The Final Goodbye

I sit on the second floor of the Starbucks overlooking Shibuya crossing. The seating here is always closely coveted and hard to capture, especially on a night like tonight. I stare down at the people below, perpetually moving, the lights bright and flickering from all directions, the sounds muted by the glass but still present in my memory as I watch. I came here to watch, having arrived at Shibuya with no destination, just an ache to SEE. After two years, I still feel blind and empty; I want more; to see more, to experience more, to fill myself full with memories. My eyes flicker toward every movement with a sort of desperate fascination. A peculiar longing fills me, a hunger I can never sate. I watch with a desire that just by watching I can soak it up through my skin, that the experience with permeate throughout me and thus, somehow, last...

I can't let it go, I can't leave, the hunger filling me still, still so unsated... and yet my fingers cannot grasp the threads of time, the red silk fabric of it slipping slowly through my fingers like kimono threads...

Even just writing this, I feel a little less empty... That even this is some proof of my existence here.

It's time to go.

Inside English Education

For any of you wondering if I fell off the edge of the Earth: I'm still here! I have a few blogs on the back burner to finish up and post.

Meanwhile, I was just catching up on The Japan Times, when I found this article. It discusses how Japan, fallen way behind other countries in terms of English literacy, is slowly (tortoise and the hare slowly) attempting to make changes. It's pretty interesting to read if you are an ALT or a former ALT; in my experience, we ALTs have a pretty strong opinions about the current English system. You might find it interesting if you'd like to know a bit about my job, or at least, the debates that swirl around my job. For the rest of you who clicked that link, saw two pages of small print and quickly closed the window, let me summarize it in one perfect quote:

"The forthcoming system is not aimed at teaching children English themselves. Teachers will be required to nurture children's willingness to communicate in English. So, they will be able to teach English with the help of ALTs. If the teachers try hard to communicate with ALTs in English and demonstrate this to children, then their willingness to communicate will be nurtured."

So, basically, the idea is to encourage students to want to learn English, but not actually teach them anything remotely useful to learning English, like grammar, structure, reading, or writing. If you want a realistic idea of what this actually looks like in practice in the classroom (at least in elementary school), imagine this: an entire year of curriculum from two pages of one of those tiny pocket travel phrases books. In song. If you just drew a giant question mark in your head, then we're all on the same page.

I do like how in the article, they mention at least a few times how "we shouldn't blame the ALTs".

How magnanimous.

Cheers,

spectacle Baer

God of Kendo

Yesterday was a lot of fun.

After school was over, I decided to make my rounds and visit the different club activities. I went looking for the art club, remembering last time how relaxed the eager to talk the students were outside of the classroom. Unfortunately, they either weren't meeting that day or had hidden themselves in some nook that I have yet to discover.

I peered down from the third floor balcony to watch the baseball and soccer clubs prepare for their workouts. The soccer boys had dragged the goals into the shade of the trees in attempt to make the heat a little more bearable, and I could see the baseball boys unloading under the shade of a big tree. I contemplated going down and making my presence known, but the dirt and heat of the playground were discouraging.

Instead, I went to the gym. I was surprised to see there were no basketball players. Instead, a thin net across the middle of the gym divided the badminton practice from the volleyball practice. There wasn't much for me to do there other than watch idly. I had been looking forward to talking to the new volleyball coach, one of the new teachers who has been very friendly with me since his arrival. Sadly, he was not there. I overheard one of the volleyball girls talking to another visitor, and I think she said that usually he doesn't come. Bah. Disappointing. I watched some students I know well practice serves and ball play. Practice is serious, however, and I am terrible at volleyball, so I didn't try to join in.

