SCHOOL TRIP TO A RYOKAN IN THE KIRISHIMA MOUNTAINS

A few days later Ishizono San came to me and with Tomomi’s help explained I was going for a 3 day outing to the Kirishima Mountains with about 20 students from the English Club at one of my assigned high schools.  We were going on the bus along with a few teachers and a vice principal to a ryokan (Japanese Inn) in a scenic area about 3 hours from Kaseda.   At last, an out of the office adventure, and I would get to meet some teachers and some students.   Another school was also sending a bus of students and teachers from a nearby town and another ALT from the UK would also be there.  I had met Mark briefly.  He was very witty, had fluent Japanese and was good friends with Brian.  

We had a noisy ride and the students were all in high spirits.  The scenery was wonderful; we rode past rice fields and climbed into mountains with cedar and pine trees, finally arriving at an old but lovely inn.  I managed a misstep soon after entering and felt like I got hammered as a result of Japanese culture. 

In Japan most entrances (genkan) to homes or old shops have a step up into the main level.  The lower entry is where everyone leaves their shoes.  The hotel actually had slippers that you slid into when you left your shoes, neatly lined up in a row.  I knew about this already, but in the case of the hotel entry, the step up was only about an inch and not that obvious.  I was studying a pretty heron sculpture, and as I walked toward it fell off the one inch step. I went down hard for some weird reason, perhaps the slippers, and I swore I broke a bone in the bottom of my foot.  It left me limping, not only throughout the trip to the ryokan, but for months later. 

(At the doctor’s office the next week a technician took 7 x-rays, then I asked to put on the lead vest hanging in the corner.  He took 4 more and they never found any evidence of a fracture.  They gave me a soft wrap cast which I wore for months, and since I still had to keep walking to the office and later to school, it didn’t seem to heal.  Fractured or not, I still get pain in the same spot during cold, damp weather.)

At the ryokan we had a meeting and introductions, some pleasant exchanges in English and then a bit of free time to explore the inn before dinner.  Dinner that first evening included many small dishes, with lots of food I did not recognize. Again there was a full variety of small dishes of foods from the mountain and the sea. Every meal in Japan usually includes a bowl of rice. We were all seated on the tatami floor, and everyone was talking at once.  It was quite pleasant, though I was not enjoying miso soup with tofu.  Back then tofu wasn’t that common, especially in the eastern U.S., and I had never tasted it. But I loved the thin steak served on a sizzling flat stone. It was perfect.

The first evening’s entertainment took me by surprise, and it will be detailed in the next post, Moonlight on Shoji.

Breakfast the next morning was also a feast by Japanese standards, miso soup with tofu and wakame (seaweed), salad, pickled napa cabbage and daikon radish, sauces, eggs and bacon which was served sizzling on a hot stone, and what I would call a “dead fish”.  It was grilled in a perfectly curved arch, gutted but otherwise whole and at 7:30 a.m. it was staring back at me.  At least it was cooked, but I really don’t start my mornings with things that look back.

We began with a short English class and then went to Shinwa no Sato a nearby amusement park,  with mini golf, grass skiing, some arts and craft activities, shops, food booths and a small restaurant.  Some of the students asked me to join them (at the teacher’s urging) to make a bowl on the pottery wheels.  Three of us worked on the wheels together, and others watched and waited for their turns.  More chatter and laughter made for a pleasant afternoon.  Some students were outside using the slope provided for grass skiing, and they had a great time.

                                               The slope used for grass skiing.

 

 

 Yukio, one of a few students brave enough to approach me and use her English skills.

 

Kinyo was also brave and friendly. 

I was invited to join the vice principal, the teachers and Mark for a drink on the second evening in the teacher’s room, as we would board the bus after breakfast in the morning.  I assumed that this evening the boys in the English Club would use the outdoor onsen.  We all wore yukata, a kind of casual cotton kimono and sat on the tatami floor.  I didn’t understand what was being said, but I understood I was probably being observed and assessed.  I also began to understand that despite all of the formalities, especially with mostly older male teachers and the vice principal, a stern group to be sure, the warmth and friendliness of sitting on the floor in yukata eased any tensions for all of us. 

The only female teacher that accompanied us did not join us for this, so perhaps she would not have been comfortable in the group and in the yukata. There were more divisions along gender than I was able to grasp so early on, but they would become more apparent the longer I stayed. I recognized, maybe not exactly at that moment, but in coming weeks, that joining in was the best thing I could do, not whether I could do it well, but just show up and keep smiling, and attempt some Japanese.  Emotionally and mentally it would be the best thing for me, too.

MY FIRST FESTIVAL (MATSURI) IN KASEDA

Japan is the land of festivals.  Big cities have big and small festivals, and smaller cities and towns have smaller versions.  While some are nationally celebrated, many are local, think 4^th of July or firemen’s carnivals.  In mid August, Brian and Nancy and I were advised that a town festival would be a lot of fun, a good way to meet some of the town’s people, and we agreed to the outing. It would be on the street, right below my apartment.  This was ultra-convenient, but later I would learn that sometimes the noise went on longer than I would have liked; and the preparations, which included a lot of hammering started before 8:00 a.m., usually on a Saturday.  I really didn’t mind because each of them was fun in the end.

