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I would like to share with you a site I found on Ohtawara-shi - Ohtawara City - in Tochigi-ken, Japan. Between 1990 and 1993 it was my home.
While a lot has changed in the past 20 years, a lot has remained the same. For that, the city can thank Mayor Senbo, who was mayor there when I was there... with whom I used to have lunch with every once in a while and who every time would ask me if I could use chopsticks.
Of course I could. My boss Hanazaki-san at the OBOE (Ohtawara Board of Education) office taught me my first day on the job using two pencils. While I did eventually develop my own unique style, I could not only keep up with the Japanese in chopstick speed, I could surpass them.
I still use chopsticks with every Chinese or Japanese meal I eat - which is surprisingly quite often... and when I do, I always think of Hanazaki-san who was the age I am now and the ever-young-looking Mayor Senbo and his great wit.
The video below (and a whole lot of others right there on this same site) was shot in 2009, so I can only hope he is still mayor. I'm sure my good friend Matthew Hall who married local girl Takako Kurita would know. Her dad was long a city councilman in town.
Check out Video number 8! Look at all of the Indians! The city has the Asian Rural Institute up north where visitors come to learn Japanese methods of farming. And no... I only understand one work spoken in that video: ucha... which means "I understand"... but of course, I do not.
By the way... in the video, the city insists on spelling the name as Otawara, but it is a long O sound, which is why I always insisted they spell it with an Oh. Bloody politicians... as soon as the best gaijin they ever had working for them left, they reverted. technically, Matthew worked in the outskirts of Ohtawara, though I believe all of his schools and the surrounding towns have since been incorporated into Ohtawara.
They did, however get it right on all of their websites! While I had nothing to do with the video or websites, I like to think it was my insistence on the proper spelling that enabled the city - though not the funny mayor - to get it right! You can see what I mean: HERE. If you GoogleOhtawara, and see this site... try asking it to translate it for you. If I was there, there would be a proper English website. And I would have done it for free. But don't hold me to that now. I'm not there any more unfortunately.
The day after I spent a ton of money (¥40,000 or $520 US/Cdn) to impress my ex-girlfriend, but current friend-with-benefits with a Thanksgiving dinner. You ever eat a turkey in Japan? Near impossible... but I did it with the help of my boss Hanazaki-san (Mr. Hanazaki). Thank-you internationalization.
Ashley - who had said a week earlier that she would come by - did not.
I am concerned. Is she hurt. Dead? Sick? No clue... Out on a date? With friends? It could happen...
Am I worried? No. I have an alibi. Mr. Hanazaki helped me get the dinner and all the fixin's and helped me get it to my apartment from another city! Yes! We had to go to another city to make the damn dinner (Yaita) because my city (Ohtawara) had no restaurant that knew anyone that 1) could get a turkey, and 2) knew how to cook a turkey. Me? Apparently I knew 3) how to pine for a turkey.
Also, Matthew came by at 8:30PM and while I may not have been my usual chum bucket of pal, I was still a decent enough friend who made him eat left-over lasagne while the turkey dinner chilled in my fridge. I said I was sorry, buddy!!!!
I'm up at 10AM because Hanazaki-san is coming over to pick-up my 'fan-heater'... this is a gas heater. I don't want the damn thing as apparently after you start up the kerosene heater, you are supposed to open up a window or sliding door so that you don't die from the fumes... but doesn't opening up the door or window let in more cold? Yes. Sometimes Japan's insistence on things is a little wonky to this gaijin (foreigner) from Canada. I, of course, rather than freeze to death, chose the risk of dying from gas poisoning. It didn't work, but at least I felt warm. My extremities feel a little numb, though.
Still... Hanazaki-san can have it. I'm getting a new AC/Heating unit soon! And my poor boss - he says he always feels cold in Ohtawara's winter. I didn't want to correct him by saying it's not winter yet - after all, it's on his say-so that the OBOE (Ohtawara Board of Education) is buying me money allotted for me via the JET (Japan Exchange & Teaching Programme). Though never confirmed, apparently the rumor is that one's board of education is allotted ¥100,000 (~Cdn/US $1294) a year to spent on their AET (assistant English teacher) any way they see fit.
My office likes me and often buys me stuff I want. I have a bilingual stereo TV so I can watch TV in Japanese or English. You need a bilingual TV as some stations will transmit two signals of the same show... so I can watch The Incredible Hulk (1970s), Knight Rider (1980s) all I want. Fortunately, they have the excellent Sherlock Holmes show on for me to wrap my murderous little hands around. I also now have a Queen-sized bed after complaining about how the futon was bothering my weak back. It's much better now, and I no longer get tatami (grass mat) burns on my knees when I have sex.
