If Seven Maids with Seven Mops Swept It for Half a Year

Front to Back
(or Lewis Carroll is my Homeboy)
by Kate Trafecante

’Twas told twice, and to no avail, again,
“Glitters is not Gold” and “Kettles are Black,”
The wisdom of old and aged men,
But I live not Front to Back. I choose to wander life Inverse
And follow not the common path;
So that same wisdom, in Reverse,
And, in my mind, holds true to that
The Storm Comes Always Afore the Calm,
Nine Stitches in Time Saves Only One,
Good Ends Must Come to Things,
And One of These Days is Never None.

For I am a Reverse Commuter,
I walk not Front to Back.
I travel away while you come near,
Taking pride in the sense I lack.
Most wander through the railways,
On steel girders to metropolis they ride;
Yet a beamish smile I flash as I fly past
On towards the eager countryside.
Mountains are my serious skyscrapers,
Empty fields the crowded streets I roam,
And while the busy bees swarm in groups
I work out in the honey combs alone.

But “Lo!” You say, “There are those that
Live their life, also, not Front to Back!
They spend their existence all by night
And work from first darkness till first light!”
So I take my mantra one yard further
And not just wander backwards and daft;
Though I live in true Reverse,
I also live by one true half!
So if night watchmen live in opposite time,
And most people live by day,
I live by halves and halves:
Half night, and then half day.
Where as your day begins at 8, and the watchman 8 at night,
Mine begins at half past three until half past night.

So when you see me walking backwards
(For I never go Front to Back)
And greeting you good morning
When half the afternoon is past,
Or speaking of Words that Hurt,
And Immunity of Sticks and Stones
Do not raise your eyebrows,
And ignore my jovial tones!
For I just live in Reverse, by half,
And if my arithmetic stands true,
Means that no matter our dispositions,
Is twice around half the life of you.


And now, the explanation:

I realized today that I am a reverse commuter, and quite possibly, absolutely insane.

Now reverse commuter is not a real term by ay means, because I just made it up. But nonetheless, I believe it sums up my life perfectly. Most people live in suburbs and commute to cities because, logically and financially, such a path makes sense. Yet I, on the other hand, do the extremely illogical thing of living in the city and commuting out to the sticks.

But though lacking all recognizable sense, it does allow me to see the mountains and rice fields I have been missing while in the city proper. So traveling back on the train today, the city lights in front of me, I pondered my ridiculous schedule. Which then led me to realize that my day is also spent in awkward halves. I start my day mid afternoon and end about 9:30 at night, cleaving my day into thirds, or quarters, or some other odd division that, no matter what it really is, gives me a weird schedule. And as I sat on the train, scribbling down about my life in reverse, lived by half, it sounded more and more like a Lewis Carroll poem.

So as the commute dragged on, I actually started to write such a poem. Because really, it was such a boring commute, and nonsense poetry is amazing and hilarious. So a few proverbs, allusions to Carroll, and wordplay later, by the time I pulled into Nagoya station, I had the rough work you see above.

I also realized I must be certifiably insane.

So as weird as it was to start with my feeble scribblings, and to not have you think I was crazy as I think I am, I actually tried to put the explanation before the poem. But put in the order, I felt the words lacked the original punch and nonsensical flow I was going for when explained ahead of time. And I had so much fun writing such a stupid thing that I actually took a step back from the situation a few times just to laugh at what was coming out of my pen.

And thought I am no Charles Dodgson, this was my lame, if enjoyable, attempt at a Carroll-esque poem to describe my crazy schedule these days.

I blame the canned coffee.

Art for Art's Sake

So preparing a lesson the other day, I came across the idiom Art for Art’s Sake. I was supposed to be planning on how to explain such a phrase to a non English speaker, but it only made my mind wander to art. Being inclined as I am, I realized I haven’t really talked much about the art here. This is something that needed to be rectified.

Japan is the biggest mix of the beautiful and the garish I have ever seen. There is the austere beauty of temples and gardens, and yet overly loud and gaudy resonances in the signs, music, and fashions. Its this clash of old and new that makes everything so fascinating, but there is no doubt that no matter what, Japan has a highly visual culture. Whether it be traditional or pop art, it constantly surrounds you.

