Sushi and Chips

My Travel Writing Scholarship 2011 entry - Journey in an Unknown Culture

ladydowse — Sun, 27 Mar 2011 07:13:04 GMT

One year before the earthquake and tsunami struck I left Japan. I’d been teaching English in a remote mountain village. Before leaving I wrote a love letter to the country I had fallen head over heels for. Now it seems all the more poignant.
‘Words seem inadequate when we have communicated mainly through vague interpretation…all I can give you is a list of little things that over time I have come to love and when gone, I will surely miss:
Chopstick cramp, amazing stationary shops, baton men and their elaborate gestures, boys that hold hands and play with each others hair, being tall, cooking on one ring, not knowing what I’m cooking on that one ring, telling kids the Queen is my Mum, raw horse, people that exude elegance, driving in typhoons, one undeniably gorgeous person in every five, getting excited when I go to a supermarket in a city, cherry blossom, indoor BBQs, fires to heat schools, shinkansens, crazy fashion, public transport that runs to the second, the lady who gives me free cake, hot coffee in a can from a vending machine, gesturing the most elaborate things, Japanese beer, teaching over the sound of bugs, feeling ridiculously safe, rice fields, kids unaware they have swearwords on their hats, houses made of corrugated iron and wood, the little lady who looks terrified every time I walk through the door of her café, how hip it is to have a flask, heated toilet seats, wooden schools, playing soccer against 20 7yr old boys, ordering food at a ticket vending machine, seeing a volcano every weekend, bowing, giant penguin suits, trees in schools, igloos, wooden floors, walking through curtains to get to restaurants, bamboo forests, Ueno market, rickshaw men, characters climbing up buildings, TV’s in the street, hanging rice, kimonos, my pimpin’ phone, mail from Granddad stuffed with tea bags, 6yr olds beating me at table tennis, sunken tables, hanging your prayers under a tree, the reaction I get from people when I say I live in Iwaizumi, figuring out the Tokyo subway map, kids clapping when I arrive, the million different ways my name can be said and spelt, ordering by pointing, the sound of birds in the bathrooms, mini shinkansens that bring you sushi, the village chime that sounds like the Hovis adverts, being incapable of speaking English coherently, old ladies with big straw packs full of rice, plastic food displays, people always willing to help, inspirational quotes on T-shirts, Tokyo bay at night, the lack of rain, smiling to survive, making kids speak in a northern English accent, baffling festivals and knowing I survived with a smile on my face.
For all of this I thank you Japan…I’ll be back.’
And so I am. In July I start making a documentary about how my old village is rebuilding. Not the return I had in mind but I have no doubt that the country will be just as startlingly inspiring as it was before….just perhaps in a different way.

Bari: Weddings, Beatings, He/She’s and all that begins with C.

ladydowse — Tue, 20 Jul 2010 02:57:00 GMT

We pretty much knew things were going to be a bit special here after the first evening in Bari. Unfortunately, many of these little incidents and side notes that created such a special place are far too inappropriate and damaging to certain individuals that I can’t really write about them here…maybe in 10 years time I’ll write a book called ‘no knickers in a cathedral’ and reveal all. Until then I shall tell the rather less interesting, though still fairly bizarre, tale of my time in Bari…sans all the damaging, lurid details…

So essentially we had 200 kids (yes) gathered in an abandoned stadium (mmm) at a sports camp with a little bit of English thrown in for good measure (read as not good measure for the kids…perhaps torture). The first Monday was probably one of the most challenging days of my life. Twenty-five 7 year olds who boo English, run for the gate repeatedly, stare you down, stab each other with the handily placed metal poles kicking around and who try to rip up/destroy/kill/hide anything of any significance whatsoever. To help me in my plight I had Nicolo, my Italian coach, who would routinely scream at the kids, scare them shitless and then leave to smoke away his anger…which would make them behave for approximately 5 mins and him appear to resent me deeply for the next 5 hours. I must admit, I felt totally out of my depth. I cried out of sheer frustration for the stupidity of the situation…how can you have an English immersion camp with a bunch of Italians everywhere?! However, after a few well-directed chats and a good moan I soon found my groove with the kids. By Wednesday I had established a powerful symbiosis of a kick-ass sticker system, a much-used naughty chair, and a technique I call ‘chase, throw over the shoulder and carry back to camp’. At first I’m pretty sure my 20 boys hated me and my 5 girls thought I was the coolest girl they had ever met, but by the end of the week the boys were loving the tough love approach and unfortunately found out I could kick a ball, wrestle them and beat them at basketball…so finally…using every inch of my energy and all the patience I could muster, I made it through the two weeks.

I came to realise during these two weeks that you really can do anything if you have good people around, especially if they force you to take an amusing view on all the chaos that surrounds you. Usually I don’t need this, or look for it, but I am so grateful for people looking after me for these two weeks! I was reunited with some of my good friends from orientation and we were put with a truly stella group...a group that really came into its own after what I would call, and I think I speak for us all, one of the most bizzare weekends of my life. This is where you should insert most of your horrific, lurid and ridiculous imaginings, as this was the defining 48 hours of the whole two weeks. I shall tell the rest now.

So it began, in Italy as it always does, half an hour later than it was intended- usually due coffee and insane traffic- this time however, I will just say that the outfits witnessed that fine morning resulted in a good 30 minute hysteria, during which it seemed impossible to contemplate moving at all, so I can't really blame the Italians- well, I can. Eventually all 30 odd of us, English and Italian, loaded on to the bus to set off on our all-expenses-paid weekend of sightseeing, beach and vino. As soon as the bus set off the party began: we sang every Bari/Puglia chant known to man, a fair few random Italian songs and the odd British anthem, we danced in the isles, we squished into chairs every which way, we waved at fellow motorists...it was pretty much like been 15 on a school trip again...I even sat at the back! The day was pretty much normal then (from what I can actually tell you), we saw a Cathedral, went to the beach, took a ton of photographs in front of a million different 'best views ever'.

Then came the night! We got put up in a well swanky 4 star hotel with an infinity pool on the roof and lifts and couches and mirrors and art on the walls and all that jazz! We had a slap up dinner, three courses, all you can drink wine of any colour- and then we got dumped in the centre of Lecce at 11pm, no directions home and with nobody who knows the city at all. It was rather hilerious...once we had figured out what we all wanted to do, split into smaller groups and had a couple of drinks to ease the shock of course. I often find that these kind of situations spark creativity and what occurred that night goes to show just how much fun you can have on next to no money and next to no navigational skills. My friend came up with the genius idea of doing everything that starts with the letter C. We had already had a few coronas so we were well on our way...next step crepes, cigarettes (sorry Mum), cubba chubbs lollies, we performed a concert to baffled Italians, we got photos with randon cars, children, coconuts, we went in a casino and had a lovely chat with the bouncer...and we somehow managed to meander our way home...where the C action didn't end...we tried to brake into the conference centre and the swimming pool (if we got wet, we would be cold), we ran from the lurking receptionist to take photos on the couch and finally ended the night cuddled up watching a dubbed (in German?!?!) Jackie Chan movie. Needless to say we all felt a little worse for wear the next day...not that that stopped another bus party to our next destination. The morning was spent in some funky little towns with more amazing views and sickeningly good smells and people and leather sandals...and then we drove out of the town to a random venue where we had lunch...at a wedding reception. (yup) Did anyone know these people? Nope. Did we know we were booked into a wedding reception? Nope. But there we were. So we pretty much spent the next 4 hours dancing and singing and eating with the wedding party. A total crash. Now my life's dream is complete I really don't know what to do with myself. I kept having those moments, mid YMCA, where I would just stop and freeze the situation, hover above myself and look down thinking, 'what the hell is going on: I'm in Italy with a bunch of random people that I love a little too much given I've only know them a week, singing the YMCA at some knocked up Italian Ladies wedding, in shorts and a tank top, sweating all over the joint and absolutely loving every second of it'. I think I can die happy now. After we left the party, drunk as anything, full as is possible, dangling wine bottles taken from the tables like drunks...we went to some caves. Now I don't know if you have ever seen 30 drunks in a cave, but it's a pretty special sight! How we made it back alive is anyones guess, what with more bus dancing and a journey to the centre of the Earth- but we did, and it payed us back for our tough first week, and sailed us through our next.

