Mmmm, chocolate orange. So delicious.

After eating Pasta Michi, James came back to my apartment to get his bike. I was sitting in my room reading a book when I heard really strange noises from my bathroom… strange noises for someone just washing their hands?

What was that? I asked, because my sink is really bad, because I can’t take the time to fix it, so oh man, what if it has really gone wrong this time?

He says, I was plunging your sink. You need to fix that.

Yeah someday I will.

I had a crazy weekend, which I’ll write about later.

Suffice it to say it was very physically demanding, and I am tired.

Last night I went out to DEAR for some Italian food. I try not to order the same thing every time, so I chose the smoked salmon and broccoli pasta. UGH. It was so BORING. And that is just wrong.

Pasta should never be a yawn-fest. It shouldn’t look and taste like nothing. It shouldn’t be lacking in both flavor and texture. You FAIL, DEAR. Solid F on that pasta.

Tonight I’ll be sewing beads onto my Glinda skirt, and watching Ugly Betty or the X Factor. Hmm, actually, as I recall, there was some weird fashion show drama on TV last week that I got really into. My costume, at any rate, is going to be awesome! I’ve got the skirt and top and shoes all sorted, I just need Glinda’s wand and crown and I’m all set!

For your amusement:

Tonight I bought a cool shirt that says “FISH AND CHIP”, with a heart with the American flag in it. HA! It’s got long sleeves so it’s perfect for the weather. I wore it, and took some of the most hilarious purikura I’ve ever taken.

Purikura is short for Purinto Kurabu (Print Club). It’s a magical photobooth where you choose from a zillion different frames and styles, take about 8 photos, pick the best ones, and then step into another little booth to decorate them with doodles and stamps and backgrounds and all sorts of crazy things. Then you print them out and cut them up and stick them on things!!

Check out this crazy page for one girl’s example of her purikura.

If you ever visit me in Japan (I’m looking at YOU, family!) we will take purikura.

Purikura is super fun, and I don’t know why I don’t do it more often. OH WAIT YES I DO. It’s because I never think to, and when I do, I’m usually by myself. There is a kind of idea… that doing purikura by yourself, and having a picture album full of pictures of yourself alone is kind of a sad thing. Well yeah, but it’s also good to just take a photo by yourself… I get to take excellent series photos, and can make all the decisions about poses and decoration.

And then I get to keep all the photos, too (except for the ones I give away). I thought it would be funny recently to “attack” someone with purikura, and so I took a series by myself and then left them for this person to find (Ok, it’s my gentleman friend. HA! I love saying that). The first set I took was a little disjointed, but the ones I took tonight tell a funny story. I can’t wait to use them.

Now, I have a lot of funny ideas for purikura photo series. I need to get a stuffed dog for the next one, and write a little story line that can be done in 4-6 photos.

Hurr hurr hurr.

Let’s see. Today, I taught at Rogakko, and it was awesome. I did arts and crafts all day, with the 2-3 nensei in Jr. High (8th/9th graders), and the 5/6 nensei in elementary school. We made paper pumpkins and talked about Halloween and decorated a Christmas tree with Halloween cutouts. HAHA! I also had kids finish up their Halloween mobiles and paper maché pumpkins.

Lunch was a delicious piece of fish with skin on. At first it looked dry, but when you bit in, it was sweet and fishy and just the right amount of juicy. MMMMM. Couple that with a bowl of rice, miso soup, and a carton of milk, and you have a perfect lunch. WAY TO GO, JAPAN.

Seriously, I love the food here so much. I can’t believe the things I eat, but it’s soooo good.

The rest of the day I spent studying and preparing for classes. Tomorrow and Thursday, I have no class because of exams. Study party! If I was really smart, I’d take a day off and clean or go get my re-entry permit, or do something productive. But actually, I think that I have a day off coming up soon… a substitute holiday for a weekend I’ll be “working” (going to the school festival. Heck yeah!).

My English club is having a Halloween party on Friday, and on Friday night, I’m heading out west. Saturday morning, we’ll drive even more west, rent bikes, and bike for something like 70 kilometers across the bridge/island system that gets you from Shikoku to Hiroshima prefecture. Oh my yes. They say it’s a 4-7 hour trip one way. I’m super excited, despite having no “serious” bike experience.

