No SColson, there are no banana flavoried laffies here in Japan. Sometimes I find local tastes to be a little baffling, but usually -- particularly in the case of the absence of banana flavored laffies -- they are dead on. Dead on, I say.

Work's been good, the weather's been gorgeous, I can't believe tomorrow is December, and I think I'm getting sick. I have taught many a student the delightful new vocabulary word "echinacea." They like it. And so do I. One student -- Tadahiro (I could change his name for identity protection, but the liklihood any of you know this krazy koot is nilch) -- came in for a lesson ridiculously sick and face-mask-clad. Such dedication! I lectured him for a full 5 minutes about the benefits of echinacea.

I can't wait to travel soon, I just can't. Sorry about the lack of interesting stories.

This morning I really had to make a quick run to the supermarket before work so I did what the title of this post refers to -- I anonymously borrowed one of my neighbor's bikes for an unprecedented 10 minutes. This is horrible and not allowed and actually fairly risky as bike-borrowing in Japan is not as breezy an activity as football-playa-bike-borrowing on the campus of Notre Dame. See, here all bikes are registered with the fuzz, and bike theft is commonly reported and rectified. I have actually seen a number of bike smackdowns on nighttime walks from the station and, well, they ain't pretty. Mom, if you don't hear from me soon you'll at least know that I've deserved my untimely end.

I don't know why I like UrbanDictionary so much, because it's often rather dirty and silly. Regardless, I posted an entry to explain my earlier use of the Teacher's "We." So READ and be enlightened. And then weep.

Thanksgiving day was so non-Thanksgiving-ish here that I managed just fine without turkey. I ate dinner at a really cozy and fun bar in Shibuya, the meal watched over by a 15 foot Budda statue wearing a santa hat and holding a Christmas Tree. Funny or irreverent, or both?* You decide. I then spent Friday telling my students about can-shaped-cranberry sauce and marshmallows on yams. Ahh, what a day.


* "Budda-Clause," said MicVat
* "Very bad sense of humor," said an overly-eyeshadowed student of mine.

Springtime for Hitler in Germany is a lot like Thanksgiving for Westerners in Tokyo. I think. Don't worry, though -- I haven't completely lost the Thanksgiving spirit. For instance, the other day I explained to some Australian coworkers that -- YES -- wild turkeys actually exist. From this discovery sprang a lively discussion about how one might catch such a turkey. The answer -- a Danny The Champion Of The World-esque caper involving copious amounts of bourbon. Ahhh, thanks NOVA, for providing such stimulating workdays.

In other news, teaching is still fun. I really do like it. The days pass quickly and are relatively stress-free. And the students are generally pretty fun. My last workday was really busy because it wa a holiday here (Labor Day equivalent) but somehow what I thought was going to be super-stressful turned into quite a fun/busy day. Yahoo.

I'm learning Katakana/Hiragana on my own, which is really interesting because I'm starting to realize how many words in Japanese are stolen from English. i.e. yogurt - yo.gu.ru.to, and Lemon = ri.mo.ne. Fun.

Selfish benefits of working with crusty old NOVA veterans include the fact that they all know Japanese. Sweet. Sam, a coworker of mine, is currently on the job calling around Japan to find me locations, availability, and registration fees for Marathons early next year. None of them (the marathons) have websites, so I was up some sort of creek without a paddle, but I am paddleless no longer. Thanks, Sam. Marathons, here I come. Keep your eyes peeled for the western lass leading/trailing a pack of 80 pound Japanese. It shouldn't be hard.

I just had two days off and climbed the ever-formidable 599 meter Mount Takao to burn off some energy. Good times were had -- I saw a hazy and sunlit Mt. Fuji from the summit, as well as a smog-ridden view of west Tokyo. Mt. Takao, the foot of which is about 2 or 3 miles from my apartment, was populated by geriactric climbers whose super sweet hiking gear put my J.C. Penny shorts and hand-dyed army backpack to shame. The experience made me think of running in the hills of Boulder, Colorado in cut-off Umbros and feeling inadequate gearwise, but only a little bit -- and certainly not enough to quell my desire to climb the Fuj in summertime ('tis highly discouraged in the the coming months). Anyway, after reaching the top of Takaosan about 90 minutes after leaving the foot, I chose descent by chair lift. It was rickety and sketchy and I have some funny pictures that I'll post . . . someday.