If these two weeks taught me anything, it's that free stuff, friends and 'what the F' moments really can make anything bearable. That and a kick ass host family that feed you well, do all your laundry and have Matisse on the walls!

Nutella Off

ladydowse — Thu, 17 Jun 2010 02:31:00 GMT

So I’m living on a farm up in the mountains with a cool hippie family who have a tendency to walk in on me when I’m changing. They have three cats, who incidentally like to sleep in/on my bed, one dog that is pretty docile so that’s ok, three sons 7-21, a shower that is too small to stand up in, a shed full of hay, a tractor and a stella view. It all sounds pretty fantastic huh? Well it is, but I tell you when you are knelt in the shower, one hand on the unlocked door that people like to parade through, the dribbling showerhead strategically held under your chin and a you’re using your free hand to shave your legs in breakneck speed, you do start to wonder if it really is! I sound angry. I’m not. It is just hands down, the oddest experience ever. Sharing someone’s home, having them feed you and do your laundry is weird. Especially when you don’t know them and they can barely speak a word of English. It’s going ok though…I mean it's bound to be a little strange at first.

One of the kids in the house is also in my class at camp, Nicolo. Sweetest little thing ever. He is seven and as soon as I entered the house he had me holding all his cats, watching his Italian version of the Simpsons and likes to wake me up by coming silently into my room and watching me sleep. On my first full day with them he took me walking up the river and as he skipped through the slippery rocks and gushing water with ease, he drilled, falling, not so elegant me on my Italian numbers. He would not stop until I could repeat them with great speed and perfection and he makes me perform it to everyone we meet and pats me on the back when I get it all right…bless him!

My class is full of the most beautiful little things. I have 11 6-8 year olds who can barely say their names and good God I am in love with every one of them! They are full of energy and require a shed load of patience and constant praise and stickers, but they are sooo freekin cute. I wanna steal them all and pretend they’re mine! They get all sleepy in the afternoon and just hang on your arm and look up at you and….ooo I’m broody! But camp is so much fun! I thought it was going to be too intense with just two of us but it turns out we get on really well and are working great together. So far we have kept all the kids alive and they seem to be enjoying it. We barely stop though as we can’t really take a break given there’s only two of us, but we’re kind of just getting used to it and running on excessive amounts of cake and pizza. Ima be fat!

Today we had to decide on a plot for the final show that we perform for the whole town on Friday. This in itself is a difficult task given my kids can just about pronounce their names…but after a little translation we arrived at this: One half want to be pirates, one half want to be mummies, one kid wants to be Frodo, another Jack The Ripper and another a snail and they’d all like nutella to be involved. So ingeniously Matt and I have engineered a beautifully diverse plot in which some pirates rescue Jack the Ripper’s Best Friend Frodo who is drowning with a big rubber ring, he tells them he is looking for a real ring, they think it’s treasure and go to find it, get lost and end up in Egypt, where there is a storm and they all die except the Captain who goes on searching, waking up all the mummies who take him to the pharaoh who challenges him to a fight, which turns out to be a nutella spread off. I am wasted here…give me a stage!

A.C.L.E Training

ladydowse — Tue, 15 Jun 2010 05:24:00 GMT

I am currently sat in a cubicle on a train, somewhere in between Geneva and Milan, eating left-over pizza from last night, planning an epic journey home and trying to get to know my new partner in crime as we head towards our first camp.

This week of orientation has been one of the most insane, knackering and fun-filled weeks of my life. I guess I had gotten to the point where I was pretty convinced that eventually one of these little adventures was not going to work out right, I was going to have a bad time and not really meet that many great people. Through some flawed logic I had anticipated that my experiences would have a peak and either decline with age and responsibility, or plato out with familiarity and ease. Perhaps it’s because I wasn’t super excited about this whole Italy thing that I thought it would be the one to start me on the slippery slope. How wrong can I get?! Minus the lack of sleep, free time and big beds, I can honestly say this is probably the best start to an adventure I have had yet.

Basically there was a 120 18-28 year old English speakers spread over three hotels in San Remo. All food and accommodation provided, we trained from 8.30 until 6, had an hour to shower, then met again for dinner and wine in some restaurant we had booked out, followed by a party in bar opened especially for us, home by 2, late night heart to hearts and spooning, bed at 3.30 and up at 7 to do it all over again. In the days we sang at least one song an hour, made up skits, did drama training, learnt grammar, invented chants, made costumes and spent two mornings teaching real life Italian kids in the beating sun. Not kidding, it was hot! Sometimes we’d be outside all day with no shade and we’d be singing and jumping all over the place and even for me, that requires a lot of energy!

As ever though, it’s the people who make the place and here was no exception. There was everyone from Australians to Canadians, to Scotts and Irish and South Africans and obviously Brits and Americans. There were teachers, artists, writers, travellers and a bunch of actors and singers…some nights after dinner things did go a bit Glee as we’d walk down covered alleyways breaking out stella drunken performances. Granted, given the collection of big personalities, there were a fair few pretentious pratts who asked the dumbest questions known to man, but we won’t get into that! After having made a conscious decision to try and make friends with people who lived relatively close to me at home, I have found myself amongst the Irish and Scots, who despite their making me excessively guilty about being English, are a lovely bunch of nutters who I have taken great pleasure in getting to know. We’ve had the greatest adventures…we got lost down some scary backstreet maze at night and ran together from savage dogs and old ladies, we led the karaoke for a whole night with some classic eighties tunage, we went swimming at night in our underwear on a private beach, we got chatted up by some guys from god knows where and well we were a constant walking joke…Englishman, Irishman and a Scotsman…haha!

But now, we have parted as people are scattered about Italy in random groups with people they may or may not know. Camps are usually only one week long though, so perhaps in our next rotation we may be near each other, or even together…either way, I’m pretty sure I now have some people a little closer home to visit! My first camp seems a little intense if I’m honest, but I think it’s going to be great. Me and this Canadian guy, Matt are heading out to Bolognia to run a camp of 20 kids in a small village. Neither of us has done it before. Neither of us really quite know what’s going on. This next week could get pretty interesting, but if I am to judge it by the first, it’s probably going to be pretty bloody amazing too!

To Italy…Maybe…France, Jess, France…shit.

ladydowse — Sun, 6 Jun 2010 06:47:00 GMT

I am sat in a street café in Nice down some random little cobbled street lined with artists and authentic Gussi bag vendors, totally lost and, given my relatively short journey, inexplicably knackered.

I am quite surprised I made it here at all in fact! My mind hasn’t exactly been on the job the last 6 weeks, despite been at home and having all the ease and comfort I could desire. See, unlike a normal human being, I didn’t stop to reflect on the impact of Japan, nor muse on reconnecting with old friends in America, but instead decided to hit the ground running. Within three days I had secured my next teaching job in Italy. Within a week I had been to speak to the armed forces. Within two weeks I had applied to two unis, written to a lawyer for advice on moving to Canada and applied for three jobs in America. By my final week at home I had revised recent history and popped for an interview in Cornwall and the day before I left I got offered a place to do International Journalism. That afternoon I decided I should maybe pack and think about Italy. Now, 12 hours later, here I am.

I was briefly impressed by my blasé attitude towards a summer abroad, finally ridding myself of the shackles of a Father who prepares for every eventuality (I’m sure I took a snorkeling mask skiing once- just in case!), and as I hopped on board my 8 am train there was a whiff of pretentious arrogance in my step… until I realized I had forgotten to get Euros, and pack my hairbrush, and my camcorder, and all the documents for my job. Not so cool then JD? Nah. Mini panic over I considered my total lack of thought once again and reassured myself that if I could handle Japan, I could certainly handle this…it can never get that hard to communicate again can it?! I have developed a certain fearless refrain that runs through my head every time I jump on a bus that I’m not entirely sure is the right one, or I go off wondering in a city I don't know at 10pm, or I have no directions to my hostel, just a vague memory of once looking at it on Google maps, all of which I did tonight and all of which I survived thanks to this ‘well it’s not Japan, so it can’t be that hard’ refrain tattooed on my brain. I know it is rather reckless perhaps and I’m pretty sure it will wear off soon, but for now I think I’ll make use of it and maybe hope that it is true what they say- that Italy has shops too.