I mean, I ride a mamachari. It only has one gear. A mamachari is a “Mama Chariot”, the bike with the big honkin’ basket in the front, and the really 1950’s design. It is the bicycle version of a people carrier, because you can put at least 2 kid seats on it, or put your friend on the back shelf bit (if you are lucky enough to have a shelf on the back). I feel like I should be wearing penny loafers and a pleated skirt when I ride mine. OH WAIT. That is what all students wear every day (and they ride mamacharis). Yup, pretty perfect, Japan.

That’s my days lately. And now, to the store to get potatoes for potato soup!!!

So the more I read about the things happening in Iran, the more it was seeming that as a number of countries (read: the US) have some interest in the situation, their fingers were perhaps pulling the strings behind the spontaneous outbreak of a color revolution.

At first, that made me feel crabby, because a revolution of the common folk is again chalked up to sticky fingers manipulating the populous and in turn, the bloggers who have been (therefore) mindlessly spreading the information about the Iranian people. It cheapens honest people’s efforts to get the word out about something they believe in.

Then I thought about it a bit more. A comment from someone here in Tokushima was that “is there any country that could have a revolution now a days that you would not [speculate] was the US covertly overthrowing the government?”

And here it is. I don’t know what’s really going on behind the scenes, as it were. While I think it’s important to know what governments are up to, what we’re forgetting here is that while we marvel or speculate over how and what has happened in terms of turning this revolution into a more global cause across the internet, people die on the ground. Who cares who the players are when the pawns die for them? I don’t need to hear one more conspiracy theory that removes focus from the fact that someone somewhere is standing up for something.

Maybe it’s a masterful work of international politics. Maybe the people are manipulated into wanting what the player wants. Does that invalidate their wants as a people? When we forget about them as a people and see them merely as means to an end, then yes, it does.

And on a different note (because Iran really is difficult to put into good words) today is Tuesday, and I love Tuesday. Tuesday is the day I go to Rogakko. Rogakko is a always a day of small classes, lunch with students, and enjoyable class activities.

Today for example, we used kid’s doctor toys to act out conversations in a hospital (Senior High School 3rd grade). Then (SHS 2nd grade) we played a game about taking a bath that I had drawn up the night before (using my phone bill as a straight edge: take THAT, fiscal responsibility!) Later, (SHS 2nd grade, Academic course) we did one-on-one reading and past participle work. Lunch was curry rice.

I love Tuesdays!

Lastly, a cool thing that happened today was when I sat down to study Japanese. I recently bought two new study books, geared towards Grammar and Reading, and Vocabulary and Kanji for the JLPT Level 3 (which I’ll take in December). And lo, it all just clicked today in my Grammar book.

I really enjoy these particular books because they give you kanji within the readings and examples, but only give you the furigana (telling you how to read each kanji) the first couple of times. After that, you’re expected to remember what you’ve read. So I’m working harder. I’m remember more, because I’m expected too.
The other thing is, the examples and general explanations are all in Japanese. All that my workbook says for a grammar point is “While …ing”, to tell you what the point means.

It’s all because of my reading intensive Japanese lessons, and because I started playing attention to when my JTE would explain English grammar points in Japanese.

That’s about all I have for today. It rained the most amazing ocean-storm style rain last night, and I’d like to go outside today before it rains again.

In my life, I’ve experienced disillusionment. I’ve had ideals about people, relationships, endings of books, and places. And I’ve had a lot of those ideals crushed.

Something I’ve learned is that having my ideals and fantasies broken isn’t just the loss of innocence, but rather proof of the fact that I still have a sort of innocence.
Maybe innocence isn’t the right word. My notions about what life would be like in Japan, for instance, were not born just from innocence, but from lack of experience. Intellectually, I knew, but from experience, I didn’t know.

Also, I knew that I didn’t know. I knew coming here that there was going to be a lot that I would have to figure out, and unlearn. A lot of my notions about how people should be, how groups should function, how schools should teach, and how life should be lived have been questioned. Some of those, in my mind, have somewhat objective answers. What is best for a human? What is best for a society of people (who have been raised a certain way)?