Before he comes over... I clean up and try calling Ashley's place. No answer. Still no call display as of 1991. Someone should invent it. Maybe I should and become a thousandaire!
Where the hell is she?
Hanazaki-san arrives, and immediately asks me how my surprise date with Ashley went. I tell him everything. He sucks a lot of air through his teeth in shock and dismay. He really wants me to be happy and wonders if we should call the police.
Oh god, no, I think, perhaps a tad out loud. Instead, he calls her bosses... who also know about my troubles with her. She mistakenly believes her lie that she and I have only always been friends. You know what impressed me? Hanazaki-san knew her bosses' phone number by heart.
They hadn't seen her either but promised to put out calls to others to see if they knew where she was. Oh god... what have I done? What if she's just out with some other guy? She can - we're supposed to be friends-with-benefits - though she should have canceled our Friday night together if she had other plans. It's stuff like this why I wasn't overly broken up when she broke up with me claiming I was smothering her - despite her being at my place 4-6 days a week. This is not an exaggeration. It is reality, despite my attempts at humor.
I help Hanazaki-san take the heater to his white car. He smiles weakly and says he will let me know if he finds anything out about Ashley. Dammit! Now he has me concerned. A lot. Though I secretly wish she just forgot about her agreement to be at my place for dinner. It would finally drive home the point that I can do better and deserve better than her... and then I really can move on.
I go inside and call again. Nothing.
While I am busy eating an 8-piece bacon sandwich at around 4:30PM, Mr. Endo calls me up and asks if I want to teach an English class for ¥5000 (~Cdn/US $64.70). Sure what the hell. It will take my mind of Ashley, right?
I call her place every 15 minutes.
In my head, should she be all right, I plan on playing it cool... saying how I was expecting her to come over... gentle like... before casually saying that I had a dinner specially made for her... I play it over and over in my head until I am sure I have the coolness factor down pat.
At the night school English class - it's advanced adults - so I talk about Canada and myself and my family... and then ask if I am so different from themselves. Thankfully they all say we are all quite similar. Thank-you internationalization.
I go home at 8:30PM and phone Matthew and then Ashley - no one answers.
Alone, I go to the 4C bar about a five minute stagger from my apartment. I have seven beers and some French fries in a little over an hour - obviously I have no plans for picking up a woman and screwing her brains out in anger or frustration.
I leave the 4C after giving the boss a ¥2000 (Cdn/US $25.90) tip... something that is never done in Japan - but I told him I needed to feel like I was home, and I needed to give him a tip. Humoring me, he allowed it - though I'm pretty sure he under-charged me by ¥2000 anyway. Everybody wins. Thank-you internationalization.
I go home and open my fridge and stare at the uneaten turkey dinner as I sway in drunken confusion about what the heck is going on with Ashley.
Somewhere feeling numb, Andrew Joseph Today's blog is by Three Dog Night:
Today's blog entry still pisses me off some 20 years after I first lived it.
It's Friday, November 29, 1991. I'm a junior high school assistant English teacher on the JET (Japan Exchange & Teaching) Programme living in Ohtawara-shi, Tochigi-ken, Japan.
before arriving here from Toronto back in late July 1990, I was nearly 26 years old and a virgin... but within a day of arriving here, me - the man who seemed like Kryptonite to women first met Kristine who actually like me, and then the next day, Ashley who actually slept with me - though there was not much sleeping involved as it was around 4:45PM when we started. And before you start with the snide jokes, I lasted close to an hour for my first time, as I knew I had to picture something horrible while not concentrating on this amazing spectacle with Ashley.
So... it sounds like this is all ego blow, and to a certain extent it is, but I did wait longer than most readers here, and well, the following - it's not ego blow. It just blows my ego.
Ashley and I had broken up earlier this year - and in fact have been friends-with-benefits longer than we were actually boyfriend-girlfriend. I have certainly taken advantage of that fact, but I don't believe Ash has. Still, whenever she is lonely for physicality, she keeps coming back to a guy she trusts, whom she knows still loves her.
She isn't incorrect. I, who have slept with far more beautiful women than Ashley, still carry a torch for her. I don't know why. I just do. But she does often drive me crazy, which is why I am constantly sleeping with other women - to get her out of my head. It works for hours at a time. (I got stronger.)
Regardless... yesterday was US Thanksgiving and last week she had agreed to come over today so I could help celebrate with her.
She's been feeling lonely and homesick, and I've been trying to get over her, but I think when she smelled the sex of another woman all over myself and my apartment, I think a part of her died or at the very least realized I was probably over her.