And just when you and I thought clear umbrellas were a fad of yesteryear (and by yesteryear I mean kindergardten . . . and decorated with Kermit the Frog and Hello Kitty), they appear to have returned with a vengeance. They're all over the place here, which I've somehow only just noticed. Today isn't the first day that it has rained, but apparently it's the first day I've bothered to look up from the rain puddles to see the glowing auras of the clear brellies. Really, they're pretty sensible, I guess, as regards preventing sidewalk collisions and letting in mood-enhancing light. Hm. Still.

Wow, lots of links. And p.s., I don't even know the Japanese word for mountain, though I believe it's something related to "san" or "guchi" . . . but I can write out the Kanji, which is one small step in the right direction. It looks like a trident without the staff. Or a fork without the handle. Booya. Mountian.

*Righto, so the title's link is to a view of the Fuj the summit of Mt. Takao. Mine was a lot hazier than that . . . I couldn't really tell what was what -- didn't even bother taking a pictures, but the experience was beautiful nonetheless.

Men here don't hold doors. For the most part, they don't say thanks when doors are held open for them either. It's a rough life we females lead over here near the International dateline. We're surrounded by brusque, spitting gentlemen and we have to cram our feet into pointy triangle-shaped confines. Thank goodness I bucked my earlier (4 days ago?) conviction and decided to buy a totally-sweet bag instead of totally-chic shoes. Everyone's better off because of it.

I went out last night for 100? beers in Shinjuku, which is a main hub west of downtown Tokyo, and home to such landmarks as . . . as . . . the Lost in Translation hotel. It's very representative of bright-lights-and-crazy-amounts-or-humanity-Japan, and going there reminded me of a phenomenon here that I wanted to mention: Okay, so there are many tall buildings here that have different venues on every floor. For a while, i.e., I frequented an internet cafe on the 7th floor of a building in Tachikawa, and every other floor had its respective business (mostly restaurants). Anyway, one might think that a 6th story venue would receive less patronage than one with street access, but this is not the case. Something about the neon lights and signs completely draws the eyes up away from the earth, which means these higher-story venues do just fine. Interesting, no?


Also interesting: I almost died from crushing and/or suffocation on the train today. Somehow I've managed to avoid overly packed trains until now, but I suppose my initiation to extreme discomfort had to happen eventually. It was awful and stuffy and people kept on squirming their way into the already-packed mass of bodies. Gross. Thank goodness for living in the sticks and not having to deal with that craziness all the time.

Ahh, my cash advance is finally in the bank! Booya. Creature comforts (coffee and shoes) await me.

The first of these comforts is more financial necessity. I love coffee, but a small coffee at a bistro/deli/shoppe/whatever here runs about ?300 = $3.00, which is no good for anybody. Well, it might be good were the coffee good, but it's kind of thin and bitter and generally dissatisfying. It's no Blarney, that's for sure. So, at least if I make it at home (in soon to be purchased contraption) and bring it to work (in soon to be purchase thermos) I won't be spending a heinous amount on- an equally heinous tasting beverage. Solved!

And the second of these comforts . . well, you see, I feel weird here, becuase apparently to blend in with the crowd a true lady's shoes must double as spy-worthy weapons of impalement. And actually, I hesitate to put new shoes into the category "creature comforts" because, you see, a true lady must walk about 1.5-2 miles a day to getting to and from work, which means a new pair of trendy shoes may actually end up being pretty unfriendly to the feet. But, you can't blame a girl for trying. I'm already in something of a lose-lose situation* and, well, I might as well be stylish. Maybe.

I found an really breathtaking shrine by my apt in Takao. I took lots of good pictures, and wish I could share 'em . . almost as much as I wish I knew what the shrine and all its accompanying statues and signs are supposed to pay homage to. Someday, someday.

Yours in using the "Teacher's We" like I never thought possible. Ugh.