Oddly enough, I didn't particularly feel like visiting the kendo club, although it is my favorite. I used to visit often last year, and the captain always made me feel welcome. However, the new captain is very strict about training. Kendo, as a sport, is very serious, disciplined, and ritualized, and so too is the practice. Although I am very familiar and comfortable with the new captain, him being probably the best English student in the whole school, I got the feeling he didn't particularly like the distraction I posed; last time I watched, I heard him tell two of the kendo players not to talk to me while they waited for their turn to fight. I didn't take it personally; I know he just wanted them to retain their focus. However, I did feel guilty that I was responsible for depriving them of that focus in the first place; so, I haven't been back

Despite this, I decided it was silly to visit all the other clubs and not visit the kendo club too. A little peak couldn't hurt. When I entered the "dojo" (it's not actually a dojo - they laughed at me when I called it that - but I'm afraid I don't remember what it is called), I was surprised to see the room full of many students, all laughing and playing around with their shinai, practice swords. It was a very relaxed, playful atmosphere, and no one was wearing the heavy plastic/bamboo armor and uniform. I nearly bumped right into the captain as he was headed out the door with his back pack, clearly headed home. He saw me and sighed heavily, "I have to leave, and [then] Lindsay comes." I have to admit his disappointment pleased me; maybe I wasn't such a bothersome distraction after all.

After he left, the other members greeted me. I was surprised but very happy to see how many new members there were from the 1st year (7th grade) students. Unfortunately, their vocabulary is such that regular conversation is pretty much not possible; one of the boys likes English and talking to me very much, so, just to find something to say, he would come up to me and ask me to spell random words like "brown" and "fox". All the students are very friendly with me. Two of the girls are very silly and say strange things, so we always end up having the most entertaining conversations. Today, one of the girls said "I am God". With her hair uncharacteristically down and flowing around her shoulders, she actually did look like a painting of a Japanese god. I asked her what she was the god of, kendo? She said no, "all, all, all god". "Ah," I replied, well versed in the translation of 2nd year English, "You are THE God, huh? Well, then I will be the God of Kendo."

And so it was, more or less, that I ended up joining the kendo practice. A shinai ended up in my hands, and one of the girls showed me how to hold it. Then the captain's 2nd in command showed me how to place my feet. The captain's 2nd is a great kid with the wonderful but very rare quality of always using English in my presence, even if he's talking to someone else on the opposite end of the room. His English isn't very good (as one of the girls whispered to me), but he simply never gives up. Before "practice" began, he showed me how to swing the sword (from directly above your head, straight down), and place my feet. The club coach came in and laughed when he saw me, but was happy to indulge my interest. We got in a big circle and did stretches, everyone taking a turn counting each stretch. I, of course, counted in English; I do love how happy such a simple act makes the people around me.

After that, we started practice. It was a very basic practice; we did suburi, sword swinging practice. Basically, we just stood in a square and swung the sword in a specific way to the rhythm of the count, then changed the method of the swing and started again.

It was quite a workout for my arms! However, I really enjoyed it. I was also amused because members of other sports clubs would walk by the building, glance through the open floor windows/doors (no air conditioning, remember?), and suddenly stop in surprise, clustering around the opening and whisper, "Lindsay's doing kendo!"

Yes! Yes I was!

Afterward, quite in the spirit of the relaxed captain-free-semi-practice, they showed me how to play "Darumasan ga Koronda", which is similar to Red Light Green Light. If you remember from an earlier post, a Daruma doll is a round red doll with big eyes; it is weighted at the bottom so that if you nudge it, it rocks around in a circle instead of falling over. So, while "Darumasan ga Koronda" means "Daruma fell down", you have to imagine a ball rocking back and forth, gradually turning around until it's looking at you. To play, the "it" person (oni) hides their face against the wall on the opposite end of the room from everyone else and says "Darumasan ga KoronDA!" and turns around quickly on the "da". Everyone on the other side of the room sprints towards the "it" person as soon as they start speaking, but on the "da", they have to freeze in place; anyone that moves, loses. When someone manages to reach and touch the "it" person, everybody runs away until "it" says "STOP!" From there I didn't quite understand the rules; it seemed that a player gave the "it" person a certain number of steps they could take, and if they managed to reach and touch a player within those steps, that person became "it".

It was fun, but I lost interest pretty quickly after the second game. I like kendo better.

Cheers!

God of Kendo Baer

Time for a break - Spring Break, that is.

The last few days I stopped reading the news. I am already exhausted of the suspense.

