Fall
Colors
I have
written before that I bought a new camera and the reason why. My last one
developed some technical issues and I needed to replace it, but that was not
the whole story. A second factor also weighed in on my decision to make the
purchase. November and early
December are the time of year when the maple trees become bright orange and
red, and I wanted a better camera to help me get the best shots possible.
Something else I've come to realize is the importance of being in the right
place at the right time. In a mountainous country like Japan the colors
turn at different times depending on the altitude of the area and a person can maximize their opportunities to take photos if they plan
their excursions carefully. It's a matter of visiting the good spots in an
order that goes from higher to lower elevations.
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| Seasonal Color Changing Map |
Other
factors must be considered as well such as latitude, the amount of seasonal
rainfall in the area, its proximity to the ocean, and the quality of the soil.
This information is available at public libraries in almanacs, regional guides,
encyclopedias and other books. I have used such resources to gather the
relevant details, and with some success, predicted the optimum times to go to
the popular viewing spots. Er...okay, I should stop right there. That last bit
was a lie. I mean really, who visits libraries these days?
The truth
is I go online. I open this one sightseeing website and check the live cam for
a particular area. That's all there is to it. So thanks to the Internet I knew
Nara Park was the place to be recently. It's a famous World Heritage Site with
temples, hills and plenty of maple trees. And there's deer too. But they're not
those timid types that hide from humans. It's the complete opposite. These deer have free reign over
the park and act like they own the place. And if you find their
arrogance off putting, well too bad, because the animals enjoy national treasure
status and are protected by federal law. In days of old these deer were so
revered that hurting or killing one was punishable by death. Of course modern
day Japan isn't so barbaric--not like China per say. While that country is
slowly getting better, it still doesn't take much for the Chinese government to
execute someone. Committing theft or accepting bribes, for example, could get
you the death penalty. And I'm pretty sure that if you travelled to the remote
mountains of Chengdu province, tracked down one of the few remaining wild
pandas, and then shot it Rambo style with an explosive point arrow, you'd be
summarily executed (should the authorities catch you). The panda is China's
national treasure animal and they're much more rare than deer, so it only makes
sense that the government would take a hard stance when dealing with poachers
and the like.
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| Do you really wanna hurt me? |
There I
go again getting off topic. I'm here to write about leaves, and by God, I will. I now recall
that last year in the English text at my junior high school there was a story
about two leaves--Freddie and Daniel. In the story, the leaves sprout from the
same branch of a tree and enjoy the nice warm days. Then the seasons change
from spring to summer and onto fall. Freddie and Daniel are excited to turn
colors, but they soon become brown, and watch as other leaves are blown from
the branch.
Here is
an excerpt of the following part:
"What's happening?" they asked.
"It's time for the leaves to change their home,"
Daniel said. "Some people call it dying."
"Will we die?" Freddie asked.
"Yes," Daniel answered, "Everything
dies."
"I won't die!" said Freddie.
But his friends started to fall one after another. Soon the
tree was almost bare.
"I'm afraid of dying," Freddie told Daniel.
"We're all afraid of what we don't know," Daniel
said. "But you weren't afraid when spring became summer, or when summer
became fall. Changes are natural."
"Will we return in spring?"
"I don't know, but Life will. Life lasts forever, and
we're a part of it," answered Daniel.
"We only fall and die. why are we here?" Freddie
asked again.
Daniel said, "For the friends, the sun and the shade.
Remember the breeze, the people, the colors in fall. Isn't that enough?"
That afternoon, Daniel fell with a smile.
Freddie was the only leaf left on his branch.
I really
got a kick out of reading this story aloud in front of my students. I used
different voices for each leaf. With Freddy, I employed a hesitant, childlike
voice, and for Daniel, I gave him a deep, compassionate tone. I also threw in
facial expressions for good effect.
Oh, and
in case you are curious, here's the end of the story:
The first snow fell the next morning.
The wind came and took Freddie from his branch. It did not
hurt at all.
As he fell, he saw the whole tree for the first time. He
remembered Daniel's words, "Life lasts forever."
Freddie landed on the soft snow. He closed his eyes and
went to sleep.
He did not know this. But, in the tree and the ground,
there were already plans for new leaves in spring.
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| Full edition |
I later
discovered that the story is a short version of a book called "The Fall of
Freddie the Leaf." The children's tale serves as an allegory about life
and death and is made accessible to young readers through the use of
anthropomorphic leaf characters. But the message runs deep for kids and adults
alike thanks to the author's depiction of life's interconnectedness and how it continues forward regardless of our place within it. From a scientific
standpoint it is an easy view to substantiate. We need only to think of our
DNA, for all organisms on Earth share a single ancestor, the proof of which is
encoded in our genes. The real question then is where did life come from to
begin with? That's likely something we will never know, and it's unfortunate
because the answer is important to unlocking the great mystery of why we are
here. But if you stop and think it through, does knowing really matter? As
Daniel the leaf so eloquently described, life is about acknowledging our
experiences as we are carried from one season to the next. Isn't that enough?
