And Now a Month in Nagasaki

The flight into Nagasaki was rather uneventful, except for the stewardess going around with a gigantic rainbow-pink picture frame, so that anyone could have a souveneir photo taken on their camera. The photo was supposed to be taken of the passengers, but lots of people thought it would be better to have a souveneir photo of the stewardess. After about the fourth person took her picture, I had thought too much about the trouble of getting out my camera and decided that if I wanted to see that image later, I figured I could get it from one of the other JETs on the plane easily enough.

We landed, stepped off the plane, and the heat flashed on. We had been told, so I was prepared, but it was hot, especially in my suit. How hot was it? Well, maybe Kansas this summer got to be hotter, as I was leaving or after I left, but it was probably right about that hot. I was still overdressed for meeting my supervisor at the airport. I was ready with the Japanese tonguing this time, and gave my polite self-introduction. Then our supervisor told us 5 Nagasaki City municipal JETs to grab our bags and head toward the bus. He asked us each for the 500 yen bus fare. ...And welcome to expensive Japan.

We drove for about an hour, and the 5 of us non-Japanese got to know each other, and the amazingly beautiful views very similar to the picture on my first post. This is where we took another break: Nagasaki City Hall.


Each of our 5 base school supervisors met us at city hall, and mine took me in her car to my apartment, rapidly pointing out the bus stops, and quickly abandoning the idea of talking to me in Japanese. Fortunately, her English was great, and I had no excuse for misunderstanding that I would have to take the bus the next morning back to city hall. Yes, on my first morning in a brand new city in a (still) brand new country. Gee, I hope I don't get lost. We waited around for the gas man and the phone guy, both of whom only got a little Japanese out of me. I referred them to my supervisor, and she talked with them. And, fortunately, after taking me to visit my very close by base school, she too me shopping for food, and wrote down my bus stops. I impressed us both with my sense of direction, in being able to point out the general locations of my bus stop, my school, and my apartment.

When we came back to my apartment, she showed me how to set up my futon. Then she had to leave, as in leave me all by myself for the first time in Japan. The gas man and telephone guy had explained how to work a few things (mostly with my supervisor's help), but I didn't take much time to wonder about how to work the remaining random things in my apartment. I think I had just enough time to push the questions aside and appreciate the sheer adventure, while making and eating some pretty decent spaghetti, before I crashed.

Reminder: Japan is surreal. Does anyone know what this is?

I'll give you a hint. It's a rice vending machine. Uncooked rice. It's about the most Japanese thing I've ever seen. Aren't vending machines for things you can consume at the moment, small things, things you don't have to take home to cook. I mean, even in Japan, I think most people will buy their rice at the store. Seriously, who's the target market? I can understand cigarette vending machines, but I am as yet incapable of understanding uncooked rice vending machines. Maybe next time we'll talk about the Japanese and shoes...

Anyway, on my second day in Nagasaki, my first morning, after just about the most anxious 30 minutes ever, including forgetting to grab my bus ticket and asking several times about whether or not we were going to or had arrived at my bus stop, I got there, and even managed to walk from my stop through the winding streets to the city hall, getting there much earlier than I expected (after expecting one major delay or another). By this point, I had seen beautiful scenes like the following through the window at least 3 times.


That day, the 5 of us new people met with most of the second-year JETs. Completely surprised at how the municipal supervisor had established such a relaxed and unstructured "work day" in super-formal Japan, I began to get used to constant culture shock. The second-years told us that we were planning for a teacher's conference, but that most of the planning had already been done (by the second-years) so there was every reason to try to leave early. Relieved that Japan could be about as informal as the US, I welcomed the brief tour around town, and, once I had learned that one of us new people already had internet access, and supposedly lived close to me, I was very ready to have company for a ride back, and hopefully a chance to read and write e-mail with minimal time constraints.