It really hit me this last Sunday as I spent the day walking around Nagoya. We have had a stretch of rain, but that day had perfect weather, with a sunny blue sky and unseasonably warm weather. I threw on my light trench coat, grabbed my ipod, and walked. It actually turned into the perfect Sunday, for apparently Sunday is the day to walk around Nagoya.

As I wandered to meet some people in Osu Kannon, a neighborhood south of my own, I let the music on my ipod wash over me. I find that when I walk through the city streets by myself, especially when listening to music, I become much more observant to things around me. I start to pick up on the little things that I pass over every time. It was in this way that I finally realized the subtle beauty of some of the daily things in Nagoya.

My street, being as busy as it is, is a bevy of bright lights and restaurants. But there are tiny pockets along the way that stand as a stark contrast to the overpowering brightness of such things; small, beautiful places that are easily ignored unless you are really looking. For example, there is a Buddhist temple on my street. In between the large buildings, convenience stores, and gas stations, there stands a beautiful old temple that is easy to miss unless one is looking. It is not very large, but it is everything one would expect a temple to be, with arching gates, peaked roofs, and a giant brass bell. Its absolutely breathtaking in its Zen-like austerity.

But there are even smaller touches that can be ignored. My neighborhood is very residential, and mixed within the newer houses and apartment buildings there pops up every once in awhile a very traditional home. It still retains the Japanese style roof, wooden frames with sliding doors that open onto tatami mats, and gated entrances. They look exactly like they may have 400 years ago, with none of the modern trappings of everything else around them. I find myself caught off guard and entranced every time I happen upon one. But as beautiful as they are, I find my personal favorite are the manhole covers.

The Japanese like to turn everything, from writing to clothing to advertising, into an art form. And for me, the manhole covers have been one of the most delightful surprises. I have actually taken to taking pictures of new ones I find, for there are quite a few around Nagoya. I think my personal favorite is the one of Nagoya castle, which is in and of itself a beautiful sight to see. But here are a few prime examples:

And these are the beautiful things that are tramped on and maybe taken for granted by most people here, except when seen through the eyes of a foreigner. But the wild stuff can be beautiful in its own right, if not fascinating in its ridiculousness.

So I commented before about three O’s: Outrageous Street Acts, Over-the-Top People, and Overwhelming Shopping Centers. Though they can be found separately all over the city, there are a few places they can be found all together in an trifecta of tremendous garishness. One of these is the Asunal Shopping Center in Kanayama. I happen to work nearby, and the entrance to the subway is smack dab in the middle of the shopping center. Now I have mentioned shopping before, and what an experience it can be, but I feel I should paint the picture of Asunal in a more specific manner.

I leave work right before dinner time, dressed conservatively and mentally unwinding from the day. And as I begin to relax, my tired mind is suddenly inundated by a loud open shopping center with bright, shining lights and lots of people. The people themselves, then, range from normal to over-the-top, with the over-the-top taking the spotlight. They are young Japanese people with dyed hair, styled to gravity-defying proportions, held up with gel and possibly magic to break the laws of physics as they do. Some go ultra blond and tan to look “western,” with both sexes going with large, bouffant hair. But whether blond and tan or not, the clothing ranges from stylishly ripped, loud, tight clothing, to “hip hop” style with velour track suits and rude, grammatically incorrect English phrases, to bastardized interpretations of 1950s American style, complete with leather pants and poodle skirts. But no matter what subsection these youths belong to, they are all like walking pieces of pop art, with everything being loud and bright and highly stylized.

