Ep. 6Fairwell to Omya-rms

When last I posted, I was sitting snug in the simple yet secure hold of the Omiya training house, having just justified the price of the flight with two weeks of tense, turmultuous training and ten hours of timely travels in Tokyo. Alas, no more, for on that Monday--being Sunday back in the yesterday land of Oregon--we were careened by careful cabbies to the central station where, by the good graces of Greenery, we were all to go our separate ways. But first, by luck and fortitude, we had arrived early by an hour, allowing us freedom to collect delectibles of every shape and size--providing they were small and would fit in a cardboard ring--and descend into any possible debauchery. Thankfully, good manners held firm and the probably possibility of pernicious perpetrations was never considered. First to go was myself, collected from my captivator by a small woman. And so, good byes were said, bags were collected, and freedom was at hand from the beautiful bubble of blissful English in which we trainees had been living.
The rest of the day passed in a relative blur, with the ever efficient train delivering us to our delightful destination in a particularly prompt manner. Following a short foray into the modern yet friendly font of English that is my school, I was whisked away to prepare for my new home. First, a signature stamp; for reasons still unknown to me, it has yet to be delivered. Secondly, to city hall where, with enthusiasm and speed rivaling the most stereotypical DMV, I was registered as an audaciously ostentatious alien among them. While waiting and watching the shifting and circulating river of natives, I couldn't help but realize this simple yet amazing and extraordinary fact: this slim city--for few buildings rise above the fourth floor, truly tiny in comparison to tall Tokyo--was to be my abode and residence for the foreseeable future of--at least and not limited to but possibly solely entailing--twelve months! What adventures to be had? What lessons to learn and stories yet lived to be told? Only time would tell and ignorance would provide.


So, following our trip to city hall--which lasted about two hours, I think--we walked back to the school, picked up my stuff, and headed off to my apartment. I remember hearing, during training, that most of my fellow trainees had brought with them at two suitcases in addition to that which they had brought to training. All I can say is thank goodness I only brought one. Yes, my guide (not the same one who lead me through Tokyo, this was a new person) offered to help me out, but gosh darn it we didn't have far to go and I had packed the stuff with the understanding that I was to carry it to my apartment! Stubbornness, if you couldn't tell, is common on both sides of my family.

Thankfully, my apartment is, perhaps, 100 meters from the station (I am also thankful for Willamette, for if the trains make any noise as they go by then I have yet to notice them). We arrived, however, to find that my guide had left the key back at the school. So, she ran back to grab it while I hauled my stuff up to the my door on the top floor of the building. It's only a two story building, so I didn't have that far to go, but, "top floor" sounds much more impressive than, "second story." Anyway, by this point I was tired. Yes, I hadn't had that far to go, but I was in a new place, surrounded by new people, and I was about to have the brand new experience of actually living on my own. It also didn't help that I had been hoping to live in the rather taller apartment building next to mine, and hadn't even noticed its squat form until my guide had pointed it out. However, while waiting, I reassessed. Coming to Japan was not about me--well, it is, but not in this way--it was about my students first and foremost. This company had hired me, given me two weeks of training and lodging, and had an apartment for me. As such, no matter what, I should take whatever they have given me with the good grace and thankfulness that is the Oregon way--or, at the very least, the Oregon that I was brought up in. So, by the time my guide returned I had calmed myself down and re-prepared myself for a living situation tinier than any I had ever had. The key was put in the lock, the door was opened, and I found myself looking at...

(minus my stuff). It was bigger than I had thought it would be, and I had not anticipated the wood floor. It was everything that I had dreamed of and more. As such, I now present my first apartment:

 My futon, in my loft, my first night here.

 The same loft, also my first night here. Also, the terrifying ladder of death, and the door to my hallway/ kitchen/ laundry room.

 So, apparently you're supposed to hand futon's outside something like every day to keep them from getting mildewy. I haven't been doing so this week, and as it was raining something terrible this morning, hanging it outside seemed counter productive. So, I McGuivered it.

 The view one way from my front door. The building with the red roof is the train station, and the building right behind it--the one doing its best to blend in with the sky--is the mall that my school is at.

 The view the other way from my apartment.

 Looking through the front door at the hall/ kitchen/ laundry room. The other door was closed because I had yet to clean. I took that first picture after all of the cleaning was done...