It was only through my family grapevine that I heard about Taylor Anderson, a JET in Miyagi, who marked the first US casualty. It's creepy to look at her photos; they are so like mine. While the disaster obviously had a much more devastating effect on the Japanese residence, I can't help but feel the most disturbed by her death; our places could have so easily been exchanged.

I am not as worried as was reflected in my previous post. I am still trying to stay mostly indoors and out of rain as much as possible. Mostly, I am concerned about food and water contamination. I threw out my lettuce after spinach was banned, but I eye the milk and cucumbers in my fridge and wonder if I shouldn't just do without vegetables for the next four months. I get updates from the Gunma JET community periodically, but I noticed that news from abroad is much more alarmist than that which is circling Japan. I've decided to stick to getting my news from The Japan Times, which I feel does a better job of staying on topic.

The Governor of Gunma gave a press release, which you might possibly find interesting.

Anyway... it is now the end of the school year. Tomorrow is closing ceremonies, marking the beginning of spring break.

I have never been so happy for spring break in my life.

Months ago, Chingyi and I made plans to spend spring break, 7 blissful days, in the Kansai regions, visiting Hiroshima, Osaka, and Nara. Now, quite by coincidence, that area just happens to be the safest possible place for us to be. This will be a fabulous vacation if only for the fact that, for 7 days, we don't have to even THINK about radiation, contamination, blackouts, or messed up train schedules. Honestly, I never thought that would be a motivator in my lifetime.

I wish we could stay for a month.

goin' south Baer

Umm... Can I go home now?

I have to admit, I'm getting genuinely worried about the state of things here. I'm only getting the news in bits and pieces, but everything new I hear just makes me feel worse. This Friday, Akemi and I were supposed to go out to dinner together, but last night I got a text message from her that we couldn't go.

Me: Oh? Are you busy?
Akemi: No, it's the gas...
Me: Gas?
Akemi: ...oh, that's right, you can't listen to the news. The gas stations are running out of gas, and what gas they have, they won't sell.


I asked my teacher who lives in Midori City (30 minutes away), but she seems, for the moment, unconcerned about the gas shortage. There was apparently some report that gas was being brought over from Tokyo to fill the gap.


Today we had our first blackout. It didn't affect me at all because I had four classes in the morning, and worked right through the entire thing. Other than a little extra darkness in the classroom, things were normal. In the teacher's room, however, I heard that things pretty much came to a stand-still. One of my English teachers was kind enough to print me out a schedule of the intended blackout periods. I've already been doing my best to conserve energy; I sitting in the dark with nothing turned on except my computer.


I was pretty shocked when, after lunch, the Vice-Principal stood up to make an annoucement: he had just received word from the Board of Education that, due to fear of the radiation leak in Fukushima, all the students were being sent home. Radiation leak? What radiation leak? I looked at my teacher blankly when she told me. Last I heard, they were spouting poetic about how there was no radiation leak.


How quickly things change.

Explosions Saturday, Sunday, Monday, and now Tuesday... doesn't bode well for tomorrow. Officially they were only warning people 19 miles/30 kilometers from the plant; I live at least 200 km away. However, I also read that radiation in Saitama, only 50km away, is already up 40%. The mere fact that, by the end of the day, the BoE decided to cancel school for tomorrow so kids could be kept inside at home freaks me out. Of course, the teachers still have to go.


The thing that scared me the most was going to the grocery store. Apparently they made some comments on the news about stocking up on certain items. When I got there, the entire sections for rice, bread, instant noodles, milk, water, and toilet paper were just gone.


[If instant Star-Trek-like trasportation were possible] I'd really like to tap my heels and head home for a little while.


worried Baer

EDIT: I got a ton of worried emails and messages after posting this blog. I'm sorry for worrying all of you. Just to be clear, I have no immediate plans to come home unless things get a lot more dangerous. Leaving Japan has huge complications attached to it, so it is truly a last resort. As I mentioned above, we are still technically safe in Gunma. Nobody in my office even seems worried except me! So... yeah, I'm stressed out but... I'm still OK.

