What's a Girl To Do?

One small thing that we have noticed in our time here is that there are very different cultural faux pas from Canada. For example, walking down the street and eating are considered by many to be quite rude. Picking your nose as you walk down the street is completely acceptable; however, one of the rudest things you can do here is to blow your nose in public. I recently read in the National Geographic Traveler Guide to Japan that of the three absolute non-nos in Japan, “nose-blowing is so frowned upon that you should try to sniff and dab discreetly with a handkerchief until you can retire and blow your nose in private.” Until now, this cultural taboo has been only a minor annoyance. Many times, students in class will sniffle the entire 40 minutes, and I would just like to tell them (very kindly of course), “it’s okay, go ahead and blow your nose….really!” But, yesterday morning, I woke up, feeling rather miserable and with my nose completely stuffed up. I have a little pile of Kleenex beside me as I am writing this. Yesterday, in one of my lessons, I had to pause the lesson three times to ask for a Kleenex, because I had left mine in the staff room. All that to say, it’s been a bit of a challenge going into classes and trying to maintain a “professional” appearance when all you are doing is sniffing and dabbing and wanting more than anything to blow your nose!

Merry Christmas!

May you truly celebrate our Lord's birth.

It's been a noisy few days!

This grand snow-storm of ours it has been quite the interesting experience. The Japanese people are some of the most prepared around. I have never seen so many people with snow chains in my life! Everything from buses and taxicabs to... yes, the microvans! It was quite the clickety - clankity day (I even saw one bicycle with what looked like a tire chain!) Check out this picture (of course it's a minivan, I am developing a fondness for them!):

A Few Trivial Events

Things That Made Me Happy This Week:
-waking up to a dusting off snow on the ground
-finding apples on sale (only 58 yen, as opposed to the usual of anywhere from 98 to 158 yen)
-making apple crisp (and eating it!)
-heated toilet seats
-our landlady: I seriously think we have the best landlady in the world! She took time off work to help us move in with her truck, she brought us cake when she came back from holidays, last week she randomly dropped by with some specialty tarts, and this week, with her bonus, she treated us to dinner!
-being able to try to learn Japanese and the generosity of our teacher!
-conversations with friends and family
-packages and letters in the mail
-biking everywhere! (although, sometimes in this weather it's a bit "fresh")
-having my bike parked right where I left it!

Things That Made Me Sad This Week
-missing the family Christmas gatherings
-seeing the commercialism of Christmas, but not even a trace of the real meaning of it
-not being able to celebrate my brother's birthday with him
-being too far away to have a cup of tea and a nice long talk with my mama
-the fact that our heater is on the fritz

Hardly a White Christmas

I was riding my bike to work today and noticed what looked like some dust...but then, a single snowflake landed on my jacket! It didn't last for more than 3 seconds, and there was certainly none of the fluffy white stuff on the ground, but it made my day. It is the only snow that I have seen here so far. Maybe I'm not as much of a winter-hater as I thought I was.

Seito and Kyooshi

The other day, I had my first Japanese lesson. Before you start thinking poorly of me for the fact that we have lived here for over three months and have not yet learned Japanese, consider the fact that first, while still in Canada, I checked books out from the library in an effort to teach myself. After that didn’t happen as well as hoped, we looked into actual lessons when we first came here: unfortunately the beginner lessons were only offered at a time when we both worked. So, having heard that there were volunteers who taught Japanese, we left our information, but were warned that our chances weren’t good, as volunteers like the students to have at least some language experience. So, back to the drawing board, and on to the internet, where I tried to teach myself Katakana: only to get part way through memorizing the alphabet before the site crashed and I was no longer allowed on.
With that as an introduction to learning Japanese, I was pretty excited to have an actual lesson. I have no expectations of being fluent in the short time that we will be here; however, it would be quite advantageous to know at least a few basics of communication. I’m sure I’ll be able to say much more intellectual and accurate things in a while, but for now, I have learned that in terms of learning this particular language, there is good news and bad news. The good news is that the tenses are quite simple: it’s either past or present/future. None of this had gone; was going; had been; was going to go; went; etc, etc. It just doesn’t exist! The bad news is that in terms of writing it, there are 3 alphabets used, and then mixed all together. Any regular sentence may use a mixture of Katakana, Hiragana, and Kanji. To add to the fun, there aren’t only 26 letters in each: it’s about twice that in the first two, and thousands more in Kanji (Chinese characters)!
And so, a little bit nervous and a little bit excited, I went to see what I could learn. It was great fun, and the lady was more nervous than I was (it was her first time teaching). I came away with the feeling that there was a strange mixture of things going on. In many ways, it is like returning to kindergarten, to the very basics, and learning to read for the first time (“What letter is this? What sound does it make?”). In other ways, the task itself is so totally overwhelming: the necessity of learning and recognizing and memorizing and writing characters, learning words, learning grammatical rules, counting, (there are different ways to count for different objects: people, long thin objects, thin flat objects, levels of an apartment, houses, small animals and insects, etc, etc)! Where do you start?? In other ways, it’s a bit like playing mad gab: Ra – do –ne –e (My own dear “Rodney”)! Or this one: Ra –su – to sa –mu- ra-i?