And as if this wasn’t already a feast for the eyes, then the music wafts in. Asunal Shopping Center has an Asunal Live! Stage where various musical acts and idols perform. Every time I walk out, I am greeted by another J-pop concoction. Infectiously catchy in its mass-marketed way, I can’t help but stop and listen for a moment, if not just to laugh with a few other teachers as we marvel at their clothes and carefully manufactured siren song. I love when the young female idols sing one simple song, and then are surrounded for 40 minutes by adoring fans of awkward youths and middle aged men. But as hilarious an interaction that is to watch, my personal favorite so far were the J-Soul Brothers. A group of 7 Japanese male idols, they are a carefully constructed group where two of them actually sing, five just kinda sway in the background looking cute, and their music is anything but soul.

But if all that makes up Asunal is amusing, these factors were only intensified in Osu on this past Sunday afternoon. After my contemplative walk, I met up with a few people in Sakae and headed towards Osu. After walking through the beautiful Osu Kannon temple, we were then greeted by bright lights and painted walls to welcome us to Osu Shopping center, an open air shopping center that spans many blocks. And though I had been freely talking and laughing up until a moment before, after I entered the shopping districts, everyone I was with spent half the time in an almost awe-struck silence. Lured by the smell of takoyaki, the noise of people, and brightly colored shops, we poor gaijin were struck into silence by it all coming at us at once. And when we left, back out into the safety of the temple, we were nearly breathless from the experience.

But as I sat in the temple square and listened to the chanting monks from inside, I couldn’t help but be equally struck by the opposite and yet equally fascinating beauty that is Osu Kannon. A large temple, and one of the oldest in Japan, with grand architecture and Zen gardens, a perfect example of the beauty of traditional Japan, sits in conjecture and on the same grounds of an overwhelming shopping center, the bright lights, people, and signs that represent all that is modern Japan. They should be complete opposites, and yet they share the same space in almost blissful harmony. It is one of the many things that I absolutely love about this country, finding equal beauty in the old and the new. For only in Japan would such a place exist.

Multibabel

So I’m in the middle of an internet drought, and I think I’m dying from it.

It seems that, on average, it takes at least two months to get internet set up in Japan. I have been without it for about one month, and I can‘t even comprehend one more month like this. My cell phone has become somewhat of substitute, albeit a poor one, but it only keeps me loosely connected. But beyond that, I never truly realized how much I relied on it for entertainment until I have been without it for a extensive amount of time. So for that reason, I have found a considerable lack of things for me to do in my apartment when I get home from work. I have tried Japanese television, which despite being unintentionally hilarious, can get old after awhile. Then I tried DVDs, but a limited supply keeps me restricted. So now as I stumble in from work, I long for some form of entertainment as I cook dinner. But worst of all, the lack of fast internet in and of itself is an inconsistency for me. A country that has such advanced technology and internet, even going so far as to get television on the cheapest of cell phones, can’t get me a decent internet connection in a short amount of time.

But such a situation may in fact be a blessing in disguise. It’s impossible to blog and email as much as I would like, and I have no stupid TV during dinner, but I also find I try to entertain myself with much more fulfilling pursuits on my days off. Instead of sitting on my bed all day glued to a glowing screen, I am up and out of my apartment exploring. And in Nagoya, there is always something ridiculous and fascinating going on.

In a nutshell, when I’m out in Nagoya, I find myself constantly bombarded by three O’s: Outrageous Street Acts, Over-the-Top People, and Overwhelming Shopping Centers. And it would be easy to think that one would fade into the background against such situations, but gaijin in Nagoya are still enough of a novelty that I don’t. In fact, in some situations, I feel like I stand out, and are made to be somewhat of an ambassador of the Western world. Whether it be the young child who shyly turns towards his mother because I don’t look like any one he’s ever seen before, or the izukaya owner who speaks no English and yet greets us warmly with a bit of an awestruck smile, one cant help but remember that you are a minority here. I guess that over time it can get old, but for now I’m still somewhat pleasantly amused by it.

When I think of it, the term multibabel comes to mind; how nuances of meaning are lost in translation, but the general message remains the same. And in truth, I feel that’s what I have been experiencing. Things that are similar enough to connect us, and yet different enough to keep it interesting.

