Hi there.
I suck at blogging laterly. Lately. After analysing the situation, I have come to the following conclusion.
The reason for this atrocious style of blogging is due to bits and bats of the following:
1) I have no internet connection (always a good excuse)
2) Typing extensive paragraphs in the teacher's room leads to paranoia, and it's not like I'm in need of any more.
3) So much happens every day that it's nearly impossible to pick out one single event and write a paragraph about it
4) I couldn't really be bothered. Thank you to the apathy-inducing junior high schooling system.
So, for your convenience, I now boast a range of links to other people around the ken. Prefecture. The area in which I reside.
To kill some time at work, and find out what I've been up to.. just fool around in their links.
One day, one day...
marilu.
Tuesday, October 31, 2006
Friday, October 27, 2006
Double-dose Despondency
What was I thinking?Seeing as my job does not actually involve working, I have been spending my hours at school making flashcards for myself, and getting the grip on 2 new alphabets.
The reason for this illustrious behaviour is not self-improvement or over-enthusiasm.. no sirree, I am studying for an exam. A very expensive exam. Just like kids at school.
Today I read up a bit on JLPT level 4 (the lowest you can go), and someone was quoted as saying "Level 4 is a joke is you have 1 year of University Japanese behind you, or 6 months of diligent study once in Japan". Needless to say, I'm not finding it very funny.
I just started, which leaves me with less than six weeks to memorise 800 Japanese words and 80 kanji. And not go mad in the process.
Gambarimasu. Me and my clever ideas.
(on the plus side, I should be able to hold my own in conversation with the 5 year old by sometime next year)
Friday, October 13, 2006
Kwaidan : Stories and studies of strange things
Today has been absolutely grand.
The students were all on some sport trip, so I studied a few Japanese verbs and then proceeded to research Obakemono; ghosts and spirits of the Japanese past and present. Ghost stories are everywhere, and I have taken a fasciantion to both that and Japanese children's stories.
The secretary and the vice-principal were very excited about me getting into the mysterious underground of their nation's tales. She proceeded to tell me a local ghost story called Yuurei taki (Ghost waterfall) in extremely broken English. Her extended pauses just added to the suspense, as I had to wait for her translation to find out what happened next. After she painstakingly related the story, she re-typed it into Yahoo Instranslator, and this is what it mangled out:
There was young mother named "Yasumoto Masaru" in old days in Kurosaka-mura in a prefectural border of Tottori and Okayama.
The friends who worked overtime in the sewing factory which she commits at the night of a certain summer had a chat, but will say that I "contribute money together if I return to here with an offertory box of 瀧山神社 and will give a reward to the person at suggestion of a woman of そのなかの seniority.
When she who was a bride of a poor farming family wants to let my child eat a delicious thing, I come forward and will go to a test of a courage. I ran in a dark road at night hard and was going to return in delight when she who arrived at an offertory box "was successful".
When go by 瀧 on the way; from the back "leave" it! I felt like having heard a mysterious terrible voice of ", but I covered my ears desperately and returned on the run to a factory.
When I finally opened a door of a factory, one of the women who waited screamed.
Her back was bloody.
It was assumed by her, and the neck of the baby who should have slept peacefully disappeared as picked off by someone.
Disclaimer : 'tis a pity that you didn't get to hear the real story, cause it's actually very good. But bad computerised English always makes for easy humour.
The students were all on some sport trip, so I studied a few Japanese verbs and then proceeded to research Obakemono; ghosts and spirits of the Japanese past and present. Ghost stories are everywhere, and I have taken a fasciantion to both that and Japanese children's stories.
The secretary and the vice-principal were very excited about me getting into the mysterious underground of their nation's tales. She proceeded to tell me a local ghost story called Yuurei taki (Ghost waterfall) in extremely broken English. Her extended pauses just added to the suspense, as I had to wait for her translation to find out what happened next. After she painstakingly related the story, she re-typed it into Yahoo Instranslator, and this is what it mangled out:
There was young mother named "Yasumoto Masaru" in old days in Kurosaka-mura in a prefectural border of Tottori and Okayama.
The friends who worked overtime in the sewing factory which she commits at the night of a certain summer had a chat, but will say that I "contribute money together if I return to here with an offertory box of 瀧山神社 and will give a reward to the person at suggestion of a woman of そのなかの seniority.
When she who was a bride of a poor farming family wants to let my child eat a delicious thing, I come forward and will go to a test of a courage. I ran in a dark road at night hard and was going to return in delight when she who arrived at an offertory box "was successful".
