Kochi's Hallowe'en Party is the most anticipated foreigner friendly bash of the year. Just ask Mr. Pumpkin Head, but quick, before he has to run.

Featuring Momo-chan as Superwoman, Beeneesu-kun as The Love Doctor, Nanshi-chan as the Paper Bag Princess and Racharu-chan as The Ocean.

Jon-kun as Handsomu Desu.

Johnny D gots two turn tables and a mircrophone.

Chris just keeps on rocking in the free world.

Sick and tired of Tom Cruise? Get a pen and write down some of the movies mentioned in this article.

Yesterday during soji, the 10-15 minute cleaning time where all students and teachers clean the school, I asked one of my students in Japanese, "Do you like soji?"

Her response was "I don't understand English" (also in Japanese). This is precisely why I get annoyed when the Japanese English teacher translates what I say into Japanese when I can say almost everything I say in class in Japanese by myself. The students don't even attempt to try to understand. They think "okay, Nancy is speaking. This is the part where I don't listen because in 5 seconds i will hear it from the Japanese teacher in a language that is easy for me. That way, I don't need to pay attention or even really think."

I answered back "Oh. You also can't understand Japanese, right? I was speaking Japanese you know!"

She didn't get it but all the other students around her thought it was hilarious.

Although it varies from prefecture to prefecture, the punishment for drinking and driving in Japan is severe. In Kochi, where we live, government employees caught driving under the influence not only lose their driver's license, they lose their job, their pension, their respect in the community and any chance of ever regaining a sense of normalcy. In essence they become shamed persons, untouchables.

A friend of ours knows of a school principal who slept in his vehicle after a night of drinking. The next morning he was pulled over by the police who smelled alcohol. The breathalyzer confirmed alcohol in his bloodstream. Now he is a construction worker, one of the many Japanese waving a stick for long hours in the blistering sun. He lost his job, his pension, his self-respect and his dignity. When he isn't waving a stick, he spends long hours in his dark living room, flipping channels.

While the circumstances may seem severe -- caught the next morning -- the outcome is ordinary. Needless to say, its almost unheard of for people to drink and drive. As a result, my own attitude toward drinking and driving has changed 100 percent.

Before coming here I would think nothing of having two or three drinks and then driving. I wasn't overly concerned with having a pissed drunk driver, either. A large part of growing up in small town Saskatchewan was and is drinking and driving. Most people believe there to be no alternative, that they have to drive. "It's too cold. It's too hot. It's too far. It's only a few blocks. Cabbies talk to much. Cabbies smell funny. I'm not even drunk. One or two isn't going to hurt anybody. There's no one on the roads anyway." The rest accept this faulty logic.

When I come back to Canada I won't drink and drive, nor will I step into a vehicle with a driver who has. If there isn't a designated driver, I'll be that person. I'll take a cab or sleep it off. There really isn't any excuse. No one has to drink and drive.

"Do you have your passport on you?" Ysan asked with a smurk. He knew what the answer would be as he had asked me several times before.

"No. Of course not." I replied unimpressed.

Ysan- "You are breaking Japanese law, you know? All foreigners have to carry their passports at all times."

"No. I'm not breaking the law. I have my passport at my house. It is a bad idea to bring it everywhere. At my house it is safe."

Ysan- "Should I call the police?"

"Sure. Go ahead. I'm not breaking the law."

Ysan- "Are you sure? When I go to a foreign country, I carry my passport everywhere-with my traveller's cheques."

"That is a bad idea. It might get stolen-with your travellers cheques. If you keep it at the hotel in the safe (at the front desk) there is a less chance of losing it."

Ysan- "Well, you are supposed to carry your passport with you at all times. Especially in Japan."

"Even in the onsen (public bath)?"

"Well, I guess not in the onsen."

after researching on the internet......

"Ysan, you don't need to carry your passport on you. It says right here. You can either carry your passport or your alien registration card. I have my alien registration card."

Ysan- "Does it have a photo on it? Let me see."

"Here."

Ysan- "Did you get this in Canada?"

"No. In Canada I am not a foreigner. You are."

Ysan- "Oh, yeah." he replied not sounding convinced.

We made it to the Kodo Drummer's concert half an hour early. It seemed like every foreigner in Kochi was there. A woman from Duke, one of the big chain record shops in Japan, was hawking CDs at the top of her nasal voice. Nancy and I bought one, knowing they would be sold out after the show. From there we made our way to our seats, 26C and 27C on the second level.