Now, here
are a few more photos of the beauty that is fall time in Japan.
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| The leaves turn |
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| Kiyomizu Temple |
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| Nice focus |
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| Through the trunks |
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| My friend Dave |
Billiken
the Gold
Hello Kitty, Super Mario, Pikachu, these are some of the
Japanese characters known around the globe. But for
every one of them that exists, it seems twice as many characters have entered
Japan from overseas. Mickey Mouse and Elmo are two examples, and they are both
American which is where most these foreign characters originate. Another lesser
known example is Billiken, a kind of fairy that is mischievous and weird looking. A high school
teacher in Kansas created him in 1908 as a charm doll and he remains a fixture
in the area. But I grew up on the west coast and didn't know about him until I
came to Japan, after which I assumed he was another Japanese character.
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| Billiken statuette |
Later on in Osaka, I learned that Billiken is a symbol of
the city, and the Shinsekai district in particular. Several businesses have
statues of him out front, and I'd seen my students carry around little Billiken
keychains and stuffed dolls. At that point I was still thinking he was
Japanese. Then one day I got bored at work and looked him up on Wikipedia. A
simple ten second inquiry was all it took to reveal the truth. I was floored.
The character was not only of foreign design, but he had come from my own
country. I read on and discovered that his subsequent popularity in Japan was
the result of a theme park in Shinsekai. To promote American culture the park
used him as a mascot and he caught on among locals. But what is really amazing,
is that over the course of the following century he never fell into obscurity.
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| School Mascot in Missouri |
Anyhow, I catalogued this information into the
miscellaneous trivia section of my brain and now share it with Japanese people
from time to time. They of course find it difficult to believe. How could
Billiken be from American they wonder. Then I tell them that their beloved
donut chain, Mister Donuts also came from there, as did Lawson convenient store
and the Sega video game company. Nothing is what it seems. But it's okay. We
live in the present and not the past, and all that matters is the
world of today.
These little exchanges make me feel wise and profound, for
on top of confusing my Japanese friends, it surprises them that I know more
about some aspects of their culture than they do. Well, just because a person
is born and raised in a place does not mean they know why things are the way they are. In fact, culture is like a big iceberg afloat in the sea, and only the top
that sticks out is easily understood. The rest is implicit in nature. So for
the most part, people have only a subconscious grasp of how to behave and
interact in their society, and for this reason they often can't explain to
outsiders how or why something is appropriate. And I am the outsider here. For
years I didn't get many a facet of Japanese culture. Others I rejected
outright. Then I realized the problem was that I had too many biases stemming
from my own culture.
To know another culture requires one to better understand
their own. Living abroad helps to a degree because it takes us out of our
natural environment and challenges us to identify and adapt to differences. But how much a person adapts is
up to them. Some people don't put in the effort to learn the language, or they
intentionally avoid certain aspects of the culture. It's a constant act of
negotiation, finding your place between two worlds, and to be honest, it's very
stimulating for me. I also have a strong sense of intellectual curiosity that
compels me to try new things and look favorably upon change. And somewhere
beneath it all is that desire to understand. Writing is good in this regard. I can reflect upon
the chaos around me, and piece it together little at a time.
Shared
House
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| An expert in the drinking culture |
Years ago
when I lived in Tokyo I took up residence at a shared house. The two-story
building was like a college dorm. We each had our own rooms and shared the
bathrooms, dining hall and kitchen area. The difference with a real dorm was
that none of us went to school. We were all working adults, half of us foreign
and the other half Japanese. At the time, the appeal to living in a shared
house was the price. In Japan an apartment requires a large amount of cash up
front. Owners want key money, a deposit and the first and last months' rent,
and on top of that you might have to pay a service fee if you got the place
through an agency. It all adds up to five or six times the cost of rent. Shared
houses on the other hand usually ask for only a month's rent and small deposit.
The other benefit of living in a shared house is the social scene. With so many
people under the same roof it's easy to make friends and have fun together.
Well, I
did the shared house thing for a year. It was a blast, and I felt like I was
finally able to experience the dormitory lifestyle I had missed out in
university. Then I left Tokyo for another town and from that point on I lived
in a series of small apartments. That was until I moved back to a big city.
