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As usual, it's taken me longer to get around to writing this entry than I have any good excuse for. I've now been back in Canada for two weeks. The time has gone surprisingly fast, although time seems to be behaving oddly lately. In many ways, I feel as though I never left home, that my ten months in Japan were just an extended dream sequence like that awful season of Dallas. Everything here feels the same; the sense of reverse culture-shock I was anticipating has never come. I'm not entirely sure what this past year has taught me, what lessons I should be reflecting on. Instead I'm impatient, waiting for new adventures to take me out of my present boredom. Of course I've been delighted to reconnect with so many people I love but I remain struck by the sense that, although Ontario is my home, it's not where I'm supposed to be. So we'll see where the future takes me. As for this blog, it's future is certain: Jen has done Japan. Sayonara guys, thanks for keeping up with me while I've been away. I'll let you know what I'm up to next once I figure that out for myself.

So Long, Farewell

Wow, look at this, two posts in the same week! I'm writing this during a no-show on my third-to-last day of work at Nova. Now, while there are certainly some things about this job that I've grown to loathe, on the whole, I've greatly enjoyed my go at being Jen-sensei. The best thing about my job so far has been the chance to teach so many incredible, interesting, hard-working, and just plain adorable students. There are now many favourites whom I have taught for the last time, and may infact never see again. The constant farewells have put me into a hyper-emotional state for the past week. Yesterday I said goodbye to Eri, a young, shy housewife whom I have been teaching every Thursday since I began working here in September. Though her English level is still quite low, I have learned about her love for Italy and U2's The Edge, as well as her plan to see the sunrise from the top of Mt. Fuji on the morning of her next birthday. Later in the day I had my last lesson with Rei, a university administrator in her mid-forties who frequently suffers from giggle attacks and with whom I share a love for all things pink.

First up today was Rieko, a bubbly doctor's wife who sings opera, gives free tours of Tokyo to foreign visitors, and loves to study amphibiens. I then taught my demons, the brother-sister pair of three year old Saki and five year old Ryota, who presented me with drawings of myself and a blue dragon (at least I hope it was a dragon and not me...). The hardest goodbye was with perhaps the most adorable six year old to ever live, Matsuri. For several months, Matsuri and I had one-on-one lessons every week. Although she has now aged out of my class and is taught by another teacher, we still chat before and after lessons. Today Matsuri presented me with a letter written by her and a request from her mum that I send her a letter from Canada. I'm now greatly looking forward to continuing my friendship with my six-year-old Japanese pen-pal.

My last two days will no doubt include more difficult goodbyes, including with Reina, a moody 13 year old who also happens to be my #1 favourite student. I'll be sure to bring along extra tissues.

The View from the Top

I can’t quite believe it, but I now have only 8 days remaining in Japan. Although my time here is quickly dwindling, I did manage one last adventure this weekend, perhaps my grandest yet. On Monday morning, I watched the sunrise from the top of Mt. Fuji.

Climbing Mt. Fuji has been a goal of mine ever since I decided to come to Japan. However, I tend to underestimate my physical abilities and had great doubts as to whether I’d be able to complete the trek. Fortunately, I met Greg, who could make a living as a motivational speaker and never lets me get away with wussing out. Climbing Miharayama in Oshima in March also injected me with a good deal of confidence. Conquering Fuji-san seemed a fitting conclusion to my sojourn through Japan.

On Sunday night, I left work with a backpack of supplies (including headlamps, a rainsuit and toilet paper) and a head full of advice supplied by my co-worker, Kee, who trekked up Fuji last year. I arrived in Shinjuku, where I met Greg, along with his father, Alan, and little brother Patrick, who have been visiting for the past week. As we boarded our bus bound for Fuji’s 5th station (technically about half-way up the mountain- if you’re a sucker for punishment you can start at the very bottom, but most climbers start where the road ends), we realized that only two (!) of the people on board with us were Japanese. Everyone else was gaijin, clutching their Lonely Planet guidebooks and having speaking English. After ten months of living in Japan, I found it quite strange to be able to understand the random snippets of conversation around me.