In spite of my directions Vineeth made it for the start of the show. I told him, "It's in the big Orange Hall," the name of the venue. Later he phoned and asked "Where's this big orange building again?" As luck would have it he was phoning from in front of the Orange Hall.

We turned off our phones as the lights went down. From behind the curtain came the whine of a shakuhachi - a Japanese bamboo flute, extremely difficult to play well. In the centre of the stage was a masked, kimono-clad dancer. She floated onstage for ten minutes before the second curtain came up, exposing the okaiko players. One stood with his back to the audience. You could see every muscle in his body, even that little muscle on on the back of your shoulder that no one has except Hulk Hogan and maybe Ravishing Rick Rude. Facing us were two more behemoths. More impressive were the drums, as big around as a good-sized Chevy truck. The auditorium filled with the most explosive rhythm imaginable.

My favourite was a twenty-minute call and answer piece featuring seven of the small, sharp-toned taiko drums. The drummers were seated on the floor. They began with toko-toka's as quiet as a baby's footsteps. One of the drummers would play a rapid tom-toka-tom so loud you wanted to cover your ears. That would be answered by another drummer. Eventually all the drummers were playing separate rhythms in response to one another. It was a dance with sound, each drum tuned differently to create a rainbarrel effect. All the computers in the world couldn't have programmed something so intricate and beautiful.

The concert was directed by a famous Noh director. It was dramatic and atmospheric with many of the elements of theatre. With their drums the Kodo drummers set the stage for fighters and lovers, mourners and comedians.

The encore left everyone feeling good. It featured a simple rhythm everyone could clap along to. They sang and danced through the audience as they left the auditorium. Then the lights came up and it was time to go home.

Go Kochi!! The Western JET football (or in North America - soccer) tournament.

Jon (in green shorts) going for the steal.

The field - where "the" England team practiced for the world cup.

The cheerleaders.

Soccer.

Okitsu Kayaking trip. October 16, 2004

Kayaking!!

Hanging out at beach. Oh yeah, and it's mid-October.

"They took all the trees
Put 'em in a tree museum.
And they charged the people
A dollar and a half just to see 'em.
Don't it always seem to go
That you don't know what you've got
Till it's gone.
They paved paradise
And put up a parking lot.

Tonight Jon and I are off to see the Kodo drummers from Sado Island.

Topped trees in front a coffe shop, Susaki City.

Topped tree in front of a restaraunt, Susaki City.

Tree in a park, Susaki City.

The Susaki 14th Annual International English Club (now in its 2nd year) took me to Gusto tonight. Modeled on Bonanza, Gusto serves the usual western fare: corn and mayo pizza, fried shrimp sets, tuna salad, rice and Japanese radish. Plus, there's a drink bar (or, for those of us fluent in Japanese, dorinku ba). There is even a western-style menu with pictures and the prices listed and everything. Needless to say, nobody knew what was going on.

First off, the tuna salad was a can of tuna on a piece of lettuce. That threw everyone off. The corn and mayo pizza was all right, but there were't any plates. I asked the waitress for some but not before Ishikawa hopped out of his chair and raided the drink bar of its soup bowls. We wanted to order a fried food platter, but it was only for takeout, so Hosogi-san made everyone order extra food. Then Ishikawa went for the spoons. Bad news, believe you me.

Actually, it seemed a lot crazier at the time. When a large group of people goes to a Japanese restaurant there is no ordering. You phone in how many people are coming and the food is ready and waiting when you get there. There are always enough plates and never a drink bar. It's simpler and the focus is on the chit-chat, not on who is getting what.

Anyway, I think tonight's Gusto experience was a special one for my senior citizen friends. I know it was for me.

The stench of fishy tofu and strangeness is filling the staffroom. That’s right! It is lunch time. School lunch is being served. I should be used to the smell by now but it makes my stomach turn every time. I guess it is because I don’t eat fish. I know most people do but I will never understand how that smell is appetizing.

I have a pen-pal at SJH. She writes to me 2 or 3 times a week every other week when I am at her school. This time I have made her a tape of music in English. I wasn’t too sure about what to put on it – I don’t have any Avril Lavigne or Eminem here. Sarah Harmer, Tegan and Sara, Jen Lane, Leona Naess, Elliot Smith, The New Pornographers, etc will have to do. I tried to pick slower songs so she could maybe understand a few words here and there.

Tomorrow and the next day are midterm test days at my school. Today’s classes have consisted of a listening practice test and repeating after Nancy-sensei. Not my favorite thing to do but not the worst thing I could be doing.