But what a journey! Getting off the train I was feeling a little stupid for allowing myself to think, at least several times, ‘ooo I’ll be in Italy tonight’- no you wont you moron, Nice is France! I felt a little reassured of my mind though as at the entrance to the airport a young sales girl all suited and booted came up to me to try and sell me a bag of makeup. When I replied that I had in fact spent a week of my life, that unfortunately I will never get back, working for her company, so didn’t want to buy anything, she looked at me and mirrored the pity in my eyes. She clearly thinking ‘poor girl, she gave into the lies and didn’t stick it out to get her BMW and 3figure salary like I will’. Me thinking, ‘poor girl, thinks she’s gunna get a BMW…I bet all she gets is a lousy Big Mac ‘I will seduce you into my pyramid scheme’ lunch like I did. It didn’t get better as I entered Manchester Airport; simultaneously home to the ugliest people on planet earth and designed the most inept apes known to man. This is not a winning combination. The lack of chairs means the blobby delights of the North lay strewn about the walkways, the five restaurants sell out of all the decent ubiquitous airport food and the toilet queues…don’t even ask! It brings back to me an age old question that I have often pondered whilst in British airports- Where are all the pretty people? Really, you never see them at airports. I am fast coming to the conclusion that there is an elite, beauty-streaming check-in desk hidden away somewhere. Some magical place where there are chairs and cafes that don’t just sell bacon butties and grey tea. Either that, or it is true what they say, that northerners are just mingers.

This airport brings back countless childhood memories of dragging Mum around the duty free and making her spray every perfume on a wafty stick and sniffing with such enthusiasm I got light headed and hyper, or going into the gadget shop with Dad and Alex and us trying to convince Dad that we really needed an underwater jet propeller or a giant computer with windows 97! It was a Saturday today so I saw loads of families, parents gallantly struggling along with pushchairs and nappy bags. I can’t wait to have kids and take them on adventures. I look at myself now, and how stressful it can be just to get me someplace, and I can’t believe how my parents managed to deal with two less than shy children without strangling us. However, unlike my graceful parents, I will allow my kids to parade up and down the aisle of the airplane, playing with stranger’s shoes and flicking people’s heads. I will teach all five of them to scream and yelp in unison and me and my significant other can simply lay back and watch proudly the sweet sweet revenge we have created. I adore kids, but for the love of God, there is a time and a place for ADHD and it ain’t on the airplane. I should have stayed in that pyramid selling scheme con job… I’d have a BM by now and be getting a first class ‘I’m hot and wealthy, so screw you’ flight with no queues.

But nevertheless, I arrived, a lot happier than this ramble seems to make out. I spoke Japanese to few people- which may have offended the man who happened to be Chinese, ordered this beer I’m drinking in Spanish and forgot I was in France as I laughed at a man’s bright yellow shorts. I have a train to catch tomorrow, I don’t know how or from where, or at what time. I have no idea where I will be staying in San Remo. I don’t know what kind of camp I will be working at and for how long I will stay….but meh, whatever, I’ll get by, can’t be as hard as Japan right?!

A love letter to Japan

ladydowse — Thu, 25 Feb 2010 19:10:00 GMT

There are no words to express how much I’m going to miss you. Words seem inadequate when we have communicated through smiles, intuition and vague interpretation…all I can give you is an endless list of little things that over time I have come to love, that have become the fabric of my life with you…things that have formed the patchwork of amazing moments that will sustain my memories for 50 years time, things that have opened my eyes and my mind and things that when gone I will surely miss:

The mountains, sushi, hilariously bad English everywhere, being genki!, Myochans, ramen, good green tea, Annie’s floor, amazing stationary shops, Lawson, baton men and their elaborate gestures, glimpses of awesome views as I drive along unable to stop, calpis, new family, boys that hold hands and play with each others hair, long sleeved T-shirts that fit as ¾ lengths, cooking on one ring, telling kids the Queen is my Mum, futons, queuing for the train, raw horse, being employed for my oddness, people that exude elegance, karaoke, the pleasure of saying dozo, chopstick cramp, driving in typhoons, one undeniably gorgeous person in every five, shower rooms, skiing an hour from home, getting excited when I go to a supermarket in a city, cliffs, serenading Lou, cherry blossom, Shibuya back streets, my beautiful apartment, indoor bbqs, fires to heat schools, clear blue skies and snow, lovepumper, clean malls, neon green caterpillars, meeting inspiring people, table licking, shinkansens, recycle shops, been stared at, eeeee!, singing for children on cue, English films with Japanese sub-titles, been my own source of everything, fashion of all types, public transport that runs to the second, the lady who gives me free cake, dancing around my apartment, sashimi, Emily’s under-floor heating, good manners, amazing friends, hot coffee in a can from a vending machine, gesturing the most elaborate things, people sweeping the streets, Buddha, no-me-hoe-die, mochi, Japanese beer, phone calls with the parents, teaching over the sound of bugs, Iwaizumi beef, singing emo in the car with Emily, feeling ridiculously safe, Jeff’s mother in law’s shop, rice fields, kids unaware they have swearwords on their hats, houses jumbled together using corrugated iron and wood, the little lady who looks terrified every time I walk through the door of her café, hearing the freight trains at Annie house all night long, graceful people, how hip it is to have a flask, heated toilet seats, having time, perfect sunrises, the tiniest taco shop in the world, teachers in tracksuits and me in a suit suit, having friends that know when I need to eat, living out of my car, cheap glasses in every design possible, purikura, the Italian that makes me feel like I’m at home, cherry blossom sweets, wooden schools, being part of a community, playing soccer against 20 7yr old boys, automatically responding onegaishimasu, the English book section in the Moss building, my amazing view, getting lost up mountains in the dark with Emily, ordering food at a ticket vending machine, feeling proud, home-ec, Lake Gando, being off the beaten track, being able to see a volcano every weekend, quiet, singing- dancing- making kids laugh, my fridge full of milk, muji, Toyoko Inn, kickass earphones, treating myself to an FBC order, bowing, giant penguin suits, trees in schools, igloos, wooden floors, no fear of being sued, style, walking through curtains to get to restaurants, afternoon chats with Jeff, the river, watching British TV with Lyns, individuality, giant pitchforks to catch intruders, the cute Starbucks guy, mini earthquakes, making up activities based on drinking games, rapping about carrots, cabins in the woods, long ferry journeys, shrines, Lou’s killer bacon sarnies shaped like a house, dancing for strangers, bamboo forests, Ueno market under the train tracks, rickshaw men, random characters climbing up buildings, 1hr trips to McDonalds, giant TV’s in the street, hat shops, monks chanting, Mr Donuts and their American radio, clean underpasses, hanging rice, kimonos, talking to Lou’s belly, skiing with Annie, my pimpin’ phone, getting mail from Granddad stuffed with tea bags, feeling like I live in a dream, 6yr olds beating me at table tennis, skate girls being cool, trying to eat onigiri whilst I drive, the Papas Café waitress who’s always grinning, furry bras, sunken tables, hanging your prayers under a tree, the hippie shops, going slowly crazy, awesome backpacks, the reaction I get from people when I say I live in Iwaizumi, befriending random gajin, figuring out the Tokyo subway map, ninjas, kids clapping when I arrive, the million different ways my name can be said and spelt, ordering by pointing, hospitality, temples, tsunami escape signs, skyping my granddad, gesture, Emily’s kotasu, the sound of birds in the bathrooms, Mt Iwate, mini shinkansens that bring you sushi, magnetic blackboards, races up snow mountains, reminding people I’m not from America, Philip, figuring out the world of Japan with Caley, so much food I can’t even list it all, knowing the places BSB go to in their video ‘Bigger’, English indie nights out, waving at strangers, construction men and their sweet baggy pants, heart to hearts, 24 hr shopping, starry nights on my balcony, feeling alive, the village chime, sometimes being incapable of speaking English coherently, Japanese adverts, being really cold at Lou’s, Freshness burger, old ladies with big straw packs full of rice, talking to myself, meeting people who know the world, plastic food displays, old women digging up the road, seasons that change overnight, being in sync with Annie’s tea cravings, waiting at traffic lights when there is no traffic, people always willing to help, the crazy inspirational quotes on T-shirts, Tokyo bay at night, driving for an hour and not seeing another car, Annie’s F and B, Don Don down on Wednesday’s and the chatty dude in there, hai!, automatic cars, restaurants that look like someone’s front room, Lou’s mansion, the lack of rain, elementary kids with craft knives, driving dance parties with the girls, smiling to survive, donuts for breakfast, representing the UK- usually unsuccessfully, snow mountains made by teachers at 4 in the morning, road-tripping with Jeff, making kids speak in a northern accent, festivals that are completely baffling, cleaning the school with the kids, knowing that you can dare to dream, feeling capable and knowing I survived with a smile on my face.