When go by 瀧 on the way; from the back "leave" it! I felt like having heard a mysterious terrible voice of ", but I covered my ears desperately and returned on the run to a factory.
When I finally opened a door of a factory, one of the women who waited screamed.
Her back was bloody.
It was assumed by her, and the neck of the baby who should have slept peacefully disappeared as picked off by someone.
Disclaimer : 'tis a pity that you didn't get to hear the real story, cause it's actually very good. But bad computerised English always makes for easy humour.
Wednesday, October 11, 2006
Long weekend, indeed.
Friday
A car locked in the parking lot of a bank I don't even use.
Cycling in the rain.
A cellphone with a flickering screen that reminds of disco lights or Outer Limits.
(they are watching)
Beer at Tara's and more than a slight annoyance with myself.
Good, good, good food and two Takahashi girls.
Clam factory.
And the last proper night's sleep in three days.
Saturday
7 am arrival in Niimi armed with backpack (contents: toothbrush, Zambian cloth, firepoi, camera, socks, dictionary, tshirt and wallet) and tent.
7:30 Bus to Shin-Osaka.
The Japanese dude that had to sit next to me looked petrified as he checked, re-checked and double checked his seat number. It took him les than 5 minutes to fall asleep (it's a special gift they have), and was soon leaning most of his body on mine as he dreamt about a world without white people.
10:30-something. Arrival in Shin-Osaka.
A slow walk through a fleamarket, and a lesson in Osaka-ben. "oo-kii-ni" means "thank you". A phonecall to Cisco Osaka while in the playpark, attention distracted by a tiny dog and two damn cute Japanese kids. The phonecall led us to the underground subway, the red Midosuji line, to the wonderfully seedy Shinsaibashi.
Arrival in Shinsaibashi
Loud music; rock and trance blaring from shop fronts. Everyone looks as if they fell from the circus bus. Strange kids. Second hand shops like you won't believe. Beer and sushi in the rain surrounded by Japanese misfits and the odd bum. Also a geeky-looking dude with a Lonely Planet, Japan. A kid with weird shoe fashion chases doves around the plain. Unsuccessful sunglass shopping in a shop with trolls. Ice cream in a strange shop where the man behind the counter wore a garage attendant outfit, and the decor was American enough to make me lose my direction.
Change to Daikoku-naninani
Mistake. The suburb features a drab-looking dude with a newspaper, and a gaijin that almost rode into a wall when Tara asks him "how ya doing". Consult Lonely Planet. We go back underground.
Change to Namba
Slightly better. Namba has a beautiful park, beautiful buildings. I'm hit by the realisation that I know of three people in Osaka, but forgot about them. Too late to contact them, as my phone has ceased to be. If it wasn't made from plastic it'd been pushing up the daisies. 100 yen shops and asking a construction worker for directions. The sun has set. We walk back to Shinsaibashi, where we've left part of our souls.
The directions are vague, the language barrier existant, and the map nonexistant. We end up in the part of town with the huge crab on the wall that I have seen in so many travel brochures. We gawk and gape and ask for directions.
I crave takoyaki, because the smell hangs around between raindrops and clouds of cigarette smoke. We're still lost. We find our way to where we were before. Looking for a nomihodai (drink all you can) place that starts with "pa". The word 'nomihodai' catches my attention between strings of Japanese words advertised by voice. We are led to floor 8 of a closeby building for 888 yen nomihodai. Two hours passes quickly. We stuff ourselves with food and cocktails, while thoroughly entertained by the clapping girl on the next door table. I get my takoyaki.
Only after this, the madness really started. Random Jap dudes with purple hair and facial piercings. Pickups on street corners cause foreign girls are easy. I meet a Sotho guy from SA, and greet him with a Sawubona. He appreciates my Nkomazi shirt. We stay much longer than indended. We stay in Osaka much longer than intended, but I fell in love with it's colourful undergroundedness. Where this post is at the moment, the night is still young, but I have lost interest in my writing.
Until later,
M.
A car locked in the parking lot of a bank I don't even use.
Cycling in the rain.
A cellphone with a flickering screen that reminds of disco lights or Outer Limits.
(they are watching)
Beer at Tara's and more than a slight annoyance with myself.
Good, good, good food and two Takahashi girls.
Clam factory.
And the last proper night's sleep in three days.
Saturday
7 am arrival in Niimi armed with backpack (contents: toothbrush, Zambian cloth, firepoi, camera, socks, dictionary, tshirt and wallet) and tent.
7:30 Bus to Shin-Osaka.