I have been studying really hard for the Japanese test Jon and I are taking on December 5th. I can use the free time today and tomorrow to do more studying.

We're back from sea kayaking at the Ashizuri Cape. We left early yesterday morning and drove three hours on the 56 past Nakamura to the end of the earth. As always, it was a beautiful drive, through the mountains and down along the coast, rocks jutting out from the blue pacific. Sea kayaking was fun. People took turns with the big double kayaks, paddling out along the shore toward a couple islands in the distance. Massive cliffs rose out of the ocean and the hills showing off some fall colours. After a relaxing day on the water there was a bbq at the cabin. A bunch of Japanese guys did the cooking over a couple of oil barrels. When everyone had their fill, we went into the cabin to watch a video. It was made by the Japanese guys, who were marine biology students. It was called Squid Rangers, an action-adventure extravaganza whereby the heroes saved the oceans from an evil giant squid which was eating all the squid, depriving the good fisher-people of Ashizuri of their livlihood. The message at the end was "The ocean belongs to us all." It was a good way to end the day.

There's a story up about the ALT soccer tournament. The top picture is of our buddy Karna going for the goal (he missed).

Typhoon number 23 is here. Supposedly it is going to be the biggest one yet. I was a bit skeptical at first as they say that about every typhoon. However, I think they got it right this time. The typhoon is going to arrive this afternoon or so and already it is pouring rain. When the winds begin to blow, it will be something else. Dangerous even. You think they'd let me go home early....

I just finished talking to a pilgrim. He's been walking around Shikoku for 6 months with plans to walk the rest of the year. It's going to be really cold in another month. I didn't notice him carrying a tent. He's finished the pilgrimmage five times already. He said he was walking so he could look inside himself. He said he was only a little bit Buddhist. I said I was only a little bit Christian and he laughed. He was bedding down at Oonogo station when I met him. He scolded me for teaching English and making money. I apologized by way of student loans. When he is finished walking, he plans to fly to Bangkok and then to India. He is going to meditate in India. He lived there for six years before returning to Japan. He is from Osaka originally. I forgot to ask what his job was before he became a pilgrim. He said India was fantastic, with a lot of people and that the cheapest way to get there from Japan was by getting to Bangkok first. What a great traveller! I want to go somewhere, right now! I don't know how he survives. Maybe he made heaps of money off the bubble, or maybe he dumpster dives. I gave him 500 yen when my train came in and he laughed again. He had really straight, white teeth.

This weekend we drove to Awaji-shima for a soccer tournament. We had to wake up at 4:30 am to make it on time. Luck be a lady, I didn’t have to drive. Our ride was with Chris in his kick-ass Subaru Legacy. Not only was there legroom and air-conditioning, there was a 12-disc changer and automatic windows and doors. Oh, the luxury.

We caught sunrise on the expressway to Nakoku, which runs high above the city streets along concrete tunnels through the mountains. Chris put on some drum’n’bass around then and we were chilling like in a Philip K. Dick story.

We won our first game in the overtime shootout. The other team, which looked like they knew what they were doing, was pretty pissed. Before the game we had to do introductions, because not everybody knew everybody. They other guys had obviously been practicing together, yet we stole the win.

We won our second game handily. Our goalie, a fellow Canuck who hasn’t played soccer since his elementary school days, was awesome. Defense was strong and out front we were passing and creating opportunities. After the game, some of us started to develop a Mighty Ducks complex. That’s probably why we lost the third game. That and the jerk-face team we were playing against were cheap and dirty and also happened to be better than us. They wanted the win bad and they got it.

That night there was a party at a bar in the middle of nowhere. Capacity was 120 people, but there were probably 200 people crammed inside. The bar staff was worried the floor was going to collapse, so they told us to go downstairs. We went home instead, to get some sleep after one of the longest days in a long, long time.

The next day we lost and that was that. We stuck around to watch a match between Osaka and Team Jerk Face. This one guy was screaming obscenities and generally being an ass brain. At one point Nancy laughed out loud, which everyone in the crowd thought was hilarious. Ass Brain turned a nice shade of red then. He didn’t shut up though. Not until the second half of the game anyway, when he took a blistering shot square in the nose. Everyone in the crowd cheered and clapped and Ass Brain didn’t say a word the rest of the day. Nice guys finish last, though, and Team Jerk Face won the game and the rights to play in the finals in Saitama’s World Cup Stadium. Jerks.

