Pinning rampant combatants with mere mind control

Childishly sudden pitch variation on vocals and trumpets, up and down like a stereolab track, especially with trumpet accompaniment plays in the background, and I can't tell whether they're singing in French or Japanese, because it's the sweetest sounding Japanese I've ever heard. But whoever expected the sudden strum of a harp? As the other song says, the jingle of a dog's collar would go well right here, and I think I understand their whimsical sentiment, if not their musical choice. But this band is all loved.

Claire, I don't know if your band has whimsical trumpets or otherwise trumpets, but may I suggest them? And also, who would ever call an album "Bitches Brew"? But he was a genius and must be excused, and now this is just another musical side note, like that Orff was a sympathizer and Wagner was a downright nazi, and maybe that can be heard in their music of power and destructive perfect tenths.

A teacher and a student came to near fisticuffs before my eyes today, and all I could do was say "calm down, calm down... " and get ready to pin the kid if he should start swinging. Really poor control over the students here... not what I expected in Japan.

Must catch up on sleep lost to Saturday night's 11:30 to 5:30am karaoke session in Kyoto...

oyasuminasai minasan

The cat came back

This cat is going to stay. I've decided to stay for a second term in office, mainly due to the calls from my many wonderful supporters for me to continue in my position. It is a truly thankless position, and I am capable of so much more, but it's for the people. And for the money.

It would be so much cooler if I could move to a different part of Japan though. I mean, if I could move there, and Veronica could move there too, but I don't know if she would want to as her school is pretty decent and Ishiyama is pretty decent. Nagahama really is not the best place in Japan. I've heard this from many JETs who came from different areas of Japan and are now teaching in Japan. The only way you can do that is if you finish three years on JET and then continue as an elementary school teacher.

But now I must go to work, infused with a sense of purpose.

Threats have forced me back

Well I got two emails from two of my male friends back in the T-dot, and both of them referred to my blog. Ilir said what's the point of having a blog - it's just a cry for attention. And I suppose that's true, but then what's the point in trying to become a movie director if not to get your stories on the screen for all to see. I suppose you could counter that your stories are not a play-by-play of your life, but we all know the same motives are in operation. Ilir also mentioned his near-miss at getting some girl-action at his latest party. I mention this only for symmetry, because now we must move on to David.

David scolded me and said I should update my blog (the reverse of Ilir) and he downplayed his girl-chasing, saying it takes up only 8% of his time. (I have to use David's jokes in my blog because he's funnier than me.) Now if this isn't a case of parallel lives I don't know what is. Interestingly, David and Ilir met at a party once and didn't like each other. I think it's because they're both demi-Italian, witty, urbanite intellectuals with short brown hair and no girlfriends. Thus, they are natural competitors for both lavish intellectual attention and lavish vapid females, which they secretly desire while actually spending all of their time pursuing overly nerdy or JAP-y females. (N.B. JAP is an acronym for Jewish American Princess, not a WWII racist slur against my neighbours, nay, my human brothers and sisters.). And thus, as natural competitors they will eventually come into direct combat and bloody each others noses in a perfect mirror of Morley Callahan and Ernest Hemingway's infamous fisticuffs.

That's why I suggest you both go into some serious Chuck Norris-style training so that this fight will be brilliant, and I can watch and videotape it, and later sell the videotape to Biography when Ilir Pristine has won his Palme D'Or and is embroiled in a sex scandal, and David Marchese has ascended to CEO of some advertising firm with a contract to do PR for George Bush III's campaign. Not that David is right wing, it's just good business, dammit. Would you turn down that kind of cash if it was thrust at you? And besides, Bush 3 is new blood and he's running as an outsider, "against peace, prosperity and incumbency" - just like his dad when he was re-elected.

Insincerely,
A. Boylan

How do I manage to get on their bad side?

Well, it happened. Again. I wonder if this is me or just everybody. Last Friday I had a difficult class with Goi. The class was loud, and I was delivering a prepared speech of my tsunami experience, the students were filling in the blanks, but most of them couldn't hear me because a few of them were carrying on a conversation. Goi sat at the back of the class, arms folded, with a surly pout planted on his face. Whenever there was an English word that the students didn't understand, there was confusion. I tried to communicate it in English, or use the little Japanese I have, but to no avail. And Goi wasn't doing anything to help. So from time to time I would ask him to translate the word into Japanese. He is, after all, my team teacher and he is a JTE, a Japanese Teacher of English. But his idea of teamwork was to snarl at me.