I Sleep With My Hairdresser

Last night, I cut Rod’s hair. And then, equipped with an old fitted sheet (as a cape), dollar store scissors, and a chopstick, he did the same to me.

Mount Shosha Musings

Recently, we, along with a friend, visited Mount Shosha, an entire complex of Buddhist temples with over a thousand years’ history on top of the mountain. Although it is a local tourist attraction in its own right, it has of late become more famous as the site of the filming of The Last Samurai. After taking a cable car up to the top, we climbed the rest of the way up. We were blessed with another beautiful fall day: the trees on the surrounding mountains were changing colour, the air was crisp, the sun was shining, and the trees on Shosha were some of the most brilliant I have seen in Japan.
Despite the day we were both left wondering at what we, as Christians, are to do in a place such as this. It is an entire mountain dedicated to that which we do not believe in. Are we somehow immune from the spirituality that exists in such places? Are the temples only fascinating architecture and historical buildings? Or are we to be aware of what they truly represent? And yet, through Christ’s death, He “disarmed principalities and powers, He made a public spectacle of them, triumphing over them in it” (Col 2:15). Having said that, it does not deny their existence: are we still to be conscious of these powers? Are we to show our respect in such places (such as take off our shoes)? Or is this an act of reverence that should be reserved only for the True God? Or, is it a sign not of respect for the religion, but for the people who follow it?
How then, shall we live?

A Eulogy

It is always a difficult thing to write about those who are no longer with us, and this is no exception. Today, after months of nose-wrinkling from Rod, and with much sadness on my part, I threw away my Birkenstocks. It wasn’t an easy decision, especially considering our history together, but one that I knew I had to make. They were a gift from my parents, when I was a lass in high school; they have been with me to Ukraine, Bahamas, tree-planting in BC (perhaps that was a mistake) and Japan, as well as almost everyday between these trips. They have walked many miles with me, in good and bad weather, in castles and in mud. And, I have to admit, I was one of “those people” who wore socks with her sandals, for the sole purpose of being able to wear my Birks for as long as possible before the snow flew.
My Birks have always been a sore spot in Rod’s and my relationship: for the most part, Rod wrinkles his nose when they are mentioned and dislikes touching them or looking at them. For my part, they have been with me longer than Rod has, so I wasn’t about to give them up so quickly. It’s true, they aren’t the prettiest things anymore (and if I’m honest, they haven’t been for a little while now), but darn it! they’re comfortable, and they’ve been part of my life for a long time!
They’ve had a good and full life. May they rest in peace.

In case you forgot...

On our toilet seat:

I May Be Adjusting

I was a little bit hungry after I came home from work tonight. The first thing I grabbed wasn’t crackers or snacks, but rice. And not just any rice…It had such delectable snippets as tofu, eggplant, and bean sprouts. So, I sat in front of the computer, Tupperware© and chopsticks in hand, and ate my fill.

In Mourning

It was with some shock and sadness that Rebecca and I learned recently that the west-coast treeplanting behemoth that we worked for two summers ago is no longer in existence. SilvaRam Holdings, a company neither new nor small, has gone out of business this fall, citing financial reasons. Although I (Rodney) have few good things to say about my time in the depths of silvicultural hell, it did pay for the rock on Rebecca’s left hand, and I am left feeling a strange mixture of loss and regret. Like a veteran of war, or a survivor of some traumatic ordeal, there is a certain amount of bonding that takes place when you are stretched to your limits. Logic cannot completely explain why small armies of fresh young men and women make the yearly trek into the wilderness to expose themselves to that abusive lover that lurks deep in the deserted wasteland: the treeplanting trade. There is a curious mix of money, accomplishment, determination, competition, stubbornness and even growth (and I don’t mean the one on your foot) that drives the trade. It isn’t with surprise that I note that it has become more and more difficult for companies to recruit people to plant for them. I wonder if the planting business is slowly dying out? Well, one thing is for sure, Rebecca and mine surely did and I am not sure how to feel about it.