Two hours later, at 10:00pm, we were greeted by the chilly night air of the 5th station. We put on our gear, got out our flashlights, and were on our way up the mountain at 10:30. The first stretch of the hike is quite easy, with very little actual climbing. Looking out over the edge of the path, we could see nothing but grey fog. Below us stretched an empty, cavernous abyss. After about a half hour we reached the 6^th station, where a guide handed us maps of the route up. From here the trail got much more difficult- it was like climbing up a sand dune. I found myself having to take frequent breaks and questioning whether I was capable of climbing this trail for five hours. After about forty minutes, we encountered a chain blocking our path with a sign reading “No Entry”- on the other side. It was here that we realized that we had been climbing up a supply road and not the actual trail, which had stairs. Ironically enough, on the descent we discovered that we had gone off the trail just steps from where we given the maps.

Feeling much relieved by the easier path that greeted us, we continued to the next station and the rest huts that dotted the path. Looking up, the night sky concealed everything but the next hut looming high in the distance. Soon the terrain became rocky, and I often found myself on all fours. Nonetheless, we kept our spirits up as the rest huts were frequent and our pace steady. The summit finally came into view as we reached the last station at around 2:30. I was pumped and eager to make the last stretch of the climb. What followed were perhaps the most grueling hour and half of my life. The rocks were replaced by slippery volcanic stones that gave way as I stepped on them. I could hardly walk twenty paces without feeling the need to stop and rest. With no rest huts breaking up the climb, the final leg felt interminable. Finally, as the night sky began to brighten with the first hints of twilight, I crossed under the Torii gate that marked the summit of Fuji.

While I was relieved to have made it to the top, I can’t say that the summit of Fuji was much fun. The weather was cold and the air was thin. After a few minutes at the top I began to feel sick and am told by Greg that my lips turned a strange shade of blue. While the boys hiked around the crater, I bundled up in all the clothes I’d packed and huddled into a little ball. I even left my own special mark on Mt Fuji, consisting mostly of the candy and coca-cola I’d eaten on the way up.

Nevertheless, I’ll never forget watching the sun peek out from behind the clouds at the top of Japan. The endless chasm of night gave way to views of a snowy, rocky mountainside that slowly turned green with trees as it extended downwards. The sky became a fierce blue and cloud moved in both above and below us. The beauty of the scene was heightened by my sense of accomplishment. Climbing Fuji, like living the past ten months in Japan, was often difficult and unpleasant. There were moments when I wanted to give up, when I wondered if it hadn’t been a big mistake to have started in the first place. But I made it, thanks in no small part to Greg’s encouragement, discovering my resiliency along the way and finding new inspiration for bigger and better adventures to come.

Comings and Goings

I’m afraid I haven’t gotten up to much adventuring in the past few weeks. However, that isn’t to say that they’ve been entirely uneventful. At the end of May my delightful Kiwi roomie Alyce decided it was time to head back home to New Zealand. In her place, I was told to expect the arrival of a girl named Natalie, who would be coming two days after Alyce left. Alyce was a first-class roommate, introducing me to the joys of Scrabble, Michael Frenti, Suntory Premium Malts and the delicious little curry restaurant in Fuchu.

It was at that little curry restaurant that Greg and I had dinner with Alyce on her last night in Japan. Upon our arrival home, we set out to play one last round of Scrabble, a game that had become something of a tradition amongst the three of us. Whilst searching for a snack in my food cupboard, I discovered an extra loaf of bread and a can of pineapple. I assumed that Alyce had donated this food to me, seeing as she was leaving the next day, and thanked her for it. It was then that she informed me that she had done no such thing. Puzzled, we began looking around the apartment and noticed that there were a few other suspicious new items lying around- a DVD player amongst them. This seemed odd, as burglars are more likely to take electronics than to leave them behind. Apparently, my new roomie had arrived already, begun moving her things in, and left again, all during the course of our dinner in Fuchu.

I went to sleep that night with an uneasy feeling. Who was this mystery person who was slowly infiltrating my apartment, three days early, and then sneaking out again? I woke up early the next day so that I could have breakfast with Alyce before she went to the airport. As we were eating, she pointed out to me that the door to our spare bedroom was closed. The mystery roomie was lurking inside! As I tearfully bid goodbye to my stellar roommate, I was apprehensive about the new one, sleeping just meters away from me.