After class I spoke to him and said that he should help me to deliver the lesson and keep order. He made many excuses, and said there should only be English in the English class, which is bullshit. It's not an immersion class and every JTE uses Japanese in the classroom. Including Goi. We walked downstairs while talking, when I suggested that Goi shouldn't be sitting at the back of the class, silent, Goi countered with his philosophy of teaching which is: "I have my own way of teaching." Okay. I finished off basically asking him to fulfill the requirements of his job and said "that's not asking too much is it?" His response was "I'll think about it".

I had a feeling he was pissed off, and on Monday I found out. I looked at my schedule and saw we had a class together during third period. Third period rolled around and I walked over to his desk where he quickly looked the other way and hunched over his papers.
"Hi Goi sensei."
"We have a class together now."
Goi managed a grunt of assent. He hadn't looked at me yet. He finished writing on his paper and then sprang out of his chair and exited the room. I followed rather quickly, trying to keep up. He entered the classroom for the developmentally disabled kids - our current class - and we had only two students today. The other three were in the neighbouring classroom with their homeroom teacher. Without a word to me Goi gave out the two sheets to the kids and instructed them in Japanese. Then he studiously avoided looking at me and gazed out the window. Then, deciding that some communication was in order, I asked,
"What are the students working on?" No answer.
"What are they doing on the sheet?"
Goi: "They're doing the words."
"Are they writing them out?"
Goi: "Yeah."

He has a petulant way of talking, like a teenager who resents the existence of his parents. I wonder if this has something to do with the childish obedience Goi has to give to his parents, which Nick has told me about.
Then the weird thing happened. The two students left the room. Then Goi walked out of the room, and smirked at me as he slid the door shut. I was then in an empty room - and that's not good for teaching. I walked to the door, opened it, glanced outside. One of the kids was sitting on the floor in the hall. I don't know where the other kid went. I suspect that Goi bolted as soon as he slid the door shut, as he was nowhere in sight. I went to the neighbouring room and asked the homeroom teacher where Goi was. Dismayed, she ran downstairs to the teachers' room and I followed. From outside, I heard her call to Goi, who was at his desk, "You should go back to the classroom!" I came in and went over to Goi. He was shuffling papers on his desk.

"Why did you come here?!" Goi says angrily, almost snarling.
"I didn't know where everyone went. Where are the students?"
"WHY DO YOU HAVE TO ASK SO MANY QUESTIONS?? YOU CAN'T DO ANYTHING BY YOURSELF!" Goi was clearly enraged. I'm not sure why, except that he doesn't want to teach with me. He got up and rushed off to the class, and I followed. The students were back there, and I said "Goi sensei, we have to be able to communicate." His response was "That's a problem, because I don't want to talk to you."
"Okay. Well until you can talk to me, I'll be downstairs."

I went downstairs and told the vice principal about what happened. Unfortunately there was a communication barrier, so we got one of the English teachers involved, Muratta sensei, but his English was no better and they only got the general idea that there was some conflict with Goi. Possibly they understood that he flipped out. I hope so.

Later that day Goi got into an in-depth discussion with my tantosha, Taniguchi sensei. She is certainly not too keen on the ALTs. This did not bode well for me. First Goi flips out, then suddenly he's making a case against me with the woman who's my direct superior and the head of the English teachers. So after Goi finished I had a little talk with her. She said I had to change my teaching style to be more creative. More creative? Yes, like using my own little cards that I make up myself. Okaaaaaay. And this has what to do with that psycho Goi sensei? Oh. Apparently it's because I should not use Japanese in class. I must not rely on any Japanese translation.

She had no idea of what had happened with Goi that day, or on Friday. I started explaining what had happened and Taniguchi started to change her tune. She then said that he was a new teacher - less than one year - he hadn't actually gone to teachers' college and hadn't passed the teachers' test. This is how they do things in Japan. You can actually be a teacher for seven years without passing the teachers' test. You can fail it every year for seven years, and still be a teacher for that whole time. Suddenly his laissez faire teaching style starts to make more sense. The guy doesn't know what he's doing! On top of that, he's about as well-equipped psychologically as a fifteen-year-old with a grudge. Anyway, Taniguchi doesn't want to capitulate completely but she's clearly shocked by his behaviour. Hell, even Nick was shocked by his behaviour, and he's Goi's friend. We finish the conversation with lots of good advice on how I can adapt to Goi, who's too stressed to accomplish anything in the classroom except something resembling a Hieronymus Bosch. Which is not to say masterly, rather it's more like a medieval gathering in which people wander aimlessly and crawl out of hellish cracked eggs or have rooster legs. In the end I was supposed to talk to Goi. Tomorrow.