She tried many a time to get me to spend the night, but I refused. Prior to this, she would start things over at my place and then get tired... it always ticked me off as I was unable to get off, and may have been why I was getting over her.
Just not today.
I wanted to show her a good time. I wanted to show her that there was no other man on this planet who would do what I am going to do for her. I wanted her to know she and I should be together. I wanted... ahhh, let's get on with the story.
Office work first at the OBOE (Ohtawara Board of Education) office where I spend my Fridays. First I stop of at the post office and mail my Christmas presents home for ¥7000. Then Kanemaru-san, one of my bosses, takes me to City Hall so I can pay may City Tax I apparently owe. Then my other boss, Hanazaki-san, asks me what the office can do for me - so I tell him I want an A/C unit. He says he will think about it. Hmmm. No sucking of air through the teeth, so I think it's as good as mine. I tell him the OBOE still owes me some money for a trip to Nikko. We then go to Wakakusa Junior High School so I can meet Tomura-sensei so he can translate a survey for me about foreigner relations in Japan. Uh... number one, it should have been in any other language but Japanese. Afterwards, we go and pick up my bicycle from one of the hundreds of bicycle repair shop in the bicycle repair shop district of Ohtawara. I got my light fixed, spokes tightened and wheel re-aligned. They wanted to charge me ¥200 (~Cdn/US $2.60). I gave him ¥500 (~Cdn/US $6.50) and said he was too kind but just because I am a foreigner, I didn't want to take advantage of him. It was translated and we all celebrated with a couple of beers and some snacks... there goes his profit! I also go back to the OBOE office and three It's A Wonderful Rife columns at the office - they are either the best I have ever done, or they suck. Such is the power of booze. Oh, and then we do something cool.
Hanazaki-san, knowing I wanted to do something special for Ashley, had a week ago arranged with a restaurant in Yaita-shi to do something special for me. I had asked him previously where I could get a turkey... and he searched high and low and discovered you couldn't get a turkey in our city... but he kept on a-looking because he never wanted to disappoint me. That's respect for me as a friend. I have no way of repaying his friendship except by being his friend.
We ordered in a turkey from some other place in Japan. The restaurant cooked it. Did some sweet potatoes (yams), cranberry sauce, stuffing, carrots, mashed potatoes and gravy. They cooked it all for Hanazaki-san. For me. For Ashley. They wrapped it up. All I had to do was pick-it up and pay for it.
Expecting a gaijin (foreigner) discount, I was only a little surprised when the price quoted to me was actually what I had to pay: ¥40,000 (~Cdn/US $520). A pittance, if it got me back my girlfriend.
Hanzaki-san, good friend and boss that he is, did not grumble at the audacity of his charge (me) wanting to drive to another city just so he could get some food to help him get laid. In fact, he was quite happy to do this huge favor for me, chatting that he hoped everything would go well tonight.
You see, except for Ashley, everyone in this city knew we were dating. Even her bosses, as they wee great friends my my bosses - and I really disliked telling lies since I turned 18. before that - whoo. I was a good one. Great even. A legend in my own mind.
Anyhow, Hanazaki-san drove me back to my apartment and helped me carry my Thanksgiving dinner up to my third-floor apartment. He even said screw convention and kept his Japanese outside shoes on while trying to heft the huge meal with me into the place.
Bidding me good bye, good luck, and smiling as he slapped me about the shoulders like my father, I got everything ready... microwaving some things and heating others up in the oven - awaiting the arrival of Ashley, who has never failed to show up at my apartment on a Friday night since we first met.
By 6:30PM, there's no Ashley. She has always been here by 5:30PM at the latest.
I call. No answer at her place.
I call again at 6:45PM. No answer.
7PM. Nothing.
I put stuff away so it doesn't spoil...
Ding-dong!
I race to the door!
It's... Matthew. You know... any other time I would have been so happy to see him... but he's not who I expect or want to see right now (it's also why I posted that photo of us prior to this blog - so he knows I mean no ill will here).
Still... I pull out my left-over lasagne (don't tell him about the turkey - sorry, brother!). He has some beer. We cook and we eat. He leaves at 8:30PM.
Seconds later, I call Ashley's place. Nothing. I even let it ring 20 times pretending to be Japanese, but nothing. (There was no call display back in those days, folks.)
I call every 10 minutes until 11PM. I am worried sick. Or perhaps it was the four beers I drank after Matthew left.
I'm worried. Jealous. Pissed. And pissed off.
Seems like the perfect time to get on my bicycle and ride the route between my place and Ashley's 25 minutes away that has a lot of rice fields someone could fall in. Crap. She could be hurt! I have to check!
Riding and loudly calling her name, I make it to her place at midnight. I ring the doorbell. Nothing.
