Cherry blossom and sake

Race for Life

2007-06-17T20:04:00.000+07:00

Last Sunday's Race For Life went well. I completed in about 31 minutes 45 seconds and Bek was very close behind.

It was quite an emotional day, especially seeing who the other runners were running for and just how many people have been affected by cancer. It wasn't always possible to work out how many were cancer survivors and others not and was very thought-provoking.

I've raised almost £500 so far. Thank you so much to everyone who has donated. I haven't been able to thank everyone individually as I don't have their email addresses. It's very much appreciated.

For those who haven't sponsored me yet, but would like to, you can sponsor me online at http://www.raceforlifesponsorme.org/zoe_macgechan. All donations gratefully received!

Long time, no post

2007-05-10T01:34:00.000+07:00

So, I've been away. It could have something to do with the impending inspection, maybe it's because I've had to sign the Official Secrets Act, or maybe I'm halfway towards getting a life in this shoddy little backwater. I guess I wouldn't go quite as far as that, but I do at least spend a lesser proportion of my time ironing my teenaged brother's underwear (there's no getting away from folding it, else it would just rot on the line).

I haven't completely salvaged a social life - I've mainled been hanging around the locals, with the locals - but I did manage to cram a fair bit into my bank holiday weekend. First, going to Haverhill's first Private View in a friend's shed. Then, I dined at the fantastic - and expensive - Fox on Friday. They've hoiked up their prices and their portions - so it was a whopping bill following a whopping fill. I'll bore you with the details: I had a sumptuous goat's cheese bruschetta starter and a fairly good steak, although it disappointed in comparison to the lamb sat on the plate opposite (my worst dining fear come true: dinner envy). The cheese board made up for it, as I knew it would.

On Saturday, I got down to Gillian's via Oxford Circus Top Shop, but managed to arrive without any Mossy fashion extras. Not so disappointing when I finally got to get a better look at them a day later. We went out in Camden to a bar that strived to be cool: deck chairs with rock stars (and an exceedingly large number with Junkie Doherty's face), mattresses in trellised private areas, Alice in Wonderland strolling around with her rodent and behatted companions and a 'saucy' Queen of Hearts right out of the Lock's market, including PVC cape and killer heels. It was nice, but rather too contrived and made me, for once, not feel I was missing out. I could not be bothered to get involved in that sort of game at the moment!

After dinner on Friday, I'd got a text from my sister saying the new niece was on the way. She finally arrived, a drawn out 30 hours later on Sunday morning. So I got over to Guildford, flowers and stuffed bunny in hand, to meet Nancy Frances (pictures sure to follow). She was a lovely little 7lb 5oz and slept almost entirely through my visit.

On Monday, I got back to Cambridge and checked out the city's only Japanese restaurant: decked out with Wagamamarian benches, but providing more authentic fare. The tsukune was great (and the waitress did her bit to add the air of Nippon by not understanding my order), the sushi as fresh as you could hope, but the yakisoba was plain old chow mein. I will be heading back, but hope not to get a pube in my bento next time.

Akemashite Omedeto!

2006-12-19T00:33:00.001+06:00

Happy New Year. It feels a long time since Christmas and a bit pointless to send out any overly festive greetings. I'll just assume everyone enjoyed themselves as best they could. I doubt few could beat Bek spending it on a yacht in Sydney Harbour, although Rachel's Malaysian beach might just tie. I spent mine in Olde Guildford Towne, not a bad place, if you've got a penny or two to spend.

Much the same can be said of New York, where my mother, sister and I went for some Christmas shopping. In accordance with tradition, I mainly spent on myself (though not anywhere near enough) and we generally just trouped around baby shops cooing over the smallest babygrows we could get hold of (not so small in the U. S. of A, as you'd imagine). We did also have a helicopter tour of the city, dine in a revolving restaurant and watched the Producers (even non-musical fans should see it, honestly Angus!). I briefly lamented over Matthew Broderick's absence, but just couldn't picture him skipping around the stage with the same gusto as his replacement.

New York was fantastic: the sort of place you could live for a few years. I didn't see anywhere near as much as I'd have liked, although I flukily managed to take advantage of Target Fridays, when MOMA is free, and whizzed around there in twenty minutes, most of which were spent choosing postcards in the giftshop. I can't afford to collect fine art so gobble up photo album-sized replicas. Sad, ne?

I met my old student, Yuka, and got way too drunk as she snubbed Japanese food, but stayed true to her national identity by avoiding as much of the wine as she could, despite it being a hard-won prize. We were asked for ID, mainly because she's only just 21 and looks younger and I had to fight to convince the waitress I'm old enough to drink.

The encounter may have put me off New Yorkers. They seem to need to tell you off or teach you things. As I expected to get drunk with Yuka, I didn't take out my passport in case I lost it (sensible, you'd think) but the waitress at the restaurant patronisingly chided, 'this is New York, honey, you should always carry ID'. I told her I was almost 30 and hadn't imagined it would be a problem, but she had annoyingly stopped listening by then.

Yesterday I started at the prison. The was a shutdown, so no prisoners were allowed out and I missed my first class. It would have been great, had I not missed out on almost a whole night's sleep hoping it would go well. I taught the same lesson to the afternoon group, who didn't warm to me quite so well once they knew I wasn't hanging around to be their regular teacher. One still asked to switch to my morning class, but the others just grumbled that it was 'shit' and 'boring' and tried to shirk the work. Once I'd agreed, but said they had to do it anyway, they got on with it.

This morning I taught my real class. Only one has changed, so I knew what I was dealing with and they were all pleased to see me (except one who hadn't been released). They loved the lesson and I had to rein myself and them in when I was trying to demonstrate how to hold a balloon debate and they used me as an example. As nice as it would have been to stand and listen to men who haven't seen a woman for years say I'm good-looking, I really couldn't let it go on. The guy who should have been released also said I was a good, interesting teacher: this made the others balk far more than the other compliments, but mainly because they don't see it as flattering to be good at such a thing. Right, I'm off to find a suitable article in Viz for proof-reading.

It's a London thing

2006-12-10T16:18:00.000+06:00

Jo had one of her fleeting visits from Athens this weekend, so I popped to London to meet her . An expensive, but worthwhile exercise. On the bus into Cambridge, I had to listen to some locals berating all the 'Chinks' slowing the bus by requesting every stop. Only one Chinese student had used the bus. Their racism is hugely outdated, the Chinese in Cambridge are by now probably third- or fourth-generation and are quietly muttering about immigrants from the Caucasus.

Jo and I met in Oxford Circus, our biggest mistake, and the pedestrian undercurrent hauled us into a heaving Top Shop. One look at the Soviet-style queue forced us back out and towards the V&A's fashion exhibition, where we laughed at how tiring it would have been to been an original mod, fighting your way through the trouser-suited idiots of Carnaby Street. Fearing a two-hour transport-enduced famine, I sought out a very cheap Japanese bento shop in South Kensington and I stuffed myself full of over-spicy yakisoba while lamenting the loss of izakayas from my life. It was strange spending the day in London as a tourist: you're constantly jostled by shoppers ramming shoe boxes in your ribs and have to really hunt out sensibly priced eateries. I am also slowly becoming disorientated on the Tube, like a real outsider.

It was lovely seeing Jo, but I really didn't want to come back. As we strolled through Soho to meet up with her boyfriend, we passed loads of little bars and restaurants whose windows I wanted to press my nose onto. I was quite sad on the train leaving it all behind - more so when I missed the Haverhill bus by ten minutes and had to pass the time in a pub by Cambridge train station. Cash-free, I was forced to try the Osborne, next to the much more savoury Flying Pig, to see if they would accept cards. Fortunately not, as I had to watch an alcoholic barman swaying and squaring up to a 24-year-old he suspected of underage drinking, all while a gaggle of 15-year-olds drank pints and played pool unmolested.

The green green grass of home

2006-12-08T01:01:00.000+06:00

Firstly, I'd really like to get stuck into my ex-employer for being an utter cunt. Having kept a £300 deposit from my last pay cheque, they finally returned the remaining £10 this week, having shaved off £100 for cleaning (although I naively missed sleep because I couldn't afford to lose any cash) and a further £110 for my replacement's hotel, as well as a little extra for the hotel I stayed in when I first arrived, which I have foolishly imagined was part of the extortionate sum deducted from my first five pay packets. If you intend to save money in Japan, don't work for Shane. While I was very pleased to not have to teach American English, I am exceedingly bitter at being robbed in the festive season. My ex-boss being a spineless fantasist didn't help. Thank you for listening to my rage.

Otherwise, I went up the prison and loved it. I went up the prison to observe my class this week. The other teacher is extremely lazy, so it was quite an involved obversation. It was fine though. I managed to show the prisoners I wouldn't be a pushover, despite being a young woman and they showed me that they hadn't had a sniff of a woman for an age and it would be fine whatever. My class were quite laid back, but other inmates were pushing their noses up to the glass of the classroom door to check me out, some trying to make me shake their hands or give them some contact and others asking if they could switch to my class. I feel it was a very modern take on Daniel in the lion's den: my explaining to use a colon was much like removing the prisoners' metaphorical thorns.

It's nice to know I'm still holding my own, even though I'm back to British portions. I've caused quite a stir at the factory I'm temping at and am getting sexually harassed by the local scout leader at least once a day and the warehouse supervisor put a card through the door with his phone number and an invitation to keep me company. Fortunately, I already had plans. I wouldn't want to get in the way of him seeing either of his kids.

I'm practically destitute as I'm being paid in village pounds, but spending as many weekends as possible in London. Last week I visited my beloved Vidal Sassoon and had my haircut by a yuong Osakan who nearly wet herself when I spoke in garbled Japanese. Each of the hairdressers had gifts for their 'models', but as I tried to return the Japanese hospitality I have so often dined out on and invited them to the pub, they were fighting to find me extra gifts. One girl eventually gave me a vacuum packed pack of teabags her mother had obviously stuffed into her luggage. Fortunately, they didn't have time to meet so I treated myself to some dry sushi from Wasabi and watched TV all night.

I did make it out to a houseparty the following night, but after having a small nap among the coats, I lost the rest of the night searching for my friend's handbag, which was under the sofa, but my dress was too short for my to check myself so it stayed there until around 6am when I finally planted the idea it was there in someone else's head.

Next week, my mum, sister and I are off to New York where I'm going to have to make my mum pay for her own Christmas presents. A helicoptor tour around the city will be also involved and sitting through the Producers. Fortunately, Guys and Dolls wasn't showing.

I will soon start charting the culinary conversations I have to sit through at work ("Do you like rice?" "I like rice, but Brian doesn't like rice," "Yeah, I like rice, but Dave doesn't, Anne, do you like rice?"). Have you ever heard of an office with a constant running buffet?! This might be why I'm thickening up around the middle, but it will all drop off when I'm at the prison, where I can only eat at five hour intervals, so I will soon be sporting the jutting hips of a catwalk anorexic, minus the purging vommy smell.

Love and Mr Kipling mince pies.

Sayonara Saitama

2006-09-24T18:27:00.000+07:00

I'm writing this (possibly last entry) from England. I've finally made it back home. So far the jetlag has been negligable and the Stilton plentiful. I feel constantly full, but it's all good so far.

In some ways it's a shame to come back just as I've finally made some good friend. Lisa, Yoriko, Shozo, Pat and various others are possibly people who will drift now I've finally fled Omiya. I'll also miss the others, who I had more time to get to know and therefore will miss even more: Raju, George, Jerry... They have been true friends and extremely kind to me. Accordingly, I've put all my efforts into making some good memories with everyone and have, as a consequence, begun to experience true Japanese life - sleeping for only four hours a day and arranging appointments at midnight after I've spent time with various groups of friends.

I didn't manage to say goodbye to my new fan at Lawsons. Recently, I popped in for some bread and gave her some change to avoid getting too much shrapnel back. She was stunned and explained, with extravagant gestures, that she`s a bit thick and wouldn`t have thought to do that. I laughed and said she wasn`t and she then gasped at the proficiency of my Japanese and asked how long I`d been here. I told her a year, but explained that I didn`t understand much at all. To prove this to her, I confused `understand` with `forget` so either sounded massively stupid or very cocky, but she was too busy scuttling off to tell her mate to listen.

Last weekend seems so long ago. On Friday, I finally managed to get to Kamakura, after a year of unfulfilled pledges. Stupidly, I got off the train at the right place, but panicked, got back on and went back to Kita Kamakura, so missed Daibuttsu, the enormous Buddha everyone goes there to see. I did try to take the trekking path up the mountain, but chickened out one temple and a few metres up some crumbling stone steps at the bottom of the trail. Instead, I loafed around Kita Kamakura and saw more than enough to satiate my small appetite for temples and the like. When you've see one temple...

I was too lazy to ask if I was on the right train home and so shot off towards the airport a week early and almost missed my own leaving do. The whole misadventure justified itself when I spotted a sumo wrestler on the train and was able to tick off another sight from my list. The leaving do itself was eventually fun. We bickered over where to go for food, too many people dropping out to go to the izakaya I'd booked, then enough stragglers making up the original numbers. The second place wasn't too bad, a bit too 'theme restaurant' for my liking, but probably more appropriate for a party mood than the traditional izakaya I'd planned. Afterwards, we went to the obligatory karaoke until the small hours got big again and staggered home under misty grey skies.

On Saturday, having turned down a sudden invitation to camp in the mountains with 20 Australians, I headed to Kichijoji to meet up with Natalie who is refreshed and single having come back from teaching in Hokkaido in the summer. It's a shame she didn't get around to the separation sooner. It was coming for a while and we could have both done with someone to go on the pull with.

Jerry and I headed off into the mountains for a spot of horse-riding on Sunday. Only a spot, mind. We drove for almost three hours to reach Ogose, in northern Saitama, to ride for less than an hour. It was in a stunning spot though and, having a paralysing fear of heights, I was glad not to gallop up the mountain. It was lovely. The weather was perfect, the view stunning and Jerry's sense of direction reliably bad. It was just missing his cowboy hat.

That night, I met up with Shozo and attempted a monolingual date. It was a bit of an intimidating washout at first. I couldn't even bring myself to ask what he did for work, already vaguely knowing and appreciating that it would be impossible to explain to me in baby Japanese. We passed some time flicking through my handwritten phrasebook (him correcting my Japanese, until I asked about his level of English), then I let slip that I like an izakaya, we drank up, left the bistro and headed off somewhere more earthy for some sake and a chat about why so many Japanese girls pair off with gaijin men, but so rarely gaijin women and Japanese men. My favourite topic. I became immediately fluent.

The last week at work was full of goodbyes, some harder than others. I know I won't see any of these people again and some of them were real favourites of mine. After my last day with Yoshiko, I headed into Tokyo to meet up with Shozo and some his friends. I was tired and resenting the journey, thinking he just wanted to spend time with his mates and have a girl at hand to show off, but his 'mates' were his friends sister and mother and we spent the night at a yatai, an outside izakaya, practising Japanese and eating all sorts of yakitori (lots and lots of offal, which I had to try to explain was something we would ordinarily throw in the bin in Britain). On Tuesday, I met Jerry for yakiniku, but couldn't drag myself from the George so made do with a roast beef sandwich and explained the finer points of seagulling to George's customers in pigeon Japanese. I now know the word for 'spunk' so this is easier than you might think.

I said goodbye to Lisa and Andy the following night and the night after that, Shozo took me to his friend's bistro. Arriving as 'special guest' again, his friend opened us a bottle of Don Perignon as Shozo explained that, in Japan, it's usual to go to high school for three years, but he and his friends had gone for four.

I met up with George on Friday afternoon and found a wonderful French bar I already miss in Ginza. I wish I'd found it before. We were both excited by the small amount of beauty it possesses and which eclipses any glimmer of scenery in Saitama. Sadly, we couldn't go on an all-day bender as I was meeting my old ladies for gay kabuki. First we had a coach ride through nighttime Tokyo, then sukiyaki in an old restaurant in Asakusa before taking in the New Half Show (new halves being newly surgeried transexuals that you have to spot from the real women in the show). My god, what an experience. I was stung with guilt when, in the first dance routine, a gay dancer simulated oral sex on the transvestite, Jennifer, before she then dropped to her knees and mimed a blow job. It did start rude and get better, but I felt for Takako when I thought she'd have to sit through an hour of it. I shouldn't have babied her. Afterwards, they all seemed like it was the best night of their lives.

Japan has been quite a challenge and an experience. I can`t say I`ve enjoyed it, but I`ve laughed too much to say I hate it too. I`ve been out and seen more in the past few weeks than I had before and it`s been great. I am sad that I am coming home before I get to live in Tokyo proper, but I am also quite relieved to be heading back to a far more normal country. Japan has serious issues.

Tokyo nights, Omiya daze

2006-09-18T22:49:00.000+07:00

The keyboard is mightier than the sword. In my hands, at least, because I couldn`t lift a sword. It seems my little missives have been upsetting a friend of mine (and perhaps more!) who thought I was writing about him when complaining about the low-grade male compatriots blighting our country`s image in Japan (this one is about you, but those ones weren`t). I`ve been desperate for company in my time in Japan, but never to the point to actually stooping to spending time with these losers. People who have seen me when I`ve not been paid to be there can generally assume they make the grade and have a Zoe-approved kite mark. Sorry for any confusion or upset. Still, it is hardly the time to be complaining and the kite mark can always be withdrawn.

Rachel came to enjoy my penultimate weekend in Tokyo and we did a fair bit of sight-seeing, perhaps more than I have managed in the past few months alone. On Saturday night, we went into Shibuya to go to a hip hop club and met up with Riaz, Sean and some others, although we only met briefly and stared across a crowded Hub as we couldn`t get a table to fit everyone in. Edwin then somehow convinced everyone to traipse over to Roppongi to meet him to drink JD and coke in the street, although everyone had initially planned to go out in Shibuya. Edwin is silently obstinate and no one so far (aside from, of course, me) has crossed him. I do hope his time comes. He`s a smug little shit. I then forced everyone to go into quite an awful bar which claimed to have a Russian theme, but only had a couple of Eastern European hookers holed up in a corner. It also had a group of young indie lads to whom a pair of Japanese groupies had attached themselves, imagining they were in a bad. One of them tried to tell Yoriko they were in a band too, of course she believed them, but their mate dropped them in it not too much later. She was still smitted with the neckkerchiefs and shaggy hair. I thought they looked like a pack of terriers.

After a couple of hours on Costa del Roppongi watching girls with no brains rump-shake to the death over one fairly kakkoii Japanese boy, before flicking their hair in our faces to warn us off the terriers, we decided to head off to Shibuya. I just couldn`t bear to waste another minute on a low-grade Greek island holiday, so off we went to Shibuya for a night of hip hop in Harlem. Sadly, I had to hand my camera over when we arrived, so I couldn`t snap any of the wide boys on display. I necked with a young judo student who wants to be a PE teacher when he grows up (he was VERY young, though he can legally drink) and he pointed out one of Japan`s best K1 fighters in the club. I tried to surrepticiously take a snap on my camera phone, but just blinded him with the flash and chickened out. I succeded in scaring him downstairs to the dancefloor, so I took the small boy downstairs and introduced him to his hero. We had to wait in the club for the first train, so loafed out at 5am and headed to the convenience store for some sustinence. I also managed to pick up an enormous cardboard box outside the store, the binmen taking it away refusing to let me have the dirty one and giving me a far cleaner one to cart back to Omiya. Yoriko was a bit bemused by me making a spectacle of myself, but it paid off. I can now pack almost all my worldly goods into one box. I can also fit a nice Japanese umbrella in there, which I was hoping for. They are far nicer than British ones.

On Sunday, we flitted between Shibuya and Shinjuku, where I dragged my laptop only to be told that I didn`t have a virus, I just didn`t know how to use the thing. Fortunately, my little beauty is very light, so it didn`t matter too much. We passed a street festival in Shibuya, which was a bit random as it`s usually one of the liveliest places in Tokyo. In the midst of the throng, we spotted some boys in thongs, very common at Japanese festivals and something that no one has yet been able to explain. I can understand the desire to throw off every item that decency allows in the Japanese summer heat, but why keep on your jacket? Rachel also got to lift the cart, a kind man who looked very much like a Dr Suess baddie ushering her in and pushing his friends out to make way.

On Monday, I broke the news to Yoshiko that I was leaving, which sparked tears. She was a bit emotional already as last week she`d been home to mark the anniversary of her father`s death. She travelled back to her home town to pray and visit his grave, something she generally can`t do as her family live so far away. I also told Mina, who was lovely about it and is trying to take the day off work to drive me to the airport. I have only met her a handful of times, but she was insisting on playing some part of my exit strategy. She also treated me to a fantastic meal at my favourite izakaya and told me a story about her friend from Okinawa who blames her move into Tokyo`s polluted atmosphere for the sudden sprouts of nasal hair she`s suffering! I`ll miss Mina, I think she and Yoriko could have been great friends and it`s a shame didn`t have longer to get to know them - though they might have ended up getting on my nerves, most people out here have at some point.

One of the teachers I work with has spent every available minute in the past week boring me until my ears bleed, boasting about all manner of insignificant things, from how lucky he was to go to a grammar school, to describing how he teaches every class. I was vaguely interested when he first told me these things, but he has yet to add anything new to his loop and it is driving me mad. Teaching seriously exaggerates a person`s sense of their own importance. It could be an act of kindness. I wonder if he is patronising me so painfully so I don`t miss Japan when I get home. I can`t see that I will. A few people seem to be conspiring to make my last few days as annoying as possible.

Not Jerry though. Last night I popped into the George to say hello and ended up staying until too late, drinking pink champagne and lamenting the state of Brits abroad woth George. The night was fairly hazy as the gin and champagne mixed, but I vaguely remember me and George teasing him about wearing his cowboy hat for riding on Sunday. If you`re reading this, Jerry, you have to.

Today was obviously quite difficult workwise, but the kids have tests all week. I`ve been threatening to deduct points for talking and been sitting down writing letters. There are so many ways to skive in teaching, it`s genius.

Hungry Horse

2006-09-15T19:48:00.000+07:00

It`s been an eventful week, though perhaps not in a good way.

It started well. I finally got round to visiting Raju at home on Sunday. I also got to meet his cats. One has recently had an operation, so is having to maneouvre with a big cone around her neck. Her head and food bowl disappear underneath it at mealtime, so dinnertime is showtime. It was the highlight of my visit, though playing frisbee eratically in the park, learning `spastic` in Japanese (I have sadly forgotten `I throw like a...` and none of my friends will teach me), playing with Mame, his very smelly dog, and eating a cheese and Branston sandwich were all very enjoyable too.

Afterwards, I met Lisa and her boyfriend and had yakitori in a working man`s izakaya. It was as close to spit and sawdust as you get in Japan, everything very basic and full of workmen, always a good sign of cheap authentic food. We were limited with what we could eat as the menu had no pictures, but we muddled through with our collective Japanese. I am very glad that I made the effort to learn the names of my favourite yakitori. I managed to get the same drink as a customer on another table, though I asked for `his drink` rather than one like his, which the waiter politely ignored. I am quite used to be corrected by waiting staff - they love to contradict, even when I know I am right.

Having my eye on a move to Tokyo, I`ve been taking my camera everywhere recently. On Monday, Kota and Megumi were singing a very popular song and doing little dances, so I tried to snap them, but they suddenly seized up. I did finally managed to convince Kota to go for it by offering the whole class the chance to win extra points for their teams if they performed the SMAP routine while I took photos. I did also teach them a bit of English (only because I knew the receptionist could hear us singing a Japanese song), but not much and it`s usually not very useful. Hironobu, Masahiro and Yusuke were amazed this week when I taught them `I`m bored` as a response to `how are you?`. Far more useful than `it`s a green bag`.

Tuesday night, I met up with Yukako and Yoko and went to what we thought was a yakiniku restaurant, but it turned out to be a nikuashi restaurant - raw meat. Somehow it is a little harder to stomach than raw fish. I let the girls order for me and a dish of nikusashi arrived along with a far more sensible crab and tomato salad that I had drooled at on another table. The heart was tolerable, the tongue tough and the venison `horse`. Yukako had made a mistake and got her doubutsu (animals) confused. I`d already eaten it at this point, it was fine, not particularly special and not distinguishable from beef. It was fine, you wouldn`t have to be overly hungry to stomach it. Still, somehow, what with my trip with Jerry pony-trekking up a mountain cresting the horizon, and cows not being quite so nice to look at or staring in overly-sentimental TV fables, I feel a bit bad about tucking into Beauty.

After the horse supper, we headed to a different restaurant for some Nihonshu and Yukako mentioned her drive home, so Yoko and I badgered and badgered her about drink-driving, me getting as melodramatic and insistant as I feel comfortable being with a Japanese friend, but Yukako just laughed and tried to lie about getting a taxi and walking to her boyfriend`s house. She lies like a ten-year-old boy, so it was very easy to catch her out, but not so easy to stop her getting into her car. I should have rugby tackled her. Although she is fun and in many ways a very kind friend, she is also deeply, unpleasantly selfish and thinks nothing of risking other people`s lives or cheating on her boyfriend. This week, she is considering dumping him because he is going to Canada for three weeks at Christmas and she believes this is too long for her to be left. After dating him for four months, she still is undecided about whether she likes him, but I guess she just needs an average seeing to more than most. Fortunately, the decision of whether to call off our friendship is out of our hands as I`m off home soon. I have to go back to England in a couple of weeks, so it`s sayonara Yukako, Shane and Japan.

I`m not too bothered. It was starting to do my head in again. I know my way around Omiya and my planned move to Tokyo was making me feel a bit sentimental about it, but I don`t feel much affection for the people who live here so it`s not going to be much of a wrench, my better friends have either deserted me for their new-found girlfriends or started compulsive teaching, spewing out boring and patronising daitribes at the slightest provocation. This is the peril of being a teacher, particularly in Japan and especially with a meek Japanese girlfriend hanging on your every word. It will be nice to be able to associate with normal people again. I will miss two people. One, of course, is George. Last night, he set up my tab and gave me all the gin and tonic I could ask for then shut up early to go to karaoke. There`s nothing like a blast of Dolly Parton to take the blues away.

I`m not sure if I`ll miss Mike. Sadly, I got the after shot, he`s had a haircut. Before he was far more Def Leppard.

Yukata be kidding

2006-09-08T12:24:00.000+07:00

Dailymotion blogged video
South Park - Crocodile Hunter
Video sent by PigLips

Saitama and the world has been rocked by debate this week. Was Steve Irwin a genius who brought conservationism to the common man or just a git who dangled his kids over crocs` mouths in juvenile stunts? Undecided, I thought I should still pay him a small tribute.

Yesterday, JeDoS visited me in Ageo so I could sign my second year contract, so now I have another 12 months of work and a three year visa. I also have a decreasing enthusiasm for work for the man who delivered the paper. This Sunday, I was hoping to go on a yukata cruise with Lisa, Chantal and a few others, along with some Shane staff and a few more random strangers. We would have toured Tokyo bar in our yukata, enjoying a subsidised trip and Japan`s finest invention, nomihodai (all you can drink) for ¥2500. As it is now, my boss claims to have not seen either of my emails about the trip and so didn`t reserve me any places and we`re not going. Lisa`s boyfriend had re-arranged a shift so he could come and we had variously been plotting how to coax our Japanese friends into helping us dress. All for nothing.

As small as the problem may be, it is the last in a long line of disappoint-
ments and cock-ups by my boss at my expense; the most serious being him not explaining that `compass-
ionate leave` to Shane is set out in the same way as sick pay, in that we have to pay for the privilege, so I`m down by about ¥68,000 this month because of my recent trip home. The company line is clearly more out of line here, but when you have things on your mind, you are not going to be checking small print and I know every boss I`ve had previously would have explained this to me, whether to benefit me or to take a swipe at the policy. He either assumed I would know or forgot. He hasn`t apologised for this - I think a litigiously-aware silence - but that would have cooled my fury immediately. We all make mistakes, after all...

It is a peril of the EFL world that your bosses are little more than reluctant, over-promoted teachers (a workshy breed in themselves), most of whom have been forced to rise up through the ranks because of their spouses and mortgages and not because of any desire or ability to manage. My own boss allegedly resisted rising any further than his previous post as best he could, but the sudden departure of the previous DoS forced his hand, and the salary was kind of handy too. I have requested a change of districts, partly to experiment with some new management (I still hold a torch for the previous DoS, as neurotic and unpopular as he was, mainly because He Got Things Done - sadly, not always things that were welcomed by the teachers beneath him), but my mind is racing with all sorts of procrastinational cliches: better the devil you know; the grass is always greener; out of the frying pan...

It has made me realise how spoiled I was working in Britain with people who were vaguely interested in being decent managers. This wasn`t a skill that blessed everyone I`ve worked for. One line manager was so absent from my working life it was only in my second job that I realised that she should have been someone I knew from places other than the pub, where I generally avoided her bloated, whining mass as best I could anyway. I`ve also had a job where my main responsibility was keeping my manager`s pending breakdown at bay. It doesn`t seem to matter so much in the comfort of an office environment, where you can moan and grumble to other staff before distracting yourself with more interesting and pending matters, like regular updates on reality TV from workshy colleagues who spent all their time surfing entertainment sites for gossip. (Better and worse than it sounds).

The TTA most definitely raised my expectations to an unmanageable level This morning I couldn`t keep my frustration at yet another let-down to myself and so spouted to the ADoS. My second attempt at using him as a sympethic ear. Instead of being led into a small office for a serious listening to, I was rushed off the phone and thanked, with arid sarcasm, for my candour. In EFL, there is no problem, as long as the students are paying up and my students most definitely are. To give the ADoS his due, he did then try to firefight by calling the cruise company to book my mates some places, but they`re all booked up. Lisa and are probably going to go to an izakaya instead, which could be just as good and won`t involve Raju`s mother-in-law dressing me.

After work, I went to meet Jerry for a beef sandwich and a Japanese for horse-riding lesson at the George. Among other things, I learned the Japanese for walk, trot, canter, gallop, stop, turn, jump and help. Jerry learned a few Japanese riding words too. I don`t know if he`s ever been on a horse. His previous allusions to being an experienced rider are quickly being revealed as weak attempts to impress. He had to finally admit last night that he had ridden for around two hours in the past few years and hasn`t gone much faster than a walk. This was brilliant for me and George, who spent yet another evening Jerry-baiting. It`s a lot like bullying and perhaps something I should stop, but oh so tempting when he gets caught out so easily. I ought to be nicer to him though, he`s found an amazing and quite affordable stable. We have a 40 minute lesson `to relax on a horse`, according to the brochure, then ride out around a mountain. I`m a bit scared of this bit, as it does look quite high, but I`ll hopefully be able to secrete my camera somewhere in my jodphurs without attracting too much attention.

George pulled out his Darth Vader mask, which we all tried on, but no one wore it as well as Ken. Vader should wear bonnets more. We practised some more `bad` Japanese and I impressed everyone with Yoriko`s `special needs`. I like it best as it uses `desu` and not `arimasu`, so it`s `he is special needs`, not `he has...`. Later, Pat danced.

The girl on the train is wearing a t-shirt that said `I`m built like a brick shithouse`. I don`t think anyone else could wear it so well.

Japan`s underberry

2006-09-06T22:08:00.000+07:00

I started this entry when I was in a worse mood, now I`m quite keen on Japan as I`m in an izakaya mood and have just had a lovely Japanese lesson with Marikosan, the undervalued receptionist (all Shane receptionists are, but Mariko seems very special) at Koga. For one, she is teaching me for free, claiming it is good practise for her future career as a Japanese teacher, but having been through a similar process myself, I know two minutes in front of a class of real students will far outweigh anything she could learn by practising on me. I haven`t told her yet. Along with this, I got home to find a package of internet shopping perched by my door, unstolen by human hands. I know Britain is not awash with thieving vermin, and will berate any guide-quoting Japanese tourist who claims otherwise, but it`s nice that this happens because postmen know that this is safe and are not just being lazy and shirking off taking it back to the depot. I`ve also had a few emails about apartments, so hopefully the stress of potentially being homeless by the end of the month will be alleviated enough for me to sleep tonight and the black bags under my eyes will go out with the gomi in the morning.

My home viewing for this evening has not been quite so pleasurable. I saw the same drama last week, and its plot centres around a man`s boss raping the man`s wife. However, the `drama` unfolds not from the ensuing court case, but from the resulting domestics as the wife disapproves of her husband accepting the sly boss`s backhanders. The boss performs the deed and heads off to a hostess bar, then the disrupted family are left bereft of trust as the wife tries to work out how the husband got hold of that very expensive new briefcase... Rape fantasies are big business here. Many of my male friends have complained of `friends of theirs` watching Japanese porn only to find the important bits pixellated (childlike breasts and any flesh that isn`t revealed by a school uniform, which is not much) or that through the pixellation the very clear outline of a man violently attacking an unwilling, childlike victim can be seen. Sex on TV rarely gets beyond some samurais peeping into a women`s onsen, though the women are still unwilling (and pure and worth attacking, I assume).

On Monday, I was speaking to Yoshiko about the prevalence of infidelity in Japan, possibly not a sensitive conversation, given that she is a Japanese wife whose husband is most likely out at every opportunity spending his pocket money on hostesses. She explained that men`s attitudes to infidelity, and the period samurai dramas depiction of onsen perving, stem from long ago, when the Shogun would spot a young lovely he fancied, and whether she was up for it or married or whatever, he`d have her dragged into his harem. Later, he`d stroll in wearing white kimono and point at the lucky woman and she`d be prepared for him.

This has been adjusted more recently to companies providing prostitutes for men on company away days. A colleague`s wife went on a team-bonder and, while getting into her PE kit, heard from the men`s changing rooms the unmistakable grunts of four or five prostitutes servicing the 20 or 30 male staff. She decided to quit her company, though she would have to be of a certain age to hope to find re-employment elsewhere. The saying here is that women are like Christmas cake, no good after the 25th.

These days, modern Japan offers women a lot for tolerating this gross objectification, like their husband`s whole salary. He hands it over on pay day and is given back an allowance, which he will promptly squander on other women. The wives must have some inkling of this, it is so widespread (think everyone, everywhere, and with no shame), but they give the men a budget that allows for hostessing. I`d give mine sandwiches, yoghurt and bus fare.

In the midst of all this, Princess Kiko has given the Imperial Palace the male heir it has been longing for, allowing the Government to pause the debate over legislation changing the line of succession to perhaps allow the Crown Prince and Princess Masako`s daughter to ascend the throne. Kiko`s son has leap-frogged over her depressive sister-in-law`s offspring, Aiko, who had prompted the debate. Though only for now, as some see this as a perfect opportunity to have the debate in a less personal way discussing whether Aiko, Mako or Kako will make a better leader.

Most of these discussions have been fuelled, not only by the ruling elite`s preference for a male leader, but the country`s dislike for Masako. Her critics demanding she and the Crown Prince divorce. Princess Masako was initially a very successul diplomat and was reluctant to marry the Prince as she didn`t want to give up her career. Eventually he asked too many times for her to refuse him politely again and they married and, according to my Daily Mailian students, fell in love. He was already a bit stalkerish long before then from what I can work out. She then, disappointingly, gave birth to a girl and developed serious depression as the country turned against her. At the end of last year, she braved her first public appointment in a couple of years, having been locked away dealing with her issues or leaning very closely to her husband if she ever did leave the Imperial Palace. Yukiko, the student who no longer thinks George Michael is cool, severely disapproves of Masako`s inability to face the public whilst apparently frolicking (in Japanese terms, this is a muted, pained smile) with her friends. Web forums have flourished with disdain for the poor woman who had tried to avoid this lifestyle as best she could and been calling for their divorce so a real woman can produce a real heir. For now, her sister-in-law has taken a little of the heat off her.

