2001-09-10 - 2:19 p.m.
On Saturday, Lela and I went to the sports festival at my jr. high school, and like nearly every experience I’ve had in Japan, it surprised me and proved to be nothing like what I expected. All last week I watched students practice cheering routines and various competitions for hours on end. With all of the time they were spending on preparations, I anticipated the sports festival being a formal presentation for a rapt audience of parents sitting silently in neat rows of chairs, fanning themselves with Japanese fans and mopping their brows with handkerchiefs. However, when we approached the track behind the school where the festival was being held, the scene couldn’t have been more different. Rather than rows of seats, families had brought picnic blankets, lawn chairs, and even collapsible picnic tables and had set up camp all over the perimeter of the track. Young kids ran around sipping on juice boxes, fathers paced with cell phones, and mothers laid out elaborate lunches of sushi, onigiri, fried chicken and small sausages. The PTA sold drinks for 100 yen. Meanwhile, the students, who were grouped into 5 teams (white, yellow, red, blue, and green) participated in a series of competitions, many of which would not be allowed in the U.S. for fear of lawsuits. The events ranged from joyful and rambunctious to ceremonial and somber. At one point, all 500-plus students stood in neat rows facing a teacher who cued their movements by hitting a bass drum. With each deep boom of the drum, the students made a single movement en-mass, and the cumulative effect of these singular movements created an awesome display -- human pyramids and towers, 4 students high, were slowly assembled to the “oohs” and “ahhs” of the crowd. Fortunately, none of the pyramids collapsed off-cue.
On Sunday, I had a most relaxing day at home, watching Beetlejuice, eating French toast, taking a bath, and reading _The Great Gatsby_. Sometimes when I spend all day at home I almost forget that I’m in Japan, but on further thought, this must be a sign of my acculturation. Indeed, there are many “foreign” elements even inside my own apartment. From the tatami mats and floor-level furniture to the Japanese-style bathtub, to the rice snacks I nosh on, even when I am at home I am undoubtedly AWAY from home. I enjoy days like this immensely, because every time I leave my apartment, things get tricky. At home, I don’t have to worry about what the sales clerk is trying to tell me when I check out, how I will get the ATM to work, or how to ask for help if I need it. I think that spending a day every now and then removed from the pressures of everyday public life in Japan will do me a lot of good. I’m also finding that I need the extra sleep. Even though I don’t have to leave for work until 7:50 each morning, I found myself exhausted all last week because I could not get myself into bed early enough. This is what I dreaded about working life -- that I wouldn’t be able to stick to my natural sleep pattern and I’d be a zombie all week. Hopefully I’ll get into the rhythm of things soon.
This weekend I saw a really funny thing on TV -- the Japanese version of “Who Wants to be a Millionaire?” The host bears an uncanny resemblance to (a Japanese) Regis Philbin, in both appearance and mannerisms. I would love to see a convention of “Millionaire” hosts from around the world. The show is full of all of the same overwrought melodrama and pregnant pauses as the American version, and it is taped on an identical set. On this particular episode, the contestants were junior high and high school kids. They competed with their homeroom class cheering them on via satellite and their nervous mothers jumping up and down in a separate room in the studio. Despite the fact that I couldn’t understand any of the questions or answers, I was riveted. The drama was so well-crafted and manipulative that I nearly cried when a 13-year-old boy won 1 million yen (about $8300). On Sunday, I saw the start of the Sumo wrestling season, which was similarly riveting, and much more ceremonial than I had imagined. The match was held in an ornately-decorated sports hall, it was orchestrated by officials in traditional Japanese attire. I think Lela and I are going to get tickets.
Currently, we are in the middle of Typhoon 15 (12-14 seem to have escaped my notice). This typhoon business is no fun. This is some of the most volatile weather I’ve experienced anywhere. Unlike the East Coast of the U.S., where rain usually comes in the form of a big storm or a slow rainy day, or even Amsterdam, where there is generally light rain punctuated by the occasional downpour, Japan seems to have a frustratingly persistent cycle of all of the above. For the past 2 days, it has gone something like this: Slow steady rain (1 hour); cloudy sky, no rain (30 minutes); torrential downpour (10 minutes); cloudy sky with howling winds (30 min); repeat. Thus, you could go out to the bank when it seems reasonably calm, but soon be caught in a down pour, only to encounter 50 mph winds on your way home. I’ve been putting off doing this week’s grocery shopping for precisely this reason.
Things I'm missing: Mexican food, the Sunday NY Times (not the same to read it online), stores with clothes that fit, fake chicken nuggets, 24-hour ATMs, walking out the door without a dictionary.