For all of this I thank you Japan…I’ll be back.

Between Homes

ladydowse — Tue, 3 Nov 2009 17:20:00 GMT

So I’ll admit it. Right now I want out. Eight months down the line and I’m having unfamiliar feelings…I think normal people call it homesickness. (In my defence it is coinciding with culture shock bottom out and from having 10 days left to decide whether I want to stay in Japan or not…I’m still a kick ass explorer ok!)

But 10 days. For the past two weeks or so I have been mind achingly pouring over every aspect of my life trying to figure out what my options are, and which one appeals the most. I can honestly say I have no idea. So I thought ok, head or heart…narrow it down. What does my head want? To go forward. I know I couldn’t stay here up this mountain another year. But where? Naturally, when I can’t make a decision I turn to those that know me best, listen to what they say and usually end up doing something different. I get the usual response of ‘follow your heart’. I feel like this advice is worth a try right? Ok, so what does my heart want?...What does my heart want?!...well besides Jason Mraz, a yacht and an oscar…I guess it wants to be happy. But what makes me happy? You know, you’d think this question would be easy and a year ago I’d have thought that too… surrounded by a million little bits and bobs that tickle me pink, in a situation where I knew where I was going and what novel I had to read next, where I was going to buy food from. I was surrounded by people in University, camp, skiing…people who’d grown up with the same fabric of life, seen the same things, knew stuff I knew…it’s easy to be happy. It’s all right there like a giant feast of options, so many people, so many chances to not be alone, to make connections, to fall in love.

But here, here you have to make yourself happy. You have to actively think ‘what is going to rock my world right now?’ You have to build a world out of things you don’t recognise or understand and cling on to the few things you do. Ultimately, you have to think about what you need. Knowing what you need is a tricky one…it usually involves loosing it to establish whether or not it is missed. And boy have I done some loosing while I’ve been here! Intentionally and unintentionally. A while back it was important to cut ties with home, with people from the past and situations that were over. I had to build a new life here and I let things get lost. But now comes the time when life is once again changing direction. The home I have here will fall apart as people leave and move and I am having that horrible realisation that what my Dad says is the truth; ‘nothing lasts forever’. What do you do with that? Well apparently you follow your heart to what makes you happy. So I wrote pages and pages one day of what makes me happy…I’m fairly easily pleased! Once I’d taken out all the independent stuff, the people here and my family, I was pretty much left with ancient history. People and places and situations that I have lost in the last year or so, some that I think will someday return, others that I am not so confident about. Places I can’t return to and situations that exist now only in my mind. But all, at some point, I called home. All of them at sometime were the centre of my world and everything that was true and safe and reliable. Now…now I guess the centre is me…and as different as some may think…I hate being the centre.

And now I am sick for a home that is beyond me. For a home that doesn’t exist. I yearn for a situation that no longer continues or people that have moved on or away. I realise what I need right now is home: the familiar, the comfortable, the safe environment where I can re-charge and make some mind choices whilst the heart is at ease. But where is home? My actual home has changed too and if I’m honest doesn’t appeal to my inner grown-up. No, I need a new home. My own home. One I made myself. I guess it’s a common twenty-something, graduated, first-jobbed feeling to feel in-between homes; suspended between a past that doesn’t want you and a future that doesn’t know you.

Where does that leave me? Back to square one I guess. I mean I’ve made myself really happy here. I’ve made a home. I’ve done it once, I can do it again right? Next time I think I’ll add a few more people into the mix and the odd coffee shop! But it’s tiring to always be your own source of what you need, your own entertainment, your own psychologist, cook, teacher and maid. I think I need a travelling home. I need someone to share the burden with. Someone to help me re-build countless things that ‘never last forever’. So I guess I should follow my heart to a place where I can find that…where on God’s earth is that…I don’t know, perhaps I should just do what I always do…scatter plan like a crazy girl and jump head first into the one that looks the most exciting and hope that somewhere along the way I find someone else whose an in-betweener too…or I could just buy a boat, find Jason and scoop my Oscar!

Kome again?! 'You could swim across my cheekbones right now!'

ladydowse — Tue, 18 Aug 2009 19:06:00 GMT

24th July. Tokyo is hot. Mind achingly, sweating in all places, I just want to be naked, h.o.t. Not that the Japanese seem to notice. Really, I don't know how they do it! We can be in a subway station praying the train arrives soon so we can crisp in the freezing cold air-con, meanwhile there’s men looking comfortable in suits, women with long sleeves, jeans and doc martins, kids in hoodies. How is it possible?! Oh but the rain! The rain is sweet relief! Today it has rained, no, tsunamied from the sky for about three minutes every couple of hours. It toys with you. The heat builds and builds until you think you’re going to pass out it’s so hot, then the heavens open briefly, then the cycle continues and you’re begging for rain and it’s oooo soooo wonderful. Ok, I’m being incredibly British right now- I’m practically on the moon and all I can talk about is the weather! So today was our first day in the big city and as we ate brekkie in our cute little hostel communal area we realized we had no plan. But, influenced by all the chattering and swapping of stories going on around us in several languages (Nic’s a bit of a language genius) we came to the conclusion that all places that started with the letter S sounded like good starting points! However, getting there is another issue. Have you ever seen the subway map for Tokyo? Well, it’s like the city planners gave a piece of paper and a few coloured pens to a small child and based their designs on its scribbles. And I thought London could sometimes be a bit tricky! It doesn’t help of course that only the odd place name is in English, it means you have to resort to lots of map spinning and counting and ‘ok see if you can find the sign that looks a bit like a teapot, I think that’s where we want to go’. Anyway, one lovely old man later and we’ve found a train to Shibuya, home of the crazy crossing, the young and hip and all that makes Japan mental. It did not disappoint. We walked the narrow streets flanked with neon signs, music blaring from shops, refreshing wafts of air-con, moving adverts on the buildings, men in blue uniforms directing traffic, a sea of umbrellas occasionally blooming then disappearing with the flow of the weather, and we were mesmerized. We went in Tokyu Hands, a shop that literally has everything in it, from some rather nifty looking laboratory equipment to a money box with a face on it that eats your coins and poos them out when you want them back. We went in a Disney shop complete with its own spiral staircase tower. We got coerced into a gangsta shop by a guy on the street recruiting shoppers…that was fairly amusing. We stumbled upon the best art exhibition I have ever been to in the basement of a theatre on the outskirts. It was all optical illusion and interesting composition don’t you know. It was nice to get away from the city rush for a while and enjoy some more constructive insanity. Though I must admit, the umbrella lockers outside the entrance put me in a pretty hypa mood, so I’d have probably enjoyed anything! Seriously, they’re incredible, I think if you haven’t clicked an umbrella into place, then you just haven’t lived. We had a ‘point to some Japanese word and see what you get’ dinner which went surprisingly well then we made our way to the Meiji-Jingu shrine for some enlightenment time. Now we have seen a fair load of shrines and temples and stuff in our three weeks, but for some reason I just really like this one. I think it might be because it’s in the middle of a city and when you go there by comparison it seems all the more serene and peaceful. I like that it’s not gaudy and brash like some, but wooden and calm. The prayers are all hung around the bottom of a big old tree; people get a little block of wood and write on it whatever they wish. Some are prayers. Some are life mantras. Some are just kind words. They’re in all languages and hung 6 deep on pegs that surround the tree and they’re so amazing to read. Some are truly poetic and heartfelt and I just couldn’t help joining in. It might be corny, but I think there’s something beautiful about hanging your hopes under a tree. So naturally the next place beginning with S was Shinjuko. Now we had obviously read about it being noisy and crazy in the evening so we were heading there for dinner…an hour or so later and we still hadn’t made it, but instead appeared to have wondered into a local community festival/fate thing. This was well worth getting lost for…a little garden full of lanterns and tori gates and food cooking on big hot plates and music and games and little girls in kimonos…we looked well out of place. We took refuge over a chocolate milkshake and tried to understand how Shinjuko had suddenly become Notting Hill- a kind Englishman who lived in the area, told us, between laughs, that we had walked in completely the wrong direction and we were in some obscure area that did most definitely not start with the letter S. Sweet. When we finally get to Shinjuko we are starved, overwhelmed and slightly angry at the nice Englishman for sending us into another dimension. I have never been anywhere so thoroughly mindboggling. It makes New York look like Blackpool! There is such an atmosphere here…I can’t even put into words what it's like. Just signs and noise and music and people and boy bars, girl bars, cafes open to the street, beer, gambling, clubs and so many different smells. It’s intense. We both had splitting headaches by the end of the night. But then help came in the form of a rather odd fellow from Nigeria who was recruited to get people into a club. JT: What you looking for girls? We got it all here. Soul, funk, hip-hop, dance. Name your tunes. Me: food. JT: I know just the place, follow me! So here our knight in shining armor takes us to a restaurant where they serve a variety of meats, including pig rectum, chicken neck and cow aorta…what a saviour! To get rid of the dude I had to give him my number and promise to hit up his club when were done eating some un-mentionable meat…which if I had eaten and gone to his club, would have probably have ended up on his floor… Instead we opted to break his heart, scoff curry and stumble home for sleep… besides the club didn’t have an S anywhere in it!