It`s hard to say in the same passage that I enjoy Japan again. You do need to experience it for a long time to see it objectively. I suspect my own positive spin comes from these elements slowly becoming less shocking and allowing me to focus again on the nicer bits. However, the position of women in Japan is grossly inferior to lesser, older men and it has made me fall completely in love with Britain. Many people here say they could never go back home, but I just don`t understand why. On a material level, life can be very enjoyable here, but you have to be blind and dumb to not find the values at work beneath Japanese society chokingly offensive. I eat out more times a week than I used to in a month, and for ugly or unfortunate men, there are other benefits, but there is far more respect for others in Britain. Even counting the bullies, racists, louts and thugs, there is a widespread belief in society that this type of behaviour is wrong. There are rules to stop it, even if people choose to flout them.

This is why I have spates of absolutely HATING the British men who come here and exploit it. Married women are not allowed to work (they are taxed at an exceptionally high rate if they try), are brought up to feel they amount to whatever their Estee Lauder makes them and they (and, to be fair, the men too) should never, ever complain. British men who come here know how wrong this is, it`s far worse for them to milk it than the men who were brought up with it as their normality. Our lot should know better.

You should also know that Stitch is fashionable and Chicken Little is not. As told to me by Miyu today. She is 15, bless her.

Where did you get that hat?

2006-09-01T10:32:00.000+07:00

I had a small eureka moment this week when a very small earthquake gave one of my classes a little jiggle: I`m a responsible adult and have to take care of small Japanese children, including calmly ushering them under a table should the Great Kanto Earthquake repeat itself, as it has been due to for the past decade. They know far more about how to handle them than I do so I might take advantage of some of the earthquake training events that are taking place to mark the earthquake`s anniversary. They have them every September and October, and you can go in an earthquake simulator.

This ludicrous chancer has volunteered to language exchange with me. His pose annahilates any doubts about language exchange being a euphimism for blind dating. I had applied to around 10 exchanges in a panic when my Japanese classes closed for summer, and he is one of the five (men only) replies I received. I`ve met one of them a couple of times and he seems to give a passable attempt at language exchange, the first time I managed to ask why the Beatles are bigger here than in Britai, but he couldn`t answer in either language. There`s still a sniff of unwelcome potential romance; Friday night he insisted on paying for dinner (not exactly a problem, but a strong hint of a date in a country where men are very accustomed to paying for female company) and we generally spoke in English because I was too tired to bother. He has also mentioned a girlfriend, but fidelity is literally an alien concept here. Itsuma, who gives his job as `guard man` looks like quite a playa and probably has three girlfriends already, and could be fishing for a fourth. He was after a photo of me from the off, but maybe he just wanted to show off his hat.

Last night Jerry and I discussed horse-riding over some very good yakitori. We had to traipse around a bit to find somewhere to eat as everywhere was booked for wedding parties, but I think it was for the best. The place we went to was great. We`re off to the mountains for a trail lesson at the end of the month. Horse-riding is an even more expensive pursuit in Japan than it is in Britain as you have to join clubs and then pay a nominal fee for each ride. The joining fee can be anything from ¥10,000 up, though this wouldn`t be out of the question. Clubs in Tokyo proper charge far, far more. We then headed to the George as I wanted a bit of impartial employment advice, but neither of us can remember getting home. I just got an email from Jerry asking `how did I get to my home`. I had been hoping to ask him the same question. I guess we both fell out of the same taxi, but what happened before we got into it is anyone`s guess.

Today I had an extremely tiring session at Cafe Lamp. Why these people come to `conversation time` with no intention of speaking, I don`t know. I was too tired to think of a topic, so turned the tables on the students and asked them to come up with some questions. This went quite well, and very interestingly, on the more advanced table, with one wacky boy asking why it is only in Britain that we have the insult `sheepshagger` and who also asked another student his opinion of necrophilia, but the beginner`s table was stumped and too shy to venture anything. I tried a new angle, by asking why they wanted to learn English, but in spite of claiming to want to use it to make friends, none of them dared ask another a question, until a `maverick` from Osaka asked the table if they had attended any horse-races and finally they warmed up and got going.

Afterwards, there was the usual faffing over lunch arrangements, before we headed off for Thai and Lisa came to meet us. I was so pleased as she got to see Graeme the JET Kaori has been stalking for the past year. I had warned Lisa before that he was a bit ridiculous and she spotted it immediately. The Japanese just think he`s cool, but he clearly isn`t. This is him with me and Aki last November. He has since let the bleach grow out and only spikes his hair on special occasions, but his general demeanour is much the same. Ultimately, he`s a decent, well brought-up boy, but seems ashamed of this and retardedly desperate to shock (as is Aki, much to her mother`s despair).

Lisa and I finally managed to shake Graeme off (being a JET he gets less time with other gaijin than us and bursts with English when he has a chance to speak at his usual pace) and did a lot of very depressing window shopping. I couldn`t resist a brooch from the second-hand shop of my friend in the Pepsi Cola dress from the George`s mod night. I still don`t know her name, but hopefully we`re going to a mod night in Tokyo together next month. Lisa and mooched around, tried checking out boys using Loft`s music studio, stalked my hairdresser a little bit, looked in shops we couldn`t afford and tried on glasses.

It was lovely. So, so easy. No slowing my speech or downgrading my diction, no need to explain reference points or politely deny my dislikes. I hadn`t realised how much hard work it can be spending time without real friends. She`s someone I would most definitely get on with back home (suddenly the world`s biggest compliment), but I like her all the more here as she is such a rarity here. Most gaijin here are men, and most of those are losers, and I don`t enjoy spending time with them so much. It`s not because I feel I am better than them (I`m a bit of a geek myself, though some here do epitomise the term `loser`), but they do have a tiresome perspective on life and an essence of bitterness that no number of up-dated Japanese shags can quite extinguish.

The girls are generally Australian or Canadian, and brilliant fun, but they don`t provide a full friendship service. Partying is an ever-ready attribute, you dance and drink until the sun comes up and they will never tire, but if you want a quiet chat about something boring and sensible, don`t go to an Australian. Canadians bridge the gap between Britain and Australia, so are generally better (some openly admit to studying Japanese), but most Australians think it is soft to show any signs of intellectuality or to think and not do. This is why sport is such a national treasure there. I was told off recently by Mike for referring to them as half-people, but congratulated by Roisin for the same thing, which is worth a little more in my eyes. Kate, as I have said before, is a lovely (and still sport-loving) exception. Having had almost a year`s drought of mindless girl`s chat out here (aside from the occasional oasis from Rachel breezing in from Osaka), talking nothingy rubbish with Lisa today was so utterly normal and enjoyable.

After loafing around we headed towards the station to find this trio busking with considerably more style than you could expect in Leicester Square tube. They had brought their own generator, mics and amps, but had to mill around and blend into the crowd as the police ran over to move them on. The started packing up slowly, let the police get back to the koban and started up again, their groupies blowing bubbles at them as they sang. The were very boy-bandy and I could feel the air palpitating with teenage hormones as the girls swooned along with them. The guy in the middle could easily have gone solo, but his nerves gave him worse shakes than Parkinsons.

I`ve just finished watching the first X-Men movie on TV, which was immediately followed by a programme about a very small Chinese girl with a home-cut pudding basin haircut. At the moment, she is eating chicken from the whole leg, the claw scratchingly close to her face as she tucked into the anaemic-skinned boiled thigh. I think I might have nightmares tonight.

For all my unexpected enthusiasm for Japanese boys, my heart belongs to a Banksy.
http://news.independent.co.uk/uk/this_britain/article1325440.ece

The importance of being girlish

2006-08-28T20:04:00.000+07:00

George opened the doors to his new bar on Saturday night. The lure of free champagne and chicken nuggets was irresistable so I took advantage of being in Ikebukero to meet up with my brand new friend, Yoriko, who works in the area. She`s a bit of a muso so I might finally get a real introduction to the Japanese music scene (`shit` according to her). I tried to prise some bad Japanese out of her, then regretted using the word `manko` in Ken`s earshot as he pointed to demonstrate what it is (not something a nice young lady wants highlighted in any circumstances). It served me right for showing off my already extensive `bad Japanese` vocabulary, I suppose. Yoriko did teach me `special needs`, which I intend to mutter into the ear of the next ojiisan that shoves me out of a queue for being young, female and foreign. Yoriko and Mayumi had to head home early (Tokyo`s last trains are laughable - they stop long before the bars do, along with ATMs, which have opening hours). We all got the last train back to Omiya and continued into the small hours there drinking shot-sized concoctions of worrying colours and bullying Jerry into moonwalking and trotting around the bar.

Last night I had to drag the resulting hangover to Kate`s leaving do. She`ll most definitely be missed, being an utter diamond in this desolate rough. The other Nova teachers tried to bully me into drinking and dancing, both of which I refused, nursing my head and an orange and lemonade, and holding back from the dancefloor close to a very kakkoii Japanese boy. I never quite managed to speak to him properly (we started three interrupted conversations, but never got so far as introductions), but whilst lurking in his vicinity I got speaking to a refreshingly normal Mancunian girl. She has offered to drive me to a retail outlet not too far from Omiya (I never dreamed Clarks and Next could be so desirable) and is looking for someone to hang around with on a Sunday every now and again. I had been seriously worried what I would do without Kate, so this is an enormous relief. It won`t make her any less missed, but it might keep me slightly more sane. Lisa is also friends with the kakkoii Japanese boy, it seems, who headed off with her and her boyfriend for the last train with a deeply, cornily, meaningful `mata ne`. Until next time...

It made me realise just how valuable, not only female, but British female company is, something I took for granted to the point of almost shunning it in England. In a brief and fairly superficial chat (centring around our acceptance of Japanese hankies as things of great use and wonder and how close we have come to beating our ADHD-suffering students), it was immediately obvious that she had a wonderfully British view on things. It was undefineably different from everyone else`s and very familiar: homely. I now have a good group of party girls from Nova, but they`re all from Commonwealth countries and still not quite what I`m used to. I`ve been desperate to meet some girls to go on the lash with, but Lisa has that incredibly rare quality of being someone I would happily associate with at home. There aren`t many of those around.

Being a woman landed so far from home and having to build an almost instanteous circle of friends, you find yourself either lowering your standards, spending much of your time alone or wanting to cling on desperately to anyone who appears half-normal. Some of the guys out here may experience it too, but less so as they have that ever-ready back-up of an eager Japanese girlfriend to act as guide, companion, teacher and emotional prop. What this situation does to girls is make meeting new friends as politically-charged as meeting a potential date (though that is far less intimidating as there are so many more of those). You don`t want to act like a mad loner, but being too casual could mean you miss the opportunity of meeting a decent friend. And it`s so weird asking a girl for her phone number. When I did ask Lisa for hers, I was almost as nervous as if I was fishing for a date, though this was slightly more important. What made me feel considerably better about the whole thing was her reaction and, later, a very drunk Lauren chasing me out of the pub door asking if I wouldn`t mind terribly if she got my number from Chantal, if that was OK, if I didn`t mind, could she, if that was OK...

Showing me the way to get home

2006-08-25T17:22:00.000+07:00

Recently, I`ve been reconsidering my move into Tokyo. Omiya seems more like home than Dullsville, so my laziness had me pondering a happy, suburban future in Saitama. Not for long though, I didn`t come to Japan to live in the suburbs. I`ve decided to investigate moving into the Big City a bit more, spurred on by my increasing boredom and frustration at having a nihilist for a boss. His unquestioning acceptance that life and Lipscombe are shit doesn`t hold with my own world view (though parts overlap).

Before I can completely let go of the security of the Japanese Croydon, I thought I`d check out what was available for what price, so today I met Kenji and went to an apartment letting agency in Sasazuka to do just that. I feared cockroach-ridden shoeboxes with mould-spattered bathrooms and the pervasive scent of dead tenant. Overall, everything was fairly clean, presentable and considerably bigger than the company accommodation I`m currently paying over the odds for. The idea of having my own little home ten minutes` walk from Shinjuku is massively exciting and, unlike flat-hunting in London, every apartment had a certain appeal and it was only my unyielding fickleness that swiped a couple of the wish list. They are only marginally more expensive than my current apartment and considerably larger, though the key money is a huge obstacle.

Japanese landlords have somehow devised a wonderously beneficial system to line their pockets. Tenants usually provide one or two months` deposit up front, along with your first month`s rent and this crippling, non-refundable gift - usually two months` rent again, dubbed key money. Money you will never see again, it`s just a gift to your new landlord. It is this which puts most gaijin in guesthouses (which I am now loathe to do, having seen one amazing apartment in Sasazuka that I just fell in love with) and some salarymen on benches while they save up their spare yen for key money. The apartment I fell for was around ten minutes from Sasazuka station, had a huge kitchen (my current kitchen is a sink and plastic hob in the hallway, so as soon as I slipped my shoes off in the genkan I just knew), a separate tatami bedroom, a huge loft space that could double as a spare room and a small private balcony. (Kenji is standing near the genkan of the first place we saw, which I dismissed over its bedsitness - I do not want a stove in my bedroom.) All I need to do now is cobble together the ¥485,800 for the first month and its mine.

Kenji has vowed to look for places online that only need one month up front. Without him, I would most definitely be Omiya-ridden. He and David are very new friends and I was initially cynical of their exceeding niceness. They most definitely aren`t trying to get me in the sack, so I was confused about what they might be up to. Why would anyone go out of their way to be so incredibly kind to someone they barely know? We`ve met a handful of times, but they have double-handedly restored my ever-decreasing faith in human nature. They have taken me under their wing completely. David quickly recommended a good letting agency for me to use (some are a little gaijin-phobic, to say the least) and readily offered Kenji`s assistance in dealing them, something that only threatened a small squabble because Kenji didn`t have the chance to do it himself. They have slyly denied the genuine cost of bills, refused my money when I catch them out at this and turned a blind eye to my greed to insist I only pay a small portion of what I genuinely owe in a wonderfully Marxist levelling of wealth and are generally being good in ways I haven`t experienced from men who aren`t after getting their hands on my chocolates. Hideously, while writing this, I am still pondering what the catch is. Maybe they want me to harvest their baby.

Feeling hot, hot, hot

2006-08-24T20:41:00.000+07:00

I`ve just read the most absurd story of the summer on BBC Online. If it were April, I`d dismiss it as a joke. Tokyo Metro, which advertises soft porn and hostess bars with wanton disregard for its female passengers, has finally overturned its decision to show nude pictures of a pregnant and allegedly `over-stimulating` Britney Spears. This in a country that has men flicking through titty shots between stations and posters dangling from train carriages touting scantily clad women and their costings. Japan either has a wicked eye for irony or is utterly blind.

Maybe I will finally be chickaned after all.

Nothing much has happened since Kingsley`s departure. I imagine he is basking in the relative cool of Thailand`s tropical heat, while Japan sweats into the concrete. If you have a choice, DO NOT come to Japan in the summer, it is a hideous place right now (though better than winter, when I felt like I was living in a squat). The water I boiled for breakfast is still hot. It`s 2am. I don`t understand how people don`t die. Given the topical over-awareness of the type of people teaching attracts (if he didn`t get Jon Bennet, I definitely wanted her), it is wrong to say I am sweating like a a paedophile in a playground, but it`s not far off. I lose my own body weight in fluids every night and wake up feeling hung over, my dehydration is so severe.

And teaching does attract some weirdoes. I`ve been told that on my birthday I dubbed a colleague `Peter the Paedophile` (disappointingly unoriginal, but oh so tempting) and started a spate of name-calling amongst my invited guests, but `Peter the Paedophile` couldn`t have a better job, was that his preferred target. I think his is actually closer to childlike, blind-drunk Japanese wives, who are downtrodden and grateful. I do often worry when my little Ayano demands that I pick her up so she can draw on the board, or insists that she sit in my lap, or just lunges into a hug because she hasn`t seen me for a while just what rich pickings there could be for the wrong-minded (am I one to even consider this?!).

Thought I`d stick in a picture of me and Jery celebrating England`s long forgotten victory over a team I can no longer remember. If it wasn`t Portugal, does it even matter?

Kingsley in Kanto

2006-08-20T16:18:00.000+07:00

I had to say goodbye to my favourite student on Friday. Yuka is jetting off to study fashion in New York. Brilliantly and coincidentally, our last few lessons were on future plans, so we spent the hour discussing what she wanted to do when she arrived, with me occasionally remembering to correct her `wills` and `going tos`. Without really looking, I spotted an appointment on her itinerary and asked what she`d be doing at that time, only to have to retract it as she went rouged and spluttered. At lunchtime on Wednesday, she is watching a mock trial, entitled `Drunk Sex or Date Rape`. She is going to learn so much more than good hemming.

My apartment has been like Shinjuku station this week, so many visitors. This fellow popped round on Thursday morning, eerily turning his over-sized head and watching me through the mosquito screen while I waited and hoped he would move onto someone else`s clothes pegs. I don`t believe he was more scared of me than I was of him. I do not slowly tilt my head in a threatening way or rub my legs together like I am about to pounce at the slightest uwelcome movement.

Kingsley was rather more welcome, though didn`t make it to Omiya or anywhere near my laundry. We exchanged Asian experiences over yakitori and soba in Gonpachi (the same place Mike took me and Koizumi took Bush not so long ago). He`s been in China learning martial arts from Shaolin Monks, a bit more impressive than me teaching Taisei `cow` (which he ignored, far more interested in shouting `chinpo` - penis - at the cow`s udders) and Yumiko the `L for Loser` sign (though vitally important for undermining smug gaijin). Again, the strangest thing from having a visitor from home was that it was not in the least bit strange, not even for having not seen each other for three years, getting mixed up on our meeting points and not knowing if it would happen at all was a good technique to distract any strangeness.

We strolled around Ginza on Friday, while I offloaded my many anti-Japanese prejudices and Kingsley sized them up against the Chinese. As a mistreated minority here, I sympathise and side with the Chinese in an unnecessary `all foreigners together` seige mentality, but as a man on the inside, Kingsley sees as them differently. When you`ve seen enough people in one country shitting by the side of the road, I guess it can colour your opinions of them. When my students have described the Chinese as being dirty, I have been sceptical - the Chinese are viewed much like the Germans or French are in Britain (or worse, the Welsh). Hearing Kingsley, who has less reason to be prejudiced beyond imagining they would be much the same as the Japanese or the Koreans, say much the same and give more gross examples of their behaviour, I have to give it more credence. A few students have sneerily complained of the Chinese spitting, but I have seen so many Japanese men clearing their sinuses in the gutter that I needed Kingsley`s additional explanation that the Chinese do this in restaurants for people to then come behind and mop up.

Before we even had time for the yakitori to settle, we headed back to Kingsley`s hotel for him to change and us to head to a sushi restaurant recommended in an Anthony Bourdain book. Kingsley had the hotel concierge write down the restaurant`s address in Japanese, a stroke of unintended genius as I put us on the wrong tube line (why did he tell us to go to the furthest station when we can just use this one?!) and we popped up in the wrong part of Ginza and spent longer strolling around trying to find it, building up the courage to ask locals for directions, running in and out of shops and hotels that might not consider it a business rival and even getting a cab before finally asking a young boy drumming up custom in the street for a competitor who passed us on to a young girl who led us up to a door we would never have found alone. All in all, it took us longer to locate the place than we spent inside.

Not being the flashest restaurant, the staff seemed a little amused at our having made a reservation and lavished us with unnecessary amounts of attention. Muted by greed and indecisiveness, we asked the waiter to recommend something for us - we got wonderfully refreshing cups of iced sake and a spread of the freshest cuts of sashimi from nearby Tsukiji fish market, octopus, some unidentified white fish, something sardiney thiat Kingsley fell in love with and some amazingly succulent, meaty scallops. It was all just an apetiser though, as we headed off to Wara Wara`s in Shibuya for some bright lights and a more familiar menu. We tried out some more sake, but I had to worry about the last train and my early start with Saburo, a new intimidatingly academic student, in the morning.

We had to skip our Saturday night shabu shabu in Shinjuku, which would have been a greater shame had I not squeezed a small tour of the host and hostess bars on Friday. We stood in the street gazing up at billboards of rank Japanese men who are paid to spend evenings wtih the onely singles of Toyko. An array of wonky Duran Duran wannabes fill bar after bar in Shinjuku and command enormous fees just to save Tokyoites too busy to date the shame of a dateless night. Hostess bars function in much the same way, and my awareness of the Great British Hen Night convinces me these men are just as goosed as their female counterparts. At what point hosting becomes whoring, I don`t know.

He`s Shinkansenning to Kyoto this evening, so we could only meet for lunch today. We tried to get something nice in the plushest department store in Ginza, but sat down in the tea shop rather than the restaurant so enjoyed some Jasmine Earl Grey and split a mango dessert before heading up the road for yakiniku, my favourite food ever, though Korean, not Japanese. One of the best things about having Kingsley to visit was his shared enthusiasm for anything and everything edible. Japan is a wonderfully rewarding country for the culinary adventurous. It can cater for those who are more timid in their tastes, but if you aren`t prepared to at least try, you are missing out on some seriously special experiences. Friday`s sashimi was proof. Yakiniku is hardly a problem for the squeamish, it`s a table-top barbeque. A meal and an activity all rolled into one. The best part of today`s meal was the beef, but some might skip the super-spicy kimchi and tongue and squid are not to everyone`s liking, but you start with the tongue and build up, with every taste bursting with richer and more wonderful flavours. It was amazing. I could eat it forever.

After Kingsley headed off for Kyoto, I got the Metro to Harajuku and checked out the shrine and the freaks. The Meiji Shrine is a rich one, you can judge its wealth from the barrels of sake that have been donated to the monks. I had wanted to look at the flower garden, but couldn`t be bothered to walk, then found myself doing a huge lap around the aesthetically displeasing woods just to end up where I started. I did get some snaps of the goths and Lolitas who congregate there at weekends and are happy, if you don`t mind asking, posing for photos. As, by asking for a photo, you are at a more basic level, telling these people they are freaks, I always feel awkward asking, but am more than happy to snap away. I also, with a worse sense of bullying voyeurism, got sight of a Lolita tranny strolling up Takeshita Dorii with a parasoll and black lace gloves and spent more time and energy than is pleasant or healthy trying to stealthily take a snap, before feeling grossly disappointed in myself when I spotted him scuttling up the train platform away from the gasping open mouths of the other travellers.

Now I am boxed into my apartment, boarded up against the enormous cockroach I confronted on my way to put the gomi out (trying to swack it off the building with a pathetic swing of my little rubbish bag, I just sent him cantering up the bricks towards my floor) and sitting through some shocking Japanese `comedy` (never has the term been used more loosely) while waiting for Superman to start. A host of comedians have been dressed in skin-tight blue body suits (a la Superman, though I am not sure how much of a coincidence this is) and given a table of props to amuse a group of young boys. The measure of their success is not how heartily the stern-faced boys laugh, but whether they spit the ping-pong balls which are wedged into their mouths as they laugh. These are then picked up from the floor, counted and replaced. Something of a surprise in this OCD suffer`s paradise. So far the comedy has been weak. A young man, most likely from Osaka, sang about the city and interspersed his act with regular chants of `baka` (stupid), as the ping-pongs stayed put, the baka rate increased and teh incidental language eventually vanished. There has also been a small man sporting a Hitlerian moustache and a child`s school rucksack sitting on a chair flailing his legs in a dry breaststroke. He also shouted baka a lot. A tall Elvis has sung nonsense into a red plastic cone with huge levels of success even after laughing at his own `joke`. Hitler has just been blasted with dry ice. From Elvis`s sympathetic hand on his shoulder, the swimming demonstration didn`t go down too well.

God rained on our Parade

2006-08-17T18:08:00.000+07:00

I got back into a bit of marching this week, attending Tokyo`s Gay Parade with a couple of gay boys from Nagoya. I won`t name them. Tokyo doesn`t host Pride and it is appropriate and telling that they`ve chosen to change the name to something less challenging and more shame-faced. It was a ludicrously Japanese experience. The parade was due to start at 2pm, at which time a bell chimed, thunder struck and the heavens opened. I had soltaned all over, but soon it was washed off and glistening in oily puddles around Shibuya koen. Because we were forced to shelter until Allah`s disapproval passed over, we were slightly late for the kick-off, though being Japanese, this still had us arriving a good 45 minutes before anything actually happened. However, we were barred entry to the actual march because we needed to register at 2pm. I was sullenly muttering about no one understanding what a march actually was, when a Japan`s Big Gay Al came over to explain the situation an unnecessary second time, before passing his queenly decree and letting us join in the back of the march (perhaps only to spite us as my friends and I snapped at each other `we don`t like him`.

We were given brown ribbons - another source of discontent - and placed at the back (too much irony for me). I was kept in line by my friend taking fatherly control as I continued to grumble through the rain at the unnatural levels of organisation taking place, until we were shuffled around so each row had approximately four people in it, with two randoms allowed to straggle at the back and clearly irking the boy whose sums didn`t leave us in a respectably militaristic group. It was then explained that we were not allowed to take photos of the parade as some people felt uncomfortable being seen there. I was nearly kicked in the shin for whisperingly wondering what they had bothered coming for, before we finally, slowly, moved off. A huge pink parade bringing the safari to Tokyo`s drop-jawed shoppers, all keeping clear of the barriers and not attempting to feed the gays. With no cameras or videos allowed, it is pretty much a non-event to those outside the gay community (except the fag-haggers, nicely named Omamasans) so people stopped dead in the street trying to get a look at these weird creatures plodding behind rainbow-bannered floats blasting cheesy house that no one dared dance to (I forgot myself and had a go, but it didn`t last long).

It was a very muted demand for acceptance. That even my friends, who have been more brutalised by homophobes in Britain, should not want to be seen while demanding their place in society was quite a shock to me. Japan has a long, long way to go before it can claim in any way to be a developed nation. Socially, it is further behind Victorian Britain. Because of this, I spent most of the parade feeling like I had wasted my time. No one would hold their hand up to attending, no media would cover and force the straight-acting community to face the fact that Japan is not only a playground for philandering straight Salarymen, so very little was achieved. The two young kids being encouraged to greet us was a small, but positive step, but my friends were terrified that somehow, though they had travelled miles from their homes, that they would be seen and instantly lose their jobs and social circles. Whatever the laws against discrimination (I doubt such things exist), students and parents would not accept them and it would not be good business to employ them, so the more nervous of the two, huddled between me and the other, a borrowed baseball cap tugged down to his brow, where sunglasses took over the camouflage, and maintained a nervous silence, constantly watchful of cameras and video equipment that somehow might wind up on his Vice Principle`s desk. Here Japan`s notorious non-confrontationalism causes yet more problems (I don`t know of many instances where it helps) as no one is prepared to ask to be accepted. The parade meekly presented itself, almost apologetically, and barely made a millimetre`s progress as a result. In the 60s, black and women`s rights activists regularly faced brutal assault for their beliefs, and slowly made progress. They achieved a lot, but more still has to be done. At the rate Japan is moving, it will be 2106 before it is level with 1920`s Britain.

It is clearly not something society is ready to accept here. One very angry man - his hair scraped into a Bickleish mohican and a Smirnoff Ice bottle full of fireworks poking from his army fatigues, my friend from Nagoya swore that he was gay, but he seemed to be swearing that every man in Japan was - shouted at the parade to get out of the way and stalked us down the road until the police asked him, ever so politely, to move on. Of course, he didn`t and the only reason we could figure for his not being arrested was the police`s tacit agreement with his ideas. He badgered the back of the parade, frothing cheap sparkling wine at us a la Formula 7 and then coming back to harass a young Japanese boy who was so thrilled to be part of the parade and not at all upset at having to shoulder a banner all alone (and the only person, aside from me, visibly enjoying being there) that not even acts of aggression could dampen his spirits. Finally, when they spotted the fireworks, the police stepped up and the man was removed, but not as swiftly as you would have expected at home. I was just losing any faith left in Japan as a potentially progressive nation, when I spotted a woman and her mother encouraging her young daughters to wave at all the foreign gays. Clearly enjoy the safari park sensibilities, but also perhaps planting at least two seeds that not all gays are filthy perverts who need to be sacked from their jobs for fear of spreading their germs. And before anyone else asks, no, I am not `one`.

Friday night was Kate`s birthday and so I trundled off down the George. A few mod DJs were playing, but I was too sober to dance, although the Nova teachers tried to make me. I tried to join in, but a foolish (though aesthetically pleasing) choice of footwear and stark sobriety stopped me, so I downed a Sambuca and hoped to quickly join in with the party. I kicked off my sandals and was just getting going when everyone made a dash for the last train, so I latched on to the DJs and their friends and won them over by announcing, in painful Japanese, that 1968 was the best year. I was so caught up in this conversation, I didn`t notice what Ardir was up to with my camera and woke up the next day with all sorts of weird shots, mainly featuring Ken`s facial comments on the night (and me) and this woeful attempt to impress (it is sort of impressive - go to a Japanese swimming pool and you won`t find that much hair around the communal shower plughole). I tried to woo a Japanese mod and got so far, but while we were chatting he rounded off every sentence with `Zoe wakkaru?` (do you understand?) to which I had to reply in the negative and so we would potter over to his more fluent friend in the Pepsi Cola dress for assistance - I think the expense of having to fork out for her, as well as me, to come along on dates was the final, unsurmountable hurdle.

It justified my sudden spurt of Nihongo study recently. I use the term study loosely. I have bought a new book, which I showcased in front of my newly-permed and suddenly less attractive hairdresser (which is just as well, he saw me unwashed in my PE kit on my way to play tennis with Sean when I mistook him for a woman and thought it safe to go in and book an appointment) and haven`t touched since, as well as buying some kanji flashcards, which I flicked through and put down before I got out of the numbers, which I already know, for fear of being disheartened. I did arrange some language exchanges, unaware that this a euphemism for `study date`. My first date was clearly uninterested, we skipped through the `te` form of Japanese verbs without a pause for thought (it makes it much harder, believe me) and then he had me record some sentences. He claimed these were for the TOEIC exam, but then said he didn`t study for TOEIC. He took me to a karaoke booth so he could record in quiet surroundings, but did jokingly offer me a microphone for one song before we left. A sudden and unexpected show of humour. My first attempt hadn`t even gone that well, the man in question suddenly vanishing when I put my foot down about meeting on home turf. The third was not so bad; unattractive but we did have a genuine and useful language exchange. He did send a dubious email after suggesting we make our meetings `meaningful`, and there has been radio silence since I replied in perfunctory gratitude. My next `date` is with a 23-year-old that I don`t have the energy to even bother with now I have accepted this has nothing to do with studying.

I had a disappointingly giftless birthday party with the Menopause Sisters. This time, Sachiko showed off her house, where we startled her husband into a thousand bows when he stumbled across us in the living room before scuttling off to hide in the office across the path. Sachiko piled plates of homecooked food in front of us, the low table sagging with the weight, and my knees buckling from all the kneeling, while she fried up pork and chicken because I have somehow tagged myself as a vegetable-loathing carnivore. Takako and Hideko tried to broach corn on the cob with ladylike pickings at each kernel, before I picked mine up in my hands and they copied. Afterwards Sachiko dragged us to an empty karaoke bar (owned by Mamasan, who looked a lot like my own mother), where she forced everyone to sing. She was leafing through the book trying to coax me into Mariah Carey numbers and demanding to hear my `Yesterday` and bluffing offense when I said I didn`t like `Yesterday`. I felt her bullying and buffering everyone into something only she enjoyed negated any rudeness of an outright refusal on my part. The other two spotted long before that I was not keen on singing (karaoke is really only a means of getting and enjoying being drunk, singing sober is a vile thing to do), but Sachiko kept on like a pitbull on a baby`s face. Eventually, I had to buckle and attempt to sing a `popular Japanese song` after my protests that not knowing the tune or the words or even being able to read the words on the screen made it practically impossible were either incomprehensible or conveniently ignored.

Still no wiser

2006-08-05T03:51:00.000+07:00

So far, I`m quite enjoying 29. I feel a bit like a real grown up, although this might be because I am living out of context and spending day after day with eight-year-olds who find it hilarious that foreigners could ever be the same age as their mothers and repeatedly check their understanding of newly-taught adjectives on me ("old teacher" and "ugly teacher" are favourites, the smarter kids go for the double-blow of "handsome teacher", smartarses). Somehow it really is a big joke that I might be the same age as their parents. Maybe because their mothers are cloaked in ageless skin, while I sport wrinkles that put the old obaasans to shame.

After suffering hideously all day Friday, Saturday night I found it surprisingly easy to get back on the horse. I met an assortment of teachers, students, receptionists and randoms in Omiya station before heading off for a plush and perhaps over-priced izakaya for the party. David and Kenji brought me ten bottles of five kinds of Nihonshu and I committed myself to drinking it for the rest of the evening, though not from their stash. It was a very thoughtful, if slightly weighty gift, as was Rob`s bottle of Bailey`s; `because all ladies love Bailey`s, don`t they?`. Not entirely accurate, but nicely thought out.

Sadly karaoke was off the menu, so we missed Takeshi`s Queen medley. Next time perhaps. He and Raku hit it off very well comparing tattoos. It was like a yakuza initiation. Because the group was split across three tables, I had to flit between the three for the majority of the night, stealing the best food from each before moving on for my next helping. It kept me relatively sober for the majority of the night, but once everyone was nicely settled and the latecomers had been seen to I hit the sake with Sachiko and my memory fades there. I have vague recollections of haranging Shozu in broken Japanese for smoking, but sober I can`t even remember the verb for that, so I suspect he had no idea what I was going on about. As I`ve re-caught my cold for a third time, I have found I have accidentally stopped smoking. It has been over a month now, Thursday and Saturday being my biggest tests, and I have turned into one of those overtly puritantical quitters. Just what I always wanted to be.

On Sunday morning, I managed to get to Cafe Lamp almost on time (it was before the start time, but the organiser was already calling to check where I was). I almost regretted not letting on to everyone that it was my birthday when another teacher was handed an envelop of cash, but then he had to stand and endure `Happy Birthday`, which no amount of money could make fun for a second time in a week.

After the session, I ran off to meet Yuka, but decided to take her to lunch with everyone for some English practise, but I got caught up in a conversation with a demanding Japanese boy who accused all gaijin males preying on Japanese girls of being paedophiles. I couldn`t possibly comment. Yuka and I then went for her lesson, which she hadn`t been expecting - the poor girl needs to learn to question things more assertively if she`s ever going to survive in New York. She had thought I had, without any warning or checking if it was OK, had bumped her lesson for a get-together with some of my mates. Afterwards, I met Darrell for a few drinks, which stretched way past the last trains and I put him on the spare futon. Perhaps a little too cosy for non-blood relatives.

Monday was a struggle, but on Tuesday I got to meet the long-lost and long-missed Takumasa, who came into my lesson for a make-up class. He still gabbles away in Japanese, but this time I understood slightly more of it. His new teacher is OK, but makes him sing karaoke if he misses two lots of homework. Sadly, he had done his this week as I was hoping to get a chance to be a bit sterner and make him sing. He enjoyed the alpha-twister and almost wet himself when he found out that dodgeball was still in the lesson plan.

Last night, Yoshiko (with me) and Miyoko (with Mike) took us out for another birthday meal and my favourite, quietest student, Fumitake came along. He was a bit drunk when he arrived, and 15 minutes late, which had the ladies in a flap, but still as quiet as ever. He has told me before he doesn`t like his job as it involves communicating, so I was flattered that he came and am still confused that he ever chose to study.