So, I got a ride back with Emily, and she was very generous about giving me a lot of time to check up on things on the net. We talked about our impressions so far, and even took a trip to her nearby 100 yen shop; a Japanese dollar store. It was pretty cool, but it ended up being late by the time I made it to the bus stop. I had caught one of the last buses, and had got on the bus to leave, but by the time I asked and had learned that it wasn't going in the right direction, Emily had left, and I had forgotten which street she had turned down. Before I had the chance to panic, though, I remembered that I had brought my full backpack for a reason, and my base school supervisor had given me a great map. There was a police station nearby, and I was ready to rely on my Japanese, my good walking sense of direction and the hearsay about me living near Emily's apartment.

Once again, it worked. I pointed to my apartment on the map, and told the policeman I wanted to go there. He told me that it would take about half an hour, and started to tell me to go this way and turn at a corner, but I told him just to write on the map. He put arrows on several different pages, but they seemed to make enough sense. I gave him a confident smile, and he wished me good luck.

Thanks to my good map and his good directions, I made it through the winding streets of Nagasaki back to my apartment after a very interesting and scenic walk of about 30 minutes.

The next day was Friday, and unnervingly uneventful. Suddenly, I found myself faced with nothing to do, and I went through, let's call it, adrenaline withdrawl. Having heard that my map wasn't my map, but rather belonged to the school, cost about 10000 yen, and should be returned didn't help. I wasn't up for trying to get back to Emily's on my own, leaving me with nothing to do and nothing I could do, not quite literally, but quite possibly the most literally of my life. It took me about a day of scrambling through my paperwork before I got over it, stopped worrying that I hadn't missed something that I was supposed to do. I hadn't forgotten anything, and that, just like in the States, I would have boring times, and it was OK.

I went to my second Japanese Mass on Sunday, and was surprised that people weren't a little more excited, or at least surprised to see a lone white person in the congregation. I was especially disappointed to have a very brief conversation with the priest, asking my practiced, "Can I host a free English conversation table at the church?" and hearing, rather than enthusiasm, hints that it would be too much trouble to find the right space and time to do it.

But, that disappointment about not being more useful at church was lessened as I remembered that I had met a Japanese girl that Saturday in the nearby Jusco (Wal-Mart) just by walking around looking for a map. She had come up to me, and, in great English, asked me if she could help me. I told her I was looking for a map, and asked about her great English. She told me her name was Chiko and that, referring to her experience being a foreigner for 2 years in San Diego, I should call her if I need any help whatsoever. I gratefully accepted her number. Later, Rob, one of the (sometimes) more serious second-years, said that he had never heard of a girl just coming up to a foreigner and offering him help. Do you hear that, Chiko? Thanks!

Over the next few days, I got used to bus trips and days in the city hall, planning ever so little for a teachers' conference. Wednesday of that week was Peace Day, also known as the day the US nuked Nagasaki, and because all the students in my base school were gathered for an assembly about the tragedy, all the teachers were there, and I would get to introduce myself to the staff, formally. I decided that the teachers would (or at least should be expected to) know that I was as much as removed from the bombing as they were from the receiving end, so I didn't worry about trying to talk about that. I just worked on something simple, and executed it with the same simplicity... in my suit. They just seemed happy that I could speak Japanese. They clapped.

I was a little more anxious about watching the student assembly, but I wasn't supposed to do anything, and while the kids sat there, figeting, talking and chuckling in whispers, and generally acting just like American kids would at any general assembly, I let myself relax a lot more. I was relieved that they could "understand" so easily how important it was not to dwell in the past.

I had learned that one of my English teachers was going to an event near the peace park that evening and, after being unable to find directions to where I had been invited to join a Catholic Peace Day gathering, I decided to go with Hayashida-sensei, possibly to part ways with her later if I found out exactly where the Catholic thing was. She took me to the hypocenter of the atomic bomb, pictured below.

That's Hayashida-sensei to the right of the picture. Her kids are nearby; she had been planning to walk with them to the nearby river. They carried those small lantern-boats on the ground, and I was given one, too. I got my picture taken, too, probably because I was the only white person in the park at the time. The photographer told me, in English, to close my eyes and think about peace. I hope the picture came out as sincere instead of, uh, posed and cheesy.

Hayashida-sensei told me about her aunt who had died in the bombing, with a bit of uncomfortably graphic detail, but, more than anything, I was happy that she could feel comfortable talking so honestly with me. I'm sure it did us both some good.