Kome again?! 'Tokyo, you had me at konnichiwa'

ladydowse — Tue, 18 Aug 2009 15:58:00 GMT

What is it about wondering through cities at night that makes you feel like you own the world? Perhaps it was because I was about to embark on the most adventurous adventure I had ever had that made me all the more euphoric as I walked the streets of Morioka in the dark waiting for my midnight bus. I don’t know, but I find being a stranger in the dark of a foreign city is one of the most uplifting experiences. There’s something so liberating about walking streets that aren’t yours and having a distance from all the other lives around you. You don’t belong there. You are free to choose who to be and how to be. It’s empowering to have the opportunity to see all these different ways of living and not really have to subscribe to any just yet but just take the time to look and learn and in the meantime be a complete mystery to all those around you. Some people have come here with the idea that they want to belong and be included and complain about the impermeable nature of Japanese society but, as I argue, we are not, nor will we ever be native and however bicultural and bilingual we get, we will always stand out. So why fight it? Enjoy the fact that there is freedom in our viewpoint; we can observe, but never really have to commit, we can be welcomed, but with sympathetic understanding that we are western and so will probably get it all wrong. I’m not saying then that you should screw up, but just that there is space for us in the fact that we can and rather than resent that space, hell, I’m going to enjoy it!

That was my mood as I whiled away the hours until my bus. Once I boarded said bus I wished I could do my nomad bit in a more comfortable fashion and perhaps figure out a way to un-belong to the laws of paying for stuff…alas the search continues! So, a bazillion back-aching, leg-jumping hours later and I rock up at Tokyo station, prise my self out of my horrifically uncomfortable seat and stumble into the craziest place known to man. Well it was like waking up after been in a coma! It was busy, there were shops, there were cafes, there were news-stands. There were bagels. Now I don’t know if you can really appreciate the immeasurable happiness that a bagel can evoke in the heart of a bagel-starved person who happens to love bagels, but I tell you, it is quite something. And as I sat in a cool café with cream cheese dribbling down the side of a hot bit of holey bread in one hand and a giant mug of coffee in the other, I decided Tokyo had me at konnichiwa.

Whilst I was sat there I looked around, there was a western family a few tables away and everyone else was Japanese or Asian at least and everyone that walked past the window too. I guess I thought I would feel less of a novelty here. I liked that I didn’t though. As I glanced back to the family the mother caught my eye and gave me a smile and a quick little wave as if to say she knew what I was thinking, and I can’t really define what it meant, but it meant something. To be mysterious and a minority is liberating and empowering in some respects, but still when something like this happens it brings a lump to my throat. It acknowledges similarity in such a forward way and with such a sincerity that would never be found in my actual home country and reminds me for a second that sometimes it’s nice to be un-mysterious. It made me really happy to think that I was spending three weeks with someone who knew me, who knew I was in no way mysterious but instead a giant goon who has probably used that western space with more liberty than she is aware of. It was nice to think we could adventure, observe and screw-up together. It may be difficult to belong to Japanese society yes, but we will always belong to the western society here, and lets face it, it’s a more welcoming society than the real thing. As the trip went on and these small interactions continued I started to realise that we do belong, we belong in our united un-belongingness.

You can call me jacqueline Sparrow, Iriana Jones...Betty Grylls!

ladydowse — Fri, 10 Jul 2009 17:37:00 GMT

Greetings my furry little friends of near and far! How dost thou? I do hope I find you in the most joyous of moods, swinging from the stars and dangling your feet in the river of life! Forgive my over articulation, I am in somewhat of a joyous mood and with no local companion with which to annoy, I must write my excitement…and perhaps dance about it a little later, it’s still light outside and people might be able to see me. Let me explain my merriment! Today I have, as you say, dotted some I’s and crossed them there T’s in regards to my summer travel adventuretron. Finally my plans have been dipped in concrete and all that remains is for me to empty my penny tin, count my greens and, if needs be, rob me a bank or two. And boy do I have one helluva adventure planned! It would make the scurviest pioneer curl his toes in jealousy. I do not travel alone. My loyal companion will be Lady Nicola of Colchester. We have before braved many a snow peaked mountain and wrestled the bears in the valley of three…granted everything did go wrong when she was around, but I will look to the light when I say at least this time there will be no one for me to loose. Only myself…pants. So my adventure begins in the dead of night when I will board a country bus headed for the city lights of that hallowed suburban sprawl, Tokyo. Once there I will meet my friend and we shall set forth to taste, see, smell, eat , drink and dance with all things that cross our path. We are to take a short break in Nikko for a few star-filled nights with Zen Buddhist monks, cleansing our souls of our countless sins and finding meaning in….stuff. The early morning will call for yoga on a balcony above the trees and night will beckon us to….probably by this time, gin. We return to the city again, no doubt relinquishing our new found clarity and purity as soon as humanly possible and rapidly returning to our previously shabby selves. From here we make our way to the heart of old Japan, Kyoto. We will feast on temples and shrines and see geisha and rickshaws and bamboo and noodles and trees and other such Japanese ubiquity. We will spin a web of journeys around the area, frame our faces far too many times and walk our feet to blisters. On the first day of rest that August has we will board a boat to take us to the island of Shikoku, island of pilgrimage, tales, myth and tradition. We have caves to explore, a sea and tiny islands to claim and mountain-top monks to visit. When this is through we prepare for the most epic of journeys as we make our way back to the mainland, straight across it to the Sea of Japan where we board a much grander boat. What follows is a twenty hour journey hugging the west coast of Honsu and finally coming to rest on the northern most island, Hokkaido. We will watch the sun rise and set and sleep on tatami mat with 12 other voyagers and I undoubtedly will talk with the mannerisms of a pirate for an unsuitably long time. We are due to disembark at Otaru, the Venice of Japan and on this remote and wild land we will stay until I can figure out a way to get back to my humble abode- that just so happens to be situated in the most inaccessible place on the planet. Seriously, the moon would be less of a challenge! I feel that to truly experience this trip as the explorer I wish to be I must leave this laptop at home. I must not tap on these keys but scribble into a leather bound notebook with an old short pencil and take photos with the heart of artist and the eyes of a journalist. (hahaha) I shall not speak on the telephone, nor write sloppy postcards filled with ‘I wish you were hear’. Fear not, I will save my words and when I return from canvas shorts with a flip-flop tan and too much new jewellery, cleansed or un-cleansed, I will tell you all about it!