Two hours later, Nat emerged. I quickly discovered that I’d had nothing to fear. Transferring to Tokyo from another part of Japan, Nat had arranged with Nova to move a few days earlier than originally planned. Unfortunately, Nova’s foreign personnel department didn’t get around to telling me about that. Since her arrival, I’ve taken Nat to the little curry restaurant and we’ve played two games of Scrabble. I’m happy to have the chance to pass on the traditions of #202 Claire Fuchu I’ve inherited from Alyce to another stellar roommate.

Just today I found out that I can expect yet another new roomie at the end of June. For the first time since January (save for that one night a couple of weeks ago), all the rooms at my apartment will be filled. Annie is arriving from Australia and will be working at my school, Sengawa. As I enter my last few days in Japan, Annie will be embarking on her first. And so the circle of Nova life continues.

In Praise of No-Shows and Wireless Internet

Hey all,

Hope everything is going well in all the corners of your lives. Right now I'm technically supposed to be working. However, as luck would have it, my student decided not to come to her English lesson tonight. Which means I get to spend this period sitting in the Sengawa teachers' room and blog, mooching free internet off some poor soul in the general vicinity. As even more luck would have it, this is my third such free period today. And to make things even better, I'm getting paid. I tell you, this English-teaching gig really isn't so bad. It almost makes me sad to think I'll be leaving it relatively soon.

Last week I put a deposit on a flight home. I'll be back on North American soil (after 20 some odd tortuous travel hours) on July 18th. While, on the whole, I'm definitely ready to be back in my home and native land, more and more I'm discovering that I may just not hate the land of the rising sun all that much. The vast majority of the people I've met here have been stellar, the transportation system is phenomenal, even the despicable English splayed on street signs, train ads and t-shirts is becoming less annoying. I've been making a mental checklist of the things about my life I would change were I to stay here longer (1. move out of Tokyo. 2. climb the corporate ladder. 3. buy a pink scooter). Nonetheless, I know that this land is not my land, and the siren call of home (and my sister) are impossible to resist. Still, life here has been good, especially when I'm earning my yen whilst simultaneously wasting my time blogging.

Kansai

Okay, I know. My lack of posting and apologies for such at the beginning of each entry is becoming ridiculous. Nevertheless, gomen-nasai. Spring has most definitely sprung in Tokyo, the cherry blossoms have come and gone, replaced by fresh green leaves that I find equally as beautiful. Two weeks ago I went on my latest, and thus far lengthiest, adventure in Japan. For five days Greg and I explored the Kansai region, the historical heart (and tourist trap) of the country. First on our agenda was Nara, now a small city, but a thousand years ago an early capital of a united Japan. We arrived early, continuing our tradition of traveling through the night, and began ticking off the ruins of temples and castles that populate Nara’s sightseeing list. Throughout the day we were accosted by the mangy tame deer that roam Nara at will. Theoretically, the deer are symbols of good fortune sent by the gods (and excessively merchandisable); practically, they are slightly creepy and dirty. By 9:30 we’d arrived at the star attraction: Todai-ji, home to Daibutsu, the Great Buddha at Nara. Nara’s Buddha is the largest in Japan and is housed by the world’s largest wooden building. I have seen many impressive works of Buddhist art while in Japan but I think Todai-ji takes first place for sheer majesty. From its massive entrance gate to its lush grounds and intimidating guardian statues, Todai-ji radiates power. At the centre of it all is Daibutsu, seated in the lotus position, calm and serene, gladly accepting the prayers and supplications of his worshippers.

After some more exploring and a lunch of okinomiyaki (definitely my fave Japanese food, if you’re ever in the area, give it a try), we considered Nara complete and collapsed from exhaustion late in the afternoon.

