still haven't checked the NYT!

uh, maybe the writing disorder lies in writing AND posting my random ramblings...

So I'm Not A Reporter...

Apparently on December 20th I started a post where I decided to chronicle any instances of Christmas celebrations. Not only did I only write about one such happening, I didn't even publish the post. Until tonight - so take a look at Kristmas Karaoke (December archives).

So here are the rest of the holidays until now:

Christmas Monday was like any other Monday in Japan, so Nova was open. But it's not as if any Nova teachers come from countries that don't celebrate Christmas, so every branch closed early to at least give us the night off.

I brought my Santa hat with me to work, in case I felt festive. I actually never wore it, but Saori (one of the Japanese part-time staff), and one of my students wore the hat. The student randomly wanted to take a picture with me and Sean (maybe he celebrates Christmas?), and I was like ok - if you wear the hat! And he did.

I had dinner in Roppongi with the other two children of Meidaimae (Sean and Allison) and Sean's roommate, Aidan. Quite a few restaurants and pubs were advertising Christmas Dinner specials, so we all went to a place called Paddy Foley's. While the back part of the pub was decorated and done up, it was still very much an Irish pub in Roppongi. Towards the end of dinner Aidan started chatting with the manager of the bar who ended up sitting down with us for I don't know how long. Aidan was really enjoying his company, but he also had a few more drinks than Sean, Allison or I. This was my 3rd time having a traditional holiday dinner out of the country, and much like the 1st time (but not the 2nd), before I began eating I tried my best to identify the colors, shapes, and textures on my plate. As it turns out I think the Japanese (or maybe the Irish) translate the concept of stuffing into meatloaf.

New Year's Eve turned out to be a series of party fouls, but there were a couple of highlights:

• my sister roommate and I had a fun photo shoot on the train

• we joined the huge party at the busiest intersection in the world (in Shibuya, featured in Lost in Translation), for the countdown. No countdown ever materialized, so 'HAPPY NEW YEAR' cheers spontaneously erupted from various pockets within the crowd. It was happy and chaotic.
  

You Don't Actually Have To Read This

So many times I have grand plans to blog - maybe about a recent adventure or a fresh idea. I often get foiled by two things: the New York Times (my homepage), and hunger (it's like sitting down at my computer makes me hungry). I have successfully bypassed the NYT (although I do plan to come back to it); but I've decided that, instead of eating all of the mini-custard-filled-bread-things my sister left to the apartment, I'm going to attempt to cook something. Yes, further postponing the most recent spate of blog posts itching to make the jump from my head to a much more adventurous destination: cyperspace. I fully intend to return to the computer, unless I decide to engage in an even more worthy distraction than food - my Japanese homework. I know this one has you on the edge of your seat. Stay tuned!

The Flipside

Living in a foreign country, especially one as foreign as Japan, really makes me aware of how many little things in life I have taken for granted. Sometimes accomplishing these little things is difficult. Sometimes it is impossible.

Dry Cleaning: I dropped off trousers and a silk scarf at my local dry cleaners, the materials aren't particularly exotic, so I didn't expect any problems. But when I gave the clothes to the lady behind the counter she frowned and gave them back to me, pointing at the tag. Although it said 'dry clean only' it wasn't in Japanese, so she didn't know what to do with it. I thought taking it to the dry cleaner was enough, but apparently there is more to it than that? She then kept shaking her head, pausing, and trying to explain in very simple Japanese (kind of an oxymoron). Finally, she produced a very long and reasonable sounding explanation. She spoke slowly and clearly, looked directly at me, and paused to make sure I was following her. It was so compelling; I just had to nod in return. But I didn't understand a word she was saying. At the end she said, OK? and gestured like she could take the clothes after all. I said, ok? She nodded, so I said OK! I gave her my clothes and hoped for the best.

Asking Questions: I can ask for directions in Japanese (x wa doko desuka?), but unless the answer involves copious amounts of pointing and gesturing, I can't understand the answer. I can ask 'how much' (ikura desuka?), but I can't ask if it is on sale or not. I recently cobbled together a passable question for 'what is this' using one of the words for what (nande) and this (kore). Between my roommate, the saleslady, and I, and using broken English and broken Japanese, we were able to piece together the answer.

Cotton balls… I have yet to see them in the store, but I don’t know how to ask if the store carries them or where I go to get them.

Concert tickets… every link directs me to a webpage in Japanese. I went to Tower Records to ask where to get tickets, and they directed me to the second floor of a mall that exclusively sells women’s apparel.

Small things, all of them. But it’s these little things that sometimes make me long for the ease of picking up the phone and knowing I can understand the person on the other end. Or being able to ask if I’m confused or need information. Or simply being able to understand the situation and make an informed decision, instead of saying OK! and hoping for the best.