To make my toils with hiragana worthwhile, I`ve decided to take the Japanese profficiency test in December, so have been trying to increase my levels of study (which had reached nil). As well as buying a kanji book for 7-yeaar-olds, I have applied for a tonne of language exchanges, but I very quickly realised this was just a euphimism for dating. Many long-established mixed race couples now blush at their naivety at coming together in such a way. I had previously considered and ruled this out as the magazine I used also had a dating personal ads column, so assumed the weirdoes would use that. I am going ahead anyway, but with caution and an open mind. Who knows. Apparently most mixed couples in Japan owe their inception to these exchanges, but most involve girls who want a foreigner and little else. I am overly, and probably unjustifiably, fussy and know exactly what is good-looking, a quality Japanese girls cannot discern.

I`m enjoying being connected to the internet at home for the first time but can`t use my computer very well. I know it has somewhere a facility for voice recordings as it has an internal microphone, but I have no idea how to access it. None of the help pages seem to offer any insight, but I am persisting. I have offered to record a speech for one of my students to learn intonation so I must. I also don`t know what my password is for my email account, so can`t use the iChat facility, which is hindering me. The shop set up my laptop with no password to access it, but the mail account is demanding one and I can`t find anything anywhere - it could be there, but be signposted in Jap.

I`ve had another unwelcome guest. Shortly after finishing my last blog entry, this casual intruder strode into my room, swanking like a championship boxer. Cockroaches know they will fuck over the meek and steal their inherited Earth. This one wasn`t so awkward or quick as his predecessor and almost felt like a pet. He casually checked out a pile of clean underwear as a possible den, before meandering within range of my plastic tub. While telling a friend about his capture, the friend let slip that Japanese cockroaches (and maybe others, I am no mushi expert) can fly. If I`d been countering his flight into my face, like the other one`s dash for my feet, I would have invested in a less environmental way to deal with him and his friends. Japan is much like Britain in one respect. I have had to stop talking about these unpleasant experiences as people here can`t help bu add unsettling information to that I already have. Apparently, for each cockroach you see, there are another 50 hidden close by, which means my flat is host to around 100. In an apartment already overcrowded by my solitary presence, this is bad news indeed.

The other ailing fellow is a Cicada, a huge flyer incompetent. They never live long enough to learn how to steer their own bodies so you often feel them bouncing off your head before hitting the dirt and waiting to die. This one was two steps from Heaven and an inch from my cash card (note Saitama`s local cartoon character adorning the card). Everything is vastly bigger to what we`re used to in England, but Yoshiko put my paltry fear of spiders into perspective when she explained that she isn`t scared of insects as, when a child working in her parent`s rice paddies, snakes would often swim past and her brother would pull them out of the water and whip her with them!

Got myself connected...

2006-07-28T10:22:00.000+07:00

I`m finally online! At 9am this morning, a foolhardy deliveryman, not scared off by a sodden foreigner opening the door in a 3-coin store towel, handed over my modem and I wanted to cancel every appointment of the day. I didn`t, as I had to teach and needed the money. It was also the lovely Yuka, who heads off to New York in two weeks and needs as much practise as possible. I also checked out a guest house (what they call the cheap dives reserved for foreigners) near Shinjuku. I`ve pretty much done Omiya now and didn`t come to Japan to live in a suburb, so am investigating moving. It was a run-down, overly-cluttered shack with tatami mats and a cupboard called an office, but it was quite homely.

Sadly, I would become tenant and rent collector in one move, but it is not the most off-putting aspect of the place. To get there, you have to ride a bike. It`s only about five minutes that way, but easily twenty boring minutes on foot. I wasn`t excited at the prospect anyway, but then the girl announced that it would be OK as cars drive on the same side of the road in England and Japan. The last time I rode a bike was a couple of years ago and the first time in over a decade. I borrowed Rachel`s and nervously set off for Tooting Common and got overly cocky. On the way back home, I bounced off the kerb at a strange angle and fell off spectacularly and slowly in the road in front of some cars so I was quite worried about having to compete with traffic moving at speed. The roads were fine today, but on the way back, I suddenly panicked and lost the ability to steer. We crossed a road at an angle, which I couldn`t handle and as I passed over a pedestrian island in the middle of the road with chicanes to stop cars using it for U-turns, I rode straight into an old lady`s stomach. I apologised over and over and removed my front tyre from her skirt, but she seemed more concerned about me than herself, which was fortunate.

I suspect my hangover might have had something to do with it. Yoko, Nozomi, Kaori and Yukako came round to help me celebrate my birthday last night. We drank masses of wine and ate sushi and yakitori. It was brilliant. I had been tired and dreading it. Kaori has been doing my head in recently, constantly beseiging me with questions about how to capture a `foreign boyfriend` and last time I saw her I ended up telling her off for using the word foreign. She was using it while saying she wouldn`t have a one-night stand on her forthcoming trip to Paris in case the lucky man ran off with her purse! Last night, she was chatting in Japanese with Nozomi and pulled a huge bike chain out of her bag. It was for her suitcase. She isn`t taking a rucksack as it can be cut open more easily. They do finally seem to have realised that as a `foreigner`, I might find their idea of everyone who is not Japanese being a thief slightly offensive. Kaori is, quite sweetly, making great efforts to stop herself using the word `foreigner` now.

My latest campaign is to teach my students to use `Westerner` or perhaps even find out what nationality a person is. Last night, I managed to renew my campaign and also point out that many, many `foreigners` also get robbed, rather than being robbers. That said, if I hadn`t a sense of how memorable my appearance is, I would go on the rob in Japan. It`d be really easy. It`s like living in a village in the 40s. People keep money at home, some don`t lock their doors. It would only be the police`s immediate suspicions that a gaijin had been up to no good that would stop me.

After Nozomi and Kaori had to leave to get their trains, Yoko, Yukako and I had much more fun. Nozomi is very nice, but perhaps chotto sensible and Kaori is just mad. She only wants to talk about boys, which is a bit dull when none of us have them or know anyone we would even want (except Kaori who staunchly continues to stalk Graeme - the ridiculous boy next to Aki flicking the bird! - in spite of him regularly telling her she will never be his girlfriend). Yoko is in the picture smoking in my washing. I`ll have to leave it out there for another week to get rid of the smell. Yukako is crouching by my TV, checking out the cards I`ve got from my family`s pets.

It`s hard to remember what I`ve been up to this week! Saturday, I went into Tokyo to watch the Sumida fireworks. I saw two-thirds of each explosion as my view was blocked by buildings. The friends I wanted to meet had pitched camp along the river at 6am. I just popped in after work. You don`t put in the graft, you can`t expect miracles. Asakusa Bridge was closed when I arrived as it was full and a line of small, polite policemen blocked everyone`s entry. I spent far more time gazing at kakkoii boys in the yukatas and jimbe than at the fireworks. A few seemed interested, but as ever, they never approached. Two actually came and stood next to me after staring for ages, so I asked them the time as a boring ice breaker and to showcase my basic nihongo, but still they wouldn`t take the bait. Weirdoes.

On Sunday, I went to an international festival with Kaori, Nozomi and some of the other Cafe Lampers. We`d been planning to go in our yukata for ages, so I imagined it was a festival, but was quite disappointed to find myself in a stuffy community hall until I spotted the food and beers stalls and the handsome boys signing people up for Australian rules football. Nozomi and Kaori had to help me dress before we went, there is no way I could tress myself up in one of those things alone. I intend to learn though - I am sure the internet holds the key. Anything is possible now, including drunkenly emailing randoms from my past, as some people seem to have been doing to me lately. Kaori had bought a book to do the obi, the band around the waist, and she and Nozomi struggled to make me presentable, often muttering `it`s difficult` to one another. I think the width of my body made it more of a challenge as bits didn`t meet and Japanese chests tend to be flat and easily hidden. I might strap myself down next time. We managed it, but the usual five minute stroll to the station was a mammoth trek as we could only take two-inch steps at a time.

The feminists who complained that high heels were designed so women couldn`t run from rapists should spare a thought for their Asian sisters. You`re practically shackled in yukata and the geta (wooden flip flops) that go with them cripple your feet and impede you more. It was nice for a tourist though, until `Elton` (suspiciously unJapanese, ne?) started asking if French kissing had anything to do with blow jobs and ruined the fun. I passed him over to Chris, a fat male JET, to deal with rather than drilling French polish.

I had a visitor on Thursday. I got home from work, having forgotten to plug all the plugholes, to find a cockroach strolling around my room. They`re impolite little fuckers. It moved like a real animal and charged straight at me. I`ll never complain about spiders again. At least they have the decency to flee. I had to leap out of its path twice before it calmed down enough to be scooped up in a tub. There`s one downstairs in the lobby right now, it`s almost two inches long. This one didn`t go for me, fortunately, it was too busy checking its post.

Last week`s unsubtle birthday hints went down a storm. On Tuesday, one of my students bought me a bag of goodies from the local patisserie and yesterday I had two parties! I had told my first afternoon class to prepare some work on Japanese folklore and told them, as it`s festival season, we should have a mini-festival - and because, of course, it was my birthday. They took the hint and came armed to the hilt with food. I had Chinese mixed rice, samosas, grapefruit jelly (I was scared it was this hideous tomato jelly people love here, but it was actually superb. I shouldn`t have doubted Michie) and chocolate cake. I also got some awful presents. The dried corn has a small hook on the back so I can hang it up if I like... I drunkenly laughed about it with the girls last night, but I suspect I just made myself look like a horrible, ungrateful retch. My next class forgot to bring in the cake they had ordered, so they got some extra practise after the lesson when they had been to fetch it. A fine exchange.

On Tuesday, Omiya had its own Sparks Festival, which gave the loca retirees an opportunity to stroll around almost bottomless while drinking beer and lifting floats. I saw some quite unfortunate sights as the men bowed hello and goodbye. As pert as they were for 60-year-old arses, it`s still not top of my must-sees. Afterwards, Edwin and I carried on drinking in my apartment where he continued to appal me with his hideous views. A week or so earlier we had had some weird, unwitting date, when he asked me if I needed a hug or a beer (he`d seen me in a mood the previous evening) and I opted for beer, but had to provide my own, and a movie. It was much as I remember `dating` when I was a teenager, being surrepticiously lured into lascivious situations (near-total darkness, in this instance - he did ask if I minded, but you aren`t actually allowed to say yes, are you?), laughing excessively at things I said that weren`t funny (and using this as an excuse to touch my leg, so I shuffled further and further away, until I was half-wedged under his table), trying to get me drunk (it`s a rich man - or a landlord - that can do that) and, finally, when all else had failed, whipping out some home-cooking. All during this, he continually deferred to my opinion and played dumb by claiming not to understand the goings-on in a fairly simple movie plot. As he`s almost a foot shorter than me, he wasn`t exactly ruining his chances, but he didn`t help himself by punctuating all this with claims that men are genetically programmed to cheat and that racism is also natural, so not worth fighting. Tuesday we had more of the same, but without the warm rice.

Premier Club. Worth getting up at 7.30am on a Saturday for?

This is Omiya, the view from my apartment building. Compare it to the picture of the Japanese garden and you`ll understand why I haven`t shown anyone before.

My street.

Yoshitatsu.

The Asahi Building, Asakusa, Tokyo.

The Cafe Lampers: Yukako, Kaori, Ryoko, me, Nozomi. I`ve no idea what the men`s names are. The one on the left is Ryoko`s boyfriend, possibly Takeshi - the Japanese Steve.

Reina, Yoshitatsu and Nanaka.

Sean enjoys FHM.

Let me eat cake.

Puppets `performing` kabuki in the Tokyo-Edo Museum.

Kyu Yasuda Garden, Ryogoku - where the Sumo tournaments take place. Everyone was disappointingly slim when I went.

Yuta and Kippei learning prepositions: the boys are on the table.

To be continued...

2006-07-28T10:13:00.000+07:00

For those of you kind enough to notice I`ve not been as talkative as late, I`m just waiting for my broadband to be set up (never a speedy process in this least efficient, but overly thorough, of countries) before I barrage you with a deluge of nonsense. Watch this space.

Slight return

2006-07-09T14:57:00.000+07:00

It seems like a long time since I was home scorching myself at Felixstowe with Billy and Bentley, but I thought I`d stick up the pictures of them anyway. Billy is the one with jaw-jut and Bentley the one with an attitude problem. He went for me almost every day in England. It didn`t do much to stop me missing Stussy. It would be nice to have a pet out here, so I am taking small steps to befriend a pack of ten tabbies who have appeared from nowhere. When people move house in Japan, sometimes they move quite literally, taking the place apart and rebuilding on a more desirable plot of land. This has happened by my apartment and ten overly friendly strays can now be found lurking in the muddied grounds. I have my eye on two of them, but am not sure my conscience can really allow me to steal them from such a happy and healthy extended family. I expect it can.

It`s taken no time to get used to being back. In spite of no one believing me, Japan can be quite mundane. By Saturday night, I was dreading returning to my little box and having to work on Monday. Work was, as always, quite fun, until I lost my voice from a combined assault of air conditioning, jetlag and the Japanese summer. By Saturday, I was a hacking mute and had to whisper to a class of five rowdy seven- and eight-year-olds that I couldn`t shout so they would have to be quiet. Ludicrously, they consented.

It`s been very nice being back. Japan has taken its World Cup Defeat on the chin and the joozu Kawaguchi can be seen on TV with `I Will Survive` as the backing track. This week, I have been in a mood because of over-tiredness, but very little has happening to genuinely warrant it. I`ve had several very nice nights out catching up with everyone as though I had gone for two months, instead of two weeks. On my first proper night back, I went to the George and got drunk with the man himself and Jerry and Koji. Kate and her boyfriend popped in to say hello and some other people were also involved, but the red wine blanked them out.

On Thursday, I had a girls` night out with my lunatic friends, Kaori and Yukako and the more sensible Nozomi and Yoko. Kaori wanted to go to the George for pizza, which was a disappointing suggesting I was unable to deflect until we passed a new izakaya called Gachi Samurei and I managed to herd them all in there where we were drowned out by the bellowing `rashaimase`s` of the staff. I didn`t miss this yodelled ritual which humiliated you whenever you enter any establishment that expects you to spend money. The nicer ones do it quietly, so it seems homely and authentic, but other places make such a meal of it, there`s a vocal Mexican wave ending with a newly deaf customer clutching their bleeding ear drums. We spent the night with Yukako and Kaori propounding their strange beliefs about `foreign boyfriends`. Kaori is scared of them, but won`t date Japanese for no good reason, whereas Yukako dislikes the traditional values of Japanese boyfriends so is dating a man she is not attracted to, has sex with with the light off and is trying to `decrease the opportunities she has to see him`. Rob, if you`re reading this, give up.

Wednesday, I had had a far more reasoned evening with Mike and on Friday he accompanied me as I bought my laptop. I knew what I wanted, but I needed his emotional and moral support to part with such an enormous sum of money. I am now the overly-proud owner of a brand-new MacBook and as soon as I have my broadband connection, will be updating these pages more regularly. I am not sure when that will be, as Gerraint and I had quite an ordeal sorting it. We went to a store Friday evening to get it sorted, but were abandoned in the aisles by a fat man in an apron, so decided to try a different store. There, a man with perfect English directed us to a man with none who was to complete the deal.

Before this, Mike and I had an epic shopping trip. First we tried Akihabira, but it`s is full of low-budget electrical stores that reek of dishonesty, expired warranties and faulty goods, so we tripped off to the Mac Store in Ginza (much like ditching Dixons for Bond Street) and I fully exquiped myself for all eventualities. After that, we marched around trying to find somewhere reasonably priced for a drink or some food (Ginza is too posh for vending machines) and eventually came to stop on the roof terrace of a plush department store, complete with pet store and golf range. It was mucky and quite random, even offering its own shrine for those who wished to get their newly purchased koi blessed. After that, we decided we deserved a treat and headed to Ganpachi, the restaurant Koizumi took George Bush to during his recent visit.

Under wild East Anglian skies

2006-06-29T17:44:00.000+07:00

I'm fully settled into English life again. I've watched Jeremy Kyle and the Wright Stuff almost every day, I went to Felixstowe for fish and chips by the sea (and scorched myself a very patriotic shade of red in the process) on Wednesday, last night Mum, Tammi and I watched Charlie sing in Bury St Edmunds Cathedral before coming back to Haverhill for Mum's first Indian in six months (my last was far more recent) and today I went into Cambridge to go shopping. Unfortunately, in my excitement, I ended up with a size 7 and a size 5, neither of which are ideal, so have to go back on Monday, but the joy of being in the lower end of the size spectrum was infinite.

The only thing missing so far is a picnic on Hampstead Heath, but I can make do with a pasty up by Haverhill reservoir. The dogs would prefer it, what with Billy being car-sick.

Tomorrow I hope to find a pub to settle into to watch the football. It will be the first step of my new programme to reclaim Britain from the louts. I'm going to take it back. A friend sent me this, which is inspiring me further. I particularly like the barman's Churchillian quote:

http://www.mirror.co.uk/news/tm_objectid=17302491&method=full&siteid=94762&headline=beer-we-go-name_page.html

This afternoon I went down the Woolpack to watch the predictable English quarter final penalty defeat against Portugal and that vile thug Rooney acting like a spoiled hooligan and bringing the team down to ten men, although ten men who upped their game considerably once they were missing Beckham and Shrek.

I've just got back from seeing Alan Carr, and a few local faces, at the Arts Centre (formerly known as the Town Hall). Missing nine months of the Friday Night Project didn't matter at all. It was bliss to enjoy comedy that didn't revolve around someone falling over or goofing around (funny faces have always been a sophisticated part of British humour and were most likely stolen by the Japanese...). Now I'm taking my premature hangover to bed with a large glass of water and some Richard and Judy recommended fiction. Good night.

I'm coming home, I'm coming...

2006-06-26T18:21:00.000+07:00

I'm in London, happily being rained on (I get the quintessential British experience, coming home in Wimbledon week), having paid my first visit to a British shop to invest in some Melton Mowbray pork pies and a hunk of Danish Blue. I get back to Japan looking like Bella Emberg, but I will be very, very happy.

The journey was uneventful, perhaps a mercy given the potential expensive of any cock-ups and perhaps a curse as it was almost 24 hours of bored nothingness. My backside is numb from sitting and sitting and sitting and my shoulder is hanging a few inches lower than usual from the weight of my hand luggage (everything I could not risk losing should my case go astray, so practically everything). I did nearly miss my connection in Hong Kong by arrogantly ignoring the advice video on the flight and then having no idea what to do and where to go and finding myself in a queue for a desk I didn't need to visit before finally, frustratedly asking someone how long I had to wait and told I didn't have to wait at all being pointed in the right direction at the back of a thousand-person queue for security checks. I also got checked for bird 'flu as I entered Hong Kong airport and reassurely passed...

Hong Kong airport is a holiday in itself. It's huge and has loads of designer stores that I could never hope to shop in. The view of the city itself is breath-taking too. The airport overlooks the bay, which is fenced off by regiments of enormous high-rises and all this is nestled at the base of a fair-sized mountain range. Narita airport is not bad either (perhaps I have just travelled from Stansted once too often, where there is "not even a MacDonald's") and while waiting for my flight I stood on the observation deck watching the cargo planes take off and land and pondered how in the hell they managed it. I might get into physics for a while so I can get my head around it.

I needn't have bothered packing my textbook in my hand luggage. I took it out of my bag and stowed it into the pocket on the seat in front for the full duration of the flight, instead sitting through the embarrassingly homophilic Bentback Mountain (maybe I'm just getting a bit "small 'c' conservative" in my old age, but the story hardly justified the many, many gay love scenes - although I think I would have relaxed more had I not been painfully aware of how visible my screen was to a very kakkoii passenger a few rows behind me. Everyone else was watching Disney and I was browsing soft gay porn... I also watched the Libertine (better) and a unnecessary racist drama with Samuel L. Jackson and Julianne Moore. I made the most of the free-flowing red wine, although once the air cabin staff clocked this, I was provided with ever greater portions of snacks to soak up the alcohol and so left the plain with my hand luggage spilling Tim Tam bars. At one point, the passenger next to me opted in for a red wine at the same time as me, so I said 'let's get drunk', but, possibly being the only Chinese person to not understand English, he just looked confused and I looked embarrassed.

Getting onto the cramped, grubby Tube was disappointing. I'd actually been looking forward to it, but had forgotten the littered state of neglect it falls into on Sundays until I had to dig my seat out from under a mountain of Sunday supplements and KFC wrappers. I am not sure I could honestly recommend London to a Japanese traveller. I love the city and am so pleased to be back here, even the rain is welcome (despite making the two bikinis I packed for the heatwave utterly redundant), but it compares badly to Japan on a superficial level. The trains, the service in shops. I was completely thrown by a lad in a t-shirt chatting into his mobile asking if I needed any help while I was dousing myself with duty free perfume testers at Heathrow, rather than bowing and excusing the intrusion while offering me something weird, but free to taste (this occasionally means Dairy Milk and bagels, so I often lurk around supermarkets trying to look rich and inexperienced in diet). I've often felt uncomfortable with the level of needless servitude in Japan, and still do, but it does make our lot look like a bunch of louts.

It is wonderful to be back in the company of the relaxed and the sane. I've only been here a few hours, but I've already clocked up more TV hours in one day than I had in Japan in the last month. It's been brilliant. News, football coverage in English (stupidly, I asked if the game was live, having got so used to seeing 11pm kick-offs) and daytime TV. Bliss. This morning, I watched an unbelievably chav-tastic episode of Jeremy Kyle. A woman who had been taken into care for having scabies and adopted was physically attacked by her birth mother for calling her a prostitute, though the mother then admitted she was, but that the daughter manned sex lines while her children were in the house. From the state and sounds of them, I can't imagine either drummed up a roaring trade... Later, a fat girl and her special needs ex-boyfriend fought over his visitation rights to his son. Her new boyfriend came on and was excessively patronised by the self-loving Kyle, while the ex's sister told her to get off her fat arse and stand up for herself. It blows Trisha out of the water. This Morning made it a double-whammy with an aristocratic photographer grubbily romanticising a sexual fling he had with his own mother at the age of 15 (I can't help wondering if the piece would have been handled as light-entertainment had it been a girl and her father). He was showing off her portrait with a 'well, wouldn't you?' attitude, which Fern seemed eager to bolster, while his wife was introduced with the caption 'husband had sex with mother' and yet still managed to pull off a fairly dignified interview. It's good to be back.

Japanese cuisine

2006-06-23T11:23:00.000+07:00

Manboo is doing it`s best to see off its rivals by giving customers an oxymoronically named `SoyJoy` bar when they come in. I haven`t dared taste it yet. I`ve had too much weirdness already this week. Tuesday night I went for my regular `how to bag a foreigner` session with Kaori and Yukako and was offered the most unnecessary food on the menu. I had requested we go somewhere quite nice as I wanted as much Japanese food as I could get before my trip back to England on Sunday. They were quite excited and ordered flying fish sashimi, which was wonderful, and some various other bits and bobs, including chicken gizzards yakitori and `soft bone` yakitori - what seemed to be skewers of fowl back bones. Japanese chefs are quite efficient when it comes to carving up a chicken, they often serve up what we would toss into the bin.

Kaori and Yukako again amazed me with their dating ettiquete. Kaori could not believe my taste in saying a fellow teacher called Alex was quite cute, but was still actively stalking him in spite of her low opinion of his looks and his character not being to her taste. She also couldn`t understand why I might quite like a date with Takakun, while not being madly, obsessively in love with him... Yukako stole the night by asking how many times you need to have seen a man before he might consider it a relationship, not imagining that having seen Rob six times in a month probably had him patting himself on the back for his own outstanding achievement. Kaori dropped her head into her hands in disbelief at this moment, while I was left to explain the situation. I feel like a teenage exchange student at times.

I did manage to put across my point of view that sleeping is not a hobby (so many of my students say this, it is utterly depressing) and now Kaori is going to tell people that going to the toilet is her hobby. I suggested cleaning her teeth as an more ladylike alternative, but it isn`t seen as a necessity here so lacks the same clout in the punchline. I also taught them, something I am not overly proud of, `sloppy seconds`. Kaori intends to use it if any of Yukako`s other cast-offs try it on with her. They taught me that there are no alcoholics in Japan. It is fine to call your friends `alchos` as it is not a serious problem, and therefore a joke. In America there are serious alcohol problems, as they have clinics... Red-faced, sozzled salarymen weaving along platforms, supping Asahi at 10am and occasionally toppling under trains is not a serious concern.

On Thursday, Sachiko used her `topics` to denounce my appalling behaviour on Saturday. I had invited her out to a small get-together of my mainly Japanese friends in the King George and later that night found a message from her saying she`d tried to come in, but couldn`t find me. I assumed she hadn`t bothered and this was a feeble lie to cover her tracks, but it seems not. Each of the students take turns to read their prepared topics, Hidako`s on her trip to Los Angeles and Takako`s on her stay in China, and Sachiko became quite grave as she started to read hers. It was a ridiculous guilt-trip and attack on my manners, although I wasn`t quite sure what she expected of me, but much of the story involved her needing consoling from her husband and daughter-in-law. The other students just laughed and thought she`d been into the wrong bar, but eventually I managed to get her to say she had got to the door and not even opened it to look inside. As I was in the basement, I had no reception so her calling and standing in the street was pointless. I am meeting them for dinner later (I think I am getting to finally try eel!) and intend to redress the whole situation and educate them on the traditional English pub.

It`s the countdown to my brief return to England. I fly on Sunday, so really ought to be packing now. My room is in complete disarray with a suitcase hidden somewhere under a year`s worth of clothes. I do have my new cheek pillow safely placed in my hand-luggage, but that is the firmest step I have taken so far. I am dreading the flight, but looking forward to going home. I certainly won`t miss the small porch that doubles as my kitchen or the `retro` washing-machine that swills my clothes around in cold water and old dirt. Half my case is going to be full of laundry.

Girl power

2006-06-18T18:01:00.000+07:00

It`s quite possible I over-reacted slightly in my last blog entry. Been a bit stressed sorting out my trip to the UK and had too many alcohol-related late nights to think straight. I had a bit of a get-together in the George last night and it`s weirdly set everything back in place. A few of the teachers here still lack they imagination to do anything with a woman if they`re not going to fuck her, but some of the saner ones reminded me that these losers are in a minority and it`s probably why they had to leave home in the first place. Strange that some of these pearls of wisdom came from a Stretch Armstrong-alike ex-stripper called Troy. We spent much of the early hours of this morning berating these leonards and describing just where they go in the food chain.

On Friday, I met Atsuko for lunch and we did a bit of window shopping. She helped me reserve a seat (well, she fully reserved the seat, I stood beside her and nodded `hai` a few times) on the coach to the airport. I have to get to the station at 5.40am. Ugh. This week I have to sort out my re-entry visa and pack. I have just remembered that I hate travelling, particularly from airports. I love flying - except when I get a bit claustrophobic - but having to get to airports on time and making sure I check in at the right place always drive me insane. Having missed two flights last year due to my own stupidity, I expect to sleep 0 minutes on Saturday (always a performance-enhancing exercise).

After meeting Atsuko I treated myself to an entirely unnecessary `cheek pillow` for the flight. It`s a small, scented pillow with a cute face and arms to keep me company on the journey. I am not sure I`ll use it though. It seems a shame to grubby its sweet little face with make-up, then I came home and spoke to Jo at length about the ridiculous similarities between Greece and Japan. We do seem to have found ourselves experiencing very similar things, possibly inevitable if you leave quite a progressive country and move a man`s paradise.

Today I met Sean for lunch and then took him to the international supermarket under Omiya station, where he paid a small fortune to treat us to feta cheese and olives. Thank you, Sean. It was worth every yen. When I get back to England, I am going to spend the entire time gorging on olives, brie, ham doorstep sandwiches and butterscotch Angel Delight. I may throw in the odd bag of prawn cocktail crisps too. Sashimi is all well and good, but there`s nothing better than a big plate of carbohydrates. (Japan has finally discovered the Atkins Diet and is unlikely to be stopped by any warnings of developing bad breath, seeing as it is already suffering a severe epidemic.)

The woman-hating new teacher (who apparently likes me, though I am difficult, opinionated and Western-looking), was in the pub last night trying to crack on to Kaori. Ridiculously and very short-sightedly, seeing as he met Kaori, along with Yukako and Nozomi, the night he snogged Yukako and tried to get me to steer her towards his room when she was so drunk she was about to collapse. Kaori reported all this back to me, along with the ADoS`s adolescent attempts to get to Yukako through Kaori. I love being the female gaijin today! I get to hear of all the failed attempts of my colleagues to pull my mates, it`s hilarious. I also seem to have the power to veto any relationships I deem unworthy as they don`t trust their own judgements because I have dismissed so many of their idols as losers. I should probably stop doing that, but it can sometimes give you the creeps when you see a huge, buck-toothed loser letching on a nubile 21-year-olds Anglophile.

I`ve also had the amusement/consternation of possible date, Takakun, to deal with this week. I really need to study Japanese dating more than anything else in the world. I have no idea about how it works (I understand how it works for the Japanese girls with gaijin men, both seem to accept the first offer, regret it later and cheat at leisure). It seems, rather than being polite about it, if someone asks you out and you are busy, you either refuse to reply or replying saying no and expect them to continue fielding possible dates and times until the woman offers up something convenient. Not seeming all that dignified to me, I was ready to throw in the towel, but was encouraged to continue by my female friends (`it is always a good time to email`). I eventually got an explanation that his work was busy, but he wants to stay in touch, so all may be well, but I do need to explain that my Japanese is not quite up to native fluency yet. All his emails are packed with kanji and I either have to get a friend to translate or send it back and ask for hiragana only messages. I am not sure why, when the Japanese spend years of their own childhoods writing and rewriting these things to ensure they remember them, they expect a lazy foreigner who has been here less than a year to know as many kanji characters as them.

Just not cricket

2006-06-16T11:00:00.000+07:00

What a rollercoaster of emotions this week has been. On Saturday night, I drank my way through the England match - enjoying the rowdy, mispronounced singing and misplaced enthusiasm from the Japanese fans watching far more than the game itself. Did anyone else think it was a bit boring? I did meet a hilarious boy called Taka, (I can`t say why he`s hilarious, I just remember laughing a lot while he was around), who has inspired me to learn how to say `he laughs like a donkey` in Japanese. Useful, ne? I initially thought he was Jery`s younger brother, but when I sobered up, realised this was a failed joke.

Sunday I went on a wash-out of a date with a guy from Cafe Lamp. I was extremely tired and hung over, which was not a good start, and rainy season had begun. Possibly. One Japanese person will tell me it`s rainy season, but then when I say it to someone else, they say the opposite - ad infinitum. For people who hate confrontation and argument, they can be bloody awkward. We went to Yokohama, but being Japanese, he put us on the wrong train, so it took half the day to make an hour-long journey, then tried to get me on a big wheel, despite my claiming many times that I don`t like heights (they act as cheap love hotels and teenagers go in the London Eye-like capsules to neck for 30 minutes). I was fairly confident I wouldn`t be scared, but didn`t want to risk any improper behaviour. He`s really not my type and I haven`t got to the chapter on knock-backs in my Japanese book yet. I finally managed to avoid the big wheel as the boats to Yokohama`s China Town stopped running early and we didn`t have time to do both. He rather sweetly offered to pay my fare, which amounted to a couple of quid. Then we wandered around the soaked streets trying to find an affordable, nice restaurant. The Japanese technique for choosing seems to be to follow the masses, rather than branching out and trying somewhere that looks good and undiscovered, so we ended up in a very cheap, busy place that looked to me like the Chinese equivalent of a trucker`s cafe. Apparently it`s traditional for men to pay on the first date (when they know it`s a date, last time, we went ambiguously Dutch), but Mamoru`s job is incredibly badly paid, so he paid ￥4000 and I ￥2000. It was quite fun, but totally unromantic and all his plans failed. Aside from the big wheel and the poorly plotted journey, everywhere sold tofu, which I stupidly announced I hate and we missed the cinema. However, he did teach me a brilliant bit of Japanese slang. Apparently the police are called `public dogs`, a phrase I think should be spread in Britain, too. Please use it.

I`ve also had more issues with Omiya Men`s Club. I invited a new member round to my flat on Tuesday to check out my single female Japanese friends, thinking he and Yukako would hit it off. They did and snogged in my flat, but I was so drunk I didn`t actually notice. Last week he announced, as though it was a fact, that Western women are not attractive. In my opinion, conceited dwarves are also not attractive, but I know some people have unusual fetishes so would not brandish my opinion as a wholly undeniable truth. This week, I caught him trying to butter up the Japanese girls by saying he doesn`t like Western women because they have opinions. I certainly have one on him...

It is not just this one. Before I came to Japan, I was prepared to encounter a bit of sexiam from the locals, this not being a particularly progressive country socially. It`s practically Stepford circa 1972 - they suffer from almost every `ism` imaginable and are not in the least bit ashamed of it. In fact, the Japanese people I have encountered, generally seem unaware that these are viewed as faults by outsiders. I thought I`d find it quite tough as a woman because here everything I perceive as a quality in myself is regarded as unnecessary, or even ugly. Personality is most definitely not ranked highly and the best way to shine is to reapply your lipgloss. But it`s my colleagues that are the bain of my life. Some are so ridiculously old school it is obvious why they`ve had to come to Japan. Britain is way too progressive. I`ve never been overly aware of my own gender before, but here I feel branded. While discussing my current situation of practically having no gaijin to confide in (Japanese girls only talk about getting boyfriends - I am a `How To` guide, not a friend) I was told that men don`t feel comfortable spending too much time alone with a woman (why?!) and that after spending all their time with their girlfriends, I shouldn`t expect to get too many invites out as the other teachers want `men-only` nights. I sort of understand this mentality, but find it absurd and offensive and it leaves me lurking around the George on my own. Thank god I have met a sensible group of Australian Nova teachers to hang out with. (Not a sentence I previously imagined I`d find myself saying).

Monday night, I went to watch the Japan game with some of the Nova teachers and some of their Japanese girlfriends. One had a complete fit when Australia scored and eventually had to hide in her boyfriend`s bedroom crying. Chotto excessive, perhaps. I got to practise my stumbling Japanese on the girlfriends, but speak a garbled mix of Janglish, plotting a basic sentence structure in Japanese and filling in the hard bits with English. I think they understood. One had just recorded an advert for Nova and seemed quite good, but you can never be completely sure if you are understood as a standard response to anything is smiling and nodding. Obviously, everyone here is now gutted at the defeat. The build-up to the start of the World Cup seemed bigger than in England, with far more enthusiasm, unless I just less attention back home. It`s been fun winding up my students about it though.

On Tuesday night, the Japanese girls came round for more advice on how to date gaijin they don`t fancy. Yukako thinks her boyfriend is `strange` and Kaori doesn`t like the guy she is asking out, although I once referred to him as cute, so I think I have inadvertantly given him the stamp of approval. Not exactly ideal, considering I might have wanted him for myself. They are hilarious though. Yukako appalled the others by announcing that sex is her `hobby` and later asked Kaori to join her in a threesome with Kaori`s stalkee, Graeme the JET. Kaori, of course, refused, but I have since learned the Japanese for threesome. My vocabulary is growing and growing.