Innovative motor navigation (getting lost)

ladydowse — Fri, 10 Jul 2009 16:45:00 GMT

I got horrendously lost yesterday. I’m talking like an hour in the wrong direction, no signs for the place I’m going, damn I really need a pee lost.

The worst thing is I was going somewhere I go all the time. I know the way. I just had a brainwave when I was driving about a new road I could try that I was convinced would shorten my trip and involve less traffic lights. Alas! The gods had other things in mind for me. How was I supposed to know that ring roads aren’t actually in the exact shape of a ring?! And I know what you’re thinking- typical woman driver, but I actually have an ok sense of direction. In the broadly general sweeping sense of the word anyway. At home, I know that if the sign says Newcastle I’m going north and if it says The south, then I’ve gone too far.

So, Jess, you’re in Japan! JAPAN. You can’t get lost in Japan because you have absolutely no comprehension of the geography beyond your schools. You don’t have a map. Oh, and you don’t speak the language! I guess I was getting a little cocky when I thought I’d just give it a go and reward myself with a cheeky starbucks when I got to my destination earlier than expected. I thought to myself- hmm innovative driving- Jess you’re really growing up! Get you…your Dad would be so proud!

One hour later and my innovation is getting really creative as I drive past place names I don’t recognise, a building with a giant watermelon on top and what looks like a whole warehouse devoted to Elvis. By this time I am dying for the loo so I stop at a remote convenience store. I get back in the car with a not so satisfyingly cheeky can of coffee (times like this totally justify falling off the wagon by the way!) and a map sketched on the back of my receipt.

I followed the map. I found a farm.

Now unless ‘Morioka wa doko des ka?’ means ‘take me to your sheep leader’, then I think one of us got something wrong. So now I feel like I’m stuck in some chick flick where I am a preppy city girl fresh out of school on some crazy adventure on daddy’s credit card and all I want to do is find a shopping mall so I can have a coffee and feel normal for a few hours!!!!! I pulled the car over and tried to screw on a brain. By this point I had no idea what was up, down, left or right I’d been on that many un-ring shaped ring roads. So I did what any girl guide would do, I used the only thing on the landscape I recognised to get my bearings. The volcano. Not the handiest of things given its round and looks pretty much the same from any direction, but none the less it worked!

By the time I go to shopping I was Elle woods graduating Harvard Law, I was Julia Roberts on the fire escape with Mr Gear and that one from mean girls who starts nice, goes mean, then gets nice again. Well maybe not, but still, I liked my little innovative drive…I did it on purpose really…

I have a ball of steel! (yes just one...)

ladydowse — Mon, 6 Jul 2009 18:21:00 GMT

You know what…I think my little bubble world is made of steel. Actual steel. Not that cheap plastic cover that is moulded and painted to look like the real-deal, no, just the actual real-deal.

See, when I came here I wasn’t sure if my world of child-like positivity, endless energy and bad French accents (I like to call it Jess world) could sustain me. I wasn’t sure if my adventure-lust and bravado were real or just things that had just become so expected of me that I performed them on autopilot. I didn’t know if smiles and funny quips would be enough to charm people into looking after me and guiding me through my hopeless grip on the everyday necessities. In a way that’s why I wanted to come here- to cut loose all that has propped jess world up thus far and find out if I can run it on my own, or is it in fact just all front, and performance, or as it has so endearingly being called several times, unreal, delusional and frankly, ridiculous.

Well I have news haters! This place is as real as Bridlington Seaside!…without the druggies. After almost four months of isolation, of slowly removing all the props of my previous life, and rebuilding a support system that mainly is just me, I can say that not much has changed besides aesthetics. Jess world is rock-solid, real life, klinck klinck, knock on metal, the real-deal.

My apparently loveable incompetence has found me in the care of Jeff and his family, just like my friend at home he calls himself my PA…but in nice way…I don’t make him get me coffee or do my laundry or anything…although that is an idea…I find myself still entertaining children with my love of pirates, climbing trees and adventures, just this time it’s through the translations of a bewildered looking teacher and I can never be sure if the kids are laughing because they’ve told them the truth or some wonderful misinterpretation about me being a pirate and living up a tree- though either way is fine by me! I still make up songs as I go along and have random outbreaks of dancing, except now they happen in the classroom and have to involve the A,B,C. I’m still addicted to coffee, have bad taste in music and think that any problem in life can be solved by a calculated symbiosis of Shakespeare, Billy Joel and Elton John.

And so the conclusion I have come to is this…if I am doomed to an eternity of being deliriously happy and excited 99% of the time and remain naively hopeful, even though slightly hooked on caffeine, then I think I can handle a few people telling me I live in a dream world. Yeah I do! It’s awesome…you should get yourself one!

My third date with Japan (hey hey!)

ladydowse — Sun, 28 Jun 2009 10:32:00 GMT

Ok, hello. I’m going to be all post-modern now and blog about my insufficient blogging. Wooo- using my degree! (I feel like this is a fairly unique statement in the current climate- go me!)

So. No blogging. Well, I’m afraid to say I’ve done the very common thing of falling in love and disregarding all things that are not directly related to the object of my affection. I have become a bad friend. My apartment needs cleaning. I need to buy food. I am totally immersed in fantasy world with little desire to return to reality. I have fallen hook line and sinker in head over heals can’t live without you love with Japan.

For a while we were casual, dating, getting to know one another. I was playing it cool you know, keeping my head. I have no get out strategies with this one-I’m can’t fall desperately in love and know I can leave in a month if it all goes wrong. I have to be in this for the long run. This is serious, grown-up stuff! Then it all started fitting into place, I planted rice, I found a four leaf clover, I kayaked to deserted cliff beaches, I got in a minivan with 8 men shouting beer at me, I heard backstreet boys at school, I played capture the flag, I ate flowers, I cooked, I sang my heart out for 7hours, I ate sushi from a train, I saw a crazy starry night and felt an earthquake or two (No pun intended!).

So, sorry, I’ve been gone living in a bubble- kinda like a snow dome. I feel like some kid has picked me up and not stopped shaking for a good two months and anything or anyone that wasn’t cemented to me has gone fluttering off. I grabbed on to a fair few things at the start but then my arms started to ache, so I just let go. I’m sorry. But I have faith in those people and those things and hope they will come back to me when the kid has sodded off and my love bubble has popped.

But for now this is all the world I need. When I was driving home from work at my favourite elementary school the other day, and I’d just had a great lesson then a good old chat (in broken English) with the principle over green tea and cake, and it was boiling and my windows were down and I had to turn my music up to hear it over the chanting of the bugs, and the mountains were green and all the little old men and women were out working in the fields, I thought, this is exactly what I wanted.

This is exactly where I want to be.

This is love.