Today is that tomorrow, and we had our discussion. It was a meeting, in fact, with both Taniguchi and Nick in attendence, a full-on conference table, and an opposing-sides seating arrangement with full symmetry and proper symbolism. Great. Much bullshit was spewed. I was conciliatory and worked hard to get a resolution. I suggested we shake on it. We shook hands. Then Taniguchi left and he said "You're in Japan now, you should learn Japanese. I went to Canada...," yes, this nutjob was in Canada for a year, "... and I learned English." Well great, thanks for the scintillating advice. I'm glad we could rise above our petty differences.

Can't... do... it.... !!X¿¿

My internet is very iffy lately. Usually I can't connect. Thus, I can't communicate with people. Also, I can't communicate with tech support because they only speak Japanese. My friend Monjun is giving them a call for me now. I hope this gets sorted out.

Vietnam Photo Journal

Part II of the photo journal is Vietnam. All of these pictures are from Hanoi, which is the big city in the north. I'm embarrassed to say I don't even know if it's the capital, or if that's Ho Chi Minh in the south. I'll find out. I also spent some time in Nha Trang and Hoi An, two cities further south.


Ha Long bay, near Hanoi, Vietnam. The view from the steps to the cave.


Me and my backyard - Ha Long Bay.


Our luxurious Junk.


Relaxing at the Puku cafe. From left it's Steffi (the German), Michelle (the Scott), Me (the Martian) and Veronica (the Canadian). Puku was so wonderfully chill and had good food, friendly people and funky music. I spent many hours there reading Grisham pulp.


A railway that passes right through a narrow residential road.


The delicious Tamarind cafe, where we ate far too many meals because it was veggie and we had many vegetarians and it was cheap. Steffi and Veronica are accosted by one of the ubiquitous fruit merchants who walk the streets. Michelle observes, amused.


A busy but normal street in Hanoi. I almost got hit by a motorcycle that day. She stopped with the tire touching my toe.


Unsanitary meat. I guess that was my lunch the next day.


Michelle, Steffi and Veronica eating on the street. Dirty-licious!

Freezing my ass off in Ishiyama

It is really incredible how cold it is indoors. It's got to be close to zero degrees in Veronica's apartment. I'm sitting with a heater aproximately 6 inches from my ass and my flanks are cold!

The gang of Mike D, Shannon, Warren and I came down south to Ishiyama tonight (on a schoolnight!) to watch a movie and - to my surprise - eat dinner. Veronica prepared a lovely stir fry and potato furai (fries) and some salad, but I wasn't sure if there would be dinner so I ate nikuman on the way. How boorish of me. Nikuman are these doughy balls that have meat in the middle and are only available in the winter in Japan. They sell them in the combinis for 100 yen (convenience stores for a dollar). So I was only half hungry but I enjoyed the well-prepared feast, and then we all sat down and flipped through some of the dvds I bought in Vietnam for a dollar each. We ended up choosing "The Whole Ten Yards" which was filmed in the theatre by someone with a video camera, and the sound would cut low every time gunshots happened. Also it was one of the most rambling, pointless movies I've seen. The evil Hungarian boss was funny though. "You want a slice of the pee?" etc. in a non-Hungarian way.

I got a slight reprieve in my work hours tomorrow morning so that I don't have to get up at 5:30 to catch an early train from Ishiyama to Nagahama. I'll be able to get a regular sleep, which is good because I need it.

Started reading Atwood's "The Blind Assassin" today. It's nice to read about Toronto, makes me feel at home even in far-away Japan. I can't help thinking Atwood was consciously referring to the other Margaret's "The Stone Angel" in some parts, and to "A Bird in the House" in others. This is what taking a Margaret Laurence seminar does to one.

Did I mention it's cold?

Ah, those were the days...