What's going on?

I asked this question so many times today, I decided to just stop asking. On a normal day, it is extremely frustrating that nobody tells me anything; right now? It's just feels blatantly malicious. Case in point: I somehow managed to be the only person in the entire school (including students) that was not notified that there would be no school lunch today. Oops? Guess I should have figured that one out on my own.

As far as the blackout I mentioned previously: it seems that news of the impending blackout was enough to scare people into efficiency. Enough energy was saved that today's blackout was postponed and/or cancelled. To quickly douse that suspiciously positive note, I also heard that the energy rationing may last as long as the end of April.

Also,

the Miyavi fanclub trip was canceled.

...

*...sigh* Baer

Aftermath: English news is slow

It's very frustrating that, although I live here, I have to receive my news at the same time as my friends and family in California and Texas via online [and mostly foreign] news sources. I flick through the TV channels, which still largely display disaster information, but it is useless to me. Thus, I doubt I have anything to tell that you, my friends, don't already know. I'm hoping to hear more tomorrow from the teachers at work.

It's Sunday night now, and even as I write this, I can feel an aftershock shaking the floor. I've continued to feel aftershocks all weekend but with much less frequency and intensity. It is possible that the general intensity of the aftershocks have lowered to a degree that I don't even know they are happening; laying silently on my couch with my computer, the only indicator I had of the last few aftershocks before this one was the quiet humming rattle of the sliding doors in my apartment. None were strong enough to wake me during the night.

Although I feel quite removed from the disasters of the quake and tsunami, I read on The Japan Times that Gunma will soon also be feeling its effects. Tepco (Tokyo Electric Power Co.), whom is my electricity provider, is planning to enact rolling blackouts throughout the Kanto area, including Gunma, in order to save on electricity. There don't seem to be a ton of details available yet, but the article says to expect 3 hour periods of blackout for at least a week, starting Monday. I really wonder what affect this will have at work; tomorrow should be interesting.

There is also a fledgling effort on Facebook among the Gunma JETs to organize volunteer relief workers. I have responded with tentative interest, as have many people I know. Everything is still so unknown that no one seems sure what needs to be done just yet. I must admit that I am a little concerned about going to an area that might be getting increasingly radioactive, despite government approved assurances that there are "no signs of a Chernobyl-type catastrophe". Let's hope not, but be cautious, eh?

Cheers,

loopless Baer

Earthquakes: 137 and counting

It was a wild night last night.

I've always thought that one of the small little earthquakes we usually have around here are not a bad way to wake up in the morning: like a strong gust of wind swaying my hammock.

Last night, however, my hammock was assaulted by tropical storm force winds. Earthquakes woke me up at least 4 or 5 times during the night, and I could hear the obnoxious "Emergency- Earthquake!" warning going off on my phone over and over (what a useless feature: like I don't already KNOW there is an earthquake?).

I checked the USGS website, and it shows there have been something like 137 earthquakes in the last day! I surely believe it! I can hardly spend 20 minutes in my apartment without feeling it move. I feel pretty safe here though, so I'm not worried.

...you know what is really scary? When I applied to JET, I asked to be placed in Sendai. Good thing after all that that didn't happen. I don't think I'd be here to write this blog if it had.

Cheers,

shakin' Baer

Yippie-yi-yo-ki-yay!! Rollercoaster Japan

Wow, today was just PACKED with excitement.

Today was junior high school graduation. It was a nice ceremony, with lot of speeches and singing. They take graduation very seriously. I didn't realize just how serious until during the ceremony, one of the student suddenly collapsed, just SMACK! hit the floor... and only 5 people ran over to carry her out. Nobody else even moved; the speaker just kept speaking, the teachers didn't twitch, and even the students didn't even look in her direction. Bunch of robots! It was really kind of freaky...
Afterwards, we waved goodbye to the graduating 3rd year students and took lots of pictures. When they had gone, the parents came and gave all the teachers bags of bakery goods as a thank-you-for-your-hard-work present. As there were no students, no classes, and it was a day of celebration, the principal gave us permission to leave work by 3 PM (2 hours early for teachers, ~1 hour early for me).