...mostly...So, yeah, I have a couch.

 This time a wide view of the loft, now that I have moved in. Note all of the storage space.

As I said, mostly clean. At the very least, a lot better than it was. Currently, there's laundry hanging everywhere, but I think that it's mostly dry now.

I got some food with the help of a staff member from the school, cooked a simple meal, and watched TV. I didn't understand any of it, but it was still nice to have one as I started to unpack...a process that lasted most of the week, because a) I really didn't want to have to do all of that work, and b) I had a lot of work to do besides.

But that's beside the point. One of the most interesting experiences one can have is grocery shopping while illiterate. Now, obviously, either I am literate in English or am doing one of the most amazing magic tricks ever. I am, however, virtually illiterate in Japanese. While I had memorized the Hiragana and Katakana alphabets over the first half o the summer, I forgot most of them over the second half. And, while I did indeed do Rosetta Stone, I found it virtually useless once I got over here. Yes, I can ask, "what is that?" but I will have no idea what the person will say back. I can count to 19, but that doesn't help if I cannot understand when I'm asked for a number. I was taught how to say hello and goodbye, but not how to thank, say, "you're welcome," or say, "excuse me." Those I either already knew or learned when I came over here. In short, my knowledge is on the whole useless, especially when it comes to shopping. Vegetarianism--and I'm talking ovo-lacto, not pescatarian--while possible in Japan, can be quite difficult. They use meat in some of the most creative ways I have seen, and have put it in nearly everything. I swear, I have seen meat put in meat because the latter wasn't meaty enough. As such, I have to be really careful. Good example: on my first night here, I got a thing that I thought was a form of instant okonomiyaki (please see my new, "cooking" post). It required a bit more cooking than I thought, and it didn't have the vegetables in it like I thought it would, and it came packaged with...something. They looked sort of like cheese puffs, but smelled like fish. For the life of me, I couldn't tell what they were. But, since having plain okonomiyaki seemed a tad...odd...I decided to try a sample of one. I bit into it, and immediately started to gag. For those of you who don't know, I am a vegetarian not because I want to be one, but because my body rejects meat products--and that includes sour gummy worms :( but not, I have found, marshmallows or cooking oils. I know not why. Anyway, I gagged, I coughed, I nearly threw up. Whatever they were, they had enough meat that my body didn't want to deal with it. Now, I had been careful when shopping--to the extent that I wrote down the kanji for, "meat" [niku], "fish" [sakana], and other meaty things--but I will be a bit more careful from now on as I start to experiment and will search very carefully for those words.
Pictures, of course, do help, but if I'm to learn to live here then I have to at least learn how to read both nutrition facts and cooking instructions. Case in point, I feel as though everything that I buy is trial and error in its preparation. The curry came out too runny, and the okonomiyaki had no vegetables, but the worst so far has been the pancake mix. I saw it on the shelf, thought of home, and said, "yes, I will make pancakes on Sunday morning and it will make me feel at home." No dice. I bought the mix, brought it home, flipped it over and then realized that I have no idea how to turn the mix into food. It has some basic pictures, but I have no idea if I need to add eggs or milk to it or anything else. As such, it has sat in my pantry while I stew over what to do. I'm not going to bring it into work to be translated; rather I'm either going to wait until I get a phone (can't do that until I get a bank account, and can't do that until I get a signature stamp) and install the Google Goggles app on it, find the right kanji (I know that the mix requires three of something, but I don't know what) or wait until a nice friend who can read Japanese offers to translate it for me from a picture. Regardless, such begins the joys of cooking illiterately.

One final note before I end this post. This past week was hard, really hard. I had to get acclimated to my job, to a different system of doing things, and to students, but to help me I had my amazing predecessor. She gave me incredible feedback that I will use to help myself become an incredible teacher. For her farewell dinner, we went to a kareoke bar. I had the time of my life, though it went a bit later than I like, and I think that I can safely say that I was the only sober person there who sang and definitely the only person who danced on stage. The nice thing about not drinking is that I was a) in complete control of myself at the time, and b) I will remember it all. So, I thank my predecessor for being a truly inspirational role model, and I thank the staff at my school for being utterly welcoming, making me feel at home, and providing the perfect end to a long week. This has been an Adventure in the Austentatious. If you like me, tell your friends; if you hated me, tell your enemies; and if you didn't care, then tell everyone.