The Japanese dude that had to sit next to me looked petrified as he checked, re-checked and double checked his seat number. It took him les than 5 minutes to fall asleep (it's a special gift they have), and was soon leaning most of his body on mine as he dreamt about a world without white people.
10:30-something. Arrival in Shin-Osaka.
A slow walk through a fleamarket, and a lesson in Osaka-ben. "oo-kii-ni" means "thank you". A phonecall to Cisco Osaka while in the playpark, attention distracted by a tiny dog and two damn cute Japanese kids. The phonecall led us to the underground subway, the red Midosuji line, to the wonderfully seedy Shinsaibashi.
Arrival in Shinsaibashi
Loud music; rock and trance blaring from shop fronts. Everyone looks as if they fell from the circus bus. Strange kids. Second hand shops like you won't believe. Beer and sushi in the rain surrounded by Japanese misfits and the odd bum. Also a geeky-looking dude with a Lonely Planet, Japan. A kid with weird shoe fashion chases doves around the plain. Unsuccessful sunglass shopping in a shop with trolls. Ice cream in a strange shop where the man behind the counter wore a garage attendant outfit, and the decor was American enough to make me lose my direction.
Change to Daikoku-naninani
Mistake. The suburb features a drab-looking dude with a newspaper, and a gaijin that almost rode into a wall when Tara asks him "how ya doing". Consult Lonely Planet. We go back underground.
Change to Namba
Slightly better. Namba has a beautiful park, beautiful buildings. I'm hit by the realisation that I know of three people in Osaka, but forgot about them. Too late to contact them, as my phone has ceased to be. If it wasn't made from plastic it'd been pushing up the daisies. 100 yen shops and asking a construction worker for directions. The sun has set. We walk back to Shinsaibashi, where we've left part of our souls.
The directions are vague, the language barrier existant, and the map nonexistant. We end up in the part of town with the huge crab on the wall that I have seen in so many travel brochures. We gawk and gape and ask for directions.
I crave takoyaki, because the smell hangs around between raindrops and clouds of cigarette smoke. We're still lost. We find our way to where we were before. Looking for a nomihodai (drink all you can) place that starts with "pa". The word 'nomihodai' catches my attention between strings of Japanese words advertised by voice. We are led to floor 8 of a closeby building for 888 yen nomihodai. Two hours passes quickly. We stuff ourselves with food and cocktails, while thoroughly entertained by the clapping girl on the next door table. I get my takoyaki.
Only after this, the madness really started. Random Jap dudes with purple hair and facial piercings. Pickups on street corners cause foreign girls are easy. I meet a Sotho guy from SA, and greet him with a Sawubona. He appreciates my Nkomazi shirt. We stay much longer than indended. We stay in Osaka much longer than intended, but I fell in love with it's colourful undergroundedness. Where this post is at the moment, the night is still young, but I have lost interest in my writing.
Until later,
M.
Friday, October 06, 2006
Program 3 Lesson 2
"I have accepted the fact that there is no God in Japan" - South African, Nagasaki.
So, Hello Kitty and black bobby socks with golden shoes are big in Japan. So are stupid hairclips on boys, easily accessible alcohol, stuffed animals dangling from cellphones, keepin' up with what's hot this week, oven mitts as bicycle gloves, not using couches, and pokemon characters that get in the way of the weather report on TV. The list goes on forever.
With so many things being big in Japan, they kinda missed out on the Sunday as a rest day. Maybe it's a Western thing. God knows (..or does He..?), organised religion is NOT big in Japan.
I'm going to have to work my third Sunday, soon. Trouble with the previous two was that I didn't sleep for many, many consecutive hours, and then tried to stay awake during 45 minute long plays in Japanese, soaked in bad acting. It was an exercise in futility.
Today, I was presented with the following deal:
You work at the open day on 22 October. It's a Sunday, of course.
You get the Monday off.
The possibility exists that you can go home at 13h00 on Sunday
BUT
If you go home at 13h00.. you are not allowed to leave your house until 16h15.
Now, I can try to be funny and say (to myself).. "Haha.. what, is Big Brother going to see me?"
but I know the answer to that question. And it's not a comforting one.
So, Hello Kitty and black bobby socks with golden shoes are big in Japan. So are stupid hairclips on boys, easily accessible alcohol, stuffed animals dangling from cellphones, keepin' up with what's hot this week, oven mitts as bicycle gloves, not using couches, and pokemon characters that get in the way of the weather report on TV. The list goes on forever.
With so many things being big in Japan, they kinda missed out on the Sunday as a rest day. Maybe it's a Western thing. God knows (..or does He..?), organised religion is NOT big in Japan.