I then look at the bicycle rack. My bike is there. Maybe she's with me?
Wow. How drunk am I now?
No... her bicycle isn't there. Cripes! Now I am frantic! Did I miss her? Is she dead in a rice paddy?
I ride back calling more frantically and loudly, but hear only frogs croaking.
Back home... it's just after midnight. Where is she? Did she go off an do something without telling me? After saying she would come over?
People - Ashley better be dead and lying in a rice paddy because I now have every single dark thought my evil little brain can come up with going through it at a million miles per hour. I'm not mentally ill. Just quick at processing a situation. The irony of that sentence has not escaped me.
I am suck an effin' dweeb!
I sit down and stare at the fridge door I have just opened.
How could I have done all of this for someone who has her own vagenda (agenda with a 'v")? She probably went out with some girlfriends or with some other guy. Screw that noise! Why can't I find a woman who simply likes me without wanting the world from me, but for whom I would gladly give the world?
Why must I always put myself in these stupid situations? Women who want as much as they can grab from me, but offer very little in return... at least very little that actually matters to me. You regular readers will know what I mean.
The telephone rings.
I run over to it and trip on a chair landing with a loud thud that probably woke the whole building!
I crawl to the telephone on my hands and knees, pick it up and breathlessly ask "Hello?
"Hi Andrew!"
It's Kristine. The only woman I know for whom I would gladly kill a yak for her supper if she wanted one. I have used that line before in these blogs - but dammit, it is so true.
We chat and flirt and flirt some more while we continue to flirt.
With the 30-foot telephone cord stretched to breaking, I walk over to the fridge and close it.
Kristine and I continue to chat and flirt and flirt some more while chatting about flirting. My mood lightens considerably.
Somewhere wondering who the real turkey is, Andrew Joseph Good Grief! I almost forgot! The image above is by Charles Schultz who drew the great Peanuts comic strip starring that good man, Andrew Charlie Brown. Today's blog is powerfully crammed down my throat by the immortal Aretha Franklin:
It's November 17, 1991 - a Sunday here in Ohtawara-shi, Tochigi-ken, Japan.
Junko, my secret-girlfriend and ex-stalker came over last night for some fun. Since she no longer seemed crazily obsessed with me, and I am ready to move on past Ashley, my ex-girlfriend with whom I still sleep with occasionally (just not for the last month and a half), I asked Junko if she wanted to be my real one and only girlfriend.
I received a polite 'maybe', which is Japanese for 'no'. Non-plused, I accepted that and was quite content to continue having sex with a sexy young Japanese woman on the weekends and screw the brains out of any other woman I please.
A pity I am not currently pleasing any other woman, but Junko seems to know that and takes care of me accordingly. I do things with her that none of the other women I have slept with in the past 15 months would even contemplate.
Maybe. Who knows, right? People are all freaks and no one wants others to know that, and so things get left unsaid and undone. Junko... she has no such problem, and while half of what we do is stuff I never thought about doing, it doesn't bother me to do it. I do it because Junko wants me to do it, and that's enough. No one is getting hurt, and it's just sex between two consenting adults.
And yet... Junko has a boyfriend... some young, dumb schmuck of a Japanese university student at Utsunomiya University where she goes to school. Junko, in her perfect English calls him her little boy.
I don't ask, but I assume their relationship is not as fascinating as the one I have with Junko. If it was, I wouldn't be needed by my secret girlfriend.
And yet... this 'little boy'.... he makes me jealous. She'll probably marry him because that's what she is supposed to do in this Japanese society. Find a nice young man with a good job, get married, quit your job and look after the home.
I would start drinking if that was my life. I suppose Junko realizes that her life might come to that, and so she is simply sowing her wild oats before the end of her life. Nothing wrong with that!
But I think I have become her secret addiction. There's a pun there, but won't beat it to death.
Actually, I am her outlet... but truthfully, she has become my secret addiction. Over the past couple of weeks I have looked forward to seeing her and have wanted to see her more often. Junko had that effect on me. Or maybe it was just the fact that she was willing to have sex with me and currently no one else is. The real reason doesn't matter, of course. I just know I am jealous of some dumbass Japanese guy I have never met because she and he are a known commodity, and I am hidden away.
Stop whining right? At least she wants to be with me for several hours a night. Sex is intimate, isn't it? It's something all right.
I've always been a happy-go-lucky individual. I might be down for a minute, but I usually bounce back up and bounce higher. But lately the downs have lasted longer, and the bounces not quite so high.
But, there is that glass-half full mentality... at least I'm still bouncing.
I get up at 7:45AM when an election truck blares by extolling the virtues of a particular candidate. The message starts with an extremely loud apology for disturbing me, notes that such-and-such-san is running for city Councillor, please vote and then another apology for disturbing me.