And some of those are subjective. What is best for me? What is the best way for me to teach, given my background and the background of the folks I’m teaching? How should I live? Can I live this way or that way, and be happy? How much of my own foolish hopes should I sacrifice for others, and how much of reality should be sacrificed in the face of foolish hopes?

That’s sort of serious. But I’m thinking about it, as I think about what to do in the next month, year, and so on.

But recently, I had two somewhat foolish ideals broken.

One of them happened today, which is why I thought of all this.

1. Marzipan

Do you know what marzipan is? I didn’t. For years, I lived without knowing what marzipan was. I had seen it, surely, but it had never been identified. To me, marzipan was a word in a book. It conjured up images of sugar cakes with artsy toppings, Marie Antoinette style sweets, the kind of fanciful desserts that may or may not come to life and grant you wishes.

I decided, eventually, that I never wanted to see marzipan. I was pretty sure that even if marzipan was really great, it would never live up to my expectations.

One day, as a friend and I were driving to the beach in Anan, she offered me a square of gum. Ooo, gum.

“Yeah, I thought it was gum when I bought it,” she said as I popped it in my mouth, “But then, surprise, it was marzipan. Eat a bunch, I don’t really want it.”

I froze in the act of biting down. I am not kidding you either, as I bit down on marzipan for the first time, I broke a tooth. This is really stupid, because marzipan is like a soft taffy, but I guess my teeth are really weak. Also, I was shocked.

Marzipan turned out to be a little cube of off-white soft sweet. I didn’t say anything as I slowly finished eating it. It was a good taste, actually, but it still tasted like disappointment.

1. Macaroons

Unlike marzipan, I was introduced to macaroons as an image, not a word.

These are macaroons, if you haven’t ever seen one:

1. Pierre Herme’s box of Macaroons, 2. * Macaroons., 3. Macaroons ~, 4. Vanilla macaron

When I saw these, I was pretty sure that only fabulous Parisians, fashionistas, fairy princesses, and whimsical lady photographers and part-time picnickers ever ate macaroons. I’m serious. Look at them, for heaven’s sake. That is not the color of food. Purple is not a food.

But they do look delicious, don’t they?

I never ate a macaroon until today. For one, I didn’t know where to get one. For two, I didn’t want to eat one. They tasted fabulous in my imagination, and I was content to let them remain in the gloved fingers of fabulous and whimsical young women.

Even thought I secretly wanted to be one of those fabulous and whimsical women. You know, the ones who live in a loft in Rome, came from the plains of North America, have offbeat but charming fashion-sense, and ride scooters wearing retro goggles.

Well, today I gave an interview to a grad student studying ESL teaching in Japan. As a Thank-You gift, she sent a bag of mini macaroons to my supervisor and myself.

I thought about it for a while before eating mine. I took it out of the little packet and sniffed it experimentally. It was pink, and smelled appropriate. The top was hard, like I imagined. I sniffed it again. My supervisor started laughing at me.

“Oh, what the heck,” I thought, and took a bite.

I won’t go into what I had imagined vs. what actually happened. But have you ever read a book where something turns to sand or sawdust in a character’s mouth? That actually happened. I sat at my desk with sand in my mouth.

Oh, macaroons.

You were so much better in my dreams.

I’m getting to be a pretty good cook again.

Of course, not to toot my own horn, but I was a pretty darn good cook to begin with. But coming here, it’s been a bit of a challenge to find my cooking feet again. For instance, my apartment has no oven, but apparently my microwave has the capabilities to bake a cake… if only I knew which button to press. It’s that sort of thing.

Most of my shopping is based on the pictures on the box, or if I can see what’s in the container or not. Surprisingly, given the cost of raw ingredients and the fridge space available, it seems more cost effective to simply buy the 300 yen lunches from the basement of the train station (which are actually really good… there is a thriving and highly competitive deli-lunch-box business going on down there). But I really like cooking, so I keep trying.

Last night I decided to make teriyaki chicken. The teriyaki sauce is made from soy sauce, sugar, rice wine (mirin) and sake. I had no mirin, and the sake I had… well… I THINK it was sake. It smelled very very boozy, and had the right bottle shape and color, and after I had mixed up the sauce, well, it didn’t quite smell like teriyaki but it did smell like something I would eat! So I said “very well then”, and stuck the chicken in the fridge to marinate while I made the chocolate mousse.