My students have been amusing me this week. One of my kindergarten students, a four-year-old lunatic called Maica, was shouting the Japanese for `tits` on Saturday, and also the word for `can`, but I couldn`t understand what it was she could do. Sachiko and Hidako, after plotting my date with Mamoru last week, told me that he was not good enough because he doesn`t have prospects and were horrified when I explained that dating here is only fun and prospects don`t matter as I am never going to marry a Japanese man and live here. I think they were hoping that they`d never have to deal with getting a new teacher by shacking me up with a salaried ball and chain. Sachiko asked me to `hear` her life story as an example of how love should work (or a man should work, love rarely seems to be involved) and then asked Hidako to follow suit. Hidako`s English isn`t so good spontaneously, but something was said about a second love and a baby. At first I thought she meant her husband had a girlfriend before she met him and she stole him away, but it turned out that while they were married, he had an affair, at which time she became pregnant and threatened to leave him, so he had to ditch the mistress. I am not sure how this was supposed to convince me to marry a Japanese man.

Nothing special

2006-06-09T16:49:00.000+07:00

Manboo is near capacity, so I`ve been stuck in a tatami room on the top floor to compile this week`s entry. The boy at the counter went into enormous detail about having to take my shoes off, but all in Japanese so his colleague had to explain in surprisingly good English. While I was queuing a teenage schoolgirl couldn`t stop staring at me, so I smiled - seemingly making her day. Now I can hear her boyfriend making it all over again in the booth next door. Making out on tatami in polyester-mix school uniforms is not a silent business. Actually, in the time it has taken me to type that, it has stopped. My typing speed is around 70wpm. Teenage boys are the same the world over.

I`ve just got back from Hidako`s house, where I was invited after trying to wangle a day out in Ginza. Sadly that didn`t materialise as Sachiko is having her house renovated and so needed to stay in Ageo. I got force-fed a weird, but quite tasty lunch and sat down in front of King Kong to avoid the struggle of having to sustain a conversation for too long. I had hoped to practise some Japanese, but couldn`t be bothered, a phrase that tellingly doesn`t seem to exist in Japanese, or at least it`s not one anyone is prepared to tell me. Sachiko was there and showed me pictures of her `darling`. Not a word I would use, he just looks like a tubby old man in bad jeans.

It`s been a long, long week, parents` observations not helping, obviously. Haru`s mother, who observed last Monday and egged on Psychotic Rei, handed in her feedback - I should apparently be more strict with disruptive pupils. None of my pupils are generally that disruptive without a mother acting like they`re the cutest little thing. Also, I didn`t dare risk telling him to leave the classroom and have him refuse while two mothers looked on. Naoto`s father observed his class this week, along with one of the mother`s, but arrived late and as soon as he sat down, curled up in the chair and went to sleep. After the lesson, he told Yoshiko-san that his son needs to take his lessons more seriously. Wednesday`s observations were unpleasant, as I`d expected. Miteki and Ryoya got bored and acted up as the language was way too easy for them, and special needs Hiroaki threw the pen-lid in the air every time he had to draw something on the whiteboard and tried climbing under the table five times. Thursday`s lessons were much better and the mothers all commented on how fairly I shared my time around the students, but as they couldn`t understand some of the language, they imagined their children couldn`t either.

Sunday night Sean and I went to Saizareya for some cheap grub (less than a quid for two small glasses of wine is not to be sniffed at). Of course, this bargainous place is a mecca for teenagers and I found myself in the uncomfortable position of gazing at one of the kakkoiest boys I`ve ever seen only to realise he was there doing his homework. I managed to stop myself going over to help, but maybe next time I`ll take some fake business cards... On the way there, it seemed like we had discovered Omiya`s fire station. I hope we were wrong. I do not want to be saved by a firefighter who travels on a yellow foldable bike.

I was in a terrible mood on Wednesday, and poor Mike had to put up with my whining about Omiya Young Men`s Club. A new teacher has arrived in our building, so I introduced myself and this week asked him around for a drink. I found he already had company as he had been put in touch with another male teacher who has the same day off as him and has been invited to join in a football game (neither of which were invitations I would have specifically wanted, but it is always nice to be asked...). When I arrived, I was left to make the best with a teacher I had nothing in common with aside from gender and who was on the verge of and eventually tipped over the brink of a nervous breakdown, so I was not impressed by the warm welcome this guy received (though he was nice enough to me himself, to be entirely fair). Mike caught the full blast of my disdain, only for me to have to take it back the next day when I found myself drinking into the small hours in my flat with Kate (a Nova teacher, of all things! A very nice one though) and one of Shane`s central clique.

Last night, I put the TV on as an attempt to make amends for my recent lack of study (I did try to chat about Kurosawa again this week and my teacher had prepared a hand-out, but I can`t remember the words for `robber`, `fall in love` or `murdered`, which is a shame as they are far more interesting than `put out the rubbish` and `open the door`), but actually spent an hour watching a film in Chinese before I fully realised that the clothes were different and their Japanese more tonal than I am used to (I thought it might have been set on Kyushu somewhere). After Shaolin Soccer finished, I flicked through a few shows and found a fey pop star`s chat show. I watched it with Yukako briefly last week and, would you believe, their are vicious rumours flying around that the guy in the sailor suit is not gay. His friend in black quite possibly suffers similar rumours, but is doing his best to quash them by openly admiring 80`s new wave and name-checking Kajagoogoo and Culture Club.

This is my friend Kaori`s dance troup. They took part in a competition in Shinjuku, but I couldn`t go. She is the one wearing a white and blue shirt, waving everyone on. Is it wrong of me to have felt mildly uncomfortable watching this? http://www.littlestep.jp/20060528_SatoshiNumber/DSCF0979.AVI

I notice that 422 people have read my profile now. Who are you all?!

Good Morning Saitama!

2006-06-02T13:44:00.000+07:00

Blogging is a far more dangerous pursuit than I ever imagined. It seems I`ve made myself mildly notorious by writing this thing. I`ve been found out by other teachers in Omiya, as well as Jery and George. No longer can I admit to wearing Dr Martin-style shoes or drinking beer in my lunch break or any of the other things outlawed in the Shane contract. It also seems I have a regular reader in Jery now, so a small shout-out to you! I can`t imagine this is that interesting for anyone who knows me here and is likely to just read things I will soon be telling them myself, but if they have time to kill, it`s their choice.

Friday was a write-off. I had a hangover. Not `two days drunk` as the Japanese say (futsukayoi), but one evening slaughtered and a whole day ruined. Yukako came to my apartment laiden with food and booze which I stormed through. It was lovely though. She`s a brilliant girl and has shaken off some of the conservatism of her compatriots. I even got her to moan about Japan a little bit, although did then feel obliged to berate England - quite half-heartedly, mind. She brought some colour-changing liquour (add water and it turns from peach to pink) and takuyaki round - small balls of batter with lumps of octopus in the middle, smothered with sauce and mayonaise. I`m fairly sure the night ended with me passing out on my futon, but as it is quite normal for people to fall asleep drunk in public here, Yukako doesn`t seem to have even noticed. It reminded me of some of the things I love about Japan, that being one of them!

I was knackered though. I`ve been out quite a bit this week. Sunday night I wanted to meet up with Sean for a very cheap meal, but ended up going to an izakaya with him, Adam, Riaz and a Japanese couple who I bullied into teaching me `bad Japanese`. We got stung with an enormous bill considering there was so little food (though buckets of beer), but I did learn how to say `it tastes like sick` in Japanese: kore wa gero no aji desu.

On Monday, I bumped into Darrell, who treated me to a couple of beers in exchange for listening to his life story. Again. He can really talk, but is great company. A Japanese couple sat quietly next to us, but as we `kampaied` another beer, a third glass clinked against ours. The girl had gone to the bathroom and the deserted boy couldn`t resist a little gaijin action. We tried to practise our muddled Japanese on him and he attempted to use his English, but after managing `what music do you like` we were stumped and went back to our own conversations.

On Tuesday, Kaori came round and we had some wine. She brought two bottles, saying she knows I like to drink, and only had a couple of glasses, so I was slaughtered. I planned to skip Japanese the following day, but woke up at 7am on the dot, so thought I may as well go. The teacher thought it was hilarious that I had a hangover and I managed to tell him, in Japanese, that beer and wine get me very drunk, but I am fine on gin. He constantly told me to relax, which must have lost some meaning in translation. Still being a bit pissed, I couldn`t have been more relaxed.

School`s been a bit mad this week. Shit-Shiraoka decided to begin parents` observations early this week and so I arrived at school with a scarf around my head and pedal-pushers, looking to all the world like an extra from West Side Story, then had to hold it together in two kids` classes while the War of the Worlds unfolded. Naoto, a showy, spoilt, but usually manageable kid decided now he had a bigger audience, he needed a bigger show and nearly came to blows with Akeru all for sake of a `Taiwan` flashcard. I hope the mothers were focused on their own children, who were perfectly behaved, of course, and didn`t notice that I had lost complete control. In the second class, the behaviour was even worse, but as I expect it from Rei (a little maniac who seems to flirt with me, even though he is nine, and is quite likely to bring a knife in to school to stab me the next time I tell him off for punching one of his mates), it wasn`t so bad. He did try to jokingly punch me in the stomach, which made me want to seriously smack him, but I restrained myself.

Tuesday was a bit more lightweight. Shoko went crazy in class and sang every sentence I asked her to read to the tune of `Shall We Dance`, the lesson was making offers and requests and as it livened it up for a bunch of otherwise bored 13-year-olds I encouraged it and was sorely tempted to join in. Maybe my earlier encounter with an uncontrollable two-year-old that forced me to appreciate the classes I have. I had to taiken two two-year-old boys. One was ridiculously cute (the receptionist politely told his mother he looks like a girl) and sat and beamed whenever I spoke, but made no sound, while the other faced the wrong way and pulled all my materials off the table, but lost interest as soon as they were on the floor in reach. My previous experience of doing Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes in front of an observing mother and a reluctant child have numbed me to this, but Yoshiko has not had this training and was frazzled by the time the boy left the school. He tore and screwed up any paper he could get his hands on and constantly tried to make his escape down the stone steps outside, while his gormless mother chatted and let him go about his business. Yoshiko attempted to stop him going down the steps and he ripped open her jacket and blouse! She was mortified, but I yanked the boy off her and let her dress herself before we dragged him back to his mother. On Thursday, I had to sit through another of Sachiko`s songs, this one about grandmothers, as her daughter-in-law was due to give birth within hours of the lesson. The other students find this more uncomfortable than me, but still she goes on. It wasn`t quite as long as the last one though, so we gave her genuine smiles after - but of relief.

Rachel came to visit yesterday. We went for Shabu-Shabu in Shinjuku. I seem to have passed the False Assimilation stage and am truly Japanese; I got off the train at the wrong stop, got us lost and we very nearly had to plump for a plain, old izakaya. We managed to get there in the end, and it was tabehodai (all you can eat), so I shovelled all I could into my face, barely able to lift my carcass to the station, then got on the slow train home. We went to the George `for one` after and bumped into Yukako, Jery and a load of other people. One of Yukako`s friends tried to set Rachel up with a guy until she heard Rachel was only staying for the night, then the crowds parted, I got ushered in and, with everyone pointing and smiling expectantly, was left standing facing a man I had nothing to say to. He was potentially good-looking, although Rachel and I wavered constantly on this point, but he had a brace (at 34, this might be a bit much) and was a bit conscious of it, so wouldn`t speak much (his voice was very unappealing, so this was no bad thing) and when I finally did talk to him, it turned out he has a girlfriend of four years.

Rachel and I insisted we were not drunk, but my memory tells me I was a complete twat, so I hope that was the alcohol and not something more constant. Rachel got a completely distorted view of my life in Omiya. Once I spotted Yukako, I was welcomed like a celebrity, even being hugged by one woman I`ve only met twice before and whose name I couldn`t pick off a list of two. A crazed drunk kept grabbing me and out-Suggsed me while Madness was on, telling people I was his friend over and over, although I have only really said hello to him before. George played a World Cup medley and Rachel was overly impressed by my knowing all the words to the John Barnes`s rap. We eventually managed to drag ourselves away at 4am, having slated Kylie to a couple of Australasians (she DOES look like a horse with a child`s body) and discussed how badly kaolas smell.

Today we were hoping to go to Kamakura, but didn`t have time, so went into Akihabura, got a huge lunch from KFC and sat by the river eating it. We visited a shrine we happened across so we could justify the trip, but mainly loafed about counting the homeless. We did find a Russian Orthodox Church that I insisted was not Russian until I found I could read the sign above the entrance because it was written in Russian.

Life is sweet

2006-05-26T10:31:00.000+07:00

I`ve had a lot of fun this week. On Tuesday, I had my usual Take Off 1 class, handed to me from another, allegedly more experienced teacher (one of those cocks who `has to` live here as England would no longer tolerate him), and again they were beaming with delight as they filed into school. A weird reaction from nine-, ten- and eleven-year-olds usually, but these ones act like they`ve never been allowed to play a game before in their lives, so I enjoy it and view it far more as their previous teacher`s failings than my success. If you do the lessons you`re supposed to, kids have to enjoy it at some point. The book is very easy to convert to games and one of the kids is doing it for his second time, so ought to be bored but they`re not, which makes it more enjoyable to teach them. Even Hironobu getting a ball in the knackers every lesson has not deterred them.

Even the perpetually mute Toshiki was genkier than usual. Mike-san reckons this is down to a mind-numbing make-up lesson with Rebekah (a gossip vulture I despise), so I readily accept his theory. Whatever the reason, Toshiki was quite a cheeky tike. He came in muttering something about `Joke Abenue` which no one could understand, but I think he was announcing his comedy act. Throughout the lesson he succumbed to devilish chuckles and was slyly naughty at every opportunity. He feigned a lisp for a while, though as he speaks so quietly I wasn`t sure it wasn`t real until he spelt dentist as `dentitht`, quite sophisticated for an eleven-year-old. He`s gone up in my estimations, even after farting at the whiteboard.

Thursday was good too, although I confused an email from Sean saying he`d been to see `V for Vendetta` as a threat or warning and was confused after a late night on Wednesday. I`d been to the George with Yukako and Steven and met up with Jery (Iito-san), who has been reading my blog, so thought I`d give him another mention. Hey Jery!

Yukiko brought me some homemade jam and the other ladies all brought me cookies and biscuits from various trips they`d taken. The previous week, we`d played a guessing game and I immediately guessed that Yukiko was Harry Potter, so this week I read in her diary that, because of this, `I am worthy to be British`. There you go. That`s all it takes. Sachiko and Hidako brought in some treats too - Sachiko is now regularly bringing me cuttings from her garden that need planting in soil and I am regularly taking them home, putting them in water and waiting for them to die. Without pilfering the soil from municipal flower pots, I`m not entirely sure how to get around this. I really can`t be bothered to take myself to a Japanese garden centre. Atsuko, the receptionist, gently warned me not to lean forward too far in Keisuke`s lesson as I was wearing a top that stopped two inches above my cleavage. He was tired and could barely speak in class, but she blamed this on me distracting him. Next week, I will wear a trench coat and see how we get on. I did explain that even in my baggiest, least becoming outfits, as s typical otaku, he stares as where he thinks my chest is, but she just chuckled and made me rule out ever wearing that outfit to Ageo school again. (I`d worn the same top the previous week with no comments, but I can`t be bothered dealing with mock disapproval.)

On Friday, I met up with Hidako and her daughter, much to Sachiko`s chagrin. Mutters of `jealousy` were rippled around the reception area as we made arrangements the day before. I spotted Tomomi immediately as she has Hidako`s face atop a 27-year-old body. Eerie, but convenient as we found each other immediately, even though Hidako was a bit late. We went to the Omiya Plaza Hotel, where another student and her daughter had taken me the week before and I had to pretend I`d never been so as not to disappoint them. This time I got to eat, instead of eating an incredibly small cake (they love cakes here, but shrink them to remain anorexia-thin) and we tucked into more Italian food, an exotic treat in the Far East. It was fabulous though, pasta, a dish that is very Tuesday and bores me at home, comes topped with half a small lobster and packed with clams, mussels and squid. After that, we tried to go to the cinema, but nothing was on (well, the Da Vinci Code is on, but everyone in Japan has already seen it - bar me, of course), so went window shopping. I wasn`t even allowed to pay for my train ticket, which was very nice, but a bit unnecessary. I`m a bit concerned though, Tomomi had to translate the most basic English for Hidako, which makes me wonder just how little she understands of my lessons, if any. She always laughs in the right places and her comments always make sense so I assumed she was OK. I might have to start doing the unthinkable and concept check...

Friday night, I quite possibly went on a date. In the sense that a man and a woman having dinner together is a date, it most definitely was, and in Japan this is even rearer amongst friends, but there wasn`t a sniff of romance in the air. When I first met Mamoru (whose name I obviously can`t pronounce, somewhat embarrassing when a friend`s girlfriend whose name I don`t remember came over and I had to introduce them both), he was very flirty, but Friday was very matey. I don`t mind, despite being my age, he looks ludicrously young and is still keen to teach me Japanese and buy me stuff . I had to go Dutch on dinner, which is a bad sign on the date front as you are totally kept by a Japanese boyfriend usually, but he has promised to buy me a copy of Akira in Japanese with English subtitles, which I`m excited about getting, but also means I need to hurry up and get a DVD player to watch it on. Of course, being Japanese, he was ridiculously ambiguous, asking if he could text me the next day, then maintaining complete radio silence throughout Saturday. He did have a test to revise for, so it is not in any way surprising or disappointing, but just why bother asking? He also sent this `cute picture of a cat, a gift for` me after we first met, so at the first opportunity I am going to teach him what cute actually means. I also need him to teach me kanji. He had his Nintendo DS with him, which does a `find the age of your brain` test, but it is all in Japanese. We muddled through him translating the instructions and then I had to memorise and draw 30 kanji - bear in mind the test was designed for the Japanese so most were obscure and difficult kanji, although I only know about 10 anyway, so it could have been for an elementary school student and I would have failed. My brain is 68. Spritely and young in Japan, so not too bad.

Perhaps I should introduce him to Yuka, a new student and the girl whose mother took me to the Plaza Hotel for the first time. She is cuteness personified. She`s adorable, lives an utterly charmed life, studying fashion and learning English so she can go off to New York to make more clothes. In our first lesson, we flicked through Cosmopolitan and discussed the `boho look` with particular reference to Helena Christensen and Sienna Miller and how Johnny Depp and Jude Law are good-looking, but not attractive (she likes Johnny Depp`s `atmosphere`. When we first met, she brought me a couple of cookies from the coffee shop she works in and almost wet herself when I said I`d like to go and watch her old J-Pop band. I can`t wait for her next lesson. I think we`ll discuss big bags and sunglasses...

Japan`s inner psychos

2006-05-21T15:42:00.000+07:00

I think I`m a little imbalanced this week. My opinions of Japan, and people generally, have plummetted and rocketed a thousand times within each conversation this week. For the first time ever, I can`t make a rash decision about anything. I normally pass judgement in haste, although rarely repent at any pace, but this week I`ve flitting off the fence, on it, over it and under it. I pity anyone trying to please me this week, as it could make me cry with gratitude or nauseated by their sycophancy.

However, most of my reactions have been fairly reasonable. On Thursday, Keisuke paraded the same nationalistic conceit that wore me out last week, while we were discussing racism and global attitudes. He claimed Japan was not racist or aggrieved by the effects of WWII - aside from shame, of course - while I pointed out that fellow gaijin get spat at in the street by war veterans. He shut his ears and talked over this, but later handed over Kate Bush`s greatest hits, a far better lend than most I`ve received before.

Last night I had what seemed to be a brilliant night out with Yuka and Yukako, but then they lost their way and nearly made us miss the train (I think Yuka wanted us to miss the train so she could go back to the club we`d been in) and passed the journey home asking me if I knew all the other gaijins on the train. I restrained from asking them if they knew each of the hundreds of Japanese people also in the carriages.

After finally making it home, I switched on the TV to see the kaiwaiiest girl in the world holding up a porn magazine to the TV camera and laughing with her `wacky` co-hosts. She then briefly flicked through the rest of the magazine, revealing more and more and more of what I wanted to see less and less and less of. Having sat next to a man gazing freely at porn on the train to work, I understand why he was no in the least bit ashamed at his choice of reading matter.

I guess my reactions are not so unreasonable or unstable. That the night started off well in a nice izakaya with kakkoii boys nodding in my direction (positively begging for it in Japanese boy terms, though nudging my way into a private izakaya booth to make headway with a cute diner in front of his seven friends is still a little beyond me). After eating, we strolled around Shibuya looking for a nice bar. While queuing for a cash machine I couldn`t use (my bank, seemingly not understanding why these machines are automated, won`t let me use ATMs outside business hours), we saw an awful British northerner trying to dodge a fine for hurling a pint glass into a restaurant. Somehow, we later ran into the bouncer who had been demanding his gaijin card as surety, and he explained the man had had a tantrum when he`d been told he couldn`t take his glass outside. You can`t outrun yakuka, even if you haven`t been brought up on black pudding and brown sauce five times a day, and his bloodied and muddied body was testament to that.

After this small, but enthralling piece of excitement (which everyone else in the AM PM ignored, while I fought to give my own two penneth), Yuka took us to the Ruby Room, a very small, cool bar playing drum `n` bass and full of lesbianic Australians. Aside from that it was nice and as I was gazing behind the bar wondering what to use my free drink token on, I realised the man serving me was Gill, a regular from the George that I have abused and bullied into buying me many drinks before. Yuka was a little put out that her `special tour` had been upstaged by me already having direct connections there, so I spent the rest of the night playing down knowing Gill at all. He barely rises above acquaintance really, so it was not hard, but Japanese egos are a chore to control. Perhaps partly why this country has 30,000 suicides a year...

The weather is just as unstable - though how they laugh at the changeable nature of British weather here. Yesterday we had the tailend of China`s typhoon. Everyone here claims it was not a typhoon, though exactly like one, but as the only difference seems to be the timing, I am calling it a typhoon. Yesterday was fabulously warm, though as the temperature won`t stop rising for a good two months at least, I stubbornly refuse to remove my jacket until it is absolutely necessary (working with children every day, I know if there are any unpleasant side effects to this strategy, I will be the first to hear of it). Around 4 o`clock, the sky suddenly clouded over as one solitary, huge black clouded slowly moved above us. We could see the edge of the cloud and the sunshine in the distance, but my classroom was suddenly much darker. Once the rain started falling, the sky was lost in reems of it - it was almost horizontal and bounced off the pavements. A crack of thunder accompanied the dipping of the lights and the class of kids next door squealed. They can only handle things if they are on schedule. It lasted for about an hour and today it has been positively wonderful. I`ve been to the park to study Japanese (well, finish my book - Gide`s Immoralist, which reminds me of an unpleasant ex) and am sorely tempted to treat myself to an ice cream in a minute.

Happy Birthday Papa Bear

2006-05-14T16:52:00.000+07:00

That`s Sean to most people. We went to En, a bit of an upmarket izakaya compared to where I am used to, to celebrate last night. I have been a couple of times before, so am not always a povvy guttersnipe, but it was most definitely a treat. The fried chicken was amazing (not very nihonno, but never mind). Afterwards we went to the deserted Space Bar and watched and talked over West Ham vs Liverpool. Sean skipped around like a loon when the penalties went in Liverpool`s favour - it was almost like being on the Costa del Sol. I had the whole bar telling one barman how kakkoii I thought he was and when I offered my email with the pathetic excuse of offering English lessons, all the other barmen laughed. He was like a J-Pop star (a good one), so I was aiming high. A few of us went to karaoke after, but stayed a bit too long. My voice had gone and so sounded even worse than usual and by 6am we were all wilting in our seats.

Friday I had to work in Iwatsuki, which was a long and boring day, although the receptionist is lovely, so hopefully it has yielded a new friend, as well as an extra ￥5,000 for doing a six-day week. All the students loved me too, which was nice, although perhaps they felt like that because they have had so many difference teachers lately, they just want to cling on to anyone. I had some nice kids classes, although one bunch of five- and six-year-olds were virtually unmanageable - it was more like a creche. I would have normally let them fuck about and just concentrate on those that were interested, but the receptionist was peering through the door with some of the mothers so I had to make an effort. The adult classes were all fairly high level and none had books, so it was mainly free conversation, which was good. I had a very interesting chat with a middle aged Catholic who thinks the yakuza have really let themselves and their manners go.

Today I ventured into the optician`s, which was weirdly pleasureable. So many people have bad eyesight in Japan they have really put a lot of effort into designing nice, reasonably-priced frames. It was almost as enjoyable as shoe-shopping (something I am missing terribly with my gaijin-sized plodders). At one point I was considering buying three pairs, although this would have been a ridiculous extravagance - I could barely afford the one I ended up with. No one in the store spoke English (from a Japanese person, this means we could conduct a stunted, but understandable conversation at a very slow pace and with lots of gestures), but I thought I might be able to soldier on in Japanese. Fortunately, optomotrists are well educated, so he did have a small amount of English and we fumbled our way through his most painful appointment of the day. I had to read a hiragana sight test, but the questions were still the same and I still couldn`t work out if red was clearer than green.

Racist intolerance

2006-05-13T07:24:00.000+07:00

For various reasons, I am pissed off with Japan this week. It seems to be full of self-involved arses and tiresome mentalists who pester me for attention when it suits them, but tardily refuse to return the favour. It is also rammed with conceited racists. Some people defend Japan by saying that racism in Britain is far worse than it is here because it is more aggressive. I don`t pretend to compare myself to a victim of a violent attack, however, it is more prevalent and far more acceptable to be racist here. Some Japanese even expect pity as the foreigners scare them. That `foreigner` is an acceptable word and has even found its way into my vocabulary is a sign of how every day the attitudes towards non-Japanese are.

Extreme examples are male friends of mine having old men spit at their feet in the street. These are WWII generation men, so you can understand their anomosity to some extent, but not their expression of it. People stare and openly discuss you. A month or two ago, two Salarymen sat opposite me clearly discussing me and a Brazilian couple who were sat next to me. They found it very entertaining to see three of us in a row and when I stared back at the instigator, he just carried on and stared back at me. At the best you are a novelty act, at worst, a murderous circus freak. Women who travel abroad are known as `yellow cabs` as anyone can ride in them - obviously the minute their visa is stamped they are defiled by foreigners and become wanton sluts. I was told this by Yoshiko, who previously modelled how to use the word `hena` (strange) by saying `weird foreigners`.

After my experiences in Hiroshima, everything this week has lost proportion. My Japanese teacher refusing to accept that in Britain we don`t like warm food so not telling me how to say `this isn`t hot enough` (although there is an equivalent for drinks and bath water as they like to scorch off their skin in an onsen once in a while) really wound me up. She also told me it was impossible to grow my hair, rather than imagining she didn`t know the verb `to grow` could be used for hair (I can`t imagine what word they use here, but her suggestion was to get extensions).

Keisuke, the word otaku, brought up Sting and the Police and their ill-advised Japanese-language album track. Apparently the Japanese thought this incredibly stupid as they were just trying to be cool (they do have a point), but had used a stupid poem. When I asked if Sting using a respected poem would have made a difference, I eventually dragged it out of Keisuke that it was the Police not writing it themselves. He foolishly then asked my opinion of J-Pop. I don`t know any artists particularly, but have noticed that lots of them use broken English to make their songs more impressive. When I pointed out that they were doing the same thing, but by writing the English bits themselves were actually using incorrect English he spoke over me. Keisuke`s shutters go down whenever I say something he doesn`t like. Probably because I am foreign. My opinion only really counts when it contradicts the Philipino he works with.

To give them their due, they are also very classist and offensive to those Japanese they feel are beneath them. My Japanese teacher told me it would sound very strange if I said `thank you very much` in Japanese to a person in a shop. They are serving me, so I am above them and only need to say the equivalent of `cheers`. I told her in England we try treat everyone equally and be polite regardless of their job or position (maybe this is just me), but she insisted it would be bad Japanese and I ignored her.

When I get home, I am going to start a campaign to point out how brilliant Britain is. Our self-deprecating humour is getting us spat on by the rest of the world, while they are outright offensive, but claim to be polite. This is how they maintain their reputations. We need to fight back.

Golden Week

2006-05-07T14:26:00.000+07:00

On Tuesday, I shinkansenned down to Nagoya to meet up with Kaiah. Nagoya is not a city to add to your itinerary unless you have a reason to go there. It`s Japan`s fourth largest city and as they`re all much of a muchness, you can skip it. It has no outstanding features of natural beauty (aside from Kaiah, perhaps) and the shrines are pretty run-of-the-mill. We had brilliant fun though. Kaiah still doesn`t know the city too well, so we navigated by stalking handsome boys - into coffee shops, through department stores and around the red light district. We went to Nagoya-jo and rebelliously went down the `up` stairs and stopped off for some famous miso nikomi ramen (ramen soup with udon-like noodles).

After grading the kakkoiiness of every customer in a trendy coffee shop and trying on some tardis-like hats, we went to an izakaya for tea. Kaiah has a degree in Japanese and lived in Hokkaido for a year, so was able to handle the picture-free menu with ease. As I am a huge fan of squid, he ordered some squid sashimi, which is not how I generally like it to be served, but squid is squid. A few of the kanji were indecipherable, so we were presented with inedible purple slop and an amused expression from the waiter. We`d ordered squids innards. We both had a go each, and as we couldn`t chew it was tasteless, but vile. It looked like something a Jewish doctor would throw in the bin.

We tried to find some more entertainment later, but every izakaya was full and the Hub was the only option. Kaiah was tempted to try it, but being greeted by Australian and American accents is not a good welcome, so I suggested we try Wara Wara, a cheap and reliable chain izakaya whose menu I am pretty much bored of and know off-by-heart. It was full, but we did meet a drunk girl in the lift who was going to the same place and so I asked her to join us. Sadly, Wara Wara had a waiting list, so we headed back to the Hub with our new friend. She turned out to be only 20 and slaughtered, but not ready to take herself home. She loved us, even though her English wasn`t great. She sat and occasionally squealed, while showing me her new shopping. She had bought every possibly hair ornament and accessory going, including two hairpieces, so we came to the conclusion she was a hostess - one that would be far more successful if she could handle her drink. She eventually went home and we tried stalking boys for new places to go, but every time we spotted any that looked like they`d know cool places, they veered off into blow job bars (`Snack Bars`) and we were left at a dead end.

We eventually headed back to the smallest town in Japan and picked up Kaiah`s gaijin friend and a physics teacher he works with before hitting karaoke. The physics teacher thought I was `sugoi` and I thought the same of him as he is the only person in Japan who thinks I look young and can sing. He was clearly lying to be smooth, which works as well on a Japanese physics teacher as it does on an English one, but bless him for trying.

The next day I took my hangover to meet Rachel in Hiroshima, a relatively painless exercise for me, but not her as her phone had run out and she`d been hanging around the shinkansen platform for an hour. We dropped off our bags at the station and walked around the dead ends of Hiroshima. A wonky-toothed weirdo tried to invite himself to dinner with us, but we managed to shake him off and head to a Chinese restaurant for a huge lunch. Rachel had travelled by boat and thought she was suffering seasickness in the restaurant, but it was actually a small earthquake - possibly her first.

After dinner, we got the tram to our hostel. It was far from the centre of Hiroshima, near Miyajima, an island famous for its torii (the gate to the shrine is in the sea). We were led to our hostel by seeing blind man with a white stick under his arm whose perfectly good english disintegrated into mumbled Japononsense. Worryingly, he was very surprised when Rachel spotted the hostel - hopefully because she could read Japanese and not because he was leading us somewhere unpleasant. The owner resembled Fu Man Chu and hugged us because we were so late, but we were more distracted by the OCD sufferer licking cream off a celophane cake wrapper who had stubbed out 20 cigarettes after taking one drag. Not somewhere we wanted to spend too much time alone. We quickly headed out to an izakaya where we had to eat squid and octopus tempura as it was the only thing we could order from the all-kanji menu. The chef loved having some foreigners in and gave us some chips for free. The waiter, however, took to calling me `kiwi sour` as I ludicrously asked if they served them.

We were forced to share a room with two boring (one down-right unpleasant, actually) JETs who were friends of friends and a mosquito who ate us alive. I have a line of bites across the sole of my foot. We barely slept so got up early to explore Miyajima - we did some shrines, bought masses of tat from the sovenier shops, and then got a cable car up the mountain. I was not as scared as I expected, although did have a hissy fit while waiting on some stone steps for the second leg of the journey. Climbing down the mountain was more of a challenge. We apparently picked the toughest route, though some fools were going up the same way and gasped `konnichiwa` with strained red faces as we passed.

On Friday we did Hiroshima proper - the museum and A bomb dome and moved into a new hostel. Everywhere was booked for Golden Week, so we were lucky to have the upgrade to a real YHA bed. We also got an 11 o`clock curfew which ruled out any fun, but we were too tired and skint by this time to worry.

The museum was amazing and presented a devastating piece of history in a very dignified manner. Emotional blackmail would have been entirely justified, but rather than tugging on heart-strings with depictions of vicious and prolonged deaths, it wielded this only against the destruction of buildings. It was moving, but nowhere near as traumatic as I had expected. Weirdly, the 30th Anniversary flower festival was taking place, so we heard lots of commotion from outside and wanted to get out into the sun. We found a spot and watched masses of groups perform roughly the same traditional dance over and over again.

One thing I did notice about Hiroshima is that, although an obvious tourist mecca (Rachel seemed much troubled by the gaijin count, though it didn`t compare to Nowhereville Omiya), the locals seemed enthralled by our presence. Perhaps because we were two loud, busty girls, or perhaps it was straightforward racism, we couldn`t quite tell. Generally it was very sweet and whenever we stood still for more than two minutes, we were forced to entertain yet more curious natives. However, in the izakaya near our first hostel, some of the waitresses ignored our `sumimasens`, even though between us we could order a meal without falling back to English. We also had a bizarre experience in a cafe. Two young boys were sat opposite showing no interest in us whatsoever (we both knew this as they were fairly kakkoii, so we had shown interest in them) when suddenly the braver of the two gestured to a camera and asked if we`d mind. Rachel got ready to take a shot, just as the young man lowered himself on the sofa to pose next to us. We laughed, but got on with it and the second one took his turn. Fine in itself (ish), but when we tried to chat with them and asked them to join us, they went back to their seats and acted like nothing had happened.

On our last night, we had to race into town from the hostel to find somewhere to eat. This time, we managed to get into Wara Wara and got laughed at by the waitress for trying every cocktail on the menu. Do not order anything with Calpis in it. I got home yesterday, but as I had swapped dates for my return, my ticket was not reserved and there was standing room only on the shinkansen. A stop or two into the journey and I managed to elbow an old lady out of the way and get a seat. Whatever she had been through, I had descended a mountain and my legs ached. I wasn`t going to stand for four hours.

Last night I took my holiday snaps to the George and befriended a hairdresser called Shin who perhaps sees himself as a future Mr MacGechan. I am less sure. This morning I went to Cafe Lamp and showed off the photos again - my god, they love it. Afterwards, we went for lunch and I ended up chatting to a young guy called Abe who wants a girlfriend who can cook - more precisely, who will boil the vegetables he chops. He has no other criteria. He initially said a Japanese girl would be best, but he only insists she can boil. Looks and personality are not important. Kaori suggested he date me, but I would like to think I had bagged someone who was a little fussier.

Bits and odd bods

2006-04-29T11:07:00.000+07:00

The news was reporting methods for solving pachinko addiction last night. I think putting the addicts to sleep would be most effective. It is the most absurd, pointless pursuit a person can have, but in summer women have left babies to die in cars because of it.

The news was slightly more interesting than the terrible Ben Affleck film I had to endure. I have watched more shite TV here than I had in my entire lifetime prior to coming to Japan (and I really had put in some hours back home). This was a terrible made-for-TVish film about a casino heist (a talentless Ashton Kutcher was a patron of said casino) flukily pulled off by some ex-cons, though there was a `clever` twist to who was the real mastermind. I won`t spoilt it for anyone who has yet to see it as I can`t be bothered to explain it.