Out of Place….And Yet the Perfect Fit

Today we spent a beautiful day in Kyoto. The sun was shining, the air was brisk, the colours were starting to change, and the company was great! Among other things, one of the sites we saw was the Kinkakuji, one of Japan’s most famous temples. It was originally built in the 1220s (although it was burned down by a madman, so had to be rebuilt) and is plated in gold!

As we were leaving, we happened to pick up some strains of the Hallelujah Chorus! Rod and I just looked at each other and shook our heads…it was so typically Japanese. In the aspect of Christian influences on western culture, it seems as if Japan is a country that doesn’t quite know what to believe. It is not uncommon to hear Christian songs in the most unusual of places. I was walking down the main shopping stretch on my way to work one day, and heard the tune of “You are my Hiding Place.” A favourite tech store of Rod’s, Midori’s, plays “When the Saints Go Marching In” non-stop (literally), with variations in style anywhere from Japanese-Pop to orchestral. I was browsing in a shop yesterday and was pleasantly surprised to see a Christmas card with a picture of a beautiful church on the front…but, when I moved the box that was in front of it, there was a picture of Santa waving in the church doorway.
And so, while it seemed incongruous to hear Handel’s masterpiece on the grounds of a Zen temple, it was by no means startling. And then I thought about the words to the song… “For the Lord God, Omnipotent, reigneth! Hallelujah! Hallelujah!”
Yes Lord, even here!

A Medley

Let all that I am praise the Lord.
O Lord my God, how great You are!
You are robed with honour and majesty…
(Psalm 104:1)




I lift up my eyes to the hills –
Where does my help come from?
My help comes from the Lord,
The Maker of Heaven and Earth.
(Psalm 121:1,2)










You placed the world on its foundation
So it would never be moved…
Mountains rose and valleys sank
To the levels you decreed.
(Psalm 104:5,8)





If I rise on the wings of the dawn,
If I settle on the far side of the sea,
Even there Your hand will guide me
Your right hand will hold me fast!
(Psalm 139:9,10)



May the glory of the Lord continue forever!
The Lord takes pleasure in all He has made!
The earth trembles at His glance;
The mountains smoke at His touch.
I will sing to the Lord as long as I live
I will praise my God to my last breath!
May all my thoughts be pleasing to Him,
For I rejoice in the Lord.

Let all that I am praise the Lord!
(Psalm 104:31-35)

Stress Relief

I must admit, our job is pretty easy. Usually the most stressful part of my day is catching the train. Trains in Japan are rarely late, and if they are it is hardly ever by more than a minute or two – it’s just the way things are in Japan. I am reminded daily how un-Japanese I am. No matter how much time I seem to have, I constantly find myself running for the train. Whether I lose track of time, or am told by one of the numerous uniformed bike patrollers not to park in my normal spot on the street, the result is the same: me running. As good of exercise as this may be, it is somewhat stressful, because I know that if I miss my train, it means that I will have to wait for the next one, a local, which takes longer than the express I have been running for. 5 seconds too late for my train means a 20 minute delay in arriving. Two days ago I began to realize the satisfaction that I receive from catching the train at the last minute. As usual I was running for my train. I arrived on the platform just at the doors were sliding shut, and in a split second decision I dove in, forcing my body through the closing doors. “I made it!” I triumphed. As I looked up I saw a hundred Japanese faces staring at me, and I realized that I didn’t just think those words, but I yelled them. Nobody said a word – alas, I had just given them their crazy foreigner fix for the day.

Observations and Ponderings

-Rod is ambidextrous on chopsticks. How can he be so good at everything?
-Today, for the first time since being in Japan, I sat on grass. I also pet a dog. They were both quite enjoyable experiences; it’s just too bad that the grass smelled like dog.
-It’s hard to fall asleep when the last thing that happened before going to bed was finding a 2” cockroach on your ceiling and killing it.
-If we’re constantly late with just the two of us, how will we ever manage when we have children?
*please note: we are not expecting!
-We hung up pictures (in frames even!) on our wall today. I think that makes this officially our first home.

Are You Woman Enough for Japan?