I know you're watching me!!

ladydowse — Fri, 8 May 2009 21:56:00 GMT

Bad news. I fear I am being stalked by a man in a bandana for the purposes of amusing TV. It’s quite scary. The evidence isn’t all there yet, but it keeps adding up…

After my post about finding the meaning of life in Morioka my Dad rang me up to ask if I was on mind-altering drugs and my friend who I send videos to because I’m tired of talking to myself told me that he finds reading and watching my decent into madness absolutely hilarious. Later, as I told said friend that I am starting to fear for my sanity as the isolation is really kicking in now, he put the thought into my head that perhaps this is all just a set up. Perhaps, I have been put in the middle of nowhere as some sort of funny social experiment- like the Truman show but without the adverts- and people all over the globe are viewing my growing madness and laughing at me alone in the car muttering away to my invisible friends or dancing around my living room with a broom. Obviously I dismissed his ramblings and got on with life. Then mid golden week I decided to join the local gym (local being 1 hour away!) and so off I trot full of energy and happy to be getting into the community. I had an interesting induction that involved a lot of acting and face pulling and finally got to my work out. So I did my thing you know and I’m just about finished when this hippie old man in a bandana and wife beater comes up to me and in English says, ‘you. Join. Me. Ok.’ So I follow him to a room where an aerobics class is been set up and it’s full of oldies and one high school kid, so I figure how bad can it be? Well! I have never worked so hard in all my life! It was some boxersize, pilates, yoga aerobics in which one was required to mould ones body into the shape of a pretzel then jump up and kick the whatsdoodlits of an invisible badass whilst standing on one leg. All the time the bandana man stand behind me moulding with ease, a knowing smile on his face. I told my wise friend, he said, ‘Jess! Do you live in a cultural black hole? You never trust the old Japanese dude! Especially if he’s wearing a bandana! …Ah I bet the producers are laughing at how easy you are!’ So now I have this in my head…it only gets worse. Picture this scene: I am driving back home up the mountains after my road trip to kakunodate and it’s about 10 at night, very dark, and I am the only car for miles. Trees flank the road, the moon is full and the shadows are long and I have no phone reception and only half a tank of petrol… see where this is going? I’m trying to keep awake so I’m full of coffee and chocolate, singing along to some horrific 80’s music and as I turn my ninetieth hair-pin bend out of the darkness emerges an old man, with a bandana on, holding a stick. He’s just stood in the middle of the road. By this time seconds have lengthened to minutes and I have looked him in the eye, screamed a thousand curses, slammed my breaks on and swerved dramatically nearly head-butting the cliff in the process…and he just stays put watching me as I drive by in slow motion. I see him sink back into the darkness as my lights leave him, still staring at my car, still not having moved an inch. Now my heart is going crazy and I’m convinced I’m in a horror movie. I turn the next corner just as a rabbit runs from the side across the road and I slam on again, but the road is too narrow to turn and I hit it. I was devastated. I have never done that before and the sound is terrible. I came to a stop and was thinking about maybe getting out to see if I could salvage the poor animal, so I glanced into my mirror to see if there was anything coming and…you guessed it… emerging into my lights was the bandana man. Well, I haven’t been back to check but I can bet you there are tyre burn marks on that little bit of road. Now, this might not be compelling evidence, but it’s all adding up…I am in a TV show in which an old man in a bandana will appear at various times and challenge me with tasks that test my mind, body and soul whilst the world watches from their chintz sofas laughing at my foibles and nibbling on cheese sticks. Well, that or I really have gone insane.

7439033 Yen for 5 days of water!!!

ladydowse — Fri, 8 May 2009 20:30:00 GMT

Me: Oh my god! How much do I owe? That’s ridiculous! How is anyone expected to pay that much for water? I don’t have that much! No way! Ahh shit, I’m gunna have to get money off the parents and I wanted to do this all alone and now I’m gunna look like I can’t manage and they’ll get worried. How is it that much? Seriously! I hate this country!

Annie: That’s your account number.

And thus began my week.

See the problem with Japan is they have too many holidays. I end up forgetting that I am here to work, that I have bills to pay, that I must take the rubbish out, buy food… hell even eat food (a couple of days ago I was that consumed in thoughts about my new life I literally forgot to eat…all day! Until about 7 at night when I felt a giant belly pang). So I have spent the last two weeks in unorganised bliss. I climbed a mountain in my hometown last Wednesday. I casually dangled my legs off the top for the camera- I mean you have to get a picture of that right?- but I was crying with fear on the inside and praying that an earthquake didn’t fancy erupting! It was a pretty amazing day as all the trees were beginning to turn and so naturally I was in hippie mode, stick in hand, breathing deep and feeling at one with the world! At the top the party had a big picnic. And boy I can tell you- the British think they have the monopoly on picnicing- no way! The Japanese are prepared…unless I was with the equivalent of Mary Poppins and say, Dumbledore, and thus judging my observation on some elite magical group of people…then I think it’s safe to say that these guys have the casual-culinary gold star! They had little stoves, cups, utensils, tin openers, loads of food, including desert and obviously lots of bin bags to separate their rubbish…I took a drink, no rucksack and only wore the clothes upon my back. (How very Dick Whittington of me!) But it was only a two-hour climb! Afterwards we had an indoor BBQ where I once again had to face my eating demons as a full-blown head to tail fish was plonked on my plate next to some lovely looking sea urchin goo. Fish- amazing. Sea urchin goo- not so much.

Then it was the week of golden-ness and despite my lack of spondoolicks and the ubiquitous I-just-moved-to-another-country-and-I’m-super-tired headache I was still dying to have a mini adventure…and oh I love how I always get my adventures! The first was a quest for pizza. It took my friend and I north on many a mountainous road through valleys wild and across gushing rivers. Along the way we stopped at the statue of liberty (yes) and Jesus’ grave (still not lying), oh and also the ‘pyramids’ (ok, these jagged rocks were a little bit of an exaggeration…but after seeing a convincing statue and a compelling tale of Jesus’ love of Japan that was spurned when he went travelling; you know, the well known book of Travis…where the disciple dudes go surfing in Oz then spend winter boarding in Japan…well yeah, he went back after he did all his spreading of the word apparently and died at the ripe age of 106- dude on the cross?- His brother. So who was I to not think they had pyramids too? It’s very possible!). Pizza was found and needless to say it was amazing. I am actually salivating at the memory…

Next, some friends and I went on a little road trip to kakunodate, an old samurai town a prefecture away. Despite the crowds it was a beautiful little place bursting with character. By this point the weather was beautiful, the sunglasses had come out …and the insects to join them! I couldn’t help but notice how quiet, calm and clean the place was regardless of the amount of people passing through and still how classy it was despite its touristy status. It’s funny, sometimes being in Japan is like looking onto one of those weird mirrors at a fairground- you recognise the image, but it’s distorted. In so many ways the town was similar to an English tourist spot, families, ice–cream, gift shops, good parking-spot quests, but the difference was the families were older as well, not just young kids been dragged around reluctantly, the ice cream was green-tea and sakura flavour, the gift shops didn’t smell like your ugly over-bearing aunt’s house and our parking spot was given to us by some old man who had a free driveway. So I was pretty much in love with Japan this day.

But alas! Back to the real world I must trudge…my garbage is pilled high, I have no food, and what I do have is stale/moulding/turned to goo, and yes, I have bills to pay…and after that week who can blame me for thinking the seven digit number was my charge- this is Japan…if Jesus is buried here anything is possible!

Let's enjoy Jess!...and other random objects...

ladydowse — Sun, 26 Apr 2009 20:10:00 GMT

Some things that happened this week in the Japanish world of Jess:

After an alcohol fuelled cherry blossom party with my board of education I have now added a few more unmentionable meats to my ‘consumed’ collection, a new father who owns a bar and will be serving me G and T to my hearts content next Friday (sorry Dad, but that’s a tough one to turn down), and the nickname Hanako…because, in broken English, ‘jeshca not good name’.

I found a refreshingly honest brand of chewing gum called flavorno.

When, in our world full of signifiers, signs and social constructs, is it ever ok, morally sound, hell even a basic instinct to press a giant red button in a metal box stuck on the side of a building. I hear you all say ‘never. You total numbskull’. Well… So, I’m there in my car waiting outside of one of those insane car parks where you drive in and leave your car on a lift and then it gets hoisted into the heavens and stored in a sardine-like fashion and I can’t for the life of me figure out how to make the doors open. So, like a woman driver, I call for the men. What do they do? Like total apes who have clearly been sheltered from all social conditioning…they press the sodding big red button. Then leave. Well there was chaos. Flashing ‘stupid gajins’ on the screen, alarm noises, the ‘how to save the car park from annihilation’ manual, 3 different sets of keys…bowing…lots of bowing…30 minutes later and lets just say half of the hotel staff had had my sincerest apologies. Then when we go to leave, aforementioned ape decides the fire escape must be the route…luckily I wasn’t seat-belted still at this point and managed to save us from humiliation number two. This is the cheapest place in town I hope they let me back!

I drank Calpis…say it….there you go! Hahahaha!