I'm going to have to work my third Sunday, soon. Trouble with the previous two was that I didn't sleep for many, many consecutive hours, and then tried to stay awake during 45 minute long plays in Japanese, soaked in bad acting. It was an exercise in futility.
Today, I was presented with the following deal:
You work at the open day on 22 October. It's a Sunday, of course.
You get the Monday off.
The possibility exists that you can go home at 13h00 on Sunday
BUT
If you go home at 13h00.. you are not allowed to leave your house until 16h15.
Now, I can try to be funny and say (to myself).. "Haha.. what, is Big Brother going to see me?"
but I know the answer to that question. And it's not a comforting one.
Program 3 Lesson 1
I don't want to make this a blog about school. At all. You want stories about how absolutely ridiculous the teaching time in a JET's life is, surf the net. There's loads of personal sites there that range from the absolutely hysterical to the eye-gougingly drab. So, for the first and hopefully last time, I will share with you two moments from my day so far. It's not even lunchtime yet.
Scenario 1 - First, yes first team-teaching lesson with my elusive Japanese Teacher of English (JTE)
He's rambling on in Japanese, and I'm having a grand time daydreaming about.. whatever. It's harder to pin down daydreams that it is to remember night dreams. I hear my name. It's my que! I jump to service. Shall I pronounce something for you? Perhaps I can pass a pen to you?
Oh no.
He says: "Mariru sensei... please explain to students.. the difference in intonation and pronounce.. for different English speakers.. from these countries."
Immediately I think: "Huh?".
I look at the board, where there's three points scribbled in katakana. Crap. I take a moment to decypher the question.
The writing on the wall says:
1) I-gi-ri-su
2) A-me-ri-ka
3) Oo-su-to-ra-ri-a
He must have noted the blank expression on my face, for he elaborated on the question. He added on the blackboard the words: "How are you?"
Then he asked me to explain the different ways that speakers from the above countries pronounced the phrase "How are you?"
I stared at him in disbelief, the whole class waiting for my answer.
"Well.. " I replied. "It's all about the local way that words are used. For example, Australians would not say 'Good morning', but would say 'Gday mate!'"
I felt enveloped by stupidity.
But they went for it. He translated my stupid little speech (including how South Africans say "Howzit" instead of..) into Japanese for the class, and I was free to go.
Disclaimer
I sincerely apologise to all Australians for stereotyping in order to save my ass. But the kids won't remember anything. I have come to believe that all English knowledge is extraced from their minds during monthly brainwashing sessions.
Scenario 1 - First, yes first team-teaching lesson with my elusive Japanese Teacher of English (JTE)
He's rambling on in Japanese, and I'm having a grand time daydreaming about.. whatever. It's harder to pin down daydreams that it is to remember night dreams. I hear my name. It's my que! I jump to service. Shall I pronounce something for you? Perhaps I can pass a pen to you?
Oh no.
He says: "Mariru sensei... please explain to students.. the difference in intonation and pronounce.. for different English speakers.. from these countries."
Immediately I think: "Huh?".
I look at the board, where there's three points scribbled in katakana. Crap. I take a moment to decypher the question.
The writing on the wall says:
1) I-gi-ri-su
2) A-me-ri-ka
3) Oo-su-to-ra-ri-a
He must have noted the blank expression on my face, for he elaborated on the question. He added on the blackboard the words: "How are you?"
Then he asked me to explain the different ways that speakers from the above countries pronounced the phrase "How are you?"
I stared at him in disbelief, the whole class waiting for my answer.
"Well.. " I replied. "It's all about the local way that words are used. For example, Australians would not say 'Good morning', but would say 'Gday mate!'"
I felt enveloped by stupidity.
But they went for it. He translated my stupid little speech (including how South Africans say "Howzit" instead of..) into Japanese for the class, and I was free to go.
Disclaimer
I sincerely apologise to all Australians for stereotyping in order to save my ass. But the kids won't remember anything. I have come to believe that all English knowledge is extraced from their minds during monthly brainwashing sessions.
Monday, October 02, 2006
Koh Koh Bango
With the amazing assistance of Miss Silverman and her understandable Japanese skills, my ticket to Thailand has been booked. I realise that we're kinda jumping the gun here, as the plane only departs 21st December, but as they say in ZuluLand: Walala Wasala.
I am eagerly anticipating this trip. But first.. there are three more months of Japan madness to get through.
I am eagerly anticipating this trip. But first.. there are three more months of Japan madness to get through.
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