For example, I was out last weekend with a few people at a local western style bar. It draws an even crowd of foreigners and Japanese, and therefore is a cool place to go. Somehow, through happenstance, my group ended up trying to sit at the same table as a few Japanese men. After a few polite laughs and nervous shuffling, somehow we ended up sharing the table with them. Now one person in our group spoke poor Japanese, and one in their group spoke poor English, and yet somehow we spent the whole night together. We discussed, through gesture and broken language, topics varying from drinking to hanami to the Wutang clan (the rappers, not the martial artists), but half of the time our conversations broke into the international reaction to a language barrier: raised eyebrows and lots of laughter.

But then someone, by stroke of genius or dumb luck, brought up baseball. It was like all floodgates broke away. It didn’t matter that none of us really fully understood each other; we all understood baseball. A full ten minute conversation without a peep of incredulous laughter then erupted; we discussed the Nagoya Dragons as they shouted out famous Japanese players in the Major Leagues. Though it eventually degraded into screaming “Matsui” and then responding with cheering, it was an absolutely hilarious moment as it was going on.

And truthfully, since then I’ve discussed baseball several other times, and was even informed of all the differences between the American and Japanese baseball leagues by one student of mine. But there are a few other interesting cross cultural experiences I’ve had. Like the fact that Denny’s is everywhere in Japan and apparently way more delicious than the greasy grossness that is Denny’s in the states. I would even go as so far to call it amazing. Or even better, I have finally experienced Karaoke as it was meant to be.

On the day we signed our contracts, my training group decided to celebrate in one the most Japanese ways we could imagine. So that night, we wandered Sakae, found a huge JoyJoy karaoke in the downtown area, and rented ourselves a nice big room. And let me tell you, I finally understand the obsession.
You walk into the brightly colored building and pay a flat rate. This gets you a private room for karaoke, free drinks the entire time, and an endless amount of bad 80s rock ballads to keep the night going. Sitting in the dark karaoke room, surrounded by TV screens, tambourines, and drinks, you cant help but belt out every bad song that comes up on the screen. With an extensive list of English songs, it was like a catalogue of songs drunk white people like to sing. I swear, I have never sung so much Queen in my life. (Which I would like to have my Aunt know had the largest collection of songs of any band in the English language section, and I have heard them many a time in bars and department stores. She was right about how popular they were here.)

So as I go out and explore Japan, the biggest cross cultural experience of all is the one I undergo every day: my job.

Work is something I have been asked a few times to blog about, but in truth, it’s the only thing I haven’t really wanted to write about. It’s something that I experience every day; something that takes up so much of my time and thoughts, that in my free time, I want to think about other things. What Japan is like to live in, and what happens when I’m outside of the realm of teaching. Though there is one thing I will say for certain: I love this job.

I feel like I am being paid way too much to talk to people and play with kids. Of course they’re learning English, and I do structured lessons, but I try to make it fun enough for all my classes that it sometimes doesn’t feel like work. And yet at the same time I feel a certain pride in being a teacher, that I am helping someone else to learn something new. This realization was quite shocking for me, actually, and filled me with great respect for people who choose to be educators. The time flies effortlessly as I am wrapped up in teaching the nuances of the English language, and then I get home at the end of the day and am utterly drained from the output I had to put out.

Kids classes are phenomenal, and have become some of my favorite lessons to teach. They require the most prepartaion and energy, but I love rolling around with kids being stupid, so the work I put in seem entirely worth it. And on the whole, Japanese students are some of the most well-behaved and good natured kids I’ve ever met. Of course, generalizations are never true, and I’ve had a few kids classes with five 7-year-old boys who just want to wrestle and throw cushions at each other. But they are normal kids, and if the class degrades into that, I can always corral them by chasing them around the room a little and wearing them out. And the adults? Some of them are such interesting people with enough of a grasp of the English language to make for really entertaining discussions. Of course not every student designs robots or travels across most of southeast Asia, but if you can find a topic they are really interested in, they can go on about it for a long time, English skills be damned. They also ask questions about the intricacies of English that I myself never really considered. When I get a really thoughtful one, I feel like I’m learning a little more about English myself. I’ve never thought of all the subtle differences of my mother tongue, and I am constantly impressed by the insightful people who study English.