I look over to my left... Junko is not there. Her clothes are not on the tatami mat floor but the neckties I had used to tie her up last night are lying on the edge of my queen-sized bed.
I get up at 11AM when Matthew phones. He knows nothing about Junko, and I admit that I am ashamed I hadn't told him earlier - and even more ashamed when I don't tell him now... especially after the rejection. I envy Matthew and his beautiful girlfriend Takako Kurita.
Hey! Did I hear the name Kurita blare by this morning?!
I really get up at 1:30PM. I sit around the apartment, watch three television shows on video tape from home while doing a load of laundry.
Despite the excitement of last night and the need to place an ice bag on my bag, I am bored. Or depressed.
Mister Akazawa of Kaneda Kita Chu Gakko (Kaneda North Junior High School) calls me and asks if I wouldn't mind coming to the school between Tuesday and Friday instead of my regular Monday through Thursday visit. One day a week is spent at the OBOE (Ohtawara Board of Education) office.
No problem I tell him.
Mr. Hanazaki, one of my two bosses at the OBOE calls to inquire about my scratched cornea. I tell him about the change of plan for the week. He tells me to stick to my original work plan and to go to school tomorrow.
Okay. Whatever.
I don't really seem to be in control of my life, but then again, I still have my Junko, sort of have Ashley, could have Karen, should be having Kristine, could play it better with Shoko... and then there are the Japanese women I meet at bars here in Ohtawara - for whom little cajoling is required by them of me to sleep with them.
Yeah... as long as I don't lose that, Japan will remain for me a wonderful rife.
Yeah... but...
Somewhere I'm still jealous, Andrew Joseph Image above is from Cerebus The Aardvark written and drawn by Dave Sim of Kitchener, Ont. (and additional art by Gerhard). This was my favorite comic book from issues #1 to #300. Dave is one of the main reasons I like writing. I've met him twice - and he's been a gentleman and I would so love to have him draw a story I write. Today's blog was inspired by me listening to The Eagles earlier this morning. Here's the video:
Before we get back to the world of me - the adventures of Andrew Joseph, I thought a little backgrounded may be in order for all of you new readers.
This blog involving my wonderful rife, takes part for the most part in the small agrarian city of Ohtawara-shi--which translates into English as 'Big-Rice Field-Field City', just in case you thought I was making up that agrarian-thing--Tochigi-ken (Tochigi Prefecture), Japan. I lived there starting in late July of 1990 as a junior high school assistant English teacher (AET) on the JET (Japan Exchange & Teaching) Programme team-teaching with a Japanese teacher of English (JTE).
I, despite constant moaning and groaning here in these blogs, love Japan. Not only because I lost my virginity here as a 25-year-old and then became a sex stud (my own not-so humble opinion), but rather because I got out a lot and experienced a wipe array of sights, sounds and smells. I got out and met and befriended many Japanese folk - male, female in a wide range of ages and occupations, traveled a fair bit within the country - but unfortunately not every where. I love the culture, the food, the drink and the personality of the people, which, to be perfectly honest, really wasn't all that different from what I saw back home in Toronto, Canada.
Screw the stereotypes (though they do exist in one fashion or another), Japan was my home. And home is where the heart is.
Having said all that, this blog is now at Wednesday November 13, 1991 - I believe it is my 481st day here in Japan, and Andrew is not all that happy. Hey, I'm human... despite what you may have heard. Most of it deals with a lack of respect from some of my fellow gaijin (foreigners) who aren't my friends (because I don't know them... hmmm... I guess 20 years later I have a reason why there is no respect), or from my woman troubles.
It beats me why a man who travel all the way to Japan to date an American woman, but that is just what I did. Ashley Benning was and perhaps is 20 years later (I don't know) a super cute chick. She's a couple of years younger than me, but is sharp as she is pretty. There. I said it. It must be true. Aside from her being the first woman to want to sleep with me, we got along pretty well - when we weren't fighting.
I guess she was a loner - or perhaps very quiet and introspective. I was too until I arrived here in Ohtawara, but I said screw that noise and reinvented myself as an out-going extrovert. As such, I would tell you exactly how I was feeling or what I was doing, and was probably the inspiration of the stupid saying "too much information". I call it stupid because it's not too much information. It's simply one person teling another (or in the case of this blog) some 10- to 15,000 readers a month what's going on.
I tell it like it is here. If I look like a jerk, so be it. I try NOT to put words into other people's mouth or thoughts, but instead express my on views on how their actions or in-actions affect me. That's fair, right? I've only changed the name of one person in this blog - at her request... and I asked her about it first. Though I haven't seen her in 18 years, she is still one of my favorite people on this planet.