Having picnics and chasing butterflies on green lawns in the sunshine, beneath the humming power lines at the suburban park, I remember all too fondly my days in Ajax and wonder if almost anything can be romanticized with the passing of time. It's what I grew up with and one day I'll have to return there, maybe not to the suburbs, but at least to live in Toronto when I'm old if I never go back while I'm young. But I think fond memories favour the summers, though I can recall the winters well enough, and even some heart-pumping snowball matches with Sarain and the local kids at James S. Bell, and the few good shots I got in. Sarain was always on my side because I was never a good enough shot to go it alone, and she could be counted on for the right amount of indignation if someone started packing iceballs instead of snowballs. The kids usually listened to that, I think. But summer days beat the wintertime hands down, and that's why I'd better live in a warm clime - maybe France or mild England though it's got it's share of rain for sure - and make some memories there. Then I can be nostalgic for those places when I'm older, and how much better is that than chilly old Nagahama?

Went back to school today and distributed Vietnamese candies and some bowls to the very special four people who got them by virtue or by station. My tantosha definitely got hers by station. She didn't even welcome me back or ask about the tsunami, though everyone else did, including teachers who had never spoken to me before. I told the story so many times it's getting to be a little polished. I'm having fun with it. I have my first solo class tomorrow - long overdue - but I'm not eager for it. Photocopied activities from the book. I'm sure they'll love it.

Return to Nagahama

I'm back in the 'Hama, safe and cold again in my apartment. Veronica visited for the afternoon because we were both lonely. How sad to be lonely so quickly, but it really is isolating being in Japan in the wintertime. People don't go out much. I don't even feel like walking in my kitchen, the floor is so cold. Where are those slippers?

School tomorrow morning. Bed now.

p.s. I slept fifteen hours after getting in yesterday.

Tidal Wave Photo Journal

This fateful day fell almost midway in my vacation in south-east Asia. Since the second day I had been at odds with most of the group I was travelling with. Ben, Dan and, to a lesser extent, Mike (not Mike Dobkin - other Mike) had established a kind of power triumvirate and had ceased listening to outside input. Unfortunately I had already bought tickets to Ao Nang and reserved a room at the guest house. I should have gone my own way after Chiang Mai. On December 26th we decided to go on a snorkelling trip. I was tempted to do something else, just to have time away from them, but the thought of snorkelling compelled me to come along.

Remember, you can click on the picture to enlarge it.


We went out in a longtail boat, trying to ignore the tension in our group.


The coastline is rugged and beautiful. Many strange rock formations dot the coast.


This was our captain, who went by the curious name of Mr. Yes. After the tidal wave hit he walked several kilometres over mountainous terrain back to civilization.


A peaceful Phra Nang beach and our longtail boat. Twenty minutes later as we were climbing in the boat to take off Mr. Yes spotted the tidal wave.


The wave begins sucking in boats. In the background you can see the mast of a small sailboat whose fate I don't know.


The wave overpowers the captains and they have to give up their boats.


The boats abandoned, we retreat from the wave.


We ran up a mountain, a shaken band of sunbathers and Thai resort workers. In the chaos, Ben, Dan and Mike went their own way. I made sure to stay close to Richelle. She didn't have any shoes and the mountain was rough.


Confusion on the mountain. Information was unreliable and there were at least six different languages among us.


We had to sit on the lava rocks or a sliding dirt hill. Many people had no shoes. This couple is Czech and their 16 year old daughter was in tears a couple of feet away.


The Thai's took the highest ground, clambering nimbly up lava rock.


Richelle and I emerge from the jungle after rappelling down the mountainside along with children, injured people and all others. It was very dangerous.


A map of where we were. We started out on Phra Nang beach but crossed the mountain after 6 hours crouching and waiting for news.


Fish in the sidewalk, about 200 metres from the beach on the other side of the mountain from Phra Nang (where we started).


The resort at Railay beach. The pool is unnaturally full and has a deck chair in it. It felt strange that the evening sky was clear and beautiful.


Everything loose was picked up and thrown back somewhere else.


Boats were piled everywhere on their sides, upside down, and some where smashed. None were seaworthy to get us out of there.


We trekked up a hill to a safe resort between the mountains that evening. This is a view of the refugees from the Good View bar and hotel in the hills. They were still serving beer and overcharging for food when the refugees settled in.