I did not know what was being celebrated, perhaps the rice harvest, since the fields were cut around mid-August.  Rice fields are incredibly beautiful if you like brilliant green blades of tall grain blowing in the wind and multiple herons, cattle heron, great whites, and great blue herons taking wing and silently gliding away from you.  I was not fully aware of how beautiful this would be, because I was staying too close to my apartment.  Actually, rice fields were right outside the town and in varying shapes and sizes, every available space planted and often attended by hand by the elderly and with lawn mower-sized machines for larger plots.

The festival began with a parade of dancing by clubs and groups of men, women and children dressed in yukata or kimono, which were made of silk and more formal than the cotton yukata, or the hapi coats, just short jackets that identified all the members of the group by color and names of their organization across the back.  We enjoyed the music, nothing we recognized, but it was usually very old songs.  The dancers were of all ages, and it seemed to me that volcanoes, sky, sun and cutting rice motions were being suggested as they danced in unison.  It was altogether a fun time.  

 

                                             Their short coats are hapi coats.
 

 

                                                   On the street where I lived.
 

                                       The red sign says Kaseda Matsuri, really.

Then someone made a point of showing us a very large, raw head of a fish, just the head, mind you, its wide mouth opened and pointing up with eyes and innards (brains) still intact, and centered on a large platter.  It probably weighed over 5 pounds as it was bigger than my head.  They said we could taste it after it was cooked on the grill.  Nancy translated and Brian agreed readily.  It seems there’s a lot of seafood available in Ireland, and he knew it would be tasty.  I was not so sure.  But he was right.  Later they found us, pulled us over to their booth, and handed us chopsticks.  Brian dug right into the middle of it and let us all know it was delicious, so Nancy and I dug in as well.  I made sure to get the white meat around the bottom of the neck and, honestly, it was really good.  The evening ended successfully, and we knew we would not hesitate to attend the next festival.

AUGUST IN KASEDA

AUGUST IN KASEDA

The flight from Tokyo Haneda to Kagoshima took a couple of hours and went very smoothly.  I got off the plane to find 3 people waving a sign with my name on it, the office lady, Tomomi san, who could speak really good English, the English teacher coordinator, Ishizono san, who did not speak much English, and Tanaka san, who came along to offer a smile and support to his co-workers and to me. They whisked me away for the hour plus drive to my apartment.  It was dark so I couldn’t see much along the way.  

 

Ishizono San, my immediate supervisor, close to my age, yet father-like in caring, alternately stern, kind and not always sure what to do with me!   And beautiful, smart and English speaking Tomomi san, a life saver for all of us with her skills and poise in tough situations.

 

 

 

Tanaka san was later voted by Brian and me as having the most formal bow.  He had a boyish smile that lit up the room, and played a mean game of volleyball.

 My apartment overlooked a pretty street lined with various shops.  It was fairly new, on the second floor, very open, had wood flooring in the kitchen with table and chairs, lots of windows, and straw tatami mats for the living room and bedroom floors.  There was a large bath with soaking tub, and as is customary there, the toilet was in its own little closet with a window.    

The kitchen had a small fridge, sink, 2 burner cooktop, also usual at that time in Japan, and an electric rice cooker and toaster oven.  Most at that time did not have our large built in ovens.  That was going to be a major adjustment for me.  A dead plant sat on the window sill. 

There was a small apartment-sized washer, again common to most households that I saw, that were what I had had 20 years earlier, the kind that you filled with water from a hose, then ran it through the wash cycle and refilled it for the rinse.  Draining it was also done by a hose.  Drying was solar and wind power on the balconies on racks, or inside if it rained. (Japan has a rainy season, but I had missed it for that year.  I would later learn that mothers often dried the clothes with hair dryers for school in the morning if they were still damp.)

The living room was quite large by Japanese standards, maybe 15x12 feet, with an old TV, one real chair and a small center table called a kotatsu for eating and entertaining.   One comfy cushioned seat with a back could be opened to lie flat on the floor was  next to the table and there were several  floor cushions.  Later I would learn that a kotatsu has a small electric heater on the underside so that you can sit with your legs under the table.  A quilted comforter lies over the table and then a flat separate cover goes over the comforter for a regular table surface.  Tucking the nice, snug comforter around you over your legs to stay warm in the cold winter was one way to stay warm as most places in the area didn’t have any kind of central heating.  But I had a kerosene heater I would also learn to use later.   

Sliding doors called fusuma opened into a bedroom that held large closets for clothes and futons.  It was also large, about the same size as the living room.  But I had a double sized mattress on the floor so I did not have to pull out futons unless I had company. Both the living room and bedroom had sliding doors overlooking the street below.  There was a large window in the living room as well.  Overall, it had lots of natural light, was open and welcoming.

It was meagerly but fully furnished with linens, dishes, cookware and utensils.  I realized I had been given the best of the 3 apartments for ALTs in the city, probably by seniority which was turning out to be a plus.  I would also find out it was the closest to the bus station, about 2 blocks around the corner, the taxi stand just one block, and 4 blocks to the office. 