In fact, their drive and constant embarrassment at not speaking English well has really driven me to learn Japanese. When they apologize for messing up a sentence, I try to remind them that they speak English infinitely better than I do Japanese. It is a certain mentality that many English speakers have, unfortunately, that everyone should speak English around the world. But I get almost embarrassed that I know next to nothing of the language of Japan. So in my free time, I have been studying Japanese with a passion. I sit for about an hour each night and review my Japanese or do a few lessons on my Japanese program. And truth be told, I study for the fun of it, if not just the necessity. Japanese is infinitely simpler and at the same time much harder than English. And though speaking is difficult in and of itself, it is a masterable task. Reading and writing, on the other hand, are infinitely harder.

If you are not familiar with Japanese writing at all, there are two main alphabets. Kanji is the very difficult one with thousands of characters, and really, you must study for years to master. You need to know about 2,000 just to read the newspaper. The Kana, hiragana and katakana, conversely, only have about 60 characters total and are much easier to learn. This is the writing that is used on menus and signs and in most daily usage, and the one children learn before they move on to the more difficult kanji. It’s a phonetic alphabet used for Japanese words and loan words, and each character represents a sound in the word. So where as my street, Kurumamichi, only has two Kanji to represent it, in the Kana there are 5 characters, one for each sound (Ku-ru-ma-mi-chi). And that, my friends, is a simplistic and very short explanation of the very confusing writing system that surrounds me daily. Between the two, the Kana alphabets are much simpler and much more useful. I will never be able to read a book with Kana, but I will be ok with menus and food packages, so it is the writing I have been working on mastering.

Between the writing section on my Japanese lessons and workbooks I have purchased (Let’s Have fun with Kana! I’m serious, that is the title), I have been working on learning a few characters each day. And in truth, I’ve really enjoyed it. This last Saturday, as I got home really late from my shift, instead of going out, I stayed in and practiced my Kana for a few hours. And seriously, I had fun doing it. There is something so artistic about the characters that I feel more like I’m drawing then writing when I practice. At this point I only recognize a few characters in a long string, but when I do? Its very exciting.

For example, one of the first few words I learned was otokonoko, which means boy in Japanese. The kana are separated as o-to-ko-no-ko. The first time I read just the Kana and recognized the corresponding sounds and words? I was left exhilarated by the fact that I comprehended these foreign symbols. It must have been the same as when I was a child and realized for the first time that I could read things around me. And written out, the characters are almost like art. It was a thrilling experience, and the main reason I have really buckled down and started to study.

So now that I’ve sufficiently bored everyone with the intricacies of the Japanese writing system, this all goes back to my respect for the Japanese I am teaching and the fascination I have for the differences and similarities between them and ourselves. So I leave you with an interesting anecdote the illustrates this fascinating cultural exchange.

My first day teaching, I had a two hour lesson with a really low level English student. He was very driven, but the first hour completely dragged as I tried to get through a structured lesson and watched him struggle on the grammar. Being that it was a lesson designed for at least three students, my heart went out as he tried to do it, and I helped him as much as possible by breaking up the lesson with enthusiastic encouragement and trying to engage him in side topics. But even with this, at the end of the hour, we both were utterly drained.

Dreading another lesson, I returned after ten minutes with one in mind and steeled determination. But as he came back from the break, he simply sat down and placed in my hand his open diving license. Intrigued, I asked him about it, and his eyes lit up. Even though his English was very poor, using gestures, broken English, and lots of pictures on the white board, he painted a portrait to me of his many extreme sport adventures. It didn’t matter that we didn’t speak the same language, I spent an amazing hour with a really interesting person telling me all about his intense ski trips in Hokkaido where he hiked up the mountain before skiing down, and showing me photos of sharks and fish from scuba diving trips in Bali and Tahiti.

So no matter the differences, the seemingly insurmountable language barriers, we can always find a way to communicate to understand each other. So if you’re ever in Japan, don’t worry about being understood, because somehow you will make it work.

Or worse comes to worse, you could always bring up baseball.