At 2:45 PM, I was working on my computer and watching the clock. Suddenly the desks started shaking just a little bit, and the teachers kind of glanced up at each other with an excited, "Did you feel that?" It was just a little shake, nothing to worry about. We sat and waiting for it to end, as they usually finish quickly. After a few moments, when the desks were still shaking, people started remarking "This is a long one!" ... a few moments later the shakes grew more intense, "Wow, really a long one!"... and more intense, "It's still going!"... Suddenly, the shakes started getting much stronger, and the exclamations grew worried. The teachers next to me glanced up at the overhanging air conditioner with trepidation, "This is dangerous..." The shakes got stronger and stronger, past anything we'd ever felt before. Everyone watched the ceiling-mounted TV shaking violently, yelling now to be careful. We could feel the whole building moving, swaying unnaturally. The vice principal ordered everyone out of the building, and we ran for the door, not even bothering to stop and change to our outdoor shoes.

Outside in the parking lot, we watched the windows of the gym shudder and the tall cedar trees shake as the ground rolled beneath our feet. Remembering what day it was, someone said, "Thank god this didn't happen during graduation!" and the others groaned in agreement (though whether it was over the possible chaos or a ruined ceremony, I can't be sure). Several people had their cell phones out and were trying to get through but to no avail. One of the teachers exclaimed loudly and ran toward one end of the parking lot, pointing, "Look! Look!" Across the street, the old-style embellishments on someone's roof had partially collapsed.


We stood outside until the shaking subsided to a low trembling. By then, 15 minutes had passed since the first tremors. Like frightened deer, we made our way cautiously back into the building. Besides a few messy desks, there was nothing amiss. The teachers jumped onto their computers and immediately started looking for info on the quake, while someone else grabbed the school's land line to start checking on loved ones. The rest of us watched the news on TV, which was already saturated with quake coverage.

Screen-capped from the JMA website

We found out it hit Miyagi/Fukushima/Ibaraki at a level 7 quake. By the time it made it all the way over to us in Ota, Gunma, it was a weak level 5. Even as we stood around watching the TV, we felt the aftershocks, "It's still going, it's still going!" One of the aftershocks was strong enough to send everyone back outside to the relative safety of the parking lot. There were no students in the building, but some were outside practicing sports on the playground; the vice-principal got on the intercom and told them all to sit down on the ground where they stood.


When it was finally calm enough to go back inside, we were all ordered to go check the building for damage. All the fire doors had closed, a basket of ping-pong balls was overturned, and there was some minor ceiling damaged in the annex walk-over, but everything looked pretty good. By then it was 3:30 PM, so I decided to head home.


The minute I opened my apartment door, I could see the place was a mess. Everything that had been on top of the fridge, cabinets, and shelves was on the floor. Even my convection oven had flipped off the microwave and lay upside-down on the floor. The space around the kitchen desk was a sea of papers. In the TV room, my books lay skewed but still mostly in place. Everything on top of the bookshelves had fallen off though; most interesting was my "fake" plant, which had somehow managed to land 3 feet feet away, without rolling, from its original location. I spent the extra time I got off work cleaning.


For me, the whole experience was pretty exciting and fun, since there was no real damage to speak of. I ran into some of my students on the way home, and we got into a shouting battle as we rode side-by-side on our bikes, with them yelling "Scary!" and me yelling "Exciting!"


For northern Japan, though, things look a lot more "scary" than "exciting". I'm watching TV right now and it's pretty amazing the damage that has been felt all over. The newscasters on TV are all wearing hard hats. In Sendai, a tsunami hit and washed in 10 meters of water, washing away cars, homes, and farmland. In many places, homes partially collapsed. In Chiba (above Tokyo), an oil refinery exploded. In Tokyo, a parking garage collapsed, and buildings were shaking hard enough to break windows, collapse walls, and knock off paint and brick siding. Inside buildings, people cling to desks and hold their computer upright, TVs fall off shelves and from the ceilings, cabinets tip over, and anything not nailed down spill their contents everywhere.