More often than not, the common conception of a Japanese woman is one who is slender and sophisticated, delicate and dainty. As with all generalizations, while this may often be the case, it is by no means a steadfast rule. In my few short weeks here, I have noticed that there are some things in Japanese life that it takes a real woman to accomplish.
Last night, for example, Rod and I were biking home from grocery shopping. As we were driving down the road nearing our house, there was a man in need of a ....how shall I say...pit stop? His fly was wide open, button undone, and he was feeling a whole lot better about himself. This leads to another aspect: public washrooms. The majority of ladies' rooms here are what I would call "squatters." There is no holding bar, no seat, no lid, just a toilet in the floor. I am very thankful to have learned the "squatting skill" while in the treeplanting camps...I just didn't expect that I would have to use it ever again!
Even daily transportation on the bicycle takes a special skill. It is not uncommon to see women, with skirts well above their knees, sitting primly on the seat with nothing questionable showing. And then there are those who can talk on a cell phone and hold an umbrella while doing this...something I can only dream about and strive for at this point.
And who can forget the festivals: particularly the fighting festival. I was surrounded by literally hundreds, if not thousands, of men of all shapes and sizes and ages in loin cloths! As if that wasn't enough, an 80 year old (ish) drunk man tried to come on to me. How do you politely say "Sorry, I'm not your type" when you don't speak Japanese?
It's all in a days' work. Kudos to these women of Japan!

Are You Man Enough for Japan?

The interesting thing about moving into a new culture is the radical change in perceived normality. Just by stepping off the plane you instantly realize that “we’re not in Kansas anymore” (or Canada). It might have been the fact that brilliant pink is quite a normal colour for men to wear, or that the average man carries a “wallet” (we might call it) which to the untrained eye is nearly indistinguishable from a woman’s purse… but quickly the conviction strikes you that the westernization of Japan you have heard so much about may have just been a veneer. Am I man enough to wear pink ties and matching loafers? Am I man enough to take fashion seriously enough to spend more money on my wallet than I will ever carry in my wallet? Am I man enough to participate in festivities that involve the wearing of a loincloth while in very close proximity to many other near naked men?? Hmm... My Redeemer education has only prepared me in limited ways for these situations, although my experiences in Dorm 27 have helped me a great deal with the last one perhaps:)

These Are a Few of My Favourite Words...

I’m not sure how many of you have had the opportunity to speak with Japanese folk, but when you do, one thing you will quickly notice is that there is little, if any, distinction between the “r” sound and the “l” sound. Usually, it really is not a problem. There are some words, however, that are just a little too difficult to say!
These are a few of my favourites so far!
Really
Squirrel
Retired
Rural
River
Wrestling
Exploration
It takes tongue twisters to a whole new level!

Fighting Festival

Last week we went to a Fighting Festival in southern Himeji, near our home in Western Japan. This is a large and famous festival, in which the members of seven different villages compete for the title of last shrine standing.
Looking back on the event I must say that it is an immense "MANFEST", with everything that a "man's man" would want in a festival. It is a festival in which any man can dress down to nearly nothing, yell, scream, spit and scratch wherever he wants, show great pride in his village, and with all his buddies lift things which are way too heavy for them, all the while flirting within inches of almost certain death. I must say, this makes a football and beer weekend look rather tame! In the year before the festival the men of each village build these immense and detailed shrines, with wood, tin, and gold and fitted with a huge drum in the middle. Scores of men lift these things while four drummers sit in the middle beating a tune. They "fight" by pushing up against the other villages' shrine while the men are lifting it. As you can imagine, if you are lifting a one ton shrine, this can get pretty dangerous.
The winner seems to be the team who doesn't drop their shrine, or trample one of their own members. One of the craziest things about this is that the massive and pressing crowds are not safely in the grand stands, but down in and amidst the fighting, getting pushed around and in rare cases, getting injured. It is pretty intense, and the men (who often arrive at the event rather drunk, which is strange seeing as it begins just before noon!) get pretty riled up. It was not unusual to see fist-fights breaking out, or hear the shrill of Fox 40 whistles as limp bodies were removed from amidst the chaotic sea of men.
Before I get too far along, I must mention that it is not "just" a man's event, it really was set up for the whole family. This is one of the few events in which grown men, dressed only in loin cloths, cuddled their infant sons in public, and encouraged their teenagers to be even MORE rowdy and noisy. Young mothers walked amid the screaming throng holding their toddlers in one arm, and a video camera in the other, and old men (who were thankfully not required to wear the loincloths) gathered together, joking and reminiscing about when they were young. Yeah, I must say, this festival really was one of a kind.