Harvest time - mid-October.

Combine - smaller than a car.

Harvested rice field.

Rice soldiers.

Drying in the sun...

Bread is still a novelty in Japan. Bread for breakfast is a Sunday morning treat; most days its rice porridge and miso soup. Sandwiches -- right up there with the wheel as greatest invention of all time -- are a rather wimpy convenience store snack. Most restaurants don't even bother to wrap their grease drenched hanbagu stekis in a bun. Nothing but the plain, fatty truth for Japanese hamburger lovers.

Bakeries hardly qualify. The breads they produce are based on Amerikan pan, a.k.a. Wonderbread. Whole wheat is nearly impossible to find. Don't even bother looking for whole grain. There is no such thing as pumpernickle or sourdough. Bagles are a rare commodity. The healthiest option is a walnut bread available at most supermarkets (but at nearly $1 a slice who can afford it?).

What Japanese bread lacks in usable calories, it makes up for with creativity. Willy Wonka would be jealous. Most interesting is the beef curry donut, exactly as it sounds. A close second is choco meron pan, a mouth watering mound of Wonderbread wrapped in a cantaloupe flavoured sugar crust and topped with chocolate chips. Sweet potato finds its way into more than it should. Cakes, pies, donuts and French toast all suffer from its starchy sweetness. Meanwhile, if it looks like whipped cream or cheese, its mayonnaise: egg and mayonnaise donuts, corn and mayonnaise pizza, mayonnaise and fish egg French bread. The possibilities are endless.

Luckily for the Japanese, theirs is the best rice in the world. Where else can you have just rice for lunch? Who needs sandwiches when you have onigiri? What's a hamburger compared to sushi? Green tea and rice is especially nice. Mushroom boiled brown rice, beans and rice, seaweed topped rice, fried rice, the list goes on.

Given the sorry state of bread in this country, I've even been contemplating rice for breakfast. That's a fairly big jump. There's only so much Wonderbread a guy can take.

Harvest is nearing completion. In the foreground a man is swathing. In front of him a woman collects the felled rice. In the background collected rice is set to dry.

The weather is starting to cool off. Soon harvest will be over. No more golden rice paddies bursting at the seams. No more bent old women working the fields by hand. No more weathered old men scooting in and out of town in their little Tonka trucks. I love autumn scenery.

One of the more peculiar autumn customs in Japan is when city crews across the country begin cutting the limbs off of trees. Rather than deal with autumn colours and falling leaves, they just scrap the entire limb from where it meets the trunk. Most of the trees lining the streets stand naked as a toothpick all winter. In summer they sprout these pathetic shoots in a fickle attempt to stay alive.

Another strange custom is the fact that there is a specific day when autumn starts. It can still be plus 35 outside, but if it is past the day when autumn started, most people don’t dare remove their sweater. The air conditioners get turned off, too. If Nancy and I wear a T-shirt to work, people ask if we’re cold. “Not really. Are you hot? You’re sweating.”

I’ll get some pictures of those trees soon. Then you can see what I’m talking about.

I’m feeling a little bit frustrated today. I have been paying special attention to how many times someone talks to me. It has been really easy because out of the 24 or more teachers at this school, no one has said a thing to me. Not good morning. Not how are you. Nothing. I might be jumping the gun by saying that no one will talk to me but it is already almost 2:00. It is really sad. They don't even really talk to one another so I guess I shouldn't take so much offense. I want to work in an environment where a person talks to their co-workers.

Usually I try to take the initiative and talk to the other teachers but today I wanted to see if they would talk to me first. Thank God for the students, they are always eager to talk to me. However, “Hello Nancy!” and “Goodbye” can only get you so far. My patience is running thin today.

Tonight Jon and I have drum class. That always cheers me up. We get to sing Japanese songs while we play the drums. The other members in the class talk to Jon and I like we are normal humans. Not foreigners. I always leave that class feeling recentered.

Measured in volume, Japan lays the same amount of concrete as America does. It's hard to imagine a country the size of California or Alberta laying enough cement for all of the United States. Even living here its hard to imagine. Every river in Japan has a concrete retaining wall while most of the riverbeds have been cemented. Entire mountains are cloaked in grey. Buildings are torn down and rebuilt constantly. Over 60 percent of the shoreline is paved.