Sachiko, the genkiest Menopause Sister, sang me a song in Japanese in class to explain the Children`s Festival. She had no sense of embarrassment what so ever, though the other two compensated for this and squirmed miserably until she finished. I also had to teach them the words `revealing`, `low-cut` (which they then used to describe my outfit) and `push-up bra` (unrelated to my outfit and very popular in China, apparently).

This week`s lessons have revolved around descriptions and guessing my hobbies, which has been amusing and awkward in equal measure. A slimy new student who always letches on the utterly beautiful receptionist guessed I went to the gym twice a week - his eyes are only for Mariko, so I like to imagine his surprise was genuine when I said `actually never` and I made my Live Wires describe my character: sporty, kind, funny and polite. As concept checks go, this should have forced me to re-teach the vocab, but I think they were just going for words they could remember and spell.

Everyone`s going Mod

2006-04-23T15:43:00.000+07:00

I went to my second gig in Japan last night, although inadvertantly. I had just popped to the George to avoid a Saturday night at home, but 30 minutes after I arrived, a swarm of beehives and monochrome dresses descended the steps and walloped a ￥1000 door charge on anyone wanting a quiet pint. I only vaguely remember a Crampsy romp, a Shout cover and being dazzled by the male vocalist`s enunciation. He pissed on Mr Woah-Yeah`s `prease prease me`.

Aki came down later. We got drunk and she danced her urban dance to Louis Louis, which was amusing to see. I put myself in a circle of fancy-dressed Japanese boys who looked like Ocean Colour Scene on smack and eventually latched on to a small kakkoii boy who was dressed more modernly, but later DJed a set I was too drunk to hear, but would like to imagine was the best. We had a brief snog on a bench outside, but I was too drunk to bother writing my email for him. From my vague memory, he was just about tall enough to be allowed on the rides at Alton Towers, so it is no tragedy.

While waiting for Aki to pop down to celebrate her husband`s birthday, I sat with JeDos, Duncan (the Koshigaya DoS) and Mike, the new ADoS, and so received a barrel-load of Karen. On Thursday, she refused to let three screaming four-year-olds out of her classroom (she had shouted and scared them). Three mothers and a receptionist eventually managed to yank the door open and release the captives, but not before terrifying them immensely. I doubt they will grow into gaijin-friendly Anglophiles.

She has clearly had a breakdown. Something that is more common than you would imagine and not something I was warned of before coming out here. Lots of people come here to hide from their problems, but in the first six months you spend a considerable amount of time alone with only your thoughts for company. This is not a place for a loon on the run.

Friday, Takashi-san and I spent a far saner afternoon scoping out Shibuya. He gave me a little tour of designer shops whose windows we couldn`t even afford to smudge by pressing our noses against, the local park (it suddenly felt a lot more like London then - I think I am addicted to urban parks, so intend to take my Japanese texts books there on my next day off and hope someone brave and merciful will spot me and let me practice on them) and and Takashi-san`s college. We found we`d wandered into Harajuku and Shinjuku by accident (the Japanese I know seem to have no sense of direction and always, always get lost). It was nice seeing how everything connects and that it really is as close as strolling between tube stops back home. We headed to an Irish pub so Takashi-san could have some fish and chips and I, feeling summery, had a cider shandy, which confused the waitress considerably.

The afternoon was interrupted by a call from JeDoS asking me to try to tempt Karen out of one of the schools. After Thursday`s debacle, her next two days` work were cancelled, but she turned up anyway. I really have no hold on her and had been trying to coax her out all week by posting notes in her door (partly also to make sure she took them in and was therefore alive), but had no response, so she was abandoned at the school around 3am - JeDoS and Mike having tried every other method to get her out (including bringing in the police) before finally running out of ideas and giving in. She is due to go home soon, but has until Friday to deal with no work and then the Golden Week holidays to get through. I have no idea how she will cope, but am relieved that I have already booked a trip to Hiroshima and so will not be involved.

Day by day

2006-04-21T11:29:00.000+07:00

Japan has a festival day practically every other day it seems. Yesterday, Aki rang me to wish me a good 4-20, apparently a day when you can get stoned legally, although through the backround train drones, her mobile`s crackle and her broken yank English, I am not sure if this is a national holiday or an Aki one. Children`s Day is coming up, so a student gave me a crappy Koi streamer to hang up in my room. I tried, but it`s cheap and clashes with my other cheap possessions. The same student also ran through some other `days`, but I got stuck on `Bad Teeth Day` and wouldn`t budge. I still don`t know what happens (they laughed when I said `go to the dentist`, but I suspect this is because no one here goes - teeth are wonky and covered in coffee-coloured goo), but will investigate.

Teaching has been a bit hellish this week. The new year excitement has worn off the younger students already and they are back to their usual disinterest. How long did I really expect a new textbook to keep them interested?! I`ve been having a few discipline problems. Miteki, who I previously loved because he was excellent and quite cute, has decided his new book is too easy (he has been demoted by about three years` of English study, poor lad) and is going to give me shit in class instead. He was joined by his side-kick, Ryoya, who is far worse as he lacks the imagination to create his own disruption or be won back by more complex exercises. I understand Miteki`s chagrin. He was forming fairly advanced sentences (for a boy of 9, anyway) and is now learning how to introduce himself in the company of a bunch of retards. One girl who actually did the same class and was allegedly on the same level as Miteki is seriously special. We did a run and draw game, all the kids get it and we generally play it quite a lot as it`s easy and fun. Mayuko looked at me gormlessly holding the pen, having watched her two team-mates draw their nouns. I said `bag` in English and Japanese, but it still didn`t help. She just drooled down herself and another girl had to hold her hand and guide the pen. I quite get Miteki`s outrage. However, his and Ryoya`s little moment of rebellion came while I was being observed by the parent of a potential new student and I don`t think she was impressed that I couldn`t even get them to catch a ball and count to 10.

This was Wednesday, perhaps the hardest day of my week. I may also have made a bit of a clanger as I took a class with one of Natalie`s ex-students. She had warned me the woman is insane. Without a shred of shame, she explained she wanted to learn English to go to Disneyland. She has already been (although not to Disneyland Paris, I put my foot in it asking about that!) to Florida and wherever the other one is a couple of times, but has been to Tokyo Disney 400. Apparently the appeal is because she loves Mickey. He is kind and a gentleman. She is 30. Foolishly, I tried to apply all the language to Disney. It was weird concept checking around Donald and Mickey. It was a real struggle trying to remember how to spell Goofy (is that right?!). Anyway, I am seriously worried she enjoyed it too much and will now want me forever. I cannot bear the thought.

This country is full of loons.

ugh

2006-04-14T13:12:00.000+07:00

Of course, I feel massively hung over today. Last night we had nomihodii (all you can drink) with our yakiniku, and, although it was about GBP7, being greedy gaijin, we tried to drink the place dry and had to be asked to leave as the staff needed to get home to sleep! Once I got home, I saw I had emails from Karen and George asking where I was, so, thinking something might be amiss, headed back out and found myself in the George - a solitary customer begging for free gin (the cash points shut obscenely early here, Japan having not realised the purpose of an ATM) before going to another bar down the road with George for wine and seedy entertainment.

Yesterday was generally a good day. I got my Take Off 1s to practice asking `do you like` questions. One boy who was trying to freak me out was massively disappointed that I liked moths, but did get me by asking my opinion of toilets. I got a nice plant cutting from Sachiko, one of the Menopause Sisters, and some anco cakes (I don`t know the official name, but they are very sweet and very oishii!) from Hidako. Next week, Takako is away, so I might take them a token gift to up the gift-giving stakes. Maybe they`ll get me my Mac!

Golden Week is coming up (not a patch on Taiwan`s Tomb Sweeping Day!) and I`m going to meet Rachel in Hiroshima, which will be good. On the way, I stop off in Nagoya to meet Kaiah for some camper entertainment. This afternoon, Atsuko took me to buy my shinkansen ticket, which was a hideous ordeal with a hangover and something I clearly couldn`t have handled alone (I have said it before, but the Japanese make such a meal out of everything!!). I had to go to the ATM to get the cash, which was handy as I nearly threw up from the unnatural heat in the shop!

Edited highlights

2006-04-10T09:43:00.000+07:00

You might notice that some of my blog entries have been trimmed. Apparently this site is quite easy to find on Google, so to stop any sensitive information falling into the wrong hands (or people finding out how awfully I gossip about them!), I`ve had to do some pruning. I hadn`t ever imagined that people would bother reading this (even those I asked!), but fortunately finding that lunatic`s website before I left the UK hammered home an important lesson in self-censorship so the damage is minimal!

The weekend has been fun. Yesterday, I chatted to Kaiah, the friend I picked up at my AEON interview and have only actually met once, for hours about Japan`s timewarp. It is perpetually 1972 here. The TV is dreadful, technology is backward (speak to anyone who has lived here about the washing machines - oh my days) and all forms of discrimination are rife. After that, I settled down to some over-priced cheese and crackers and took in some more of this terrible TV: A `kawaii` woman cooking a lobster badly, while a battleaxe excels. Of course, the pretty woman came through in the end, making her the perfect non-threatening trophy wife. The `plot` never changes from one week to the next. It amazes me that the `pretty` (like a Greek leathery, over-preened and brassy star) one hasn`t accidentally learned to cook, but each week she simpers in the kitchen and spills things to heighten the drama of her ever-predictable win (I did notice, however, that her white sauce was suspiciously lump-free). Perhaps she`s not as inept as she makes out.

Yesterday I bumped into Darrell (I just can`t bring myself to call him Daz) in the internet cafe and showed him when the George is. He was hankering for a pint, but it wasn`t open, so we met up with Natalie and headed for the Charleston (it`s on the my side of the train station, so I`m hoping to set it up as a new local) for a pint and to marvel over Japanese teeth (why British teeth are notorious, yet they get away with brown, rotting gnashers here, I don`t know - Britain needs a good PR) and how the trophy girlfriends so many gaijin crave reek of oral rot and shave their faces. Kawaii, ne?

Last night, virtually every teacher in Omiya gathered for Riaz`s birthday. After shovelling subsidised food and drink into our faces (Mike, Raj and I clearly ate and drank far more than anyone else at the table, but paid the same price), we headed to Doma Doma for more drinks. I shouldn`t have gone as I was 100% sober and the cocktails I experimented with there must have been packed with caffeine as I got home and lay waiting for sleep for several hours. It did give me a chance to mingle with some of the other teachers I don`t see so often and remind me why that is. Every boy at the table took turns regaling us with increasingly unlikely tales of grossness and gore. I wouldn`t believe that the cast of Jackass could pool such experiences, let alone that lot. Fortunately, Sean managed to pull one of them up when he tried to pass off a bad joke as a genuine life experience, but he should have been equally vigilant with the others.

Today, I will have to do my best not to take my tiredness out on the 20 children I teach today, but having had 42 minutes sleep, I cannot promise anything.

Spring break

2006-04-07T14:09:00.000+07:00

Everywhere is rammed at the moment as the schools are closed. Next week, Omiya will hopefully return to normal levels of over-crowdedness. For most teachers, it means a holiday but for Shaners it`s extra work in the form of Spring School. I did a shift at Koga this week, which was gutting as it`s a long way on the train, so I had to get up even earlier than usual - and I had to skip my Japanese lesson. When I heard I had seven kids to contend with, I was dreading it, but I knew most of them already (including big, bad Seiya, who left my class last week and I miss more than I realised) and they were good fun and fairly smart, so it was easy. We played games, drew aliens, made masks and, of course, played dodgeball.

Seiya managed to steal my heart actually. He`s always been teacher`s pet, but has been more and more boisterous of late and I had began to wonder if his Japanese whispers were attempts to undermine my very fragile authority (if they don`t want to comply, you are basically fucked) due to his dislike of the big, bossy gaijin. Simple paranoia apparently. Now I`m not his teacher, I allowed myself to experiment with some Japanese on him and asked him how his new teacher was - tanoshikunakatta, apparently - not fun. Darrell needs to kick off his shoes and play some dodgeball with the kids, Seiya will love him forever (it clearly worked for me!). As well as sucking up in a very nonchalant and fairly convincing way, he also helped me out with the little kids. He finished his bookwork easily, so went around the table explaining to the little ones what to do and was the perfect assistant. In spite of his frenzied competetiveness in all games, he took it down a notch when I asked him so some of the younger kids could win (he is double the size of the other children). It made me feel quite guilty for using him to demonstrate `scary` and `fat`.

Last night, Raju answered my complaints about having no one to pull with and invited me along to one of his student`s leaving dos. I took my new friend Yukako along and found her friend Kiyomi was in Raj`s class. The world of English conversation is a small one. We got incredibly drunk and talked absolute rubbish. Raj bashed me in the ribs as I was about to shout how awful I found Kate Moss and Yuka, the student who was leaving, lifted her skirt and revealed a bottle green tattoo of the ex-junkie on her thigh. It didn`t even look like her, but I had to then spend a few minutes berating Pete Doherty and praising Kate Moss`s face to win Yuka back. Then Raj and I jointly offended her by trying to explain the Gaijin Effect, which she is clearly a victim of. We ended up doing a bit of a double-act for a while. Unfortunately, when in the company of gaijin, the Japanese sit back and expect you to entertain them. It`s quite hard work at times and last night, as I was tired and couldn`t think of any stories to regale them with, Raj had to lead the way. I joined in, but it did feel a bit Morecombe and Wise (well, Morecombe and Morecombe, I don`t think either of us want to be Little Ern). It makes you say some utter rubbish just to fill the gaps. Raj prattled on about how he`s going to die with just his tattoos for a long time, before trying to set me up with the waiter.

I might go back to follow it up. I am not convinced he was amazing-looking, but he wasn`t awful and as Japanese women consider being paid for and going no further than holding hands, I am more than happy to let him be my meal ticket.

Sakura mania

2006-04-03T07:41:00.000+07:00

I`ve been told the cherry blossom can turn you mad, but I suspect almost everyone out here already is. Japanese and gaijin alike. On a low level, my neighbours are horridly anti-social while I live in fear of complaints about playing my music (the Sex Offender received a complaint about a party whilst listening to music alone in his flat before 11pm). The obsessive-compulsive disorders of my neighbours manifest themselves in many ways. One switches on their washing machine during sleeping hours so I doze off and wake up to the rumble of churning dirty linen, another wails like a cat being torn limb-from-limb while having sex (strangely, the man makes no sounds during, only before and after so I know the girl is not alone) as I try to settle down for my early Saturday start and another neighbour who slips into hob-nail boots at 5.25am every morning to prepare for work. I have no idea how a Japanese person could get so much weight into their thudding steps, perhaps I will soon discover my apartment is shared with a sumo stable.

As a nation, there is a huge bout of OCD afoot. Retail therapy is rife (almost all train stations double as department stores) and Japanese claims of good manners and clean living are just an excuse to cover up the fact that, in their twisted minds, they have to wash their hands fifty times and day and can`t step on floor wearing shoes or their families will die.

Alcoholism is rife in the Salarymen too. Yesterday, the Cafe Lampers attempted a bit of a limp hanami. It was quite a traditional affair. We went to the park (after being taken to a piece of ground that was practically a car park, but contained a slide and two cherry blossoms leaning over a mesh fence and deciding that was not quite enough) and laid out of blue sheets (finally, Ian, I get what you meant!) and tucked into sub-standard okonomiyaki. Later, Graeme, the hideous Canadian JET turned up with wine he was swigging from the bottle in an effort to look cool and the party was redeemed slightly by alcohol. Fortunately, as Greame is a hideous attention-seeker and thinks he`s cool, I can freely take the piss and he thinks we`re just being chummy. I have to watch it though, as Kaori may think the same and I don`t think it is safe to cross a jealous Japanese stalker. Eventually it started to rain a little and we were moving to go when we spotted a group of tremendous drunks. One was so bad he had actually pissed himself and dragged himself up to reveal telling wet patches on his cheap jeans. We spent half an hour stood watching and laughing at him and his friends trying to stand (in the picture you might be able to see one weaving towards a tree before thumping the earth) before we got caught, then another twenty minutes marvelling at how the less drunk friends joined us in laughing and tried to guess how many times they`d fall down before they made it home. Even the drunks we were laughing at joined in. It was incredible, but the park was littered with old men passed out on benches (one of whom tried to roll over and fell off) and blue sheets. They rob me of my title of Kamikaze Drinker. The pressure of 16 hours a day in the office forces them to embrace sake with passion.

Playing dress-up

2006-03-31T14:45:00.000+07:00

My Japanese class all got to play dress up this week. Instead of our usual modern classroom, we met in the washitsu (Japanese style room), complete with tatami mats and sliding doors, and were greeted by a circle of kneeling housewives and kimono spread across the floor. In the centre was the most dazzling emerald green kimono, which the ladies were discussing who should wear. As I was one of the first to arrive and a relative veteran (so they knew my name), I was chosen as the demonstration model.

I was led behind a screen and undressed by a mannish old lady with bad breath (most unfortunate as I spent the next twenty or so minutes with her gasping in my face). The sensible underwear paid off. My normal, sluttish attire would have had them gossiping for weeks. She put a linin jacket and wrap-around skirt over me and then led me in front of the class, where I was joined by Chris, a lanky Australian boy who had been chosen to demonstrate the men`s one. Unfortunately, being so lanky his white towelling sports socks jutted out of the bottom and ruined the look. It was amazing though. I can now understand completely why brides opt for big, opulant dresses. It was such an incredible feeling to wear something so grand and so different to my normal stuff. Having to shuffle around in inch-short steps, I was forced to act more delicately and feminitely than I have ever managed before in my life. Having to lower myself to kneel and raise myself up again, was quite a feat, but one I managed without the fanfare I imagined I deserved.

Later we also got to try on the red Edo period coat - hanging behind me in the top picture. It`s for a princess`s wedding and was ridiculously heavy. I was one of the bulkier women there and it weighed me down enormously. How a dainty native would ever stand up straight in it, I have no idea. It was a wonderful day`s fun and I spent most of my day either beaming like a goon or considering ways of hoiking up my skirt to get more speed to nick it (the envious looks I got from all the other Westerners showed mine was clearly one of the most beautiful ones there and I very reluctantly offered it to a Korean who was refusing all attempts to get changed into one of the shabbier, daywear ones). They still look very strange on foreigners, but the ladies had done a very good job of picking out colours to suit all of us - there are all sort of weird shapes and sizes in that class now - now I just have to find out which lady lent me hers and hope she`ll adopt me as a faux daughter... I can`t believe that I was considering, during my night out with Joe on Tuesday, having one more beer and skipping the whole adventure!

The rest of the week has been fairly uneventful. Tuesday I met up with Joe and we got tipsy in praise of Japanese boys, one of whom nearly vomitted in the next booth to us - he`d probably had three beers instead of his usual two. He was the colour of parchment and was bouncing off the walls on the way to the toilet, but his `friends` kept dragging him out, only for him to need to run back and throw up again. Eventually, they dragged him out to the lift where he collapsed in a heap while they paid the bill.

I`ve said goodbye to some of my students as our schedules change for the new school year. A couple of them made me particularly sad. Yuki, a very naughty, bright little boy brought in sweets for us all to say goodbye (I`m keeping it as a momento rather than eating it as it had been in his pocket for at least a whole lesson) and then lurked around outside the school waving in through the window as I tucked into my bento. Ryo and Akira, two very bright (Ryo`s English is incredible, as is his uber-cool attitude - he even stands at a laid back angle) and amusing students have just started high school and so have graduated to another level and a different teacher`s class. Some of the girls have also left their class, but they are all quite simpering and bitchy, so I feel no lose. The boys are no nonsense and fun. It`s times like this when my minute Japanese vocabulary frustrates me, although I did manage to say I`d miss one of the kids (or possibly `I have been missing you` - I hope they got the gist).

I had to give a 12-year-old boy a taiken, after which I heard him telling the receptionist it wasn`t even a little bit fun - I am no good with teenage boys, someone needs to take note of this and stop giving me lessons with them. That said, the star jumper came up trumps this week when we dribble-drilled foods and he came out with `nuts` and I couldn`t help but laugh. The biggest juvenile in that class is 28.

On Wednesday, Ayano proudly showed off her older brother to me. He`s on Spring holiday so came into school with her. He`s recently won a gold award for English, but was too shy and enthralled by the female gaijin to display his talents. He couldn`t stop staring at me (I am not sure if this was in a good or a bad way, he just looked shocked!), so much so that as he was walking out of the class he tripped over the doorstep and went flying!

My last lesson with Toshiyuki is not one I`ll lament. He drove me insane for thirty minutes claiming not to understand any of the questions and reading his grammar book whilst ignoring me. I eventually had to close it and take it off him as it was only telling him the same as me (and in the same words, so he can`t have not understood me). I did manage to stop myself asking why he bothered paying for a teacher - particularly pointless as he`s not going to be doing that as of next week! He asked me once too often what was the subject and what the object of the questions we were studying and drove me to doubt myself so that this morning I was sat in bed confirming the dictionary definitions, even though I already know them.

Today I went into Ueno to check out the cherry blossom. It`s all right, but I`m not bowled over by it. Being in Japan, it`s obscured by cables, banners and buildings and there were throngs of annoying people ruining the view. It`s quite pretty and all, but I prefer my trees green. On Sunday, I`m off to a hanami party, which might change my mind. You sit under trees and get drunk looking up at the pink flowers. Legend has it, it can send you mad, but it`s far more likely to be the sake.

On the way to Ueno, I was caught out by an early April Fool`s. Raj emailed to ask where I was as I was supposed to be on cover and a quake of panic rippled through me as I considered having to get on a homebound train, change into my work clothes and miss out on the sakura, but as he shouted `April Fool` I replied with `cunt` safe in the knowledge that I could say it as loudly as I wanted and people would only be tutting because I was talking on my phone.

Grant my final wish

2006-03-26T13:15:00.000+07:00

Kazuha, the girl in pink, gave me three origami balls yesterday. I have no idea what to do with them, but it was quite a sweet gift. She`s one of my Early Birds - it`s a class for kids who have some English and need to learn the first Lower Elementary text quickly to get up-to-speed for the next academic year. I really like these classes - all the kids seem genuinely nice (Takumasu, my favourite karake expert is one of these) - and I`ve already taught all of the language a thousand times so can cobble a fun lesson together with my eyes closed. Something of a blessing at Kitamoto school as they work me like a bitch. Damn franchises and their targets.

Last night was Grant`s leaving do, so despite swearing myself away for the umpteenth time, I found myself heading down the perilous steps to the George once more. I took Atsuko with me, hoping she`s take Ito off my hands (I think they would both actually hate each other, but like them both so imagine they`d make a good couple - for me, at least), but he was on a business trip. Apparently, he`d been very cagey about our badminton `date` with George and needed three shots before he`d own up to having seen me.

I took less money out than I wanted to so I would have to leave on time, but once again excitement and gin got the better of me. I met Nathan, a fellow Omiya teacher, who`s from Chelmsford and has also been to Dukes and was set up with a Japanese guy who barely speaks any English (discussing hobbies was a challenge - particularly as his are `surfing and dribing`). I had to get Raj to send the ADoS over to rescue me, which he did fabulously by announcing that the coming Setsumeikei is not for another four months - completely beyond the comprehension of poor Daisuke. Last time I saw him he was wearing a rabbit-skin jacket, so I almost wish we`d been crueller about it, but I think the girl that set me up with him is a bit vicious and might have my eyes out in an izakaya toilet.

Stupidly, I borrowed cash from the Bank of O`Leary and stayed well past my bedtime, strumbling over the bridge into West Omiya at about 4am. I had to go to Cafe Lamp this morning and drunkenly set my alarm an hour earlier than I needed to, so I have literally had three hours sleep. Cafe Lamp might have to be knocked on the head soon. This morning two old men joined my group and both of them were hellish in different ways. One spoke English in an unintelligibly bad accent (ironically, on the subject of how difficult it is to understand Scottish and northern accents), in mind-numbingly long bursts that were impossible to cut short (he should have passed out from lack of oxygen, he gave himself no time to breathe). The other was just a typical old Japanese man, assuming everyone owed him the world. I asked the table to introduce themselves and one of the poorer speakers was making a bit of a meal of it, so the old man butted in and insisted that everyone should have a turn (him having had his already), so the younger man stopped and we asked if he had anything to say, but he said no, just that everyone should have a go. Then there was an awkward silence as no one dared to speak. Old prick.

Afterwards I went for an Indian with some of the nicer students (a bizarre lunch, but also very good!) and then went pigeon-shopping with Aki. We tried on stupid hats in Loft and stalked my hairdresser, who selfishly put himself upstairs so we couldn`t stare at him. I think she needs a bit of a trim though, so maybe we`ll go back.

Blow-outs are the new black

2006-03-24T11:36:00.000+06:00

Tuesday I met Ito for a bizarre, badminton-centred date.　I hadn`t realised this when we made the arrangement and considering he was 10 minutes late, I wish I had so I could have got the huff. Anything goes for a date here, something I ought to be more careful of.

I had thought he would guide me through a sports shop to buy a sensibly-priced, semi-professional racket and then lead me to a public court. Instead, we picked up a kiddies` play set at Loft and had a knock-about in the park. It was good fun and remarkably good exercise (I still ache a tiny bit), but even my poorest display was vastly superior to Ito`s and I had to try to restrain myself from attempting to score a point; something you have to be fairly good to manage. It was painful watching a fat old man losing badly when trying desperately to impress. As we parted, I gave him a misguided goodbye hug and he held me too tight, so I had to wrench myself free. I have still not replied to his `I have so much fun when I am with you` message. Something many people will consider heartless, but something I see as showing the success of my assimilation. Blow-outs are not done here.

After that, I met my favourite, now ex-student, Takashi-san for a bit of Asian food. I over-ordered substantially but packed it all away anyway. After two small beers, he had loosened up enough to ask if there was a special word for girls like Lara. Lara is a JET he has chastely courted for the past couple of months and who he chickened out of `fessing up to on a recent over-night ski trip, thereby pushing her into the arms of a half-Australian English teacher (unless you go native, you really do have to scrape the bottom of the boy-barrel out here). I wanted to suggest `disappointed`, but I know Takashi-san would have been gutted to have to imagine their romance was dashed because of his inaction. Instead, he had a brief lesson on how `pricktease` and `leading on` were not entirely appropriate for the situation.

Wednesday I went to my Japanese class, then had a frantic afternoon trying to find suitable underwear for next week`s lesson. No handsome new students have joined, but we get to wear kimonos and our teachers help us dress, so I expect to be on display. I hope it is only one-to-one and not the whole class as one of my fellow students, Sarah, can`t help but say hideously offensive things (as is often the case here, it seems - so many people seem to have arrived because England won`t have them) and I can`t bear the idea of her passing loud, public comment on my attire or physique. Anyway, shopping was a fairly depressing exercise. Most of the larges were a bit snug, although I have seen bigger arses than mine in Japan.

After that, I took myself to Saitama Resona Ginko to apply for a credit card. I was all ready with my `is there anyone here who speaks English` when I was ushered towards the same small woman who helped me with transferring cash to Rachel after Christmas (I got over-excited with cheap cushions and she helped me out, bless her). She took me through the form, only to realise I should fill it in in romaji (English) and not katakana (baby Japanese), so I had to do it all again. Then I ticked the `no wife` box by mistake and had to start again. Then, the lady at the counter became upset that my name was not in the same order as my initial application (I came in as Zoe MacGechan, but have sinced learned they prefer MacGechan Zoe and was trying to be helpful).

After all this faffing, I was placed in a seat and asked to wait slightly. I was then beckoned over and offered either a complimentary blanket or a cup for my troubles. I went for the cup with a lid and little gully for tealeaves, but man, I wish I had that blanket. The lady at the counter had to deliberate some more (while they are accused of being efficient, I think this is merely a euphimism for painstakingly slow), so I pleased myself by passing pleasantries with the small lady. We `chatted` about cherry blossom and I told her I was from London. My first genuine Japanese conversation. That she was a random housewife whose English was as passable as my Japanese, made me feel slightly embarrassed, but she seemed very impressed by my efforts.

Wednesday night, I met up with Sean for dinner, though we were driven out of the okonomiyake place by the staff shouts that greet every order and a twenty minute wait. We did manage to neck a cup of complimentary tea before deciding to try something new. On the way I went to the cinema to get myself a ticket for the late show and was feeling very independent in Japan, until the girl almost sent me into Narnia as I didn`t pronounce `Munich` `Muhen`. We plumped for burgers, where Sean sent my beer pouring over the table and the seat. We tried to clean it up ourselves, but another diner ran for help (I don`t know how to even start saying any of this in Japanese yet). Then I took myself to the flicks.

Yesterday I was meant to dine with Atsuko and Raj, although knew Raj had been gearing up for a blow-out from the moment Atsuko mentioned it to him, but prepared myself some lunch of mixed rice, which had been stored in my non-freezing freezer for longer than it should have been. I wasn`t properly ill, but the thought of an izakaya brought me out in a hot sweat so I went home and salad and plain rice. Later, I mustered up the courage to take on a glass of wine, but no more than that.

Today I had a much-longed for lie-in. My curtains let in the light, so I have been waking up at dawn every morning. Last night, I draped every blanket I own over them and slept soundly. This afternoon, as a special treat, I took myself to see Suzuki-san and now have overly-short hair. It`s nice though - his trip to Vidal Sassoon was not wasted. We had a lovely chat and I was able to say the odd encouraging word in Japanese as he snipped away, but `I`m growing it` is still beyond my abilities. I got introduced to the other customers as his girlfriend, and was overly-excited by it, then got to look through the photos of his trip. He has more, in his apartment apparently, but I felt it a bit forward to invite myself round (I had forgotten the difference between `show me` and `look`). Maybe next time. The man seems obsessed with pigeons - there were masses of pictures of dirty old birds, the worst of the worst, in his album, so if anyone has any pigeon memorabilia they can send me, please do!

Vernal Equinox Day

2006-03-21T10:56:00.000+06:00

Today, day and night are roughly the same length. I hope this means I get to sleep longer tonight. Last night I had a random dream about almost forgetting my wellies. I can`t imagine what that might mean to someone with a dream dictionary.

It`s also a national holiday, so the banks are closed, meaning I have to wait until tomorrow to apply for my Japanese credit card and therefore have to wait even longer for my marvellous new friend, the Mac G4 iBook. Damn it. Everyone in Japan is supposed to visit the grave of a dead relative today, although most seem to be worshipping at more consumerist shrines, from what I`ve seen so far.

In a few minutes I`m off to play badminton with a Japanese salaryman. He`s got to accompany me to buy a racket, and hopefully give me his old tennis racket too. I am getting into hobbies in a big way suddenly. As of April, I hope to return to the saddle, as Jery has also offered to take me riding (he needs to learn and then teach me the words for trot, canter, gallop and jump first, or it could all go horribly wrong). It seems letting him feed me intestines is paying off.

My big day out

2006-03-20T08:03:00.000+06:00

The School of Rock band, Junk, played on Saturday night so I tasted my first Japanese gig. It was bittersweet. Raju and I dashed to Kita Urawa from Kitamoto school (where I had to get changed in the toilets, although the receptionist I occasionally work with claimed this was too much information - yet other receptionists rant about diahorrea with enthusiasm!), downing a couple of chu-his on the train. Knowing this is now outlawed in England, rather than just frowned upon, gave us added pleasure. If only we`d thought it through and packed a few more for the gig. Japanese concert venues apparently shut the bar when the band plays. A small murmur of discontent rose to out and out disgust when the penny dropped.

Afterwards, I bullied everyone into going to the George so we wouldn`t have to share a tab in an izakaya (it`s fine if there are small numbers, but I refuse to subsidise a pack of beer-hungry Brits when I can bully gullible Japanese salarymen into funding my alcoholism). It was perhaps a mistake as my sushi and rice balls hadn`t adequately lined my stomach and so I spent yesterday reeling. I also left my phone in the pub (people just don`t steal here, so it was relatively safe) and spent the whole day feeling like I was missing a limb.

My friend Jery, a married salaryman who is potentially trying to woo me by quoting the gospel according the Luke (don`t fall into the trap of excessive drinking...), took me on a day-trip to Tokyo. We stopped off at Harajuku, where the streets are usually lined with the freaks in the picture. Only a handful were out yesterday, but they still obligingly posed for all the tourists asking to take pictures of their weirdness. This, apparently, is not offensive. We did a quick tour of the local shrine and peeked on three weddings taking place there - `very rich people` Jery told me, with not insignificant awe.

We then fought through the crowds to get a look at the end of the St Patrick`s Day parade. I think I was supposed to be very impressed by Jery`s thoughtfulness at taking me to it, but I hadn`t been aware that it even was St Patrick`s Day and, not being Irish, have never bothered marking the occasion before. I rambled something about most people at home being wrecked on Guinness and think I got away with it. Playing the alcoholic gaijin card works wonders at times. The parade was a strange affair. We only caught the tail end, but it was more like a bored gathering of Japanese clubs than anything gaelic. I saw a total of three drunken Irishmen and everyone else was nihonjin. There were unicyclists (yawn), jugglers (ugh), Irish dancers (not dancing) and a group of randoms waving Shane McGowan posters.

After that, Jery attempted to get romantic by taking me over Rainbow Bridge to a huge shopping centre. We took a stroll by Tokyo`s fake beach, where the wind made his eyes water and nearly pushed us over. The skyline is unbelieveable and makes London look like a village.

We passed a restaurant for dogs - owners can go in and take their pets with them and there is even a menu for dogs, including meatballs with a bone. It`s next door to a dog shop, so we went in and fondled the merchandise. We`d also seen a cat shop advertised and I said I`d like to go there, but it took us almost an hour, possibly longer to find. Maybe it is only the people I know, but the Japanese seem to have no sense of direction. The only times I have been genuinely lost here have been when I`ve been following a native.

The cat shop was completely worth the trip. It was amazing. I have fallen in love with an Abyssian and when I can afford it, I intend to treat myself to at least one of these beauties. There was a back area in the shop which you had to pay to get into, Jery obliged (even faux Japanese dates are excellent and free!), and we entered a fake house crammed with cats. My ideal home. There was even a little display. Two cats were dressed in traditional Japanese attire, a tabby as a samurai and an American short-hair as the lady, in a cloak which it constantly shook off and was forced back into. They had to complete a small assault course to get some treats, but the American was so pissed off she wouldn`t be bought for any treats and lashed out at her handler and the other cats nearby. Stupidly, the shop assistants gave this cat to a young girl to handle. An older girl who just stepped up to make up the numbers won with the more obliging samurai.

After that we went for yakiniku, where I accidentally ate liver (it`s not so bad here) and was forced to try kidney and pigs` intestine after laughing at the menu (softly pigs` innards) and being told it was actually very good. It wasn`t and I was left with the awful metallic aftertaste of kidneys in my mouth. I then headed back to the George to collect my phone, only to be told it wasn`t there. I then tried to check if it was in the Koban, but had to fill in a police report and my Japanese doesn`t yet include `lost` which made for a difficult conversation! Fortunately, almost everyone in Japan has a little English so we muddled through. I gave one last-ditch attempt at calling my phone and Sean answered, so I had to head back to the George to collect it for real. I got it from him and found a text from Karen telling me Sean had my phone. I honestly think she`s a little retarded.

I want it, I want it, I want it!