The lanterns were lit, and a few of the boats were launched, but it would have been a long time before there would be enough boats to be scene-worthy. We waited, and Hayashida-sensei noticed a group of other JETs delivering lantern boats. I wondered where they were going next and wondered if I could, if nothing else, get some directions out of them toward where the Catholic gathering was happening, and possibly return to watch the boats later.

The JETs were going in the direction of the cathedral, so I decided to join them after thanking and saying goodbye to Hayashida-sensei. We made our way through the middle of the Peace Park, and one of the second-years pointed out that there was a Catholic Mass happening under the big pavilion. I realized (that I've done a lot of realizing lately and) that this must have been the ultimate destination of the meeting at the cathedral. I joined in the Mass and the other JETs left. It was late by the time Mass ended, and I got a ride with some very kind Catholic Japanese who knew almost absolutely no English. They told me about an English Mass for which they volunteered, and I told them I'd join them the next Sunday.

Then, on my second Saturday in Nagasaki: Waterfall!

Georgeous.

Do you see the rope hanging just to the left of the guy on the right of the photo? George of the Jungle, and the guy at the bottom of the picture might give a good reference for how high up the rope swing was. I jumped off that 3, maybe 4 times. If the picture was wider, though, you might be able to see an even higher ledge to the right, a ledge that requires a jump with a little distance to miss a jutting lower ledge. It was a height that really does give you time to regret jumping. I did that high jump twice.

This was the smaller waterfall a bit upstream. Yeah, awesome view.

The next week was more adjusting to what might be routine, meeting more JETs who were coming in, and preparing a bit more seriously for a second conference, a conference at which we would be doing some refresher training for teachers who had been teaching for 10 years. It was planned for 2 days, including an enkai (drinking party) on the first night, and sleeping arrangements, bunk-bed style. It was my first enkai, and it wasn't anything scary like the horror stories I'd heard. The real excitement was that there was a typhoon coming. I remember looking out from the JET guys' bedroom balcony, over the playground, down the jungle-ish mountainside toward where the ocean met with the hazy, blustering sky. My first typhoon, and 3 weeks ago, I had never been overseas. Totally surreal. Totally cool.

Despite the events of the second day being cut short, I wasn't especially impressed with the typhoon. Some billowing wind and a lot of rain. I know wind and rain. I think Kansas tornadoes are scarier because they're more unpredictible, but watch me change my mind if Nagasaki gets a big one.

The next week was a 2-day conference in the city for JETs from all over the ken (prefecture/state), so, for most people, it was a big change of scenery, especially for people coming in from the sparsely inhabited islands. It was nice seeing people I had met in Tokyo, and there was some good information at the conference, but, considering everything else that had happened, it wasn't that exciting.

The next week was the start of about the most regular work schedule that I'll get, going in to a school from 8:15 in the morning until 4:00 in the afternoon. There were lots of introductions and attempts to work out the best way to explain that though my Japanese speaking ability might be (surprisingly for me) impressive, I really don't know what's going on, especially culture-wise.

Other-wise, there have been and will be a few emotional run-ins and sporadic points of hope with the opposite sex (speaking of which, Chiko, and Emily too, and I are only ever going to be friends, mmkay?), but I've never liked diaries, especially public ones (why spread the bad news?) so I plan on keeping things on this blog pretty simple and decently newspaper-ish, though I continue to gather evidence for the prosecution of me as a highly capable bad, bad man who insists for some reason on staying good. For further details on that or on any other facet of Kyle in Japan, please ask and see what happens.

In conclusion to what might be my biggest blog entry, I have a picture from August 25th's Atomic Bomb symposium. My camera doesn't have optical zoom, but those are some important people from the UN and stuff. I was hoping to find a good opportunity and reason to make some killer contacts, and though I had the opportunity (a few of them were nearby and just standing there), I didn't find any reason worth expressing, nothing more than a slightly fancy way of saying, "Hey, I just graduated and came to Japan to muddle through teaching English... wanna point me to a better job now or, say, in about a year?" and I decided not to say anything.

Next, I plan to have pics of the apartment, including my fabulous wicker floor (also known as tatami). Stay tuned.