Up early the next morning, we headed on a multi-leg journey (2 trains and a cable car) to Koya-San, a mountain top Buddhist temple complex that attracts many students (and even more tourists). Along the way, we met up with a couple of Norwegians who were traveling through Asia. They had arrived via the Trans-Siberian Railway, a journey that Greg and I had considered doing ourselves this summer. Definitely inspiring. We spent the afternoon exploring the many temples and enjoying the relative peace and quiet before checking into the temple where we were spending the night. Never having stayed in a temple before, I was a little uncertain of what to expect. We were met at the door by a tiny, hunch-backed monk with a paralyzed right leg who moved with an awkward waddling shuffle. We later found out that our monk had been an emergency rescue worker until ten years ago, when he suffered and aneurysm. Rather than undergoing medical rehabilitation, he chose instead to devote his life to meditation and now runs the temple as a guesthouse. For the most part, the temple was like any other traditional Japanese inn. We ate our meals with the other guests (a retired Japanese couple and a woman from Kobe and her friends from Germany and Switzerland) in a tatami-mat dining room and shared a scalding-hot communal bath (I’m getting more used to strangers seeing me naked now). However, we also got to observe the monks at morning prayers, ate only vegetarian food, and had to have our lights out by 10pm.

After breakfast the next day, we bid farewell to our monk and hiked to Koya-San’s holiest site, the tomb of Kobo Daishi, who founded Koya-San in 813AD. As a young monk, Kobo Daishi traveled to China and returned preaching a new brand of Buddhism. He is perhaps the closest thing to a Christ figure within Japanese religion. As such, his tomb is one of the most popular pilgrimage destinations in Japan; the path leading up to it is surrounded by the graves of thousands of the devout, wishing to be buried near their spiritual leader. It was unlike any other cemetery I’ve ever seen. There were no rows of meticulous orderly gravestones. Instead, the granite markers were strewn about the surrounding hills haphazardly, green moss overtaking and reclaiming them back to the earth. It was truly hallowed ground.

Unfortunately, as we approached Daishi himself, we encountered swarms of bus-tour pilgrims who’d skipped the cemetery walk in favour of the nearby gift shop parking lot. Religious sites in Japan seem to attract an odd mix of spiritual seekers, foreign backpackers looking for enlightenment, and camera-happy Japanese tourists. At first I was taken aback by the apparent sacrilege of these would-be pilgrims. However, such religio-tourism seems perfectly normal to the Japanese.

After paying our respects to Kobo Daishi, Greg and I set out for our last destination, Kyoto. Unfortunately, multiple days of lugging around heavy packs and nights of little sleep were starting to take their toll. Add in a sprinkling of rain, a skipped lunch and train confusion and you get two very irritable travelers. When finally we reached our inn in Kyoto we were content to just turn in early.

Kyoto was Japan’s capital from 794 until the Meiji restoration of 1868 and has remained Japan’s cultural centre. This means that there is a heck of a lot of historical sites to see in the city, most of which are temples. Drawing upon our lessons from the previous day, we decided that, instead of trying to pack in as many sites as possible and stressing out, we would instead take a leisurely pace and thoroughly enjoy the buildings we did see. To help us in this effort, we rented bikes from our innkeeper (an odd man who possessed a vast amount of knowledge about Kyoto and was intent on sharing it). Let me suggest, if you’re ever in Kyoto, rent bikes. By far the easiest way to get around and also a great deal of fun.

Our first stop was Nijo-jo, a castle built by the Tokugawa Shoguns. Its most impressive feature was its “hummingbird” floors, which chirp when stepped on, an ancient security alarm. After Nijo-jo we rode up to Ginkaku-ji, which was perhaps my favourite of all the places we visited in Kyoto. A temple that had also served as a salon for artists and poets in the 16^th century, Ginkaku-ji’s main building is quite simple. The grounds, however, including a gorgeous raked Zen garden and flower-lined pathways were a breath of serenity. Our final site of the day was Kiyumizu-dera, a massive temple complex suspended off the side of a mountain. Kiyumizu was by far the most grandiose of the temples we saw. It was also reeming with tourist groups, causing us to longingly wonder what the place must have been like a few centuries back, when its magnificent views and architecture could have been admired free from the screams of school children and souvenir vendors. Thoroughly satisfied with our more relaxed day, Greg and I rested up and prepared for our final day in Kansai before heading back to Tokyo.

Originally, we had planned to take a shinkansen (Japanese for “bullet train”- FYI, no one in Japan calls them bullet trains) home on our last afternoon. However, being that neither of us had to work until 1:00 the following afternoon, we decided to take yet another night bus back home, saving a wad of yen and allowing us an extra afternoon of vacation. After buying our bus tickets and emptying our packs into lockers, we headed for Kinkaku-ji, (also known as the Golden Pavillion), a temple gilded in gold. Though located on the edge of the city, the temple’s grounds are densely wooded, so that you feel as though you have stepped into another world upon entering them. Or you would, except that the requisite bus loads of school children were there, snapping pictures and screaming at each other. No matter, even they couldn’t dampen Kinkaku-ji’s radiance. I had seen pictures of this building prior to coming to Japan and had put it on my list of must-see places. I was not disappointed. The temple itself is rather small but shines like a jewel.