The worst of it is the stick wavers. For the past few months they've been repaving a strip of highway in front of my office. The work site is no more than three hundred meters, yet there are 16 stick wavers on duty. There are stick wavers on either end, warning of the neon sign warning of the stick wavers. There are stick wavers stationed at every street, no matter how little trafficked. There are even stick wavers in front of pylons. Everywhere you go in Japan, there are stick wavers.

I don't even care how ugly it is anymore. It's not my country. Until there is an international court of law trying countries for crimes against nature, there is very little the outside world can do. But what I want to know is, why can't the Japanese stop it? The government is using tax dollars to pave mountains in the middle of nowhere, so that the roads leading to nowhere don't get littered with falling peddles. I just don't get it.

There was a small festival in Ochi this weekend. People from near and far came to look at the flowers and eat some food. We went and Jon took these pictures.

Boy looking at animal ballons at Kosumosu Festival, Ochi.

Women in kimono at Kosumosu Festival, Ochi.

Man on a cell phone at Kosumosu Festival, Ochi.

Grilled tofu and miso sauce at Kosumosu Festival, Ochi.

In K-town, Japan, the people at the JHS believe that I have given the computer a virus. Their proof is that viruses only come from foreign countries and I am the only foreigner at the school. Thus, they have blocked my email. However, you can't tell who gave the computer a virus. Especially when no one at this school knows a thing about computers and their is no virus protector like Norton Antivirus. I never open up attachments and the like so I know it wasn't me. GRRRRR....

The other schools that I go to haven't blocked my email so I can still keep in touch. I will just have to wait until next week. Maybe it is a blessing in disguise, I have no choice but to study Japanese.

To stay or to go is definitely on everyone's mind. It is easy to want to stay when you have a good day and it is even easier to want to go home when you have a bad one. I guess that is what it is all about - weighing the good against the bad. We have almost 4 months to decide but I have a feeling time won't make the decision any easier.

Jon and I are studying really hard for the JLPT - the Japanese Language Proficiency Test. We are taking level 3. It is going to be pretty difficult but we will try our bests.

Not too much else is new. I had elementary classes today. They went really well and I had a lot of fun with the kids. The kids are what make this job worthwhile. I am sure it is the same for all teachers.

Happy 25th anniversary Mom and Dad!!! (tomorrow)

You can't make stuff like this up:

"Men are structurally designed to piss standing up," Chiba Institute of Technology Associate Prof. Yoshiyuki Ueno, who has studied toilets for more than three decades, said. "I wouldn't recommend anybody sitting down on a Western-style toilet to urinate. I advocate bringing back household urinals and solving problems regarding cleanliness by getting guys to be responsible for cleaning up."

Alan Booth writes:

Japan is an island nation, to be sure, and so the sea plays a towering role in in its historical and national consciousness. But there are two ways of looking at islands. Islands are either fortresses or dungeons. Among people who are by nature outward-looking and independent-minded, it is the fortress view that dominates, and that sees in the surrounding ocean a source of great strength...

By contrast, throughout most of its history, Japan has taken a dungeon view, a view that combines the habit of gloomy introspection with the feeling of being confined, hedged in, deprived of innumerable benefits. For the Japanese, the sea has been a barrier, moody, cruel and dangerous -- a barrier you sense very clearly in Tsuruga, where the sea is moody, cruel and dangerous.

There is a lot of talk about staying a third year. People are "80 percent going to stay", "still on the fence but with one leg headed home" or "getting the hell out of this place". Although no one has to sign their contract until February, everyone has been thinking about it since August.

Some days I love my job. Today I had two classes teaching sports and "Do you like ~ ?" to the grade three students. The kids were super genki and tried really hard. After class they followed me around the school asking all kinds of questions. Twenty-eight little kids running along and asking in the English I just taught them, "Do you like apples? Do you like Ichiro? Do you like poop?"

I don't even mind the bad days anymore. I realize now that the junior high school teachers who won't give me the time of day act that way because they don't speak or even understand English. I'm a threat the same way a NASA physicist would be a threat to the math teacher. In such a situation, I've found the best way to maintain a good working relationship is to play policeman and make sure the kids are sitting in their desks. No English necessary.

Outside of work there is the money and the food, both fantastic. My Japanese ability is snowballing and I love reading about the history and culture of the country. Nancy and I have started making friends through our drum group: we played a jam-style concert at an art gallery overlooking the ocean on Sunday. There is hiking, surfing, swimming in the river, onsen, warm weather all year round and a different batch of fresh fruit every season of the year.

Certainly I want to come home. I'm just not sure when. This year or next, it's going to be hard to leave.