Once again made friends with a random westerner in the middle of the night that I found on the street (I love how this isn’t in any way sketchy here!). We went to Mr Donuts for late night coffee and swopped stories about confusion. Then, rather topsy-turvy like, went on to the smallest taco restaurant on the planet where the options were, as the Japanese owner told us, silly mild, ok medium and stupid hot. This place is one to remember, they sold corona and had Kelly Clarkson playing (admittedly this sent me a little over the top and me and new-found friend karaoked into our tacos with a gusto I think the lady herself would have been proud of!) This was one of those nights where I felt I could stay here forever.

Bought ‘I’m a badass teacher’ beer from the local supermarket but felt bad because there was loads of kids around so tried to cover it using uber moral strawberries and ‘I’m so lonely and lame I just stay at home and eat’ chocolate chip cookies.

Made a rookie error when I bought a CD based on the merits of it’s name and cover art…these are the word for word lyrics of my favourite song that touched my heart…in a metaphoric, profound way…

Looking for my Kitten, Doesn’t she shake with cold.

Looking for my kitten. Where are her whereabouts?

Looking for my kitten, because she loves sweet thing.

Looking for my kitten. She should be by my side.

I understand in reality, she is good at sheltering.

I understand in reality, she has good sense of direction.

I could go on…but alas, I fear you would die of extreme happiness…

I experienced my second earthquake last night…quite amazingly, mid saucy scene in atonement…I was like, bloomin eck they weren’t kidding when they said this film was moving!

And I will leave you with a beautiful message I encountered today- Let’s enjoy tampon times!

The Day I Found The Meaning Of Life

ladydowse — Sun, 19 Apr 2009 22:52:00 GMT

Just as Rod Stewart’s awesometasical line ‘the rhythm of my heart is beating like a drum with the words I love you rolling off my tongue, no never will I roam for I know my place is home; where the ocean meets the sky I’ll be sailing’ seems to sum up love for me, a cherry tree growing out of a rock strikes a similar truthful chord. Quite what note it is I am not sure, but there is something magnificently profound about seeing such a sight.

See I visited the big smoke of Morioka this weekend and found myself beyond happy to be amongst the hustle and bustle of a more normal world than my home dreamland. To be in a crowd. To shop. To eat a burger! Oh the bliss of the city life! Perhaps it was my hyper fuelled appreciation for the world that just bubbled over when I met with friends that caused me to find poignant things everywhere I turned, but I’m not kidding you, Morioka is the city where the meaning of life is hidden.

So there I am just ambling down the street one fine day, talking with friends, blissfully unaware of the revelation before me. We see the crowd. Cross the street. And there it is before me.

A tree.

In a rock.

I got one of those stabby emotions in my belly where you know you’re feeling something special you just don’t know which category it comes under, love, hate, bad curry…it takes a second or two to work it out. But this I couldn’t. It was beyond my comprehension. I kept looking but it made me uncomfortable so I walked away. I mean I understand how it is possible, but actually seeing this beautiful old tree dripping with blossom and propped up on crutches originating from a crack in a giant rock…it’s sort of baffling. I guess in a way it symbolises how Japan has felt for me so far; the normal, arranged in an abnormal way. The familiar, de-familiarised. As if that wasn’t enough to chuck Jess Dowse off the thinking-too-much cliff, I only go and see a snow covered volcano at the end of a busy road of traffic! Right about this time my friends are laughing at me trying to get over the surreal they are now accustomed to. I consider taking a photo but it seems a ridiculous idea to try and frame insanity, so I just walk on having one of those movie moments when you have a birds-eye view of your situation and realise the true hilarity of it all. I have this sensation a lot here.

Really, I know I’m sounding like a bit of a hippy now, but seeing trees in rocks, volcanoes on streets, bulls in a field without any fence, rope bridges between houses and red lights for no cars and no people…. Maybe I was just high on life because I was let loose for a few hours… but I don’t know, it seems to me that Morioka is the holy grail of what life’s all about…Well it’s certainly what my life’s about right now given there’s no crap TV to watch and I like have to be all intellectual and stuff coz they aint got celeb mags so I can read about Jordan and Peter and that. Sucks.….

Gallery: My new Home

ladydowse — Wed, 15 Apr 2009 19:13:00 GMT

Iwaizumi

Bring forth Scuba Jess!

ladydowse — Tue, 14 Apr 2009 20:35:00 GMT

If Japan were the sea and the people the fish, I would be the giant flopping snorkeler that just belly flopped into their serene world under the water. I attract a lot of attention. They’re all so friendly and gather round to say hello and ask me about my world on the land. But I don’t speak fish. I just wave and spout bubbles and accidentally flipper attack those that get too close. I am obscenely recognisable and not unwelcome, but our two worlds can never quite collide. I am forever in a bubble moving amongst them and when I try to reach out and touch, wanting to belong, to talk, they scatter. See, I don’t speak fish. My friend, he is so much cooler. He became fluent in piscine lingo… I call him a full-blown scuba diver. That’s what I aspire to. Not to skim the surface and wallow about in my obnoxious pink face mask, screaming ‘look at me!....but on the other hand don’t!’ But to glide svelte-like in the dark depths, smoothly and discreetly observing and learning… perhaps in a tight, neoprene, ninja-type wetsuit… hmm yes! I will never be a fish you see. But I am tired of blowing bubbles…and thus from this moment forward I endeavour to become scuba Jess!

My first day in my new home

ladydowse — Mon, 30 Mar 2009 23:58:00 GMT

I stuck my finger right into the middle of a raw egg this morning. I thought it was boiled and as I attempted to peel said egg I got a hand-full of goo. Quite what I was supposed to do with a raw egg I am not sure, but given the selection of random food I have eaten recently it didn’t perplex me for long and I just followed the directions of the lady opposite me- took a chunk of tofu from the pot bowl bubbling over a candle, wrapped it in some seaweed, plopped some salmon eggs on top and dipped it in the raw stuff. I’ll just say this; no longer shall I eat eggs for breakfast, boiled, runny, raw or sunny–side-up. I ended up being embarrassingly western and stuck to the still rather alien rice, fish and miso soup and went back upstairs to roll up my futon and my bean pillow…yes bean. Everything in this country revolves around beans. As if eating them, whole and pasted, sweet and savory, big and small, is not enough, you also have to sleep on pillows filled with them. But hey, Wales has sheep, Japan has beans. So right now I am staying in a ryokan in my new hometown of Iwaizumi for a few days until my apartment is ready, stranded in a valley bereft of any English, a car, a phone and only a trickle of internet. I am beginning to understand now why my boss gave me a big hug and wished me luck as I left. Nestled between tree-blanketed mountains (currently brown- reddish waiting for summer), Iwaizumi is a maze of little hilly roads, multi-colored tin roofs, and bleached posters that look like they haven’t been changed since the 50’s. There is a river running through the centre, which even on this dull day, is undeniably beautiful, flanked by ramshackle huts covered in vines and trees that arch over it. This place has definitely got some wabi-sabi. It looks run down and hodge-podge, but in a beautiful way. I wanted an adventure and as I walk these narrow streets, where passing cars slow down to get a good look at me and little kids stop and stare and giggle when I wave at them, I think I may find one here even if it is somewhat of a communication rehab. Today I decided I should find my apartment and to be honest after the egg incident I wasn’t feeling to confident, so when I turned the corner and saw that it’s yellow with a green door I was ecstatic! I’m so glad I took out earthquake insurance. It’s well worth the investment. Oh, and the view! I have a balcony that I think will save me after a long day; it looks out onto farmland with the mountains topped with snow looming in the background- now that’s a Jess Dowse view right there! I am under no illusions and realize that life here might get pretty tough what with the weather and the isolation (as I type it is chucking it down with snow and I am wearing three jumpers), but luckily I have met two lovely people who live an hour away in a bigger town and plan on invading on a regular basis to keep myself sane. Right now I will finish my feast of chocolate milk, cookies, strawberries and Yakult (the only things I recognized in the shop) and maybe head down to the onsen for some naked time with the Japanese folks and try to dream up the craziness I shall encounter tomorrow. Although, I don’t think even my imagination could come up with some of this stuff!