We spent our extra afternoon in the city relaxing in the Imperial Palace gardens and exploring the Heian Shrine, then enjoyed dinner at a gorgeous Indonesian restaurant. Kyoto is famous for its delicious traditional food. I ate none of it. Instead, Greg and I gorged on Nepalese, Israeli and Indonesian fare. Not being much of a fan of the more traditional Japanese stuff (eel? octopus? this is supposed to be food???), I think we made the right call.

Finally, it was time to bid goodbye to the Buddhas and bustle of Kansai and board our bus back to big bad Bubaigawara.

Worlds!

Last week I had the chance to indulge in one of my favourite activities: watching live figure skating. I have to confess, one of the deciding factors in my decision to come to Japan was the fact that Tokyo was hosting the 2007 World Figure Skating Championships. Not only did I luck out in being assigned to Tokyo, the arena where the event was being held is literally a five minute walk from Greg’s house. Unfortunately, as I discovered in January, tickets were both prohibitively expensive and difficult to get, owing to Japan’s recent emergence as a singles skating powerhouse. Fortunately, Japan still sucks at pairs and ice dance, my two favourite disciplines, so I was able to procure tickets to the first day’s events, the compulsory dance and the pairs short program, with little effort or money.

I’ll spare you the details of the actual competition (if you cared, you were probably watching on TV). I spent the first half of the day sitting alongside the fiancé of Mexican ice dancer Laura Munana. He, like the entire Mexican skating team, is actually from California. Having just flown into Tokyo the night before, he was much more interested in asking for sight-seeing recommendations and useful Japanese phrases than watching the actual competition- he’s more of a fan of his fiancé than he is of ice dancing, but has by now been to enough competitions that he’s starting to understand the basics.

During the second half of the day my section of the arena attracted a great deal of attention when Brian Joubert, the French heartthrob and eventual winner of the Men’s competition, sat a few rows away from me. While attempting to cheer on his French teammates he garnered a decent mob of autograph-seeking fans. This being Japan, the mob was actually more of an orderly, polite line than a free-for-all scrum.

Okay, now I am going to talk a bit about the actual skating. This competition was especially exciting for me as it was the first ever world championships of one of my favourite teams, and the last worlds for another. The day was kicked off with the compulsory dance of Tessa Virtue and Scott Moir, a team of young ice dancers from Ilderton, Ontario. I first noticed them years ago, when they were still pre-novice skaters, because they were so incredibly smaller than their competitors. Three years ago they won the Canadian junior title. Through a crazy coincidence, I wound up meeting their coach in Halifax and getting the chance to watch Tessa and Scott train with her while they were on their way to the Jr. World Championships. More than their incredible skating, I was impressed by how personable and fun these kids were. They’ve been skyrocketing up the ice dance ranks ever since, and finished a shockingly good 6^th in Tokyo.

The day ended with the final short program that Xue Shen and Hongbo Zhao of China will ever skate at a world championship. Over ten years of competition, they had won 5 world medals, including two golds, and two Olympic bronze medals. I fell in love with Shen and Zhao when I went to the 2001 worlds in Vancouver. The competition between Jaimie Sale and David Pelletier and the Russians Elena Berezhnaya and Anton Sikharulidze dominated the news, but it was Shen and Zhao’s quiet grace determination that won me over. They’ve improved so much over the years and become my all-time favourite skaters. Last August, it looked like the skating days might have been over when Hongbo ruptured his Achilles’ tendon. Having been back on the ice training for only a month, they managed to win the bronze medal at the Olympics. They continued skating this year to prove that they could regain their old form after the injury, which they did in Tokyo, setting a new world record in their short program and easily winning their third world title. And to add to the fairy tale ending, Hongbo proposed to Xue at the end of their Long Program.

Now begins the long, 7 month off-season. Hopefully this latest skating fix will hold me through to October!