2006-03-15T09:01:00.000+06:00

I had not expected to be typing this in the internet cafe, but sadly I can hear the rustle of hand wipes and random phone ringtones all around me. I have just got back from an exhausting and depressing trip to Akihabara`s Electric Town where I met, fell in love with and was refused a Mac iBook. This beautiful little thing will be mine next month. This isn`t like a boy, it can`t escape. I had hoped to try out Japan`s wonderful hire-purchase system, whereby you break down the cost over as many or as few months as you like (between three and 60) at what seems to be no extra charge. Unfortunately, the Mac shop insists that the purchaser understands the contract rather than having it explained to them and it is only provided in Japanese. A thinly veiled attempt to stop foreigners buying nice stuff and skipping the country.

Excess and open racism is par for the course here. If it is thinly veiled, that is a sign of modernity and tact. I have often recommended to my students, if they find it difficult to remember or use a new language structure, to write something for me to check. The process generally makes it stick and I can see where they are going wrong. Yukiko, the Daily Mailian diarist, took me up on my suggestion and recently submitted some attempts with `used to`, `to be used to` and `to get used to` which she was finding difficult. Apparently, with no shame at handing this over to a non-Japanese, she wrote she`has got used to meeting foreigners`. I questioned whether this was the appropriate use as you can only `get used to` something which is difficult or strange. I am expecting a blunt direction that it once was.

Tuesday I had a momentous day in teaching: the first teenage student`s erection of my career! Poor Katsayuki. It was most embarrassing for both of us. That will learn me not to make a group of mixed teenagers do star jumps for my own amusement (sometimes, doing something just because you can, is too tempting). It was possibly related to the occasion, White Day: Japan`s overtly commercial follow-up to Valentine`s Day.

Actually, romance was hardly in the air, just an abundance of chocolate and biscuits. It did give me a good excuse to tap Ken for a free gin and tonic in the George later, but also led to an overly friendly couple coming in and announcing it was their `sex time` and asking me and George if it was ours too (there was no indication that it would be, seeing as I was just a customer who happened to also be foreign and female). They were turning down George`s invitation to stay for another drink when Robert (perhaps not his real name...) made this announcement. His wife sat by him and happily laughed, although perhaps because he was with her and not some random mistress, which is what most do.

On Thursday, Sachiko (the youngest of the Menopause Sisters) made quite a uncomfortable speech for her `topic` in class. She always brings in a prepared subject to discuss, but on this day dedicated it to her two married friends, Hidako and Takako, the other two Sisters. She then dived into quite a complex soliloquoy on the responsibilities of being a wife, of caring for a husband and children, running a home and holding down a job. Under the strain of all this a wife can often forget to also be a `sexy woman` and so a man may stray. It was prompted by her own husbands`s appalled reaction to seeing her without make-up on for the first time in their marriage. She has promised to not let it happen again. I wish I had had a copy of Jack Jones` `Wives and Lovers` with me to play to her. She rounded up by firmly placing the blame for infidelity in the wife`s lap and asking the other two what they felt about it. They squirmed and refused to comment.

Last night, Natalie (a newish teacher I work with on Mondays) and I took Karen to an izakaya to help her over her recent suspected depression. She has lost a lot of weight and also been less genki and far quieter, which is difficult to gauge seeing as she`s often miserable and mute. Natalie was running late and I almost had to take myself to the George for dinner on my own as Karen had turned her phone off earlier in the week and not bothered to check it. She`s very Greta Garbo at times. This meant I was stuck with the chore of making conversation with someone who phases out, just doesn`t listen at all or asks abrupt, rude questions as if I am saying the most ludicrous thing she`s ever heard. Last night, there were at least eight times when she appeared to be engaged in a conversation, then, mid-way, asked what I was talking about. These weren`t controversial or difficult topics, just possible plans for school holidays and possibly buying a laptop.

As sorry as I am that she might be having a hard time out here (it really is not easy for girls), she is horrendous company. After Natalie came along and tried to gee her up a bit, Natalie`s boyfriend arrived. A bit of a story-teller, he hogged most of the conversation, and anything that was left was mine. Karen sat dumb in the corner watching the three of us discussing all sorts, but didn`t contribute at all, yet on the way home announced she`d had enormous fun. She`s the strangest person I think I`ve ever met.

The School of Rock

2006-03-12T13:39:00.000+06:00

I was almost late for school again on Saturday. For some reason, I somehow always make myself late for Kitamoto school. This week, again, I confused my in-time and my start-time and was happily preparing myself to arrive at 10.30 when it dawned on me that was the time of my first lesson and so I ran out of my apartment with damp hair and my make-up half-done. It`s actually less of a problem than it would be at home, as it`s perfectly acceptable to wear enormous hair-dressing clips in public and do your make-up on the train here, so this is what I did. I`ve seen girls sat with portable tongs and their entire cosmetic collection sprawled across restaurant tables without a flicker of embarrassment.

I got to school and had 35 minutes to prepare for a six-hour teaching day, but now I know my kids better and have covered most of the topics kids learn with us, I have a good idea of how to cobble a lesson together. I have a few stock games that always go down well (if all else fails, let them play dodgeball) and had Pamela`s Pop-up Pirate to teach the kindergartners `in` and when to say please. I had to taiken two four-year-olds, which I was dreading in case their mothers came in, but as they were a little older, they were more than happy to leave their mothers outside. There is nothing worse than doing Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes with an adult audience. I have to deal with it though. I had my Monday schedule faxed to me as it had changed - I have to taiken a two-year- two-month-old baby. There is no way I get to do that without the mother. I imagine I will basically be revising red, yellow and blue with her and the kid will gormlessly gaze in the opposite direction. Maybe I`ll do cat and dog too.

Last night, Sean, Adam and myself went to another teacher`s flat: School of Rock Rob (I had snidely given him this name as he`s in a band and thinks he`s cool, but after last night I agree with him). It was a real laugh. We spent far too long looking up eggs on the internet (whether those we eat are fertilized and are ever likely to hatch, prompted by a brief conversation about a vegan teacher who absconded after Christmas). On the way, we got lost and School of Rock Dave (he is also in the band and also much nicer than I initially gave him credit for!) and his girlfriend had to come out on their bikes and find us. We were miles from anywhere, lost in Omiya park, but we did find the outside swimming pool, which will be handy when it warms up properly.

Spring is here and it`s already apparent why the Japanese word for hot is also the word for thick (atsui). The air feels heavier already, but while I am down to my spring jacket, the Japanese are still turning out in coat and gloves.

A teacher affects eternity; he can never tell where his influence stops

2006-03-10T10:04:00.000+06:00

This week I finally remembered to try to get pictures of Ayano`s face. She turned four last week - fortunately, we celebrated her birthday together as it didn`t stop her coming to school - we wrote the name of her town in primary colours in her new notebook. She was more excited than she should have been and reminded me of my own love for new stationery. I must get myself some new biros soon.

Her pending maturity prompted me to attempt to capture her youth, but, being Japanese, she can`t have a camera pointed at her without doing something stupid with her hands. I hope you can appareciate than when she`s not precociously posing, she`s one of my favourites. That said, aside from Ryusuke, almost all my students have been a favourite at one time or another.

This week I am fuelled with a renewed enthusiasm for teaching. I can`t wait to eventually get home and do my PGCE and start teaching properly; not just playing with overly spoiled children. The pretentious quote is from Henry Adams who is quoted in Tuesdays with Morrie, which I`m currently reading and is partly prompting the pro-teaching sentiment. If you haven`t read it, it`s about a guy who discovers his old college professor is dying and so rekindles their old friendship. It`s reminded me of Mr O`Connell who I was never so close to, but would have liked to have been. If anyone from Haverhill sees him, do send him my regards (and a copy of the book, from me). On Yesterday, it made me cry just before one of my classes and I had to pretend to be suffering from hayfever to avert any awkward questions (I might be, my eyes are still red, 24 hours later).

That said, my teaching this week, has been below par again. I have lost control of one of my classes - only three girls, which shouldn`t be a challenge, but one is a complete princess and ridicules me in Japanese, knowing I don`t understand. I have made her cry in the past and can feel it coming on again. I also made Rei cry (he is wearing the green and yellow scarf and sticking his fingers up behind Haru`s head in the last entry).

He was, until last week, my biggest fan, but gets very excited and aggressive if we play too many games. Having given them tests and bad lessons lately, I decided I would make an effort to be more genki, but this made Rei go crazy and by the end of the lesson he was almost frothing at the mouth. He shoved Gakuto out of the way to get to the front of the queue to leave and I made him go and sit back down and wait. His fury broke into tears and as he left the school he gave me the strongest look of hate I`ve ever seen on a human being. Some of my kids have the potential to be killers.

My strangest student is having a renaissance at the moment. He has gone from strange to philosophical and interesting. The conversations about murders are over, now we are discussing religion and Marxism. Last night, I even managed to squeeze `religion is the opiate of the people` into our lesson. It`s not like teaching at all, particularly as he ignores me whenever I try to correct his English, but very enthusiastically notes down any diagrams of flora or fauna I put on the board.

My Japanese is barely coming on. My teacher on Tuesdays is utterly useless. This week, we were observed by a new volunteer who told me to ignore him, he would only observe, then spent my entire lesson discussing teaching techniques, in speedy Japanese, with Noguchi-san. When he realised I was bored and found this rude, he laughed and told me it was good listening practise. I am tempted to complain, but Noguchi-san puts so much effort into preparing his materials for me, that I feel hugely ungrateful. It would be far more useful if he didn`t do these and also didn`t explain basic structures I have already grasped in stuttering English, but it is ￥2000 for a year, so I am in no position to moan.

Last night, I met up with Kaori, a sophisticated, serious and mental girl I met at Cafe Lamp. She`s lovely, but crazily in love with an awful Canadian JET, who`s in a shit band and likes Sum 41. He and his friends wear over-sized trousers and make themselves look as ridiculous as possible while hanging out at S&M parties. It`s all very youthful. He spends a lot of time together and she reads enormous sentiment into his every action. He is very young and just seems to be exploiting the undoubtedly novel attention he is getting. He`s leading Kaori on, but because of the language difference, this was very difficult to warn her about. I had to teach her `flirt` and `have sex` (instead of `have sexed`, although I might use that myself) last night in the course of our conversation. I didn`t want to bombard her with new language. We had fun though. She brought me to the internet cafe for some stalking practise. The Graeme, her target, made her a birthday gift of old band merchandise he had laying around the flat, which she was overjoyed with, but she can`t make out the lyrics so we found his website and downloaded a song. I had to sit and transcribe. It was great, three of my favourite hobbies combined: music, writing and stalking.

After that, we went to a new izakaya for some sashimi and sours (alcopops, but somehow far more grown-up and acceptable). Kaori was dissapointed at my resolution to stay away from the George, she is hoping to go and be introduced. I am sure it won`t be long.

Gorged at the George

2006-02-28T18:15:00.000+06:00

The past week has been a fairly uneventful one. No more tests for the kids, so this week I`ve had to attempt to teach again. Monday was difficult as I`d ended up staying in the George until way too late fag-hagging with my new friend Joe. He is hilarious and was just too hard to leave, so I found myself there at chucking out time on a schoolnight. A bad idea. Monday`s lessons were not the smoothest, though I did enjoy making my kindergarten class try to say `fork`. It always sounds like fuck and it always makes me laugh. This week I`ve also had to teach seven-year-olds `office workers` which comes out as `office wankers` and sounds far more apt...

Tuesday was relatively boring, although I did encounter possibly the two most difficult lessons I`ve ever had to teach. Two kids who have both lived overseas for some years and so allegedly have a reasonable standard of English their parents want them to maintain. This in itself shouldn`t be difficult, but these two didn`t have books so I had to struggle through two 30-minute free conversation classes with a six- and an eight-year-old. I don`t generally know what to say to children who speak the same language as me, let alone those who barely understand me. The girl was sweet enough and I had her draw me a picture of her favourite swimming pool in New York and describe why it was so good (it`s big). The boy was more of a challenge. When asked any question, he didn`t know. Do you like computer games? `Yes`. Which ones? `Don`t know`. What`s your favourite sport? `Don`t know` What`s your favourite food...? Anything. It was hellish. In the end, I had to go through his Japanese text book for something to say.

On Thursday, I went for dinner with Atsuko, a very lovely receptionist I work with on Thursdays. Her English is quite poor, so the conversation is always a bit of a struggle, but she has inspired me to take up tennis (well, she will have when I actually do) so we can do that together instead of having to talk. Having a typically Japanese appetite, she ate like an anorexic bird and got drunk very quickly. From the off, she made slightly disparaging remarks about her husband before she finally admitted that she would leave him in a second if she didn`t have children and showed me pictures of an Australian boyfriend from 20 years ago she is still in contact (and perhaps also in love) with. She was hilarious though and warned me to steer clear of Japanese men. She then stumbled off home and went to the George for `one`. I ended up staying for almost eight hours, stealing shots of a vile liquor that George carelessly left on the bar and sharing them with a DJ I was trying to coax into becoming a private student. He didn`t go for it.

Consequently, Friday was pretty much a write-off, although I may have arranged a horse-riding date with Jery, a lothario salaryman I know from the George, in April. I may not have though as half-way through the conversation it became apparent that horse-riding was just a crude euphimism in his mind. George has said he might be interested in going too, so I would at least have a `responsible` chaperone to escort me and Jery can translate the Japanese for `canter` for me.

I was still suffering on Saturday, although mainly fatigue from sleeping all of Friday afternoon and very little on Friday night, so my classes were, again, a bit of a mess. In this job, it pays to stay on good form. Hijiri and Taisei ran rings around me. This week`s game, along with trying to rip the wallpaper off the classroom, was to run out of the classroom whenever I wasn`t looking - so their mothers could see me not really paying attention to their young babes. The class of seven seven-year-olds was by far the worst. I felt they had already grasped the language point fairly early on (it was easy to pick up and boring to drill) so I let them have a little free time. A couple of the fat ones climbed under the tables and the girls drew `kawaii` animals on the board, while I leafed through Slaughterhouse Five.

Last night Karen and I went for dinner and then headed to the George to watch Arsenal`s glorious victory over paltry Fulham (sorry, Assaf!). It was an open mic night, so Jery serenaded us with an appalling version of Hotel California before two strange brothers came in with a transvestite and an electric guitar and played the worst musical accompaniment I`ve ever experienced (if anyone has seen The Weekenders, a pilot done by Vic and Bob, just think Electric Russell).

The picture is of George, possibly when he realised I was stealing his alcohol and handing it out to other customers. In his defense, his hair is not usually yellow (this was an excuse to check out a hairdresser he fancies, but it seems she is dating the colour technician) and he rarely wears fishermen`s jumpers. I figured as him and his bar feature so heavily in this, people might want to know what he looks like. Generally, much better than this!

Hinomatsi

2006-02-25T07:07:00.000+06:00

This week has been quite up and down. After a night ruined by too much gin and not enough dinner, Monday started off in misery - everything emotional seems to be heightened here, so the Booze Blues are monumentally miserable. In a way it`s good though, it means I can treat myself to all sorts of nice food and feel I `deserve` it so I have been eating my way to happiness for the rest of the week. Aki and I had roast beef sandwiches on Tuesday and ogled the handsome barman in the Suraj bar and on Wednesday Sean and I overate at Wara-Wara`s, a budget izakaya chain that does the best pizza and deep-fried squid I`ve ever tasted. Sean wasn`t so taken with the lemon steak, but that left more for great big, greedy me!

Wednesday night was also Ito`s birthday - he`s a Japanese salaryman with a penchant for the Eagles and more than enough gins. He helped get me over my depression by telling me I didn`t need to feel embarrassed about my behaviour on Saturday, I am a `great boozer`. That, and a phonecall to Jo, were surprisingly therapeutic.

All week I`ve been giving the kids tests, which basically involves handing out papers and coloured pencils and pressing play on a cassette player (Shane is not at the forefront of Japanese technology), which has given me plenty of time for attempting to revise Japanese. I can now request a room for two people with a Japanese bath. Useful, and quite roomy as it would only be for me.

I finally managed to get some pictures of Ayano, although she was shy because she`s just recovered from Chicken Pox and her face still has the scars to prove it. She`s so cute and we spent 30 minutes throwing a ball around pretending that I was teaching her `catch` and `throw`. She already knows everything, so I don`t have to teach her until next month, when she starts a new book, so it`s all play at the moment.

Wednesday, I had two cancellations, so got out of work at six - a wonderfully rare thing, and only taught around five minutes in the whole day. I had three lessons, one of which was Ayano`s, another was a 40 minute test followed by dodgeball and I had a chat with an old lady about the Olympics. Sometimes this job is a killer...

On Friday I did cover at a different school, more tests and very little teaching, although three eight-year-old boys made sure I earned my money. Last week, they were mildly naughty and one of them said `bugger` which endeared me to them, but this week they gave me a better insight into what the previous teacher had had to cope with. They were still relatively well-behaved and are very good at English, so finished their tests early. To fill in the time, I had them doing run and draw, but it quickly descended into bedlam and the board was covered with monkeys, boys and elephants with chinchins (penises) of all sizes.

Last night I went over to Pamela`s to pick up her rice cooker and say goodbye, we ended up getting drunk on fizzy wine and taking lots of awful pictures of ourselves (this one is the best one...). We had to take her rubbish to the convenience store, but on the way, Pamela dropped the sack at the top of the stairs and all her gomi bounced down in front of us. I couldn`t stand for laughing. I eventually left, insisting I could direct a taxi without help, rice cooker-less and making it home purely by chance. Shouting `near the byouin` didn`t really help much, but the driver got me there.

Unfortunately, I had Cafe Lamp this morning, which meant an early start, but Pamela had to get up and clean her flat, finish packing and get to Omiya train station by 7am so I can hardly complain. Cafe Lamp was actually less effort today than it has been the last couple of times, people are obviously opening up a bit more. I also chanced to have a real `wacky` student on my first table who led most of the discussions, including a short round of Bohemian Rhapsody, which he claimed not to know when we were discussing people`s favourite music. A very dubious man gave me some gifts, potentially in exchange for free English lessons, which I am loathe to give him. Perhaps I should return the guide book, scarf and mobile - although I am told this would be rude and he has apparently had them in his bag for a month, in case he should bump into me unexpectedly. I may have my first stalker.

I`ve been showed with lots of gifts this week. A student on my cover day brought in some cherry blossom sweets, but no one else wanted to eat them, so I was sent home with the box and an African necklace. She had just got back from Tanzinia and brought a sackful of the things as gifts for everyone. I was made to choose, but really, really didn`t want to have one so just opted for the one she had most of, then some poor, young student was advised to have the same one as the teacher so now two of us have these ungainly things. One of my old ladies made the hino dolls for Hinomatsi, the Girl`s Festival. I must take them down before March 3rd or I will never marry.

Pamela`s swan song

2006-02-19T15:41:00.000+06:00

Valentine`s passed typically uneventfully, although this year I have an excuse. Japanese Valentine`s traditions revolve around giving men chocolate, so the absence of attention was not so remarklable. I did have to make Valentine`s cards with some six-year-old girls, which seemed dubious to me, but I used the opportunity to cobble one together for Sean. Quite possibly only the second or third card I have ever given. I treat my faux boyfriend well. Roll on White Day when the chocolates are all mine. I also enjoyed lots of students` clumsy questions about giving men my chocolates, which reminded me of Adam and Alex`s old euphimism for sex and made me smile more than the students expected me to.

Last night was Pamela`s leaving do - another night in the George, although after too much gin and no dinner, I was smashed and ended up in the Suraj Bar with Ryu-san and his friends, with Suraj trying to push me onto every man in the place. I was quite happy as his attempt to pair me off with the incredibly handsome, but possibly too young, barman - I am not sure the barman felt the same. I will try to go in there when I am sober for once and see how things progress. It did mean I missed out on karaoke, which may have been for the best as there were around 30 people in there and, as drunk as I was, I would have definitely outed myself as a karaoke nazi, switching off other people`s songs and lining up 47 for myself.

It was quite a good night, according to Pamela, although some idiot ruined it by popping Mattius`s blow-up doll (a birthday present) and then running off without paying. There are some complete pricks out here. Pamela was very pragmatic about it though and generally had a very good time. I`ll miss her loads. She is a very nice, very normal girl - fairly special at home and an incredible rarity here. We have already arranged to meet up when we both get back home - she is going via Germany, so we might both get back at the same time.

I only managed to drag myself out of bed at 4pm today and am going for fabulous yaki niku with Irish Steve in a bit - we trained together and it`s the first time I`ve seen him for ages, but I`m really looking forward to it. Yet another normal in this land of wonky losers. Teachers really are geeks. Regent was incredibly misleading in recruiting lots of very nice people. They aren`t like that here.

Mr Loverman and Shabu (Shabu)

2006-02-12T11:59:00.000+06:00

Karen and I shabu-shabued in Shinkuku last night. I do like to dunk fresh meat in boiling water, but last night, not being able to read the menu, we ordered the spiced cauldron and so some of the slightly over-done vegetables were inedibly spicy. Of course, Karen patronisingly nodded as I choked on a fiery green leaf, then got her comeuppance in the form of a cabbage leaf. However, the briefest dunk was more than enough to get the beef cooked and smothering it with the sweet sesame sauce took the edge off the heat. It really is a brilliant way to eat, but incredibly filling. My stomach felt like a medicine ball on the way out.

We strolled around Shinjuku for a little while, but kept finding empty roads and ugly gaijins clinging on to overly pretty girls. The bright lights dazzled us only briefly before we headed back to Omiya for speed-dating at the George (spectating only). Sadly, we must have spent too long ogling the Palace Karaoke (complete with resplendent faux palace on the roof) and the speed-dating had just finished as we arrived.

Still, the night was quite a productive one. Some random Californian with an incredibly cute, but young-looking Japanese friend, took my phone number. It was all rather odd. and not at all dateish. He left the pub, then came back 20 minutes later wearing ear muffs and one glove and then decided to ask for my number. We had barely spoken - I hadn`t even had time to point out that his name is the same as my teddy bear`s (Jeremy), though if he calls it will come up. Karen left after one, but I stayed round. A friend of Cherry Boy`s, Akiko came into the George so I went and said hello.

While I was chatting to Akiko and laughing at her brother`s dancing, Ryu-san strolled in. We had a really nice evening chatting together. More of his mates came in and I was introduced as though they would all know me (I guess the gaijin he was seeing would have been discussed, but most people disguise such things). They were all really, really drunk and did this weird and terrible Japanese `funny` dance from a 20 year-old comedy programme (and eventually made me do it - it is incredible what you can find yourself doing just because it is harder to explain why you shouldn`t). Ryu-san was far more relaxed than I`d seen him before, and not taking himself anywhere near as seriously. So relaxed that he passed out on one of the benches - first being shoved out of his friend`s lap for dribbling. I`ve since emailed him saying it was nice to see him and requesting some assistance with my Japanese (in Japanese, though my spelling is appaling apparently). Hopefully I can rope him into helping me find a laptop. He seems like someone who would be good at that.

Fish and bicycles

2006-02-10T12:32:00.000+06:00

Life, unfortunately, seems quite directionless without a man to stalk. I never imagined I would say I needed a man, but it seems I do. At least as a target. I`ve got used to Japanese life now, I can do most of my classes with my eyes closed (though my phonemes look more and more like hiragana) and I finally know some decent people (though not many and, selfishly, they aren`t at my constant beck and call) so I need something to concentrate on. Studying Japanese is all well and good, but it is frustrating with no one to practise on. A man would solve all of these problems, and pay for me to go to the cinema.

Although I have decided I don`t actually fancy him, Suzuki-san is my current target. Today I staked out the hairdressers, popping into a convenience store across the road so I could see if he was there (as a sign of my boredom and the ridiculousness of my current pursuit, I already knew he was in London training at Vidal Sassoon). In the convenience store, I found two `customers` grubbying up the magazines in a way that would prompt `this is not a library` from a British proprietor. Here it is a fine way to while away time. The teenage girl was looking at hairstyles, the man porn. This, too, does not cause outrage. Men openly browse through titty mags without a crease of embarrassment on their `polite` faces.

From what I have seen of it, Japanese porn is incredibly soft. Some shots are not even topless and the girls all feign youthful innocence in an unsettlingly paedophilic way. I imagine there is some more depraved stuff out there - there just has to be - but your common garden (well, convenience store) porn barely lives up to the name, which is fortunate given how pervasive it is. Men sit on trains flicking through magazines, which sit next to manga comics in shops. It`s even advertised on billboards. Weirdly, I have only seen one Japanese breast on TV - somehow, telly is clean, but everywhere else there`s sex.

Well, except Sean`s apartment (sorry Sean!!). Last night I went round to watch DVDs and enjoy my first Pizza Hut. I watched Shaun of the Dead for the first time and longed for north London. Shaun`s girlfriend lives on the same estate I used to on Hornsey Lane. I have had a lock-in at the Winchester (though don`t remember either of the names it has had in my north London lifetime). I am fairly sure I have bought orange juice from Sean`s local shop. Japanese urban landscapes just do not compare with Tufnell Park. Central Tokyo is all well and good, but the suburbs are ugly. Houses are built to last an earthquake, not to look good.

We also watched two Batman films: Begins with the luscious Christian Bale (although I prefer him in American Psycho and, though early Genesis might be considered torture enough, I would happily go back to his flat and let him do what he liked with me) and the first Burton film with Jack Nicholson. Sean asked me to rate my Top 5 celebrities, but I got stuck after Mr Bale. Eventually, the other Christian, Slater, came to mind, although with the obvious and adulterous Pitt. I have, however, gone off him since this whole philandering thing and am firmly in the Aniston camp.

I woke up this morning to find I had passed out, mid-Family Guy, on Sean`s sofa. He had kindly laid out the spare futon set, which I climbed into for a couple more hours, although a student from my Japanese class called unsociably early to discuss a possible private student for me. As it was cash, I could forgive her and next Friday I`m off to Ageo at 10am to teach Miguel, a Brazilian who claims to have no English, but had enough to discuss times and places, which is way more than I can do in Japanese. Hopefully I can convince him to change his lesson to later in the day as I am already dreading getting up so early on my day off, but we will see. He is the customer, though in this instance I am always right.

The good, the bad and Ryusuke

2006-02-09T09:40:00.000+06:00

Shane has gracefully granted us a holiday today and tomorrow. Unfortunately, pay day is on Monday, so there`s not a great deal I can do at the moment. I`m currently looking at underwear on the internet. If someone peeked into my unmanned booth, they wouldn`t be able to tell if it was a gaijin woman`s, a teenage boy`s or a Salaryman`s.

This week has been quite ordinary in comparison to dunking shabu shabu (you dunk meat in boiling water at your table and then in a flavouring of choice - Japanese meals are so much more interesting than any other country`s - they are an activity as well as a feast) with Lizzy at the weekend. Unfortunately, Ryusuke, my student from Hell (well, Shin-Shiraoka, but I am sure they are similar), has upped his campaign. After a fairly successful lesson last week on winning, losing and tying baseball games (he is mad on sports, so perked up), this week he decided to try to leave the classroom at every opportunity to tell the receptionist he doesn`t understand me.

This can`t be true. His English is good enough to rebuke me with `Why? You know` whenever I ask him a question and we have drilled win and won and lose and lost a thousand times - if anything, it was boring, but no, his accusation is that I am not a good teacher and the receptionist seems to be on his side. I have now had to report it to my DoS. I am not overly confident in my teaching abilities, but I have just recruited four new students to this school, which has been haemorraging students up until recently, so cannot be appalling. JeDoS, who used to be in the Army, was grateful that I told him and said we need to `cover my back`. I was not concerned until he insinuated there was a need for military back-up...

I was told yesterday I will be changing Japanese teachers next week, after I finally got to grips with Hosoya-san`s sink or swim teaching method. I am quite sad to see her go. She gave me an incentive to learn no other teacher could or, hopefully, will. Apparently, I will get a better teacher - though she said this out of considerable false modesty and habit. The insincerity and superficiality of the Japanese was just starting to bite at the beginning of the week, but I have been confounded with considerable generosity since. Not least, finally encountering two blind people using the yellow tracks laid across the country to help them find their way around (one, sadly, before I realised what the tracks are for, and so he bashed right into me - I apologised in Japanese and hoped my accent wouldn`t reveal my foreign stupidity). The tracks run everywhere and are bobbled to warn of trains, roads and gentle inclines. When no medical abortions are available, I guess you must provide for those less fortunate.

Special, but not in the Sunshine Bus way

2006-02-05T11:33:00.000+06:00

I should clarify, when I wrote nothing special as the heading to my last entry it had nothing to do with Lizzy! Seeing her really was very special indeed! I have just spent a whole week listening to all my adult students telling me this is how they pass their time. It is either this or trying to tell me they did nothing - not eat, sleep or watch TV apparently. Of course, they have all been shopping, but this really is `nothing special`.

I saw Lizzy again last night and again it was almost perfectly normal to be catching up in Japan and not the Bullfrog. This time we made it to Shinjuku, the hub of Tokyo. Unfortunately, for nostalgic reasons, we also went to the Hub - a British chain pub where you have to queue in an orderly fashion for jumbo gin and tonics - and were accosted by some boring Japanese drunks asking us if we could eat natto and what surprised us most about Japan. I, not expecting it to get through to them, said how rude everyone was and Lizzy obligingly translated. I also told them I loved natto, though they found this almost impossible to believe. This was strangely perceptive of them, though it does look and taste like something you would scrape off the back of a plant to stop greenfly spreading.

In the excitement, I missed my unfeasibly early last train (why, oh why is there no nightbus?!) and had to stay on the floor of the apartment Lizzy was borrowing. It was incredibly plush and in the `Hampstead` of Tokyo - where Suzuki-san and I will probably end up living, no doubt. The apartment was amazing and had a heated floor - a nice touch, although the glass of water I took to bed with me was warm before my dehydration had climaxed. Unfortunately, not being gargantuanly drunk, I couldn`t sleep very well and so upped and left at 7am to make the journey back to Omiya. Something that would have been fine, had it not been so incredibly cold. The whole of the Kanto region seems to be trapped in a wind tunnel and the past three or four days, while very clear and bright, have been bitterly cold.

Nothing special

2006-02-03T11:11:00.000+06:00

This week has been far more relaxing, simply because I knew I had today off work. Wednesday I was desperately wishing it was Thursday so I could get drunk, but strangely, last night it just wasn`t happening. It`s quite nice being semi-sentient on my day off. I might even do some studying later... Actually, I will force myself. I am now almost level with a backward seven-year-old`s grasp of English. I passed the week enjoying the in-jokes old teachers write into textbooks (a character called Mrs Labia, a woman being given a pearl necklace, small children being asked if they like boys...).

I can`t get too excited as I still have an early start tomorrow - these non-consecutive weekends are killers for people who generally suffer two-day hangovers. Tomorrow is one of my least favourite days and becoming less welcome after I found one of the more pleasant students had drawn a skeletal Death wielding a scythe marked `kill` on the white board last week. There are more goths in Japan than you`d realise, what with the pervasiveness of over-cute costumes, even on the adults. Everything is branded with a cartoon character or some bizarre slogan (the best, so far, being a child of seven wearing a sweatshirt bearing a strange sentiment about frontiers David Gray has yet to conquer).

I have decided to forego romance with the hairdresser. He is a bit too cool for schoolteachers and also I don`t want to have to risk finding a new hairdresser. He`s the best I`ve encountered outside Vidal Sassoon so far.

Last night Lizzy came for a brief look around Omiya. She was dazzled by the red light district and well fed in a small izakaya before going for the obligatory `one` in the George. She sensibly stuck to this (hence my lucid state today), but tomorrow we`re meeting in Shinuku where I hope to ogle trendy boys and perhaps scare one into taking my phone number. The most unexpected part of our reunion was that is just wasn`t at all bizarre seeing her here. Maybe tomorrow, when we`re both in the shadow of glittering high-rises, things will seem a little more strange.

Love is in the hair...

2006-02-01T08:08:00.000+06:00

This week my duties as teacher to dear little Takashi-san have extended to life coach and love counsellor (how sweet, naive and misguided he is). He has an enormous crush on a JET language assistant from Oxford (the university, I can`t remember the middling town she used to live in) and has asked me how to go about wooing her. I have insisted I am not the best person to ask, but as an English girl who can translate `xxx` in text messages, he sees me as fully qualified. Fortunately, being a horrible gossip and having taken to the Japanese hobby of match-making with real gusto, I am more than happy to assist and have already hinted to Lara that she has a fan. I have not yet let Takashi-san know about my horrible indiscretion, but I am sure the truth will out.

In return, Takashi-san has offered to help me out with the wonderful hairdresser. I think this may be a lost cause before it has started, but we shall see. He is incredible. He seems to have modelled himself on the one that`s not Jet Li or old in Hero. I never have thought long hair could be so desirable.

I am also contemplating putting together some rules on dating over here. Every teacher I know wants me to so they can then throw themselves into the game, fully clued-up, it would also mean I could potentially submit something to a paper, but I am not sure I can be arsed...

I`m feeling very lazy this week. I skipped Japanese today, which feels like such a treat. Last night, Sean, Karen, Takashi-san and I all went to the last night at the China Tea House; a small and fabulous bar shamefully close to my flat that I had never visited before. We were welcomed with enormous platters of `Chinese` food (most seemed either Japanese or Western - unless crinkle-cut chips originated in the Orient). The table was constantly being topped up with more and more, but we weren`t sure if it was free or not. We took a few tentative first bites, then dived in. After worrying about the food bill, which was cancelled, Sean and I ended up staying way past midnight and clocking up a hefty bar bill. I had to borrow from the Bank of O`leary, a fine establishment I am slowly getting further and further into the red with.

Shit-Shiraoka`s setsumeikii

2006-01-30T08:40:00.000+06:00

This week has been a small campaign week for Shane, which culminated in a few schools were open for trials and demonstration lessons (over-ambitiously all were scheduled to be open, but some had to be closed, unfortunately, not mine, more unfortunately, Sean`s was, but he was assigned another one, much further away and with an unattractive receptionist).

This meant Saturday night`s fun had to be curtailed, although it was already drastically reduced by the non-appearance of the fabulous Suzuki-san. George had forgotten his promise to flyer all the hairdressers of Omiya and I had confused the nights, so it was almost better than he didn`t turn up and think me a weird liar. It was a good night though, some decent DJs were playing and so it was a shame to have to head home at a sensible hour and after only three gins. I was tempted to call in sick, but this is not financially viable (not only are you not paid, but the DoS`s rate is deducted thereby leaving you considerably shorter) and I was out with Steven, who was on standby and quite happy to tell anyone how happy and healthy I appeared on the previous evening.

The early night didn`t make Sunday any easier. I got there early as I knew I had a packed schedule (the receptionists at Shin-Shiraoka are highly skilled at shoe-horning in students and possible students to any teacher`s already crammed schedule), but had no idea what to do with anyone. I managed to cobble together a lesson for the demonstration class I had first, using all sorts of techniques I wouldn`t ordinarily bother with/have time to prepare, and was fairly pleased with the class. The receptionist had insisted I use the first lesson of the book as this was where they would start, although they were at a far more advanced level. This was a big mistake and I will argue my case next time. I had to endure thirty minutes of torture with three teenage girls giggling and whispering `my name is...` only for their parents to sit at the back whispering and giggling too. One of the fathers was particularly rude and next time I will send anyone who behaves in that way out of my class. The rest of the day was OK. I interviewed a very handsome tennis coach with patchy English and a housewife who spoke German and Russian, but claimed (in English) to speak no English. I also had to give a few make up lessons, including one to a timid woman wearing an obvious wig, it took all my strength not to stare at.

Afterwards, I met up with Sean, Adam and Riaz and treated myself to a feast at the Asian Kitchen. Riaz regaled us with tales of Shit-Shiraoka`s past wrong-doings and his methods of correction from when he taught there. I`m off there again now and have to steady my nerve. It`s not so bad and the child from hell is being handed over to a new teacher soon, so I will try to welcome the new teacher who starts today with more optimism than I received on my first day.

