Differences in educational culture (or: How I learned to stop worrying and love the bomb)

Japanese high schools have a worldwide reputation for being extremely intense and demanding, but Japanese colleges unfortunately have a reputation for being...well, a joke. A lot of college students get part-time jobs just for spending money because they have so much time on their hands.
I have to admit I was kind of looking forward to this.
Alas, the Japanese language professors really don't mess around. For example, we are allowed two absences. Two. Three strikes and you fail the course. And if you're late too many times, that counts as a strike. I'm not in the habit of missing a whole lot of classes in the US, but this really sucks all the flexibility out of my schedule. And it just sucks, period.
Also, there is a Pink Box of Doom where you turn in your homework. The very second the school bell rings, (yes, there is a school bell that rings) the professors close the box. And I mean the very second. Before the school bell has even finished ringing the professor will have sprung up and slammed the pink box shut. Any homework that doesn't make it in the box before then is labeled "late" and points are deducted, even if you came to class well before then. Even if you hand in the homework in five seconds later. When the Pink Box of Doom is shut, it's shut and it's not opening again until tomorrow.
So although I don't have anything against the professors personally, I don't enjoy class very much. I feel like they treat us like little kids.

Hugs

One of the old ladies at church has adopted me. It started one morning after church when she randomly came up to me and gave me a hug.
"Oh my gosh, that's the first hug I've had since I came here two months ago!" I said. And it's true. Hugging is sort of an American thing, I think. I've barely even seen anyone hug anyone since I got there. When girls meet each other, they don't hug, they sort of...touch hands. It's weird.
"Really? Oh you poor thing." She said, and gave me about three more hugs. Now every Sunday she makes sure I don't leave church without a hug. I feel bad that I can't remember her name.
A little boy, about three years old, saw her hugging me and ran up and gave me a hug too. That really surprised me. I said to the old lady,
"Usually Japanese children seem to be afraid of me."
"Oh really?" She said. "Not this one though."
"Yeah, I'm strong and powerful!!" The little boy said, and flexed his arms. It was one of the cutest things I've ever seen. Boy oh boy did I want to scoop him up and take him home with me.

It's my lucky day

Today I was walking home from school when I passed by an elderly lady who was placing things into the back of her pickup truck. She said something to me, and although I'm not totally sure, I think she said "shall I give these to you?" So I stopped. The lady rustled through a bag of persimmons, pulled out three plump ones and gave them to me. I thanked her and bowed profusely.
So now I have three persimmons.

Adapting to the culture

I'm trying hard to adapt to Japanese culture. Really I am. I even count with my fingers by tucking my thumb in first, like the Japanese do. I eat soy sauce mochi wrapped in seaweed for dessert. With chopsticks. I compliment everyone who can speak the least bit of English. I bow to people I pass by. Here are some last remains of gaijinness I refuse to give up:

1. I refuse to use Japanese-style toilets.
2. I refuse to eat takoyaki. (fried octopus tentacle)
3. I refuse to stop drinking while walking.

As for the last one, in Japanese culture class in America we were taught that it is rude to eat or drink while walking in Japan. I try to be sensitive to this, but sometimes I just don't care. I must satisfy the urge to grab a latte and sip it while on the way to somewhere. What do they expect me to do, sit down and enjoy my drink? Not going to happen. I'm an American, darnit. I don't have the time.
Maybe I'll tell them that in America, drinking while walking is a sign of prestige. And if they remind me that this isn't America, it's Japan, I'll look confused and say, "Oh no! When did that happen?"

Gelato and Guinea Pigs

Today I took a wrong turn and ended up in Italy. Confused? Yeah, so was I. I was under the impression that Italy was kind of far from here.


Still, I decided to make the best of it and have some "Pumpkin Milk" gelato, which was DELICIOUS. Being alone, I also asked a random stranger to take a picture of me and the gelato, using my newly-learned extra-polite Japanese. Go me!

The place was pretty cool. All the signs were in Italian and there were many shops selling imported Italian goods and Venetian masks and things. A wedding was going on in an "old Italian chapel," and tables and chairs were set next to the canal for the reception. I thought that was a pretty fun place to have your wedding. Maybe a little cheesy, but still fun.

Actually I had gone to Nagoya Port to spend my afternoon and see the ocean, without knowing that "Italy Village" was there. At the pier about two hundred people were waiting in line to tour this big ship. Later I told my host parents about this and asked if the ship was old or famous or something, because the line must have been at least an hour long. "No, it's not famous. Japanese people just like standing in line," my host dad said.

There was a park at the port, shops, restaurants and a petting zoo. I wandered around taking pictures and exploring.