When I came to Osaka I had to find a place right away. My plan was to stay in a
shared house few months before relocating to an apartment, but I soon left the
place on account of it being run down and infested with bed bugs. That led me
to another shared house not too far away where I am now.
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| The first shared house |
Over the
course of my life I've lived in plenty of different buildings, and those
experiences have given me an idea of what separates a good place from a bad
one. Price and location are without a doubt the most important factors. My
current shared house is only five minute walk from a major railway hub and the
rent is reasonable for the area. Next up is size. In this category my place
falls short. I have only the one room, but as far as shared houses go it is
spacious and comes with a private bathroom. Continuing on, the third thing to
consider is the state of the building. The one I'm in now is about thirty years
old which is good because it was
built during the Japanese economic bubble when construction companies used the
best materials. The walls are thick and solid and most noises don't pass
through them. They also provide excellent insulation from the cold. With the bite of winter
approaching that's certainly something I can appreciate.
Other
building perks include a laundry room with dryers, a gym downstairs, and best
of all, a common area that has a large kitchen and dining space. I find that
having a nice area to cook encourages me to prepare food more often. In the
past month alone I've made green Thai curry, gnocchi with tomato sauce, tuna
pasta, beef stew, cookies, tacos, chili beans, yakisoba, curry udon and more. Plus it's great to eat at home instead of picking up ready made food at convenient
stores or restaurants, and the difference is apparent in my waste line. Having
a gym nearby helps too, or so I would think. I'm still using the one by my
school because it has better facilities.
The final
thing that characterizes my shared house is the people who live there.
According to the manager, our seven story building has 45 people. The majority
are Japanese office slaves who spend their days working until late. They return
in the evening, go straight to their rooms, and I hardly see them. Those that
do hang out tend to be younger and have some interest in foreigners. Then there
are the foreigners themselves. Sadly, only a few go to the common room to
chitchat, and the place is more empty than not. I am trying to change that. At
my previous shared house we had a good social scene going. We drank beer
together, ordered Domino's pizza, watched movies and played video games. After
I moved, another guy followed, and we've been luring others over one by one. As
of now, we are four strong, and we plan to take over the lounge. No one really
uses it much aside from cooking anyhow, and I figure it's only a matter of time
before we monopolize the large screen TV for our own entertainment purposes.
Christmas
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| Gingerbread cookies |
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| Japan's tallest building outside my door |
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| Takoyaki party in the lounge |
Centuries
ago, Jesuit missionaries from Europe attempted to spread the word of Jesus Christ in
Japan. They had a fair amount of success at first, but unfortunately for them, the Shogun came to understand the threat posed by foreign dogmatic views and thus
expelled the missionaries from the country in 1612. That put an effective end
to the influence that the Judeo-Christian belief system had over the Japanese
people, and in its place, Buddhism flourished into the modern
era. Now only a very small percentage of
Japanese are Christian. Well, having said that, the country still celebrates
Christmas, and seeing how their version of it has no political or religious
underpinnings, I like to think of it as a purely commercial holiday. It begins
after Halloween when lights go up around the city center. They hang from street
posts and decorate businesses, and sometimes form elaborate displays that cover
a large area. The Japanese call this "illumination" and it is one of
the defining characteristics of the Christmas season. But this does not
necessarily carry over to residences and it is still uncommon for people to
decorate the outside of their houses.
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| Jesuit Francis Xavier in Japan |
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| Illumination at a train station |
Christmas
trees have also become a symbol of the holiday, and again they are on display
in malls and businesses. Santa Claus too is added into the motif. He looks the
same as the American version and people call him Santa-san. Surprisingly,
Japanese children believe in him up until they are around 5 years old, and they
sometimes get presents. But nothing too fancy. Their real gift comes a week
later after the new year. That's
when parents and grandparents give out otoshidama-- gift money that kids can spend in
the coming year.
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| Big tree |
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| Colonel Sanders wants your holiday money |
Faking It
As a general rule it's not good for teachers to be
dishonest with their students. For one, it is unethical, and second, it
destroys a teacher's credibility if they get caught in a lie. And yet I do it
everyday. You see, my work life revolves around this one fabrication I
have buried myself beneath. But please don't think poorly of me. I do it for
the good of my students. Allow me to explain. The lie is that I can't speak
Japanese, and since my students have no reason to doubt me, they are forced to communicate in
English when we talk. It's the first time I have done this with school children.
Even when I first arrived in Japan I had some Japanese ability, and I thought
it would be good to use it to get to know them better. The problem was my
students wouldn't try to use much English because it was easier for them to
fall back on Japanese. In retrospect I should have been firmer with them. I
mean, what's the point of my being at a school if I don't help the students
practice?