Buon appetito!

2006-01-28T16:11:00.000+06:00

I feel hideously ungrateful for imagining last night`s dinner would be `just pizza`. After almost breaking a taxi door （they shut themselves, but I am not used to this), I was taken to a simple-looking restaurant (actually, it was a little Happy Eater, but I imagine the Japanese would love such road-side treats - I certainly used to), which served the most magnificent Italian food. The Menopause Sisters (as they unpleasantly insist on calling themselves) could barely translate the menu, nor could the head waiter, though they managed to muster `octopus and celery` between them, so I had to trust them - this is not really a problem. Once they had ordered, a fresh-faced waiter with a reasonable grasp of English was fished out of somewhere and dragged over, though even he couldn`t translate the food. Sachiko checked I could handle octopus, but not my views on celery. It was lucky, it wasn`t the bile-flavoured version I avoid at home and so I happily tucked in.

Again, we had absolutely masses of food. To begin, we had two main courses and three side dishes to share (bread salad, cuttlefish salad, roast lamb, raw scallops and cod with broccoli and asparagus in balsamic vinegar), though Hidako and I had to cope without a knife which was a little awkward. Just before the lamb arrived, the Head Chef came out to ask the exotic foreigner what her favourite dish was. I only wish he`d come back after I`d tasted the lamb as it was clearly the best. The cod was pretty amazing too. Oh, and the wine. It was my first non-Japanese, non-chilled red wine in four months. My god. Even with a hangover, it was delicious.

The young waiter asked Sachiko if he could experiment with his English on me and I had to answer some stock questions on how long I`d been here and where I came from, for him to almost collapse wailing `kakkoii` (cool - even, apparently, my having done politics at university). He then told me anytime I called he would come here to see me and it some time for me to realise he just meant to serve us! Sachiko said she had a `warm feeling` (this comes up a lot, I must learn it in Japanese and wow the easily impressed) and that she felt they were like my mothers. Then she and Hidako bickered about whose family I would meet first - Takako and I sat back and laughed as a small war broke out over them trying to get me on my own.

I was beginning to lament not being able to ask for pizza (I could not appear rude and reject their tremendous offerings), when the menus were pulled out again. The Head Waiter popped up and dropped in a few casual words of English, much to my companions` delight. We then had another round of food: shrimp salad; rosemary potatoes (the young Yamada-kun`s favourite, and perhaps my second); and chicken wings. Unfortunately, there were only three chicken wings, so Hidako offered to sit that course out, even though she is vegetarian and therefore can only eat chicken and fish... We had French white wine with this course and learned how to say `I am slightly drunk` in our respective adopted languages. Takako went bright red and everyone giggled too much. Sachiko particularly as she was trying to tease Takako about her husband having a mistress in China (he is younger and works away a lot, so probably has, which made it somewhat distasteful - oh, the wacky Japanese).

Yamada-kun popped over to say his shift was ending and to thank me for being there/foreign; I don`t think he could have been more excited had I been Britney Spears. Then another course was ordered, this time a pizza topped with a raw egg (it cooked slightly during the journey from serving dish to plate) and Hidako`s favourite seafood pasta. It was all tremendous, but there was still room for more. I was escorted by the remaining staff to the dessert counter and plumped for homemade tiramasu, then had to stand and have my photo taken with the Head Chef.

It is ridiculous and touching how excited some of the Japanese get to meet a foreigner and has helped me overcome my recent bout of Japanaphobia. As did the very handsome boy sat at the opposite table celebrating his sister`s (I hope!) birthday. He was far too young and with his family, although Yamada-kun being only 18 did not stop the old ladies trying to pair me off with him, so I don`t think anyone would have minded if I`d gone for it. There is no legal age of consent here, so you only need worry from a moral point of view...

Working this morning was a bit of a struggle after mixing wine and beer (I had tried to be sensible, but the Menopause Sisters have caught on to my being a heaby drinker and so decided to join me), but I`m off to the George later. I doubt I`ll stay long though. I tried to invite Suzuki-sensei to come along, but our limited shared language meant he thought it was a private party and there is no way on earth you will catch a local gate-crashing. The only time you will get close to an outright refusal is if they don`t feel they have a direct invitation from the person whose party it is. We will see. At least my hair looks nice, so they girls will probably be telling me I`m `kawaii`, even if the boys don`t.

Thank Crunchie it`s Friday

2006-01-27T12:21:00.000+06:00

God, I`d love a Crunchie. They do Mars Bars and Snickers, but I`ve never been a big fan. Oh, why haven`t the Japanese embraced the delights of a Toffee Crisp?

Anyway, today, of course, I am massively hung over. After a six-day week, I decided to treat myself to yakiniku again (you grill your own meat, it`s like a toy and a meal all at once - it puts Kinder to shame). It is a dangerous meal as, with any barbeque, it brings the worst out in men and Karen and I had three with us last night. While they were arguing over the tongs, Karen and I sneakily made the most of our only opportunity to cook (warming ramen on a plastic hob can`t count) and took control of everything. We then hit Doma Doma, a `posh` izakaya which I think is unnecessarily expensive and yielded no interesting new friends, before heading on to karaoke. Mike-san and I stayed until 5am with a girl called Eri I had seen in the George, but who had no means of communicating with us beyond enthusiastic grins. We greedily exploited the all-you-can-drink offer and I climbed on the seat and did a pathetic `Wuthering Heights` to nobody`s amusement.

I have either overcome my current bout of homesickness or just been too busy to think about it. I don`t know what happens with my time, but there is far less of it at the moment. I feel like I have only seen my students, which is normally something I really enjoy, but this week they have foisted some fairly uncomfortable topics on me (murder, period pains, sterility and so on). I had to listen to Yukiko holding court with her usual Daily Mailian poison against the Japanese Pincess. From what I could drag out of the rest of the class, the poor woman tried to refuse the Prince`s proposal so she would not have to sacrifice her career as a diplomat, but was eventually forced to concede. She has been suffering heavily from depression and has been housebound for some time (although, much to Japan`s disgust, still sometimes gets to see her mates). She made an attempt to return to her official duties before Christmas, but has had a relapse so now Yukiko and a sizeable chunk of the older Japanese population are demanding the couple divorce. Yukiko tried to put this story across as a scandal, but I managed to get the rest of the class to agree that it is a `modern tragedy`. Both of them seem to love each other very much, but the country won`t let them be. The rest of the class agreed outwardly, but perhaps not genuinely.

To balance this, I had to ask one of my students where her favourite place was and she said it was her toilet. She likes confined spaces. I have some pretty random discussions. Keisuke made me draw ivy on the board yesterday and on Monday a dentist is going to suggest my perfect date.

My Japanese is coming on well now I have the wonderful Yasuda-san on the case. However, there are some Phillipinos in the class who have picked up lots of spoken Japanese, so I am holding everyone back for the most part. They can`t read or write though, so when we do those bits I get to feel a little cocky, which the horrible part of me enjoys.

Today I am being taken for pizza by some students. I was supposed to have fugu - the notoriously fatal puffer fish - but there was standing room only at that restaurant. To the Japanese, pizza is an exotic treat. To me it is a perfect cure for my hangover. Sadly, they will expect me to drink heabiry, but I feel a little too delicate to consider that for the moment. I`m getting my hair done by the fabulous Suzuki-sensei first and hope to invite him to the George tomorrow night. George is after a crimper so has put on a night called `Hair` to entice her out. All the hairdressers of Omiya have been invited just so he can ask this girl along. What lengths some men will go to...

Anyway, got to go and complete the TDA staff survey...

Nipped off again

2006-01-22T15:16:00.000+06:00

I`m still in a bit of a mood with Japan. Being told I look much older than my 32 year-old friend, being shoved on trains and not being thanked for offering an old lady a seat (she just offered it to a middle-aged man instead) in a country that prides itself on it`s manners is just getting boring. This week, I have also tired somewhat of the blatant racism the natives exhibit. I teach two Korean children (one is Leesa, although she is called Risa by the staff as it is near enough and will do - those `L` take too much effort, and is on the far left, enthusiastically `peacing` in the photo, and the other is her brother) and both are picked on for their heritage. Koreans are the absolute lowest here. I am fairly lucky. English-speaking gaijin are a popular novelty, non-deformed female gaijin a complete rarity, so I am generally treated well. I do sometimes find it difficult to get the free promotional tissues handed out at stations as the people giving them out are a little scared of the foreigners, or rightfully imagine I wouldn`t have a clue what was being advertised.

Koreans fare far worse. Leesa does fairly well. The children in her class are young enough to muck in and have fun with whoever, but her brother struggles more with his English and is laughed at regularly. None of the children want to sit next to him, some of the girls openly protest when I try to mix up the class (although Mio, god love her, sits patiently beside him and helps him with all his English, probably to the detriment of her own learning) and in any game he becomes the target or fall guy. It is depressing to watch. I sat with him on Thursday to lead him through a writing exercise and heard the other children whispering about us both being gaijin. I like to casually drop some Japanese at points like this so they imagine I understand more than I do. It terrifies and silences them for a couple of minutes, at least.

Raju was explaining the experiences he has had in Japan. Being Bangladeshi, he faces more out and out racism than I will ever encounter, but is admirably stoical about it. Strangely, I bumped into Uriah in a departo on Thursday and off-loaded some rage - he is all too aware of how it goes. It is sometimes hard to remember it is 2006 and I have been questioning this week how far you have to accept the culture of a country you have opted to be in when it is so alien and offensive. `It`s just their way` does not seem good enough. I will challenge `their way` via Yukiko`s diary and see how I get on!

Friday, I had was on standby so had to go straight from a shapeless, pointless meeting in head office to a school in Tamachi, 45 minutes away in central Tokyo. It was nice to get up close to Tokyo Tower, but the journey home was hellish. There were no rapid trains that I could see, so it took over an hour and a half - making it a 12 and a half hour day in a six day week. Saturday, I had sodding Premier Club, a monthly kids` class that makes my day begin two hours early. It snowed heavily so one kid cancelled and the other two just didn`t show. My lay-in was snatched away from me and for nothing.

I did spend part of my day with these two terrors though. Hijiri is very naughty, but massively amusing and Taisei, the little boy, is adorable. He`s a quick learning and generally very obediant. He has started expressing his excitement through smacks (one to my face), so I may be talking less affectionately about him soon. They are brilliant though. Hijiri started when I did and Taisei is fairly new, so all they know is from me. It`s a fair responsibility, but these two are what teaching is all about.

The Three Month Itch

2006-01-16T08:22:00.000+06:00

That`s what I`ve been suffering this weekend apparently. Sean consoled me last night and said he went through the same, then we moaned about not finding any new dates, while skulking around the emptiest bars of Omiya...

Friday night, I was begrudgingly sitting down to a night of misery with Jeremy and a hot water bottle, when Aki`s husband, Joe, called to invite me to the George. I went along and was instantly cheered up by Aki`s enthusiasm for mayhem and free drinks. An old man she used to know from her hostessing days (it`s not all prostitution, honestly), turned up in the bar and offered to buy us drinks, but I had unlucky just bought my own (for once, a strange turn of events). She then tried to cadge of my Sponsor, but he is the poorest salaryman in Saitama, so I wouldn`t let her. She was drunk enough anyway. That missing enzyme story seems more and more true, now I`ve seen so many Japanese legless on one beer.

Joe had a couple of friends along with him, a Turkish Parisian and an American called Chad. They were Assistant Language Teachers and brought along an ex-student and a current one. The ex-student has spent time in Australia and swears like a trooper while affecting a patchy British accent. I imagine it would be the same hanging out with Madonna, but without Stella McCartney shoving you in the toilets. Chad seems quite a find. He lives directly behind my building (the girl who lived in my flat before me had waved to him from the balcony and accused him of being Very American, a not-very-British thing to do) and is into sensible music. We had a little chat about the delights of the Clash and teased Joe for not knowing about anything prior to 1989. He then moved on to teasing Aki over her Japanese and she tried to pass off the waiter`s kanji as her own, but then couldn`t even remember the word for love in Japanese (which I, unfortunately for her, could). She erupts into a boisterous Tasmanian Devil the more she drinks and is uncapable of thinking in Japanese!

Saturday was OK, although work was a chore as I was exhausted. It was good to see Raju again. He brought me a small clay elephant back from Bangladesh and took the piss about me and Mr Dandy. Next week, in spite of my new year`s resolution, we`re going to the George to celebrate his birthday. After work, I was supposed to see Karen, but didn`t hear from her, so took myself down the George and hung around the bar irritating George over my Sponsor fancying him. Karen and Akiko, one of Cherry Boy`s friends, came in later, by which time I was drunk and unable to sit in one place, so probably seemed incredibly rude running off to talk to an Iranian stranger at the bar.

Yesterday was more of a chore. I had to get up early to go to Cafe Lamp for a language exchange. Generating conversations with strangers on a few hours` sleep is harder than you can imagine, but I struggled through. I introduced one of the groups to the word tacky with the help of Reveal magazine and discussed cosmetic surgery with another. We then all went to lunch, where I misread the total as being my share and nearly threw it all up again as I didn`t have the cash on me to cover it! My lunch was brought first and the whole table readied itself for my chopstick use, but I insisted I would wait for everyone else`s to arrive before I started. This might be rude in Japan, but I didn`t care - I would only have dropped it down myself had I been forced to attempt it under such scrutiny. Atsushi, who I had lunch with the previous week and so had already seen me capably shovelling food into my mouth, offered me a fork in front of everyone, which was annoying and unnecessary. I did my bit for the British Tourist Board and painted England as a picture of politeness - this week I have become sick of the Japanese claim of being so polite, when really they merely seem to lack the imagination to live without rules: shoving is acceptable; as is telling people they look old or fat; and laughing in someone`s face is par for the course. A receptionist heard another teacher telling me the word for strange and demonstrated this with ‘strange foreigner` as though this was not offensive. As a consequence, at Cafe Lamp I made an enormous fuss about the English being polite, particularly people taking their shoes off in houses, even when it is not necessarily called for, so should you have any Japanese visitors to your homes, make sure you make them do this!

I got invited to a party at the house of one of the students, but couldn`t face the journey (or the effort of talking to him more - taking conversation classes in a second language when you have a stutter seems a strange hobby!) so strolled through the train station and bumped into Sean. He was waiting for a friend and invited me to join them to play pool. I am officially rubbish at it and knocked the balls off the table several times. Still, it was over a tenner for two hours, so I felt obliged to get my money`s worth. We then went for yakiniku, a Korean barbeque. Your table has a hole in the middle with a gas grill and you are given raw meat to cook yourself. We had a tableful of food to play with and I think I have discovered my official Favourite Japanese food (taking the place of gyoza, Chinese dumplings...).

Andy had to head home fairly soon after, but Sean and I carried on with our pub crawl. We found loads of fabulous bars - I probably saw more of Omiya in one day than I had in the previous three months - including one American-style bar, which played lovely old music (Wade In The Water included, which shocked Sean when I started wriggling in my seat to it!) and had a brick wall effect inside. On one side, there was a panel painted of a hole in the wall with a bra hanging off metal bars. We went to another Aki had shown me on Friday night and that gave crackers and Boursin as a free bar snack and directed to a corner table as a big party was expected. Sean was enormously excited at the prospect of pretty girls and we agreed that the faux date would end and he would be my faux brother instead.

The guests were disappointingly ordinary, but a plate of nachos was placed on our table and we nervously, but excitedly scoffed them and hoped we wouldn`t be charged. Halfway through, a mountain of sashimi was put down next to them and Sean had his chopsticks snapped and ready to go just as the waiter realised his error and removed them. He had imagined we were guests at the party, sadly just a little too soon! More guests arrived and hovered around our table, but before I could suggest we move, we were presented with the bill and asked to leave! We then moved on to another bar, enjoyed some Hershey`s Kisses and got kicked out after last orders.

Back to school

2006-01-13T12:04:00.000+06:00

Tuesday was my first day back to work after 18 days off. I was desperate to go back. Boredom came around Day 13 and set up camp. To perk myself up, I wore some red tights to work (am I becoming one of those god-awful `wacky` teachers?!) and set the kids tongues wagging. Miku could not believe that such things existed and nudged Tatsuya, who frowned an eight-year-old frown. The Shin-Shiraoka pupils are more conservative than most, so I am weighing up whether to accommodate or counter this. I wonder how they will take the pink and red leg-warmers...

After a highly successful Japanese class (I tried to learn chapters 4 and 5, as we were doing 3), I experimented in the lift with a high school student. I asked him which floor, hit the 5 button and saw him jab at 4 as I left the lift on the third floor... Ah well... I am also attending a new class that one of my old ladies put me onto. Her husband is involved (he`s a very dashing and educated man - you can tell, as they sport a Val Doonican wardrobe) and the teacher is clearly very well trained. She`s proper TEFL rules! We covered everything I have tried to learn so far in one lesson, but it was not bewildering or confusing (which you would expect, as I have been learning it for weeks now), there was no superfluous language and everything was modelled and drilled as I ought to do with my students. I expect to learn more than Japanese from her. Ah, Yasuda-san, you are my hero!

There`s a Canadian called Julian, two Philipino women and a Peruvian boy in the class too. The Peruvian speaks no English at all, so his friendly offer to accompany me to the train station after class was uncomfortable and awkward and not really appreciated! Once our Japanese improves, things will get better. He seems very sweet, but is living in the middle of nowhere, taking classes and claiming to be a tourist. On the way to class, I got a little bit lost and had to ask an old man if I was pointing in the right direction (do not start me on Japanese maps). As I clearly could not even understand right or left (though I find pointing helps), he started to explain, then said `follow me` and trotted off at quite a pace. We managed to exchange some pleasantries about the newly warm weather, but spent most of the journey in uncomfortable silence. It is yet another incentive to learn!

Yesterday, my first afternoon class (including Haishi-san, the wife of the dashing educationalist) decided to throw me a New Year`s party, so we ate cakes and sweets and drank tea, whilst looking through my photos of Kyoto. How they love a photo album. The usual receptionist was off ill, so Tomomi, Riaz`s glamorous girlfriend stood in for her. Tomomi is notoriously quiet and on any outing will sit silently and gaze at Riaz (who is fairly handsome, admittedly), while everyone else shouts and bores their way through the evening. On her own, she is quite different: within sixty seconds of me asking if she enjoyed her break, she had used the word diarrhea four times. The Thai water did not agree with her, it seemed.

Last night, Karen and I went to Pamela`s to drink and console her over her rubbish ex shacking up with a copper. We all drank a fair bit, I talked too much and too loudly and Karen stoically sat back and listened. She`s like a wise, and mute, owl, which is unnerving in a 24-year-old. She should just skip a few years and join the WI.

This morning, I woke up feeling utterly miserable. I think it was too much wine and not enough sleep as much, although a resurgence of homesickness threatens. I miss my friends more and more. Consequently, today has been a mud chute of emotions. To console myself, I took lunch near Omiya`s `Oriental Passage` and had an enormous feast (the waitress could not quite believe I was ordering so much and, one bucket of ramen, a salad bowl of rice and six gyoza later, I realised why) for ￥810. I also treated myself to that fancy bag from Loft and some work trousers from the Gap sale, although having to ask for `massive` took the edge off the pleasure. That said, being massive counts. As with British sales, the only sizes left were unfathomably small and enormous (my size), so I got some handsome slacks for 9 quid.

My sister has updated me on the celebrity housemates. I am gutted that I am missing it. I take it the producers are shamelessly angling for a breakdown and a shag. They should just scatter cider, better still - rohypnol, around the rooms and get some 18-30 reps in as consultants. I wish I could see it - I imagine this series is more painful than any other. If anyone would like to experiment with posting videos, please email my yahoo account for my address!

And, I have heard, my friend Stuart is reaching the heady heights of comedy fame. This week he got recognised in the street by a dustman.

The Wedding Album

2006-01-08T13:40:00.000+06:00

Since I`ve returned from Osaka, there really hasn`t been a great deal to do (aside from prompting accusations of excessive drinking which are hugely out of proportion when you watch the rest of this alkie nation), so I have been taking myself and my books to a cafe and eeking out one cup of coffee for six hours, like everyone else in Omiya. It`s not frowned upon in any way and there are free jugs of iced water, should you happen to get thirsty. On my first visit, I was sandwiched between a dozing Salaryman who propped himself up with a ballpoint pen and an old man checking the form. My poor eyesight and the nation`s androgyny led me to ogle a girl in a unisex hat for a while. She would have been amazing as a boy. What a shame for her.

On my second trip, I was surrounded by teachers whose only words I could understand were related to studying and provoked massive guilt; two over-amorous lovers giving the most outlandish display of affection I have yet seen in Japan (it is just not done here and they laugh at foreigners drunkenly snogging in public) as they caressed each other and hand-fed one another a dry-looking bun; and two old men who were discussing something `cute` on the internet (although the word has a far more pervasive meaning here and almost everyone and everything can fall under the term).

I`ve added some pictures of the family wedding. These are for me more than anyone else, although you might be interested in my brother`s new in-laws... The cats have just been included because they are beautiful. They`re Ivy and Willow, Tammi`s babies.

Right now, I am sat next to a Japanese blogger as I type. I think the phenomenon may be bigger here than in America. Even Ryu-san has one, which he showed me, along with his three entries relating to his sickness, when I let slip I didn`t believe he had been so terribly ill the previous day and on the Hoegaarden the next. I think rather than being a liar, he is actually a weakling, although it is apparently his New Year`s resolution to go to the gym. He also wants to grow his hair long and get himself a moustache. I hope it was a misunderstanding when he agreed with all seriousness as I laughed and said I had a better chance of growing one (that said, it is true - he hadn`t shaved for three days and his chin felt like a schoolgirl`s knee - or how I would imagine it would feel, should I ever have any cause to touch one). I ran into him last night. His friends came into the George and immediately left, prompting me to imagine I had been dumped. I ran into him in another bar in the same building and tried to duck away when I saw he was in there, but had been seen and the barman fished me out of the lift, telling me Ryu-san is shy and I should go to talk to him (this is an incredulous lie, although I was too embarrassed to realise this until far later). We managed a fairly reasonable conversation for once, although I suspect it is more to do with his studies than mine. All I could say is `are you serious?` and `really?`. We got there though, I even managed to stick in a couple of hints for a kitten and pass them off as a joke. This seems to be OK, I can only imagine Japanese women demand gifts regularly. My friends have already noticed there are a certain breed who end conversations once they realise their prospective dates are English teachers and therefore relatively poor.

The more I learn about Japanese culture, the more faux pas I am aware I`ve committed (aside from the ones like telling my boss to sod off when he ignored my warmest parting regards on his last night that I have simply accepted as me being drunken me). It seems as well as not wearing my socks to Hidako`s house and so smearing her floors with my mucky paw prints, I also should have pointed my shoes in the right direction. In spite of all these rules of behaviour, the Japanese can still be exceptionally rude. I think they are just a nation of proud OCD sufferers. It does seem, however, calling a man a liar is universally disapproved of.

In a minute, I`m off round Sean`s to see if he`s been accepted by the local DVD store. Entry is by fickle acceptance only. One friend was refused admission until they could prove their Japanese was of a high enough standard and another told, in clear English, that he simply wouldn`t understand the rules and sent on his way. It may be another night of Family Guy, but I am more than happy with that.

I see poor Charles Kennedy has had to step down. What a shame. In solidarity with him, I may consider stopping drinking. People at home are worrying me with their comments about my `excesses` and out here, when people don`t already know and like you, they have less reason to forgive you for being a constant twat.

Happy New Year

2006-01-03T16:37:00.000+06:00

It`ll soon be time to take the cards down, so I thought I would put a picture of my festive display on here for prosterity. The homemade Christmas tree has pride of place on the TV (yes, I am watching the Friends video I fished out of the bin). It has grown on me since I ungratefully dismissed it here. I am tempted to keep a few of the cards up for longer than you`re ought to, sod bad luck, they make the place look more homely.
After over a week in Kansai, Rachel and I came back to Omiya for New Year, which I ruined by being far too drunk. We headed out to Tokyo with Karen, Sean, Aki and a few others and had decided on a nice-sounding Russian shot bar, but were over-ruled by boys wanting to pick up Japanese girls. They also refused to listen to Aki`s directions and so we split up and lost them somewhere on the Tokyo subway. We eventually made it to the same bar as them, but less than 30 minutes before midnight. I over-compensated on not being drunk enough by mixing my drinks and downing an Absinthe. A ridiculous idea. My memory flickers from the Hub to Mojo`s and then waking up in my flat to the postman ringing the doorbell and Rachel pointing out I had abandoned her. I was immediately punished for my sins with a hangover verging on alcohol poisoning and was confined to my futon for the rest of the day, only managing to drag myself to the telephone to wish the relatives Happy New Year before collapsing under the blankets once more.

Yesterday was slightly more mobile, I managed to locate two closed post offices to return some stray goods of Rachel`s and to hit Daiei, the supermarket, to gather together the contents of chili con carne to cook for myself and Karen (a tasty dish inspired by Rachel`s meal last week and the Bisto Mum sent for Christmas - thank you!). After eating, we headed to Sean`s (he`s the one you can barely see in the picture with Karen) to drink a little more and watch DVDs on Adam`s laptop (Adam is in the picture below, and looks less creepy in real life). We got through a couple of series of Family Guy, which I`ve never seen before, but may invest in, and a couple of episodes of Spaced, along with a bottle of chilled Japanese red wine, Karen`s sake and a lot of Sean`s Jack Daniels. Surprisingly, today wasn`t as painful as 1st January and I`ve even managed some study - although only learning the kanji for door.

Omiya is as boring as a night in with Nicole Kidman right now. Although most of the shops are open, the post offices and banks aren`t. This isn`t too much of a problem for me, as I removed all my cash from the bank in a panic last week, but I am trying to be sensible with money for once and it means my friends, who were not so well advised (Rachel told me to make sure I had enough on me) can`t afford to do anything. I also need to make sure I have some cash when the post offices do open and also I have my eye on an amazing bag in Loft, which would perfectly replace the old one with the broken zip (I think this classifies as need and not extravagance). Most people are away visiting family, so it is far quieter than usual, though the red light district is a vibrant hub, as ever. I`m back to work on Tuesday, so I will either master Japanese in the next week, eat my own arms or be able to recite the entire scripts to Friends series 5.

Kyoto photo call 0.2

2005-12-29T10:23:00.000+06:00

On Tuesday we went to Kyoto, one of Japan's most beautiful cities. It is a university town and has that cultured atmosphere of the more intelligent areas of Oxford and Cambridge, although neither of those cities has Kinkakuji, the Gold temple. It was a cold day (the investment in UniQlo thermals paid off, although the dye rubbed off on my skin and I undressed and found I had dark purple legs!), so the temple was blissfully quiet. You cannot understand the word serenity until you have been here. Our pictures do not capture the sense of being there. It was clean, calm and quite humbling. The ground was covered with a soft moss that gave it a fairy tale feeling, though we weren't convinced that it might not be fake. The Japanese are quite happy to set up trinket stalls in the temples and have had to rebuild many due to earthquakes and the general temporary nature of its architecture, so adding some pretty moss as a decoration is not beyond them.

It began to snow shortly after we arrived, which added some romanticism, as did the occasional clumps of unmelted snow from last week's snowfall. It had been too cold for it to melt, so we found lots to stamp in and leave our big gaijin footprints. It may seem wrong to play in a place of such sanctity, but I don't see it as any worse than setting up shop and there are plenty of those.

We got to experience a faux tea ceremony. Normally these are far more elaborate and drawn-out, but it was a touristy experience we couldn't miss out on. We had to go into a room and sit on tatami mats and were brought out a bowl of green tea and a small cake. The green tea served is industrially strong and far more like taking paramaceuticals than drinking tea. It perked us up and gave us the energy to walk through the Imperial Palace Gardens and back to the over-heated, but incredibly luxurious hotel.

Unfortunately for over-sensitive me, the Japanese see unnaturally hot heating as a serious indulgence, so I was unable to sleep. However, we had had a few drinks around Kyotos bars and I drifted off eventually and enjoyed the feather down pillow and duvet while I was insomniacking.

As it was a Tuesday and not in any way important to the locals (most of whom had probably gone back home for the New Year), something which initially escaped us, most of the bars were deserted. We tried out the Dog Bar, but that was unwelcoming and unenjoyable, despite the vocal Dachshund on the counter. We . tried out the Fruit Bar, a smart recommendation from Rachel who had discovered it on her first visit. It was a smart, relaxed and nicely fashionable bar in the best English style - though even better to be free of gaijin. We then finished the night in Rossa as we'd peered in previously and been put off by its emptiness, but beckoned in by its very friendly barman. We felt obliged to give him some custom and went back. It was still empty, but the barman was studying English at university and enjoyed practising on us a little - giving us a couple of free shots as a thank you. I also got an egg liqueur cocktail after expressing interest in a fried egg-shaped bottle. It tasted of creamy milkshake. Nice enough, but not worth repeating.

We headed for Tenryuji, an area just outside Kyoto which had been recommended to me by my biggest fan, Ken, before I headed off. I wanted to be able to say I had taken his advice, but now I can thank him profusely, it was by far my favourite part of Japan so far. It's a small town at the bottom of the mountains (we think, we were Rough Guideless and so not entirely sure if it was a temple or the district or town) and had a different feel to any other part of Japan I've been to so far (the architecture is boringly unadventurous and functional, so parts are generally quite similar and fairly ugly), but this had the air of a seaside town: small, bustling and often invaded by passing visitors.

After popping into a temple and being more excited by the wildlife than the Buddhist paraphenalia, we explored further. We were both running low on holiday money, but found an entrance to a shrine which seemed suitably mysterious and also very cheap, so in we went. It was stunning. We found a massive shrine and milled through the graves and headstones before reaching a bamboo wood. Apparently, the wood is featured in Sayuri, a film about Kyoto's geishas filmed mostly in America and starring a Chinese actress (controversial choices in such a nationalistic country). The entire place was incredibly eerie, particularly with the absence of almost any other visitors - fortunately, there were enough for us to be able to get some pictures of us actually together instead of taking turns with the solo shots. Rachel has become highly skilled in offering to take pictures of Japanese couples, thereby forcing them to return the gesture for us.

One of the shrines climbed the incline of the mountain. It's headdstones were in various states of disarray and disintegrated testament and a stairway led, in three crumbling heaps. I was far too scared to attempt more than three steps, but Rachel made it to the shrine at the top, something I could not even watch. Instead I found another level of the shrine, it's isolation from the inclines made it feel like a secret garden and pools of unmelted snow were far too inviting. We both made snowmen and stamped yet more sacreligious footprints in the snow.

A previously arranged date meant we had to head back, but we managed to go via the river and stopped for a while to take in yet another awesome view (not in the Bill and Ted sense, but the genuine one). My cameraphone inadequately attempted to capture it, as Rachel's camera's battery had run out.

In the evening, I got to meet Rachel's Japanese beau, Mitsohiro, who runs a juku and an English school, and his friend, Keiji. We cooked chilli con carne, though the dips confused poor Mitsuhiro, and got very drunk. Rachel and I ended up having a small falling out over a boy, although - as no one would have guessed - it was because neither of us liked him. Poor Keiji has few definable faults, but felts there are and he caused quite a stir, both with his love of Maroon 5 and Eric Clapton and his general conduct. However it was a very brief stir and once his home-made guitar had left the building we breathed a sigh of relief and laughed together at his attempts to woo a gaijin, any gaijin with his genki cuteness.

Kyoto photo call

2005-12-29T08:45:00.000+06:00

This is the Osaka sunset. The road looks fairly ugly (Ian, do you recognise Sakai City? Which area did you live in? Rachel is very curious.), but the sky was stunning. The picture doesn't do it justice. Japan is stunning in December - there are so few clouds, the Japanese themselves are fairly bored of the sunsets that blow my mind. This is only two minutes from Rachel's house. At the moment, there are some rare clouds over Osaka and from Rachel's balcony, I can see a huge shadow over the city, almost stretching to Kobe, which you can see in the distance.

Below is a view near Umeda (I am not sure if this actually counts as Umeda or is still the business district, Rachel is lunching with a colleague and so not here to ask) - central Osaka. Until we reached Kyoto, I thought this was my favourite part of Japan. It has such a range of architectural styles that it feels like a British or American city (not having been, Rachel and I decided upon Washington).

We spent Monday wandering around Osaka spending money we don't really have (when you can pick up scatter cushions at £2.50 a pop who can say no?) and revelling in a small level of anonymity. Being gaijin in Omiya, I stand out and feel very self-conscious, as does Rachel in Sakai. We are far from rareties, but still are likely to be remembered should we do anything stupid or embarrassing. That said, I am bound to run into someone who recognises me from our taking photos of ourselves in over-sized hats.

I got to sample a local delicacy (though as it was Boxing Day, I was the one who was delicate): takuyaki, a small, hot ball of squid encased in under-cooked Yorkshire pudding batter and coated with a sweet, spicy sauce. As I was nursing a Christmas hangover, the burning ball of slimy goo was not all that welcome, in spite of being enormously tasty. Most Japanese expect the octopus to be the issue for over-sensitive foreigners, but it is their continued insistence on under-cooking that causes me more concern. Textures of foods here are often bizarre and unnatural to a meat and two veg kind of a girl.

After walking the length of the business district, we took tea in Hankyu, an enormous department store with allegiance to a local sports` team (either baseball or football, I forget which) which pushes the opposing team's fans into the rival store. I also lazily found myself having purchased an over-priced pair of green over-the-knee socks. The Japanese love of labels and my unwillingness to check the price caught me out badly. Still, they are Max Mara and I am sure Takashi-san will approve when I wear them for our next lesson. I also got some pretty hot and fairly reasonable ankle warmers.

We strolled around the city for a little while and tried to find sausages to accompany Rachel's mash, but I got distracted by a pet store and dragged her in. We spent a good forty minutes trying to get a decent picture of these two and man-handling them and anyone else with an open cage. We noticed that a young man in his 20s and a 'respectable' salaryman had the same idea and loafed around the shop with no direction for at least as long as us. I tried to devise a way of starting a conversation with the salaryman and prompting him into buying me this beautiful cat, but even at my most delusional I knew it would be impossible - cats here cost almost as much as my monthly salary. This one, however, was reasonably cheap - only £150. We were enjoying the surroundings until Rachel discovered the more obscure pets at the back of the store. I was quite taken with the goat - it was certainly better nourished than most of the dogs - but the two caged monkeys were incredibly distressing. Although caged, both were also chained by the neck. One had lulled into a depressive silence, while the other bounced in a seriously crazed way and we had to leave the shop. It should not have a surprised us. Human rights are barely recognised, pets are far, far behind (though perhaps still a little higher up the food chain than the Chinese and Koreans). I have seen one campaigner in Omiya who keeps a cat in a small cat while demanding donations, not quite understanding the RSPCC's stance on such things.

The Big Day

2005-12-26T07:58:00.000+06:00

Rachel and I spent a pious day contemplating our religious roots. We got up and opened our presents and had a glass of sparkling Andre to toast the birth of Jesus Christ Our Saviour. We washed and dressed and headed into town for the earliest church service we could find...

OK, the bit about opening presents and drinking cheap sparkling wine is true, we spent a minimal amount of time discussing theology - and this was only prompted by the Born-Agains Rachel spent breakfast with, while I slept off my coach trip. We got up and dressed and headed off to Nick's to fulfil Rachel's cat-sitting duties. I played the role of Cat Whisperer again and coaxed Shinai out and into a Christmas hat. I may have been pushing my position as his new best friend, but he still spent most of the day headbutting my knees in approval.