The lawn in front of the hotel was filled with people who spent the night out there. Richelle and I slept on a wooden deck due to her grass allergy, and I had a concrete beam jutting beneath my back.


The next morning, hundreds gathered on a boat-strewn beach to await evacuation.


Richelle waiting for the rescue boat. She really didn't want me to take this picture but it was too late. It had been taken. Now she's glad.


I'm waiting for rescue boats on Railay beach. In the end we crossed to another beach because the waves were too fierce here. Really? Fierce?

Hanoi, Day 21

I'm in Hanoi, Vietnam where I've been for the past four days. I've been travelling around with a group of JETs, all female, who have been doing humanitarian work in Vietnam, and most importantly with Veronica. I dropped in during the vacation phase of their tour (avoiding the hard part, yes) and we've done a few of the major tourist things in Vietnam, working our way northwards along the coast from Nha Trang.

Ha Noi, a tourist town about 8 hours from Nha Trang by train was full of shops and tailors. Veronica had a jacket and jeans custom tailored for her and Michelle and Rachel also had clothes made. I considered it, especially for custom shoes, but decided that money and bag space were issues. Besides, I didn't want it to become entirely a shopping experience. Despite that intention I spent many hours in the used bookstores negotiating over an exchange of my old Lonely Planet Thailand for a cheap photocopy of a novel. The bookstores in Vietnam are rife with cheap photocopies - or should I say ridiculously overpriced at about 7 dollars a book. Most places didn't want my book, but I eventually got an exchange for some light reading - "The King of Torts" by Grisham.

Later we took off for a tour of the Chang temple ruins - a very exciting look into thousand year-old ruins that are still in use today by the Chang people. There were many yonis and lingams which are used as symbols of fertility - large stone cisterns and pillars. The place was crawling with tourists so it was hard to get good shots, but maybe it's okay to have photos of the ruins with lots of German, Italian and Israeli tourists, because that was what I saw there. Coming back from the ruins we took a boat along the Red river (no, not the one near Winnipeg) and visited a few local settlements with handicraft economies. Tourist traps they were, and one little boy was relentless in pushing his clay whistles on all the tourists, frowning and saying "5000 dong for four. You buy. You buy. 5000 dong for four." At one point I was going to buy it but at the last second he said "10 000 dong" so I declined. It's difficult to know what to feel - sure I felt a bit annoyed but this kid is trying to eke out a living, not make big profits. Veronica and I and a few Italian tourists got lost in the village and when we got to the boat everyone was waiting lined up on their seats, looking at us. We did it again later in Ha Long, but what can I say, I like looking around and they don't give us all that much time.

When we got back from My Son (the Chang ruins) we took a taxi to the Da Nang airport, and then flew to Hanoi. In Hanoi we did the Ha Long Bay boat tour for two days, and slept aboard a luxurious Junk. Yes, Junk can be luxurious. We saw the famous caves - huge caverns of stalactites lit up with many-coloured lights, and a concrete path running through for about 600 metres or so. The caverns were covered with an undulating stone roof that had been formed by the lapping of waves centuries earlier - perhaps millenia. It was definitely a dead cave, meaning that it had dried out and the stalactites were frozen in their current state. This is something I learned from a Danish man while on my hill tribe trek in Chiang Mai. After the cave tour we went back to the boat, which was anchored in a bay surrounded by rock hills rising from the water, and filled with many other wooden sea boats of Asian design. The view is spectacular, and is considered as one of the unofficial wonders of the world. Later that night we played cards and drank beer in the dining room of our boat, and had great fun.

These past few days since Ha Long we've spent in Hanoi, seeing the famous Water Puppet show - it's crazy! the stage is a pool of water and the puppets are dragons and fishermen and leopards that climb trees - and generally walking around. We visited Ho Chi Minh's mausoleum - he was the communist leader of Vietnam and their liberator - although that's a contentious interpretation, especially in the south. They made us walk single file down a broad paved road to get to the tomb, and took away our posessions, and hushed us when we talked. Very Foucaultian control of the body.

Now I'm awaiting my flight, my stupid flight back to Bangkok before I fly back to Seoul and then Osaka. I tried to change it to a more direct flight to Seoul but the ticket was a discount one, and not negotiable. Looking for omiyage, the gifts that are expected in Japan when I return from a vacation abroad.