*On my first day of work I took a dive down my concrete apartment steps face first (not as bad as falling off the roof, I imagine, but painful nonetheless) in what I thought were stair-safe shoes, which means I won't be much worse off even if I find my new purchases painful.

Man, I can't wait to get my photos off of my phone and into cyberspace.

So, although this society isn't a "Christian" one in some senses of the word, it has chosen to adopt Christmas as its own. And because there is no pithy nuisance of a holiday (such as Thanksgiving) for storefront decorators to impatiently surmount, the PARCO across the street from my NOVA office is already sporting Christmas decorations. At first, I was excited to see such a show of festivity. However, my excitement has been wholeheartedly squelched by two facets of this premature celebration.

1) Storefronts here are already so garish that at night time, when they should be spectacular, the lit up trees don't so much augment the atmosphere of crazy-city-lights as take a backseat to it. Sad.

2) The PARCO display includes a soundtrack of three songs. One of them is some crappy Christmas song by WHAM, and another is Happy Christmas by John Lennon. Both play at least 6 times an hour. And we can most definitely hear this heavy rotation from the fifth floor during each and every lesson. So this is Christmas? Apparently so.

Hm, I just deleted a very involved post, so here's an abridged version:

I went out in Shibuya (which is home to the busiest pedestrain intersection in the world, featured in Lost in Translation amongst others) last night which was lots of fun. My Canadian roommate Krista, who has been here since April and knows her way around, took me to an Izakaya where I had my first raw seafood (tasty and dipped in large quantities of sodium) and grilled an octapus and egg pancake at the table (spatula in the left hand, large mug of frothy and bubbly apple drink in the right).

I continue to be pleased with my NOVA branch; my coworkers are friendly and have treated me to such kindnesses as lending me books and offering to spot me some cash while I wait for my advance. Additionally, the administrative staffers (four Japanese women) are really awesome and sharp and good natured, particularly when compared to stories I hear of the status quo at most branches. The best part of my branch, though, is obviously running up the fire escape to the fifth floor every period (classes are 40 and 45 minutes long with 10 minutes in between) and smelling lovely aromas from the bakery on the first floor.

The title of this post refers to the paradox of Japanese street etiquitte I've noticed. On one hand, there is the uber-health-conscious act of wearing surgical masks in public. While visually it comes across as a little creepy (I think), I certainly appreciate the consideration of those who are ill and are keeping their germy selves within as small a radius as possible. On the other hand, there are a good number of Japanese men who cough and spit and make amazing sounds and produce amazing substances seemingly at will and with no consideration for others. Odd, no? I've decided to adopt the if-you-can't-beat-em-join-em mantra, so snot rockets on the Chuo line here I come!

In other news, let's pretend we're bunny rabbits. NOVA Style, totally.

Ahh, so I've finally started teaching. I'm in an interesting school -- in short, it's like Cafe ManBar all over again. All the teachers at my school (including a gent named Lindsay, who I had initially hoped was female) are men, and most of them have been here for more than a year. NOVA also teaches French/German (at a precious few schools) and, while mine is one of them, all these teachers are XY as well. This situation is rare for NOVA, and I wonder how I've found myself enmeshed in it. Have all the other females been frightened off by the quasi-adolescent atmosphere? Hard to say. Regardless, these peers (are they peers? I suppose they must be) are invaluable resources as most of them know Japanese

And, as I suppose is the first lesson for any at least partially aware teacher, I have learned a lot from my students. Here are some examples of all they have to contribute.

1) I have learned that Audrey Hepburn here is like God. Totally. GOD. She's highly revered, likely because of her resemblance to a twig and/or the similar resemblance of many Japanese women to same said object.

2) Things my students have identified with the United States: Rocky (during a discussion of Philadelphia), Las Vegas, Ground Zero, Reese Witherspoon (I had a very detailed discussion in Voice about the difference between Legally Blonde 1 and its sequel), corporate greed of sorts, and more Las Vegas. All in all, these four or five items make for a pretty well rounded country, no?

Mm, that's all for now. The teaching is fairly rewarding so far, and I think I'll come to enjoy it more and more as I become familiar with the lessons and allow myself to add to the lesson plans a bit. Yeah. Booya.