We acted like shit girls trying to wire up the Playstation to Nick's massive TV, but eventually managed it and watched Jack Black's School of Rock, a pleasantly predictable piece of American cinema, while syphoning off small amounts of Nick's highly prized Goldschlager - a hugely guilty pleasure we restrained ourselves from over-indulging as it is not available in Japan. Once we got a taste for the booze, we said goodbye to Shinai and headed to the local izakaya for Christmas dinner. This year there was no turkey, but the yakatori included some chicken skin kebabs and we had chips, which are fairly close to roasts. In the midst of the meal I had a brief call from Bek, which was lovely and bizarre. Rachel and I were drunk and Bek was sitting down to an 8.30 breakfast!

Our fellow customers were very excited to see some female gaijin and as the Sapporo kicked in they tried to converse with us. The 'young' one (easily in his late 50s), was spokesperson and his elders deferred to his better English, until Rachel revealed her mastery of Japanese (I was ashamed at the comparision - I could barely understand a word). It was fortunate she has grasped so much, his English stretched to 'I love you' and went no further, although on his way outside to the public toilet (often, when dining out, you have to take yourself to the local facilities as not everywhere has their own) he stopped to shake my hand and express his love yet again.

By the evening, we were very bored of the time difference and even more drunk. I milled around in my new and extravagant purchase (red slippers, see below) and modelled my Christmas presents (the fetching pulley is fom Mum, the relaxing slacks are from Tammi and bangles are from Claire - thank you!), while Rachel set up her laptop so we could watch her new Wife Swap DVD. We spoke to our families, then lamented the lack of turkey and celebrated the absence of stress before giving in to tiredness and drink and heading off to bed.

Today we're going into Osaka for a look around (once I get off this bloody computer - poor Rachel has been ready to go for ages, but I still need to do my hair and face. Osaka might get to see the worst of me today as I need to hurry up and get out!) and then back to Nick's to give Shinai some treats and watch Kiki's Delivery Service - a cartoon about a black, Stussy-eqsue cat I have insisted we watch. Tomorrow we go to Kyoto and stay in an extravagantly priced hotel - it was that or stay in a hostel and share our bathroom with some randoms, most probably Australian randoms at that. It looks amazing. I think I am far more excited at the thought of the hotel than the temples and Kyoto itself. I am a Philistine. Right, now off to Mass....

Kurisumasu Ebe

2005-12-24T09:33:00.000+06:00

I'm sat in Rachel's living room, watching Japanese daytime TV and lounging around in my pyjamas. A blissful rest after a tiring journey. It was a fairly pleasant one, with the train ride to the coach station eased by the entertaining slogans emblazoned on fellow passengers. One sensibly, yet cool-looking boy turned his head to reveal his trucker cap's full slogan; under a picture of Hitler, were the words 'The Door For Next'. Its intended meaning is infathomable. In spite of being told I would need an hour to find the coach at Tokyo station, I walked straight to it so sat on the floor and waited. It's not such a povvy thing to do here, although I didn't see many ladies joining in, mainly students and drunks. Salarymen often lay themselves down in stations and sleep - they are generally slaughtered after some work drinking party or other, but no one even glances at this, it's so common (except, of course, me who finds it enthralling). I did queue for a couple of minutes in the wrong Osaka coach queue, but it was no problem getting into the right one when this was pointed out to me. As I was handing in my ticket, the helpful man gave an extensive explanation about something in Japanese, though the only English he could offer was 'snow'. I had guessed we might be delayed because of the weather - it is much colder here than it is where I live and traffic delays due to snow had been all over the news. It didn't take us much longer than I had expected - nine and a half hours instead of eight and a half, so not too bad, especially as I had thought it would take nine hours anyway.

The coach was fairly luxurious - three independent seats in a row, which fully reclined and had a pocket for books, etc, and another for your drink. As I had the middle seat, I also got twice as much luggage space, something to remember for next time. Unfortunately, as the weather was expected to be bad, the heating had been set to counter this, as had my wardrobe, and I had to near-strip to contend with the sweltering heat. It was impossibly hot - I was sweating in a t-shirt, denim skirt and tights and considering how my neighbours would react if I whipped off my tights then and there until I eventually passed out from heat stroke. That and the incessant and loud snores from sleeping salarymen meant I didn't spend the most restful night, but I slept far more than I expected to and am now enjoying the luxury of lazing in Rachel's flat, she having gone to the supermarket for wine, cheese and thermals.

I haven't seen anything of Osaka yet, but Rachel and some of her friends are going out to eat tonight. Our Christmas meal is cajun chicken - which I am looking forward to, though I will miss the gravy option. Should Ryu-san stay on the scene, I may raid his kitchen to prepare us an English-style roast. I wonder what he will make of my Yorkshire puddings...

Merry Christmas...School is over

2005-12-23T13:29:00.000+06:00

Sadly, I forgot to take a photo of Ayano with the hand-painted Christmas card she made on Wednesday. It was a fabulous design (and mostly my own work - I think her mother was grateful, the child has a strange attraction to dark and clashing colours), with a green tree outline blotted in with poster paint, pink and silver tinsel draped around it and metallic pink stars cluttering the few spaces left. I do hope it has made amends for the brown and orange clown she had to pin up in her house not too long ago. Ayano had a fabulous lesson playing with the tea set and attacking each other with finger puppets (no English was necessary during this game, but we are supposed to encourage `free play`). She is remarkably aggressive for such a small, sweet-looking child. When attempting to teach her introductions, I got out the hand puppets, but she missed the point and used the dragon to slay my bumble bee.

It`s generally been a fun week. Having made a bit of an effort to fun up Takashi-san`s lesson, I used the Beatles gapfill I had prepared for his gerund lesson (if anyone knows what they are, please tell me) on Masayo. After checking her answers, we sang along for a couple of choruses and then did the same with Jingle Bells. My course tutors would be proud of me. Between lessons I tried to learn some katakana, but it`s still not going in. I also couldn`t remember the word for lunchbreak, so wrote this out in katakana repeatedly to no avail. Should someone find my scrap paper, I will seem like a food-obsessed mentalist. Not so far from the truth...

Thursday I was feeling very sorry for myself. Wednesday night I celebrated the return of my appetite with an all-too-hastily prepared feast, including an under-cooked gyoza (Chinese dumpling) which disagreed with me - although quite politely. In my weakened state, and having spoken to Charlie and Mum the night before, I suddenly felt an attack of homesickness. It is weird how my little brother`s constant quest for girls would be the thing to bring it on, though the festivities do not help. I can picture Mum`s over-filled living room and taste the bread sauce as we all peer over each other to try to watch a special Eastenders episode (is that still rubbish? Does anyone watch it now?)! Danny got married on Thursday (congratulations!) and I really wished I could have been there to see everyone. Hearing someone`s voice on the telephone is not always enough. Fortunately, tonight I am off to see Rachel, which makes it all so much easier. It is difficult to adjust to having had so many very good friends to having no one that I am close to here. If she wasn`t in the same country, I would be finding it all much more difficult.
I`ve had a small blow at work too - it may get bigger, but we will see. Martyn, who I teach with on Mondays at the ghost town of Shin-Shiraoka, is leaving Shane. It seems to be under a cloud and is all very sudden and mysterious. I really like him. He used to lecture on graphic design at Central St. Martin`s and is an intelligent, sensible and interesting person. Some teachers can be such utter losers, that it is a worry who will replace him. I like the Sex Offenders successor well enough, but Martyn was an actual friend. I do hope I don`t end up with some wonky Charisma Man or an arrogant monster who sneers at the newbies (some of the mid-term teachers don`t feel they `need` to mix with new teachers, although probably accepted the hospitality of those who went before them well enough - I think it is partly this attitude that has led Martyn to feel Shane is not for him).

I quickly got over my woes when my first class started (it is very difficult to be miserable in this job, although if I am lucky with my schedule and my students). My afternoon class sat down and told me we wouldn`t be doing any work, then opened their bags and pulled out an array of cakes and Christmas cards. I had been feeling a little queasy still, but soldiered on at the sight of chocolate buns. One of the students, Yukiko-san, keeps a diary which I mark and to thank me for my efforts she gave me a handsewn Christmas tree! It is my first and only Christmas decoration and is proudly sat on top of my TV (the only way any presents can fit under it). It`s quite an awful thing really, but very sweet and something I can see myself stumbling across in years to come and prompting all manner of memories. However, my memory of Yukiko-san may be marred slightly by her persistant homophobia. A couple of weeks ago she made a small and random comment regarding Elton John`s (pending?) marriage, which I had to ignore as another student was saying something far more pertinent to the lesson. Again she brought this up as a response to my news that Danny was about to get married, which seemed fairly rude in Japanese terms, and quite a bizarre tangent. We then got into a small, confused tussle over whether he was marrying George Michael or being married by George Michael, before Yukiko-san gathered the English together to tell me that George is actually marrying Kenny, his long-term partner and that this is bad and wrong and awful. Apparently, George was `cool` when he was in Wham and sang `Last Christmas`, but `now` he is gay, he is not. She also brought this up in her diary, so I questioned whether it was wrong if he was happy and pointed out that his being gay is hardly news in England. I also asked whether many celebrities in Japan are gay as there are a few back home, which may unnerve her a little. They are all a little Daily Mailian, but I hope to have upgraded them to Mirror readers by the end of my time here.

The childrens` classes were brilliant (except for Ryoya who is an over-sized, but intellectually stunted private student who snorts and bores his way through his 30 minute lesson). We played games, did colouring in, made Christmas cards, the lot. I took in Christmas tree shaped marshmallows for them, which won me a Brownie badge, I reckon. Japanese children are so strange. In each class, when I filled the bowl, they looked scared and confused and I had to repeatedly tell them it was OK to eat them, which provoked embarrassed and excited giggles. Then, I had to tell them they were allowed another and they were stunned. In one class, I had said they should have one - meaning the first time, then when I offered another, they argued and said they`d all had one. Only one student, the mischievous Kazumasu, attempted to dip into the bowl when I wasn`t looking. I was so impressed with his initiative, I couldn`t bring myself to scold him.

With the older class, I stole the chopstick and kidney bean game idea from my Japanese class and had them shift risotto rice grains from a dish to a cup. As There was an odd number in one team, I stood in (thinking I would be rubbish and they wouldn`t trounce the other team so viciously). How excited were they that teacher was going to play?! I didn`t do too badly and forgot to graciously lose to the child - although as he`s a native chopstick user I felt I was the one with the handicap. I was very proud of my 71 grains and the other team were too busy laughing at the loser who couldn`t beat the English woman to feel devastated at their defeat.

Last night there was a bit of a Shane do in the George (yawn - my New Year`s resolution is to go there less) . It was good to see a lot of the teachers out and I may have picked up a private student. A salaryman I got chatting to offered to be my sponsor and told me not to worry about paying for drinks or having to do anything in return, so I didn`t. George thinks he`s gay and I think I agree. He is quite old and unmarried, which isn`t unheard of, but is quite uncommon. Then a more dashing and slightly younger man came to join him. I introduced myself and was told he was a flower arranger. He was quite bashful and corrected Takayuki-san and said he was a dental technician, but arranges flowers as a hobby. I got to see a photo of an arrangement on his phone, they were spectular. He has completely mastered his `hobby`. Later, when my sponsor`s generosity had got the better of me, I got them dancing (Japanese men can`t dance, so it`s always worth a laugh) and they confirmed mine and George`s suspicions by knowing lyrics to `Last Christmas` I didn`t even know existed. What would Yukiko-san think?

It doesn`t feel massively Christmasy yet, although earlier today, I packed my case to go to Rachel`s and filling it with lots of presents I am only going to have to bring back with me does have a festive pointlessness to it. I also pulled a cracker with Karen and wore a paper hat for all of two seconds - that I was hung over and in my pyjamas while I did it gave it a certain authenticity. Perhaps it`s not being coerced into `Hum Bug` and being subsequently ridiculed by my family for humming that makes it feel so alien...

I have had some questions from Tom, so thought I would share the answers with everyone in case you were thinking the same.

1) What is an 'izakaya'?
It is a fantastic restaurant that Japanese food, but in a tapas style - you just get millions of little dishes of things and order a few bits, then fancy more, so order more, then maybe get even more. People generally go to them at the weekends to drink. In some you can just drink, but generally you have to order some food. You can make food the main part of the trip if you like, that`s more of a week-night! It`s a very popular social outing - you eat some food and order a mass of drink, then head to karaoke. Not that I often do this - I go to the gaijin bar, as I can bully men into buying my drinks.

2) Why do some names finish with an extra '-san'?
You should do this after all Japanese names, but I often forget with my students as I have to speak to them like they are English. It is both Mr and Mrs all at once and also can be used on first names. It`s a sign of respect, but you say it everyone. Chan- is for kids.

3) What does DoS stand for?
Director of Studies. Sorry, teaching acronyms have been a bad habit since I joined the TTA...

4) Does Shane stand for anything in particular or> was the company just set up by an Australian?
A British man named Shane set up the company and loved his name so much he gave it to the company too. The fool.

By the way, if anyone else thinks, like Tom, that I have mastered Japanese very quickly. You are wrong. The Japanese I use in my blog is the same as the Japanese I use in Japan: mispronounced, out of context and in the midst of a jet of English.

Season`s Greetings from the Land of the Rising Sun!

2005-12-21T07:57:00.000+06:00

Merry Christmas everyone. Thank you to those of you who have sent me presents, it`s finally making me feel festive, having a little display of cards around my TV.

Otherwise, Japan, in spite of all the sparkle and lights, doesn`t feel at all festive. The country has embraced the gaudiness of the festival in all its glory, but without the promise of a decent gravy dinner and cheese board, it all seems quite alien. And where, may I ask, are the Quality Street?!

All week I have been `giving` Christmas lessons - handing out coloured card and seasonal pictures and making the kids draw - but even with Jingle Bells as incidental music, it is not properly sinking in. It is quite endearing when the children try to join in - up to a certain level, they chime in with the Japanese lyrics, so I have been attempting to teach the older children the `real` words. I stumbled upon a Christmas quiz too, so the adults have been having their own fun. It`s given me something of a break, as well as giving the kids one. One of my teenage students, whenever I ask what she has been doing or if she has any plans, only answers `studying` and this is not because of a limited vocabulary. Poor, poor girl. How she loved that wordsearch...

In the midst of my festive slacking, I have also been teaching prepositions (in, on, under, by) and made children draw monkeys in trees - it made me think of Eddie Izzard`s French lessons. Before, it had seemed such a random sentence, but I see so clearly now how useful it is. That said, monkeys are far more common in Japan than France and the children generally had more of a problem with the word `tree` than anything else.

Having picked up my coach ticket on Friday night, I am now destined for a nine hour over-night trip which is bound to bring out my seasonal hum-buggery. It is a small, but significant saving and should buy my way into a few more Kyoto temples next week, or perhaps just a UniQlo fleece - something I am fighting to resist, but seems eminently more sensible with every drop in temperature. In keeping with other traditions, I have already started to feel ill. I think it is winding down for the end of the year, not that you can really wind down a great deal as a teacher.

Sunday was a strange one. I met Aki in the afternoon, just to break up a day of laundering, and we were strolling around looking for a place to get a coffee and bumped into her mum`s friend (the one who had treated us at the izakaya) so asked him to join us. I eventually tuned into a persistant Japanese announcement and wondered if it was about earthquakes or such, so asked our new friend (whose name I still don`t know!), as Aki was on the phone. It was actually a car topped with a loudhailer and a mentalist in the front seat denouncing prostitution for its illegality and immorality. No one but me found this odd or amusing.

On Monday night, the illness reached its peak. I had a date with Ryu-san, but a growing sense of queasiness and swelling glands meant I was not on top form. His absurd schedule made me feel it was more hassle to cancel than just sit it out - we were only meeting for his one hour lunch-break anyway (21.30-22.30 - after I had finished work). Rather sweetly, he had remembered my hints about wanting steak and took me to a plush Happy Eater. The menu looked fantastic, with enormous hunks of meat served with a couple of roast potatoes, carrots, broccoli, rice and miso soup (you can`t get away from that stuff). I ordered the smallest thing I could, not having the energy to explain I was ill, then had one taste and had to sprint to the bathroom to throw up. What a slick date! I think he spotted something was wrong as he was waiting for the waitress to tell me where the toilets were, then I felt panicked, and he just pointed. I felt much better afterwards and managed to almost enjoy the rest of my meal (save the fried onions, which I wouldn`t enjoy on a good day) and struggle through our English lesson. I was also taught how to place my chopsticks once I had finished my meal, quite a handy lesson for impressing any other Japanese who happen to dine with me. However, I am not sure if I`m going off Ryu-san. Maybe it was my bad mood and illness, but he didn`t seem so handsome on Monday and when your common language can be written on a crisp packet, this matters more than ever. He`s nice enough and does make an effort to do things he thinks I`ll like - he also is incredibly keen on me learning all about Japanese (I have picked up a very pretentious pronunciation of sumo from him: `smo` - that`s how the Japanese say it), but with the language barrier and all his talk of a perm, I`m not sure there`s much of a future.

Another night in the George...

2005-12-18T13:47:00.000+06:00

I just can`t keep away. I was planning to stay in, but bumped into Erica, who I trained with, on a train earlier in the week and she suggested we meet at the George. As a vegan, the izakayas are off-limits. Karen and I got ourselves together, only for Karen to not be able to get hold of Erica (I actually think she didn`t try, but I am not saying that to her) and found it was only us and Matt DoS in there. I prefer these intimate get-togethers. George had time to sit with us and chat and I consulted my DoS on Shane`s policy of dating other teacher`s student`s parents. A guy at one of my schools seems overly keen, so I may invent a policy against any such interaction myself.

He is the father of another teacher`s student and has been suspiciously friendly since I arrived. He seems to compose a few sentences to recite to me before every lesson and makes a point of making a few garbled compliments. Last week, he thanked me for my heart-warming holding at the children`s Christmas party and this week he thrust a small Japanese-style Christmas card at me. Well, this was his lie. It was actually a calling card wrapped in shiny kitchen paper with a message to call him and his contact details. He calls himself Mr Dandy. On the back of the card were extensive instructions on how to leave an answerphone message (after the `pee`) and what details I should give him: where I live; when is my spare time; and my contact details. His son, apparently, is `eagers to see [yours] -----`. He didn`t finish the sentence, but I doubt very much his son would be interested in seeing anything of mine - unless I quickly stocked up on Harry Potter videos.

Last night Ken got overly amorous and kept trying to hug me and suggesting we go somewhere else to drink. He`s fairly safe, I`m sure. The romance element is almost a joke between us now, but I was too tired to contemplate the juddering conversation we would have had, so decided to turn him down. As George and I were leaving, we bumped into two American guys who took me to a host bar. They were fat and awful, but I wasn`t ready to go to bed yet. The bigger one had decided I was his and danced a la David Brent to woo me (seriously, he even did the arms and everything), but I had no one to laugh at him with so I soon got bored and decided to run away. As I was getting my coat, I found his friend sat at our table with his top off and tattoos on display. He was wrapped in an inky rope, quite a sight to behold! He claimed to be hot, although I was shivering a bit. Sadly, by leaving, I missed the hosts doing a boy band-style dance show. I must go back, perhaps with more savoury company. I popped to the Suraj bar upstairs and found Ken again. He was more drunk and more amorous so we ended up having a small argument in our respective languages as he wanted to hug me and I wanted him to sit down and leave me alone. He then started shoving ￥1,000 notes at me, but this was because he was leaving and wanted me to get a cab home so I forgave him his tactile attack. I spent another gin and tonic having a more sensible conversation with the incredibly cute barman and an artsy customer who tried to insist on taking me to a restaurant as I tucked into the bar snacks too enthusiastically. As the barman was acting as translator, I again refused the hassle and effort of conversing via a phrasebook.

Friday night, I picked up my coach ticket to Osaka. I have nine hours to contend with, but am told it is a good way to travel as you get to see Japan (I can`t imagine I will see anything as it is an overnight trip). I had my friend Aki help me out, which was fortunate as there were so many options and questions, I couldn`t have handled the conversation alone. We then headed back to Omiya and to an izakaya for something to eat. We were sat next to a group of young men who were very interested in us, but not drunk enough to speak yet, so we left at a sensible time having only drunk non-alcoholic sours. Bizarre for the both of us. I`ve just left her again today, having heard all her stories of hostessing, one of which involved pretending to be gaijin and being taken for Korean food, which disagreed with her and all the beer, so she threw up at the table! She is the least Japanese person I have met here, but is hilarious to hang around with. I never imagined my best Japanese friend would be pseudo-American!

The cat with two lives

2005-12-12T18:47:00.000+06:00

The weekend has been quite hideous. Friday night I couldn`t sleep again, so called home, only to be told my beloved Stussy was being put to sleep in a matter of hours. It seemed wrong to bed down on that news. I knew she`d go, but it was all rather sudden and I had terrible images of her being pissed off and scared in the car, only to relax when she`s taken out and put on the last table she`d ever see... It meant getting up at 7am to be genki genki at the kids` Christmas party was harder work than anything out here has been so far. My poor love. I would have liked to have been there to at least soothe and spoil her in her last moments. Fortunately, once I was playing dodgeball with twelve 7-11 year-olds, it was hard to keep my spirits down. I also managed to avoid having to limbo... I got home from work and collapsed onto my futon, only for the phone to ring and Mum to tell me Stussy had had an injection and a reprieve. It may only be temporary, but that she purred in the car means next time, I won`t have the same concerns.

Sunday, I had to relinquish my day off to another kids` Christmas party. Something of a liberty, but the recruiters hadn`t made it clear that, in spite of the long holidays, I owe Shane 13 days, so I couldn`t get out of it. Karen, Neil, myself and Matt DoS were taken by a hoard of Japanese receptionists to a freezing sports hall, forced into an assortment of ill-fitting trainers and slippers and each given 22 children to entertain. Soon the cold was pushed out by the chocolate-clogged breath of spoiled children and gushes tantrums as the hall filled. Seconds before the party started, one of my regular students sprinted past squealing `Zoooooooow-iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii` with her younger brother in hot pursuit. Karen was jealous that her name is far easier to pronounce.

The party climaxed with four groups coming head-to-head in an It`s A Knockout style tournament, with a snowball race (carrying a small football on a coloured sheet) and a Santa`s Pants race. The kids had to clamber inside a pair of huge shorts (Santa`s, of course) and run the length of the hall and back with a child in each leg. My team had an odd number, so I ended up having to get into one of the legs alongside a bespectacled and overgrown boy-child the size of a small man. I am proud to say my team won, but perhaps only because they were spurred on by a crazed, overly-competitive teacher whose only means of keeping warm was jumping, cheering and heckling the other teams. This place re-writes the definition of cold.

The rest of the week has been a strain. A six-day week would be manageable, had I not started the week with a 3am finish in the George giving an impromptu English lesson to a salaryman who only reluctantly stumped up my half a litre of Sapporo salary. Soon Ken arrived and we stuttered through my `Making Out In Japanese` phrase book, with him mock-declaring love and me genuinely rejecting him. How we laughed. Soon he was splashing out on my Frangelicos and Tuesday was a ruin. I woke up, pained by the light, again in the midst of scattered clothes and crisp packets. In spite of the Japanese being half the size of a Westerner, their packets of crisps are three times the size of Walkers. I have died and come to potato heaven.

Ryusuke, my surly nightmare, has been complaining about me to his parents, it would seem. His father paid the school a visit at the weekend to find out if his son was being a problem and how his English was going (I love this - in England, I might have been punched!). Helpfully, Mayuko-san said there was no problem. Shin-Shiraoka is a franchise school and entirely target-driven, so I should have expected as much, but my limited sleep limited my tolerance also. She did have a word with Ryusuke about his behaviour, he claimed he couldn`t understand me (he is good enough at English to be insolent) and would like more games and then rolled his eyes and tried to barge past me into the classroom. I let him eek out a 30 minute lesson on two language points he only needed to review and some dice drills and alpha-chopsticks. If he wants games, I will sit back and let him play.

Wednesday morning was my Japanese class Christmas party, which was no clearer or more educational than ever. We played `games` which involved translating kanji questions and then answering them. None of the shoofoo quite grasped that although I knew that the question was `name five things that you have in your fridge` my vocabulary doesn`t really include food at the moment! I was gutted when a fat four-year-old kid shouted `juice` and stole my only answer. I fared a little better with the chopsticks. We had to transfer dry kidney beans from one dish to another with chopsticks. The Japanese had lacquered chopsticks, so our team, with a Thai and a Korean, did very well and won that one. We also got some old-fashioned gifts - I got some incense, which I`ve newly converted to since my flat smells of shoes and rubbish if I don`t use it, and a small almost nice wash-bag, that actually turned out to be a small bento bag that I doubt I will ever use. It will make a useful gift for one of my old ladies, should they be so generous as to get me anything. We did have a nice bit of Christmas finger food - sushi, crisps and satsumas - very festive and well worth the torture and ￥100.

d us inextremely clear language that she didn`t speak English very well and had the chef rustle us up meat and seafood omelettes, one with noodles and two without. All of them fabulous. I will okonomiyaki more often from now on. We then tried to find somewhere else to drink - sitting at the hot plate was rudying up our complexes too much - but nowhere was open.

I refused to go to the George, so we ended up in the bar above it, where I had started my karaoke adventure the previous week. Unnervingly, all the staff remembered me and the rather dashing barman raised his fist to me in a `homie`-esque salute, suggesting I had made quite a show of myself (I seem to remember shouting some of the choicer phrases from the `Making Out...` book, which may be why). The owner asked me too many over-personal questions about Cherry Boy, who at this point I suspected had blown me out, and I embarrassedly sheltered behind Sean and Adam`s bulky frames and drank my overpriced flat beer. I had a quick game of darts, which I hoped the barman would join in on, but he quickly scuttled back into his sanctuary behind the bar. I eventually dragged myself away - a second 3am finish on a schoolnight was pushing it, but that`s what happened... - and was greeted by a text from Cherry Boy. We have a date on Monday and I`ve had some very amusing messages from the translation website about his long absence being `every day only of a job`.. and ...`a cold was cured, too`. The poor dear has been ill. I`ve missed his bizarre Janglish messages arriving as I drift off to sleep...

Some gaijin have all the luck

2005-12-09T13:19:00.000+06:00

This week has been a cold, hard week. I`ve been advised to drop enormous hints to my rich shopho classes about anything I need, particularly in the run up to the New Year (being a female gaijin is said to yield more results, though the handsome male teachers probably do best of all - they are so rare, after all) so have been dropping hints like rocks for hot water bottles and blankets all week! It is so cold here. It is probably the same temperature as England, but the clearer air means the cold gets right at you. The paper-thin walls, which are to repel the summer heat, do nothing to stave off the cold during winter. It snowed in parts of Japan earlier in the week and the weatherman advised to wear flat, rubber-soled shoes and to take small steps. I suspect this was for the baka na gaijin (stupid foreigners) who don`t know how to walk properly.

I had my toughest Japanese lesson yet. After a sleepless night (I kicked off my blankets, although it was freezing, so have since had to tuck them under my arms and try to ignore the lumps and bumps and drift off - I don`t though, I am like the Princess and the pea), I was in a delicate mood, but Hosoya-san was still unforgiving. She has stopped referring to my Japanese as perfect, I am merely daijobe (OK) now. I am having to tell myself my own achievements so I don`t give up altogether. This week we were supposed to be reviewing times and the past three chapters, as well as practising katakana. Katakana is one of the three alphabets they have here - two are basically the same, but just look different, katakana is one of these and I hate it. I know most hiragana and it`s far prettier than katakana. Katakana is just a stupid, ugly addition.
Hosoya-san quickly tired of this and breezed through the third chapter and onto drilling me on family birthdays and ages. She did introduce me to the family vocabulary, but once she found out how old my mother is (sorry Mum, all the ladies are obsessed by your age, although she said you were young!) she started on random questions about my job that I didn`t understand. After much harassment she reluctantly explained and started off again. She told me the Japanese for summer vacation, then asked what I was doing for my winter break. I told her I didn`t understand, so I got a translation of her question, not how to form an answer. During the break I complained to another gaijin, who suggested I learn the chapter ahead of the lesson and just use it as a practise session, not comprehending the randomness of Hosoya-san`s teaching methods.

This is a good learning curve and can only make me a better teacher. I know more now the importance of introducing vocabulary before a lesson - something I have always raced through as it can be difficult and embarrassing!

Last night, Karen and I had wine at Pamela`s, which just gave us a taste so we headed to the George for `one more`. Having taken advantage of a quiet night, George had shut and gone home, which disorientated us, but we found a new, American pub and tried there. It was quite awful, but half-way into the drink, Nao, Cherry Boy`s flatmate arrived, sadly with no Cherry Boy - he was sleeping, the little cherub! It`s a busy time for pachinko salesmen. Somehow I managed to bully a random salaryman (who, I seem to remember what a Tottenham fan...) into buying us more drinks and then I invited myself to karaoke with two others that I don`t think I even knew the names of to forget. As a gaijin woman, I was allowed to sing most of all, though the practise brought no improvement. I drank until last orders and left my companion asleep in the booth.

This morning, I woke up in a mess of clothes and empty crisp packets I had scattered around my room with my phone reminder screaming `relative clauses` at me like a bastard. What a gross start to the day. I quickly recovered when I remembered I`d found ￥10,000 (GBP50) outside the karaoke place and so decided to sooth my head with a new hairstyle from the attractive hairdresser at Mario`s of London. Suzuki-san was a master and I am very pleased with my new look, the blond is now a subtle, but festive red. As a gaijin, I became the star attraction for the staff and everyone practised their English on me (it didn`t stretch far beyond `hello` and `yes`, so it wasn`t a strain). Unfortunately, one of the other stylists came over to compliment me as I discovered the addition of shampoo (who can have a cut and colour without a shampoo?!) meant I was ￥2,000 short! My mortification was obvious, but I am not sure Suzuki-san will ever want to karaoke with me now! I was hoping to wangle a night out on my next visit, so will have to ensure I am stacked with cash to avoid further embarrassment. Karen came to my rescue and I chased home to get it. When I returned, Suzuki-san paraded me in front of his next client, so I think I am forgiven. Knowing `baka na gaijin` certainly helped and I`m sure it was said again in my absence.

Finding Nikko

2005-12-06T07:56:00.000+06:00

I had my most Japanese weekend this weekend, although the John Rennon museum, with its complimentary guide to Liverpool, was quite a poor start! Saturday night, my friend Aki, who I originally thought was American because of her accent and her English, took me to an izakaya for a Cafe Lamp English exchange bonenkai (end of year party). Her mother`s friend paid for us both because we were too poor and, having spent her formative years in the States, Aki is low on decent company. Even though he was of a lecherous age and appearance, he barely even requested conversation from us as thank you, which was handy. Unlike Elton, an improbably named Beatles fan, who tried to arrange a swim date with me within two minutes of his opening line and also suggested we go on a `pilgrimage` to the hotel the Beatles stayed in when they visited Japan. Elton is distraught as someone has seen fit to demolish the hotel next year, the 40th anniversary year of their first tour. Elton is a 40-something (I think - the Japanese age remarkably well, so I am even worse at telling ages here than in Europe, where people are leathered with age) and was wearing a Val Doonican-inspired roll-neck/round-neck sweater combo, yet he felt he and I were perfect for each other. He has offered to take me to Roppongi for dinner, but, aside from not knowing how he would expect me to express my gratitude (I think we can guess, but I think I have also deflected this nicely by telling him to be careful or I might think he was asking for a date), he spent a long time telling me I would look better with long hair and asking why I had short hair and if I was jealous of people with longer hair. I had planned on growing my hair, but these comments flare me up and make me want to get the shears out. My little favourite, Takashi-san, was also there, but I had little chance to speak to him in the izakaya and was too drunk to make sense by the time we karaoked.

After the izakaya, Aki and I somehow managed to get treated to karaoke by her mum`s friend (who, rudely, I don`t remember the name of! Lots of sake was consumed, so I don`t feel it is entirely my fault). As with everything else here, it`s bizarre. The singing is almost an incidental event, although the gaijin ignored this Japanese mannerism and put on displays, ruining everyone else`s conversations. Karaoke parlours have floors of small rooms you can book for your group where you pay an entry fee and then sit in your small booth phoning through orders for your all you can drink alcohol. As I got more and more drunk (Aki and I really abused the hospitality and over-ordered sake and lemon sours in the izakaya), I decided to give it a go myself, but Lord, is my voice flat! I ruined one poor boy`s attempt at Jeremy, although managed to sing the final `naa`s well and so it probably sounded like he was flat. Aki and I hijacked another gaijin`s attempt at the Chilli Peppers and Takashi-san and I closed the night with a weak version of Hey Jude. Aki and I were going to duet, but she rebuffed my request of Like A Prayer and I refused to do Like A Virgin. Somehow we still managed to drag ourselves to the George - I was doing most of the dragging, Aki passed out on arrival - and I woke up the next morning, an hour before I was due to meet Takashi-san for a cultural trip to the mountains on the wrong side of town in George`s spare bed. I must stop doing that!

I managed to sprint home wearing yesterday`s work clothes in record time, though sucking in the cold, harsh early morning air hurt my throat and I took too long recovering at home. I managed to pull myself together into a passable state and get to Shin-shiraoka to meet Takashi-san only 20 minutes after we`d originally agreed. He had hired a car especially for our trip and I felt quite hideous, both in terms of guilt and possibly throwing up in the temporary vehicle. I tried to distract us both from my shambolic state by asking about our surroundings - it was my first trip into the Japanese countryside and it was Takashi-san`s home so I wanted to appear interested. I spotted a strange, garish pink building at the side of a T-junction and asked what it was. An unfortunate way to put a 22-year-old boy on the spot: as soon as I asked I saw the times and the prices and realised this was another of Japan`s ubiquitous love hotels. I nearly did the same thing again when we passed another hugely conspicuous building, but managed to regain the sense to rein myself in. Why, in a country where the sex industry is such a huge, unspoken secret, make them so obvious? Such faux pas are bound to happen with a naive gaijin around. I can`t even be called naive and I did it.

Nikko, however, was breathtaking. It`s in the midst of some mountains and as you approach the landscape goes from East Anglian flats to huge scoops of snow-topped mountains. The temples are set in forest and a moutain river runs along the roadside as you approach. The temples themselves are impossible to describe. The intracacy and detail would be awesome if they were produced now, but that monks created this place hundreds of years ago makes it all the more impressive. (I didn`t even attempt to do it justice with my photos, though Takashi-san`s picture is very generous - this is not how I looked close up after three hours sleep!)

The temples are said to be the resting place of the sleeping Shogun, Tokugawa, and we had to climb 200 stone steps to reach this temple, the least impressive of the collection and, for me in particular, not perhaps worth the phobic sweats the guide-less steps provoked. I had to explain my irrational issues with stairs to Takashi-san, should I need to clutch onto him in a desperate panic. I managed to cope without, but may have dampened his pleasure at taking me by appearing to not wholly enjoy the trip. I may not be taken anywhere so fabulous again! The entrance to these steps boasts a famous sleeping cat carving, which would have probably done me just as well, and another of the temples bears the famous `Hear No Evil, See No Evil, Speak No Evil` monkeys. The local monkeys, however, won`t `do no evil` - they are apparently very vicious and I was warned to keep away from them. A warning I would have promptly ignored had the cold and snow not kept them at bay.

Takashi-san has also suggested we go to a hot spring, which I am tempted to do, although being seen by a student in my bathers is quite nerve-wracking, I must say! I may treat myself to a Victorian one-piece before I agree to that one.