Ashley, Matthew Hall, James 'Jimmy Jive' Dalton', Colin McKay (you'll meet hm soon enough) are some of the gaijin contingent I like very much and hang around with. Matthew (from upstate New York), U.S., who teaches junior high to schools in the outskirts of this city, lives five minutes away from me in Ohtawara; Ashley (from Augusta, Georgia, U.S.) is a 30-minute bike-ride northwest in Nishinasuno-machi (Nishinasuno Town) and is the boys and girl's high school AET in Ohtawara; Colin (from Calgary, Alberta, Canada) lives in Kurobane-shi and teaches high school, while James (from Stoney Creek, Ontario, Canada) is a junior high teacher in the village of Mamada (I think!).
Other regular characters include: Junko. Man... I could write a book on her. And... I guess I am right here... She is a very sexy, Japanese woman currently enrolled at Utsunomiya University studying to be a teacher. When she was placed for a week at one of my schools, to say we hit it off would be an understatement. Sex, sex and more sex. She would spend every evening at my place - and night to... ensuring I would get no sleep and would be forced to smell her apple blossom shampoo all day long. It was only supposed to be a week-long fling considering her school was 40 minutes (by car) south of Ohtawara, but she decided to start skipping class and would sit outside whatever of the seven junior high schools I taught at... waiting in her car... stalking me.... not moving... just waiting for a glimpse of me... following me home at a discrete distance... and then wait until late in the evening until whatever person was visiting me that day would leave... and then sex, sex and more sex. That's all good right? But try not physically sleeping for a couple of weeks and then being expected to perform like a sex gorilla just because I would rip her clothes off when I saw her. We never went out. We never dated. we never left the confines of my three-bedroom apartment. I tried to break-up with her - but only after she told me she was dropping out of school for me. That's not cool. Sweet, but not cool. Despite her ability to speak English like a native, her beauty and brains, I felt like she was not quite right and could use some help. So I got another JTE involved, who arranged for her to be essentially kidnapped and taken back to her parent's house and hopefully get some medical help. A month or two later, I ran across her again... back in school, not hung up on me and with a Japanese boyfriend. Despite us getting caught having sex in an empty classroom at Utsunomiya University, she seemed less hung up on me than I expected. She wasn't stalking me, and I have to admit I missed being stalked.
Okay... maybe I do love Japan because of all of the sex.
Kanemaru-san and Hanazaki-san are my two bosses (and special handlers) at the OBOE (Ohtawara Board of Education Office). Both are in their 40s (younger than I am now in 2012!?), have families with kids in university and high school and grade school, are extremely generous with their time and money and love, and funny, intelligent hard-working men who like to have a good time. Hanazaki-san speaks far better English than Kanemaru-san, but Kanemaru-san has taken me under his wing and become like a second father to me. He takes Ashley and myself out to kyudo (Japanese archery) lessons once a week... and I must admit I hate it.I'm not that good at it, but I really don't want to disappoint the man by quitting. I did the same thing with my dad and the accordion and piano, and I did eventually become a piano teacher, which helped pay for my journalism school which helped me get here to Japan and then here again to this blog about Japan.
There is also the Ohtawara International Friendship Association. You wouldn't think that an agrarian city of 50,000 would have such a club, but it does. I'm unsure if it was a powerful entity in the city, but they always had a very large presence at every cultural event and always made sure they invited every single foreigner in the city (including the Asian Rural Institute and others over on work exchanges) , though I will say that perhaps Matthew and myself were the star attractions of the maybe 20 foreigners in the area. Matthew and I each teach a night school English class organized by the Association. Matthew owing to his far superior Japanese language skills taught the advanced class and I taught the beginners. Personally, I always felt it should be the other way around. Wouldn't you want someone who can speak Japanese teaching beginners? It beats me why I never thought of that until 2012.
Other making an appearance are: Shoko, the shy but beautiful student of mine in my night school class; Karen Irwin, the pretty, bubbly redhead fro North Bay, Ontario, Canada who would like me as her boyfriend - but for some reason I don't; Mr. Maniwa the old man and pervert pharmacist who is a laugh riot despite him pinching Ashley's ass and trying to grab her boobs; Nobuko Kikuchi who later in this blog I will ask to marry me; the students of: Ohtawara Chu Gakko (Ohtawara Junior High School), Nozaki Chu Gakko, Wakakusa Chu Gakko, Sakuyama Chu Gakko, Chikasono Chu Gakko, Kaneda Minami Chu Gakko and Kaneda Kita Chu Gakko. This last school contained a pack of kids I hated - even one I put in a choke hold and held until he turned blue. I told you I would write about how I could look like a jerk.