This year, by playing the linguistically challenged
foreigner, I'm surprised by the amount of English my students use when given no
alternative. The words don't always come right away but with some patience and
encouragement on my part, the kids manage to get their point across. Or even
better, they make a collaborative effort to communicate. For example, the
student who is the most talkative may be horrible at English, so he or she will
ask their shy but studious friend how to say something in English and then
relay the words to me in a jumbled up yet somewhat intelligible manner.
My refusal to use Japanese does have its drawbacks as well.
I'm at times unable to convey certain information regardless of how hard I
try. Or it takes too much time, and I think to myself how much faster the kids
would get something were I to just explain it in Japanese. But I can't have it
both ways. If I want the kids to speak English, I too must make an effort. Anyhow, the true weight of my lie came to bear when I coached a
group of my students for a stage performance in English. It was all part of a
contest for junior high school students in the Osaka area. Each participating
school had four girls act out the same script about a boyfriend and girlfriend
who are lying to each other. In the script the characters both say they've
never dated before when in fact they both have, and during a visit to a cafe in
Kyoto, a series of unusual events exposes the truth.
Only one of the four girls in my school's group had stage
work experience. So I had to go over the basics. Things like speaking from the
gut to project a louder voice, and for them to speak in the direction of the
audience at all times. To do the latter I needed to arrange them in positions
where they could act out the script without ever having to talk to the rear.
After that I made them work on their acting skills. The script ran the
characters through moments of happiness, sadness, anger, shock and desperation,
and I wanted them to exaggerate each emotion in their facial expressions, body
language and tone of voice. It was not easy for them but with practice they
gradually became better. The same went for their English. That was the area
they struggled in most. At the beginning, when they first memorized their
lines, their pronunciation, timing and intonation we're completely off. Rather
than try to correct all their mistakes at once, I had them focus on one or two
at a time, and in that manner got them through most by the end of the two week
rehearsal period.
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| Another school play |
The entire time I coached the group I used English. This
was of course a challenge for me. I had never tried teaching people to act
before, and speaking only in English limited how I could articulate my
instructions. For me to be understood I had to often rely on simple directives
and gestures. But I shouldn't discredit my students. The four girls volunteered
for the contest because they had an interest in English and spoke it well for
their grade level. And they put their complete faith in me, doing everything I
asked of them, in the exact way I told them.
At the final rehearsal I watched with pride as the girls
executed a flawless performance. I knew then that they were ready. However,
fourteen other schools had entered the competition and I wondered how my students would stack up. The contest was that next day. I should have
gone with the girls to cheer them on but I had
already made plans to visit a mountain temple outside the city. Yes, I know.
Shame on me. My students should be of a higher priority than a weekend photo
outing.
The following Monday, as soon as I arrived at work,
the other English teacher came up to me in a flurry. She told me the girls had placed third and seemed very
happy by the fact. As for the two groups that did better, they had succeeded
because they'd used one of the supporting characters in a larger comic relief
role. How could I have been so blind I thought. The comic relief character is a
staple of stage work, and even the dreariest of plays employ them. I was a fool
to overlook such a thing. But again, everyone was happy in spite of the fact.
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| School lunch |
During lunch break the girls came to the teacher's room to
thank me personally. They showed me their certificate and I told them how proud
I was, and that they should continue to use their English every chance they
have. Then later in the day after I had finished a class, I was walking in the
hallway when one of the girls came up from behind. "Mr. Rodriguez,"
she called out, stopping me in my tracks.
"Yes?"
"I want to say something," she said a bit
embarrassed by her own forwardness. "I could not act well before. You
helped me to be better." She then bowed, and added, "Thank you for
being a great teacher." And without another word she stood upright and
walked away. I watched her go, and as I did, I felt a rise in my chest.
For someone who has taught English for 12 years, its rare
that I still have moments of deep job satisfaction. The way my students are
always coming and going has desensitized me to any real emotional attachment
and I kind of just go through the motions, doing what I can while I can without
a clear idea of how my actions will shape the future of those I teach. And in
the case of my Japanese students, I'll admit, I fear my efforts may have
little if any impact. The reason is that Japanese adults often forget their
English within a few years of finishing school and it's as if they had never
studied it to begin with. Then I get this one student thanking me in the
hallway, and it feels that my work is still worthwhile, and moreover, that I've
made a life better if even in a simple way.
Well, in March at the end of the academic year, I thought
I might speak Japanese to my students. How cool would that be? Me blowing their
adolescent minds by tearing down the very illusion I'd worked so hard to create
and maintain. But now I've though better of it. Allowing myself that one
conceit would only take away from the efforts and progress my students have
made. So I've decided to finish up my contract the same way I began it--as a
liar.
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| What it's all about |
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