I spent a lot of time at the petting zoo, watching the rabbits and the guinea pigs run around together. Here's a picture of a little boy being attacked by a rabid guinea pig. Man I love this picture.

It was a good day. Maybe it wasn't as exciting as my friends who are going to Kyoto and various places this weekend, but still it was a good day.

It's cold

How is it that only one month ago I was sleeping on top of my blankets with a fan on in the room and taking cold showers because of the heat? Was that really the same country? How did it get so cold so fast? Not only did it get cold, but it went from super humid to super dry, and everyone at school caught colds, including me. It's no wonder the Japanese are obsessed with the fact that their country has four seasons. If you don't watch out, the seasons will sneak up and attack you.
My bedroom is especially cold, probably around a balmy 60 degrees. I wear my warmest jacket all the time. I asked my host mom if they use a heater in the winter.
"Yes we do," she said, and I sighed with relief. Then she said, "I just haven't made the preparations yet."
I have no idea what she's talking about. Gather firewood from the mountainside, maybe? Put oil in the lamps? Hire workers for the boiler room? Set the hamster on it's wheel? Whatever these preparations are, I hope she does it soon!

Also, my host family is driving me crazy with their constant bickering. School has also loaded a whole lot of homework on us poor students at the same time, and I'm starting to fall asleep on the train regularly.

Good thing I have Engrish to cheer me up.

The Secret Policemen's Balls

Yes, "The Secret Policemen's Balls"...today Spazzy Sensei was wearing a sweater that had that written on the front. I felt sorry for him, being completely ignorant of the fact that all his students were choking back laughter.

To anyone who doubted my report of the ridiculously high-tech Japanese toilets, I bring you rock-solid evidence!!


Our ONE break this semester, a five-day weekend, just finished. I went to Kyoto with people from Campus Crusade for Christ. We stayed in a hostel for missionaries, kind of an old dusty house. The first floor was full of interesting artifacts from the history of Christianity in Kyoto, including small bronze carvings of Jesus or Mary. Christianity was outlawed in Japan around 1600. Who was or wasn't a Christian was determined by commanding people to step on these little bronze pictures of Jesus. Anyone who refused to do it was crucified. The Japanese will carry to the extreme anything they put their mind to, and after martyring at least 15,000 men, women and children, Christianity was pretty much eradicated from Japan.
Seeing that only 0.8% of Japanese are Christian, it hasn't really recovered since. So there we were at a university in Kyoto, about twenty-five of us, off to start repairing the damage that was done four hundred years ago. We just broke up into partners, went up to various students and started talking to them, introducing the gospel. Everyone was very friendly. Many people here have not even heard of Jesus. Now one hundred more have.

The next day everyone went sightseeing in Kyoto and Arashiyama and had a picnic by the river. Despite being very crowded because it was the weekend, the scenery was very beautiful. What a relief after being in ugly, grey Nagoya these past two months.

It was a very touristy place, where you can pay to take a picture with a miko (like a geisha), buy cutesy souveniers and local treats, ride in rickshaws, and rent a rowboat. There were also a lot of women in beautiful kimonos walking around. Two friends and I rented a rowboat. I tried rowing for a while, and of course my two friends had to compliment my rowing skillz. The Japanese will compliment everything you do no matter what you're doing or how well you're doing it. Don't believe them. Lies, all lies.

A group of local elementary school children were also wandering around, approaching gaijin and asking questions. Their teacher asked me if the children could ask me questions in order to practice their English. So one by one these cute little kids, clutching notebooks in which they had written their questions, came up to me and shyly said hello. Though they spoke very carefully, their accents were pretty thick so I had trouble understanding them. The first question:
"Do you like Arashiyama Elementary School?"
"Uhhh....I don't know." I said. The little girl looked confused but wrote my answer in her book.
"Do you like cookies?" Another girl asked.
"I love cookies." I replied.
"What kind of sports do you like?" Asked a little boy.
"I like karate."
"Karate??" He exclaimed, then turning to his teacher said, "Is that a sport?"
"It's karate! Of course it's a sport!" She said. "And you call yourself Japanese." Afterwards everyone took a picture with me. Then they went on to find their next gaijin victim. Funnily enough the friend I was with at the time was from Singapore and English is her native language; but because she looked Asian she was not approached by the schoolchildren.

I was sad to leave Kyoto because I knew it signaled the return of classes and endless studying. I hope to visit Kyoto again, maybe buy a kimono.

I feel kind of dirty just by posting this, but it's just such a perfect example of how the Japanese need serious help. The box literally says "breast pudding."