Regardless... 2012's blogs will take you from the end of 1991 and well into 2012 of my life in Japan (and even to other countries!). It will be warm, funny, astute, sad, hurtful, sexy and above all perfectly written without any grammatical or spelling errors. Hmmm... I guess that's one new year's resolution already out the window. And... to mix things us, I will continue to post up true stories about the weirdness of Japan; researched looks into various topics concerning Japan; re-posting of links to blogs I like who write about Japan; sporting events; beauty pageants, everything you didn't know about the religion, food, drink, culture, language and society about Japan. Oh... and let's not forget about the haiku (specialized Japanese poetry) I like to write about Godzilla. And to keep things honest, along with all of the great things I will write about Japan, I will also write about some of the not-so-great things about Japan.
My one vow to you, dear reader, is that I will not be critical, but that I will present the facts as I find them and let you make you make up your own mind on things. Okay... maybe I will take the piss out of somethings, but that's only fair, right.
Welcome again to Japan - It's A Wonderful Rife.
Somewhere wishing he could type with more than three fingers and a thumb, Andrew Joseph
Today, Monday, November 11, 1991 is an office day for me here in Ohtawara-shi, Tochigi-ken, Japan. As a junior high school assistant English teacher (AET) on the JET (Japan Exchange & Teaching) Programme I work four days a week at one of the seven schools in the city and one day at the OBOE (Ohtawara Board of Education) office writing up a report that takes me 10 minutes on average to do.
Like usual, I do very little that is constructive at the office. Check that - usually I write letters to family and friends back home in Toronto whom I haven't seen in 15 months, or I write short stories... but since I quit my post as the editor of the Tatami Times AET Tochigi newsletter last week, I don't feel like it.
As well... my left eye hurts like a motherf***er. It's been bothering me for days and days, and to say that it hasn't affected my demeanor would be doing the pain an injustice.
I hint to Hanazaki-san (one of my two bosses at the OBOE, and who speaks better English than Kanemaru-san), that my eye is bothering the heck out of me.
He says okay, and says we'll go have it looked at... but first he wants to show me the itinerary for the Mid-Year Block Conference for JET AETs. He then tells me I have to babysit (his exact words) Van Granger, who arrived in Japan this past summer. Great. Mister Personality.
No one baby-sat me last year! Did they? No! I went down early, screwed a female AET(Christine) in the shower of a men's sports change-room, came in the next morning and made a speech about how to teach a class. I was high on pheromones, beer, vodka and sake (Japanese rice wine) so I have no idea to this day what speech I made up on the spot. It was apparently funny and well-received - or so I was told.
While I haven't been asked to give a speech this year, I was recently asked to take over as the leader of Tochigi-ken JET - which I turned down as I didn't see how it was going to get me laid more often.
In hindsight, I haven't been getting laid all that much more without the honor... and I could have used it on a resume to get this gig 20 years later writing about Japan. So... less work, more time to mope about not getting laid, and future Andrew has a different story to tell rather than one about JET politics. And yes... I do have a degree in Political Science, but that doesn't mean I want to play politics. Doctor, perhaps.
Hanazaki-san and I then go to Mr. Inoue's shop for an eye exam. I am, of course, very worried that I don't know enough Japanese letters to be able to pass a literacy test let alone an eye test.
Uh... is it 'ba-ka-ga-ji-n'?*(see below)
Luckily, the test Inoue-san's nurse give me involves me pointing out which way the letter E is pointing: up, down, left or right. It always points right. Right?
Apparently I don't concentrate very hard with my right eye at all. Yeah... but that's not the problem. What about the pain in my left eye?
So I finally tell the nurse: "Itai (pain)" and point to my left eye.
She understands and says in perfect English: "Just one moment An-do-ryu-sensei. I'll just go tell the doctor."
And then she winks at me.
Christ. Not another one? Well... I suppose I could squeeze her in tonight between 9 and 11PM.
The doctor comes back with the nurse... doesn't look at my eye, but instructs her (in English!!) to take out An-do-ryu-sensei's contact lenses.
Now... I'm not a doctor, though I have been one in a bar, but I know I could have taken my own contacts out a lot faster than this nurse who spent about 60 seconds prodding at my eye to peel out my lens.
So... long story short... apparently I have a scratch on my left cornea.
No kidding! Probably caused by the nurse's talon. That's it! She's not getting any Andrew!
Anyhow... I'm told (in English) not to wear my contacts for a few days - only glasses. Aaaaaaggghh! Are you kidding me? I wear these glasses of mine, and I'm not getting laid ever again - hot to trot talon-ted nurse or not!