Our New Place

Well, have I got a treat for you!
It's a tour of our new apartment! It is located in the prestigious Leo Palace which is owned by a lovely lady named Fukiko. Apparently it is her hobby to "collect" foreigners. She has many of them in her building now, in fact, nearly the whole second floor. Well, what I said about prestigious may not exactly be the case... you see, the main draw of this Leo Palace is neither the location, nor the amenities, nor the size... but the price. At 48000 Yen a month, it is less than half of what we were paying at our last place, although to be fair, it is less than half the size. For any Canadians out there... the Yen is trading around 98 to a Canadian dollar... so it is pretty much on par.

So anyways, for the tour: (Please excuse the mess, we just moved in)
We begin at the door, which is located up a couple of flights of stairs, on the second floor. As you open the door, you will notice that the entranceway is very small and multipurpose: it serves not only as a place to put your shoes on or off, but also as the laundry room and storage area. Two steps further and you "enter" the kitchen, be careful not to take a third step or you may leave the kitchen :) Across from the kitchen (which consists of a small sink and single electric hotplate) you will find the entrance to the bathroom, which is ingeniously set up to take up the least amount of space possible. It still has a tub/shower, sink and toilet, but turning around in it is a bit of a tricky operation.

Two steps beyond the kitchen (and pantryish area) and through a classy looking glass door, you enter what I might call "the great room". I would call it that perhaps because it is the only actual room in the place, the others being more of a hallway or closet. The GREAT room serves us well, taking the roles of living room, den, dining room, library, sleeping quarters and occasionally guest room! With a room this multi-purpose you might be thinking it huge and grande.... but in fact most westerners have bathrooms bigger :) Of course with 15 foot ceilings it feels much more stately than it may otherwise seem.

Our bedroom is located in this same room, but as a loft area. There is a ladder, and above the ladder a six foot by twelve foot sleeping area, and we are getting used to the climb.. There is just enough room for two futons and a couple of clothes drawers. We cannot stand up on our bed, but we can sit easily, so that is all well and fine.
So that is the tour! I am glad you could come along! Be careful not to hit your head on the doorway as you exit, and always watch your step as you descend the stairs (they are not as generously sized steps as you may be used to in North America) Do come again!
-Rod and Bec

Home Sweet Home

"Where are you from?" is a question that is often asked of us, almost as soon as we introduce our names. Usually "Canada" is a sufficient answer, but if anyone asks anything beyond this, I get a bit nervous. Where are we from? Where is home? "Port Perry" is an adequate answer for me, but then Rod answers "near Cobourg" and it just seems odd that a married couple would be from two different places. And then what about the four years that we each spent in Hamilton? And the years we've lived in Papua New Guinea, British Columbia and Mexico? Or, could it be the few months that we spent as a married couple in the wee town of Grafton? Where is home? For that matter what is home? My brother and I have wondered about this, and the best answer we came up with is "Home is where your pillow is."
And so, with that as a guide, let us introduce you to our new home - Himeji.
It's a city of about 450,000 people: a country town by Japanese standards. When I told a student that neither Rod or I were accustomed to living in a big city, she outright laughed at me. I guess I was told. In many ways the city is an odd mix: European style statues are along the main roads; small, traditional shops are everywhere, as are western stores and fashions. There are quite a few expensive and elegant hotels and stores, but equally as many dilapitated buildings. It's not like any city either of us have lived or been to before.
The city's main attraction is Himeji Castle. It is truly a beautiful building, and was built four hundred years ago as a defensive structure. The inside is ingeniously designed to confuse any attackers, and the simplicity of the wood inside is striking.
And so, this has become our home. A plethora of Japanese shops and signs, a world-renown castle in our backyard, and our pillows.

Getting Started - Rod and Bec's First Blog

Well, after much thought and discussion, we have decided to join the world of blogging. Unfortunately, we aren’t as brilliant or witty as some of our blogging counterparts, but we do want to keep you informed of our lives here in Japan: what we’re doing, what we experience in our day to day lives, and some of our thoughts and struggles. We hope you enjoy it.
The Voice Room is a room in Nova that allows students to practice their conversation skills in a relaxing atmosphere and to discuss any topics that happen to come up….we thought it a bit of a fitting metaphor. Welcome to our voice room!
Rod and Bec