After leaving my bags, they took me out for something Western to eat, hamburgers.  Well, almost Western.  They were cooked more like small meatloaves but with soy sauce flavored gravy, rice on the side, a couple of green beans, and no ketchup, mustard or buns.  It was not very tasty to me, but I did my best to eat some of it and pleaded being too tired to finish.

To my great discomfort there was no air conditioning in my apartment.  This was nearly disastrous since we were at the end of August and Kagoshima is about par to northern Florida.  It was hot and humid and near 100 degrees for the next several weeks.  I was about to meet some seriously hard times.

Although JET teachers, called ALTs (assistant language teachers), were assigned to arrive in summer, schools were on vacation for the month of August.  We were scheduled to arrive on the American system to coordinate with college graduations, but the Japanese system, which is completely nationalized, runs from April 1 to March 1.  ALTs were assigned to their local board of education offices for the month and one or more days a week during the school year when we were not assigned to specific schools. 

So I got up and went to work the next day, and by the time I got to the office, I needed a shower from the walk.  The sun was relentless, and I noticed that women driving and riding bicycles wore gloves to protect their hands and wrists and often walked about during the day with umbrellas when it was sunny.   I never got the gloves, probably should have but I did use a hat and umbrella if I walked.

Since Tomomi san was the only one who spoke English and one of two assigned office ladies, I sat quietly at my desk, smiled and greeted each of about 12 people also with desks spaced in a basic U shape in the open office.  The supervisor had a separate office and formally  came out and bowed with spoken greetings and disappeared.  The office ladies took green tea around to everyone, and then Tomomi had some time to speak with me.  Apparently the desk next to mine would be occupied by Brian from Ireland.  But he wasn’t due to arrive until next week.  Apparently, there were so many ALTs coming into the start of the year that we were arriving in waves. 

After about 3 days of the heat and walking to the office with no one to talk to, doodling on some paper and writing seriously long letters about the heat, and sweating from every pore of my body, I was anxious to meet this Brian.  And I prayed he and I would get along.  I needed someone to talk to!  I also found out that Nancy would be arriving from New Orleans, but she was assigned to the City office, was fluent in Japanese and would be assigned  to junior high schools in the city.  Brian and I worked for the school district office.  At least we three would have each other to talk to and find our way around.

I was taking 3 showers a day, when I woke up, when I went home for lunch, and when I got home.  Thankfully, the office was air conditioned.  I wasn’t feeling well. I couldn’t eat and mainly drank cold, cold anything, water, juice, soda, or oolong tea.  There was a lovely ramen shop below my apartment, and alongside it a dry cleaners.  Next to that was a model toy shop and a nice Japanese cake shop.  But the ramen shop was always draining the pork fat off into a sewer drain when I got home at 5, and I would go by as quickly as possible without taking a breath until I got past.  I found that even smells were making me nauseous, and I needed some food I could recognize.   It would take me months to realize I was living above the best ramen shop in the city.  And they would deliver to me upstairs!

I went to the nearby grocery, just 3 or so blocks over and picked out what I thought was sugar, or was it salt?  Oh, right, you have now guessed.  I didn’t know enough Japanese to shop for food either.  AND I couldn’t read their symbols so there was no way to use a dictionary.  I bought ground meat that was called minchi, which made everyone there laugh because my last name sounded the same since Japanese words end in vowel sounds.  But I didn’t find it funny because the meat didn’t taste like meat I was used to eating.  I found out later that was because you can buy beef or a mix of beef and pork, and I had been buying the mix.  Life was very interesting but difficult.  Eventually Nancy and I would do some shopping together and I would get the basics under control.

After a very long week good things happened.  Brian arrived, tall, good looking, blue eyes, winning smile and just an all-around great guy.  We hit it off, and things were immensely better.  Nancy arrived also, winning smile, ,and we had someone who could speak Japanese.  We had a threesome to get out a bit, sit around and talk.  None of us had ventured from our little town, and it was so hot we couldn’t get outside for very long to enjoy ourselves either.  Basically, we now were a trio of unhappy, homesick souls, and we commiserated with each other.

Then an angel called Tazuko san came into our lives.  She was Brian’s neighbor, and she and her husband had an optometrist’s shop near my grocery store.  She came to the apartment, could speak a little English and never went out without her electronic English dictionary.  She saw my problem with the intense heat, second floor above the dry cleaners, and within two days had found a used air conditioner that I could buy.  She arranged to have it installed in my living room and I began to feel better immediately.  I slept in the living room and closed it off to the bedroom and the kitchen.  One night I would cook for two meals after work in the hot kitchen, and the second night I would do the dishes.

 

Sand Craft Festival, photo from info on the Internet on the 2018 Festival on FukiageHama (Hama is beach).

 

Next Tazuko explained that Kaseda was famous in Japan for its SandCraft Festival and she wanted to take the three of us there to see it.  Of course, we went and were completely surprised to find out we were only a few miles from the East China Sea and a huge, beautiful park called Kai Hin Koen (Sea Side Park).  Things were looking up, perhaps we weren’t stranded on the moon after all.