I get some eye drops and pain killers and employ both.
I go home and, since I have an adult night school class to teach tonight, I keep my contacts in.
Mrs. Ohno gives me some flowers for my birthday last Friday, and Mrs. Narita gives me a telephone card. Sweet people!
I go home, wrench out my contact lenses and with no one around to ridicule me, I put on my Coke bottles glasses.
I'm about to watch a Japanese porno cartoon I rented earlier that evening (my first ever), when the doorbell rings.
I peer through the eyehole at the front door. Crap.
It's Junko. My secret girlfriend, who has a boyfriend, but enjoys stepping out with me for some bedroom fun. So far.. she's the best stalker ever. So far. I guy can hope, right?
I don't want to let her see me with my glasses on!
I let her in... she immediately grabs my face in her hands, kisses me and asks (in her usual perfect English), how the scratch on my eye is.
I would ask her how the hell she knows I have a scratch on my eye - but it's Junko. She seems to know everything about me.
I don't even ask why she's here on a Monday away Utsunomiya University, when I know she has school tomorrow, too.
She jumps on me and knocks me backwards, with the back of my head hitting a wall.
Right now... I know it's better to just shut up and enjoy the double vision.
Somewhere wondering why everyone is speaking English today, Andrew Joseph
*ba-ka-ga-i-ji-n is really baka gaijin = stupid foreigner. Today's blog title is from The Beatles, and was used because, if you listen to the words, you can tell I am, god help me, Junko's puppy dog.
How often have you been confused? Walked down a lonely path not knowing which way to turn? When out of the mist of dreams comes a shining light - with a feminine form of a muse that makes you a free man? All the more important when your own name - or rather MY name, Andrew, means 'masculine'?
I'm not really asking you, oh gentle reader... I'm merely pondering the fates that has lead me down the dark, desert highway and yea as I walk through the valley of death, I shall fear no evil...
What the hell does all that mean? Someone knows, hopefully.
But when my alarm goes off at 7AM and I awake from a feverish dream, I re-set the alarm for 8:30AM.
It's Friday, October 25, 1991 here in Ohtawara-shi, Tochigi-ken, Japan... and I'm sick. I've been homesick, woman sick, and even drunk sick (once)... perverse sick a few times, too... but this is the first time I think I have a cold... or a flu... whichever one makes you feel bad.
I'm sick... and I am soooo not going in to work at the OBOE (Ohtawara Board of Eduication) office today. Don't get me wrong... I love being a junior high assistant English teacher on the JET (Japan Exchange & Teaching) Programme.. but not enough to even pretend I'm a spunky guy.
When the phone rings later, I crawl over and answer it. It's Hanazaki-san - my friend and boss at the OBOE. I tell him I'm sick and then ask him what time it is. He says 9:30AM. Damn! I must have set the real time rather than the alarm time...
I'm unsure why Matthew phones met at 1:30PM, but he did. To wake me up, I suppose... so I do. I get up and watch TV... he comes over with a Mosburger... I eat while we watch a video - and then perhaps satisfied that I'm not going to die, he leaves. I go back to bed and sleep... and dream.
I awake at 10PM - pretty feverish, but feeling okay enough to grab a pen and a paper and begin writing.
I write a short story. I actually have three more in my head... but the one I wrote... it's appearing about 8 hours after this particular blog. Just one word of advice to fellow writers out there... never do a serial killer story and write it in the first-person and use elements from your own life.
Obviously I'm not a serial killer or even a violent person, and despite being a man (IE sexist pig), I respect woman and would harm any man I know who would hurt a woman. Anyhow... over the next few days I wrote the three other stories... each was written in a completely different style and had characters that had no business being near each other. The story to appear next was written in the 1st person... one was written in the 2nd person like the book Bright Lights Big City (which I had just finished reading two days ago)... one was in the 3rd person... and the last one was written in something I call the 4th-person. I have no idea if it's a style or not, but we hear the story of a person not in the room... from two people having a conversation about them. I have no idea where that idea - or any of the ideas I write about come from.
Submitted for your (dis)approval in the next blog is the short story: The Killer In My Head. And just so you know... I decided to combine all four of the stories and turn it into a 20 chapter+ novella, and a month or so later, it was when I thought that I would like to become a writer some day. And tonight, in my fever... this is where it began.
Somewhere wondering WHY he called me at 1:30 on a work day and could come over, Andrew 'was I dreaming?' Joseph Today's blog title is by Kansas. The lead singer is a madman!!!! I could make a Wizard of Oz joke for a good friend of mine, but no. I love this song as the opening theme for the TV show Supernatural. Watch it. Buy the DVDs. Borrow mine!
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