The chocolate mousse was a very different story. I’m pretty sure I used the right kind of cream (at least, I’m POSITIVE that it was cream that I used) but the chocolate was iffy, as was the recipe itself. Also, I discovered too late that I didn’t have any measuring utensils. At all. Not even metric ones. But at that point, I was pretty dang determined to see it through.

Let’s just say that I’ve done better. It was edible, certainly. I will be eating it all (but not all at once… too many eggs for one sitting) and not just dumping it in the bin.

Tonight I’ll make spaghetti, or go visit a pizza parlor for which I have a free pizza coupon.

I think the most disappointing grocery experience yet is the discovery that ground hamburger is sold in tiny little boxes at high cost, and they only stock about 2 boxes at a time in the store. When it gets cold, I’m going to stock up for a week, and then make a pot of sloppy joes and rejoice in the splendor of heavy midwestern food.

Until then, I will gobble up noodles (soba is fantastically delicious) and sweet potatoes (famous in this region, and super delicious when they are batter-fried). I will eat okonomiyaki and learn how to make my own (it’s like a little pizza made out of flour-egg-cabbage batter, with mayo and veggies and meat and other sauces on top). Eventually, I will bake a cake in my microwave, hopefully, without burning down the city.

Oh! I almost forgot… one of the first things I made was Onigiri – japanese rice balls with filling, wrapped in roasted seaweed. I put little cherry tomatoes in the middle, and some pickled meat and veggies from the deli. When I showed up at school with this lunch, all the lady teachers were super impressed, and totally shocked to find out what I had put in the middle. We’re talking the “can’t find the words, calling over the other sensei to tell her about it” kind of shocked.

It was hard to separate the sense of “wow, you cooked japanese food!” from “you’re totally off your rocker to mix rice and tomatoes!”

Oh well, no matter. It’s my lunch.

Shinjuku is where our Hotel is. That would be the crazy neon part of Tokyo, as I understand it. How many panchinko shops can you fit on one block? Quite a number, apparently….

Last night after we checked in, I did the normal things… checked my email, ironed my clothes for the next day. Then I took a walk to look for dinner and amusements. Not having a friend or comrade with me (it’s hard for me to just magically make a friend to walk around with, for some reason) I was pretty free. It’s a bit awkward to sit in a noodle shop all by your lonesome though, so I hit up a shop called “Lawson” and grabbed a bunch of things from the shelves that looked as if they wouldn’t stress my stomach too much.

I got:
2 onigiri (rice balls), one with Pickled Mystery Wiggly Vegetation inside, and the other with chopped seaweed and some sort of crunchy vegetable (it tasted like a very bland bell pepper).
1 box of red bean mochi
1 bottle of Jasmine tea, which smelled like flowers, and tasted like flower-scented shampoo.

Rice fills me up really nicely, so that was a good choice all in all. It was also nice and cheap, and left me with lots of tme to wander up and down the streets. I window shopped all the restaurants just to see what I could eat later. My favorite was a sandwich board with vague drawings of meat platters, each with an English name such as “Beef Meat Superlative” and “Hormone”. I wish I had a picture, but as I was pulling out my camera, the hostess/hawker bustled out at me, communicating quite clearly that if I wanted that photo, I was going to be obligated by international relations to eat some Hormone.

No thank you.

Walking around here at night, even alone, feels really safe. It felt a lot like walking around in San Francisco, minus the hills. When I couldn’t find things, I said, “Alright, just be brave and ask”. Then I completely choked on my words.

Me: !&a%@@#^ doko desu ka?
Police Man: …..post… office….?
Me: HAI! (nodding like crazy)
Police Man: (makes a little map with his hands)

But in the end, I got to the post office! That is where the ATMs are for international $.
And again, in the store, looking for a 3-plug to 2-plug converter…

Me & Store Clerk: (Lots of gesturing and nodding and pointing at the product)

I wound up being sent a block down to a different electronics store, and found the plug by sheer luck. But I talked with people, which was exciting and just goes to show that while I pull my pantomime and Japanese skills up to par, I’ll still be able to communicate.

Next time though, I’m bringing my little sketchbook with me to help out.