Even now, it's 7:50 PM, and I can still feel significant aftershocks.
Yuki told me that the news said to expect aftershocks to continue for a month, and that another large earthquake should be expected within the month as well.
Wow... what a a day.


Cheers,


earthquake Baer

Sanpo

For the first time since the ruthless, cold hurricane of winter came to my small bit of nowhere, I went out for a sanpo. I say 'stroll', but of course I was on my bike. If one can stroll on a bike, then that's surely what I did. The air was cool but mercifully still. The sun was already half way to twilight, the sky feeling more blue than usual. It felt like I crime to stay inside.

I made up my mind to go over to the shrine I'd found ages ago. It's not really a destination, just an idea; one that is pleasant enough to get me out and moving. After so many weeks of huddling inside my jacket, bearing against the wind with only thought for destinations, I was happy to at last be free to wander.

I saw many people walking their dogs. I thought I saw a man with two dogs. As I came closer, I realized that while the two animals were of nearly the same size, the larger of the two was not on a leash, and in fact was not a dog at all, but a large cat. I was shocked and so was the dog, who got scared away by the large feline. I looked up and met eyes with the dog's owner, and we shared a look of amusement. A perfect moment of nonverbal connection.

Only a few blocks from home, I continue my meandering bike-stroll with a smile tucked in the corner of my mouth. Some days are meant to be.

Cheers,

blissful Baer

きりつ! [key-ree-ts]

Every once and a while at work, after classes and cleaning are finished for the day and the students have been ushered off to their club activities, all of the teachers will gather in the teacher's room for a meeting. These meetings are very long and very dull, covering every possible aspect of students and school life, including students behavior, injuries, and activities. I never pay any attention during these meetings since it's all quite over my head. Usually I sneak out about half way through to go home for the day.

I'm not the only one who finds them dull though; quite often I see teachers fighting the battle to stay vertical as they continually drift to sleep.

Today's meeting, however, took a rather interesting turn. The main topic for discussion was "aisatsu", the greetings that take place before every class begins. Greetings always go as follows: the "student of the day" tells everyone to stand up and then he or she looks around to make sure everyone is standing, facing forward, and silent. Once everyone is standing, they say "Attention!" (きりつ！) and finally "Bow". Everyone bows together and says "onegaishimasu", as in "yoroshiku onegaishimasu". Personally I think this is one of the most difficult phrases to translate in Japanese, but I think, in this particular situation, it is essentially, "thank you for teaching us". After bowing, the students must remain standing until the teacher tells them to sit down.

The sheer formality of such a greeting before the start of every single class, even in elementary school, has always amused me. It seems very bizarre and unnecessary to me, though I am fascinated by innate Japanese-ness of it. The teachers obviously take it very seriously, as evident by the extensive discussion they had today.

I was shocked into attention of this discourse by the sudden, recognizable call to "stand up!", nearly leaping to my feet myself. Instead, I looked up to see a few of the teachers, the principal, and the vice-principal acting as students in an impromptu role-play. They went through a round of greetings, and one of the teachers took on the role of a belligerent student. She alternated between refusing to give a full bow and refusing to say "onegaishimasu" as she bowed. The model teacher gave a model reprimand the the "class" continued to go through greetings until she "behaved".

Those of us that weren't participating were enjoying the little play. During the second round of greetings, after being given the command to stand, the vice-principal was a little slow on picking up the fact that they were still role-playing, and the model teacher, true to his role, was quick to respond, "Vice Principal, please stand up more quickly!" He blushed, and everyone laughed.

Afterwards, the teachers discussed the role-play, including exactly how quickly a person should bow, how deep a bow should be, and whether or not they were allowed to sit down afterward. It was a rather fascinating display, from my point of view. I felt like an anthropologist. I asked my teacher why they were discussing this. She seemed almost offended that I even had to ask, "It's part of student discipline. They aren't being polite enough!"

It's junior high school. Go figure.

Cheers,

anthropologist Baer

-Update- New Posts!

Hello, my eager readers.

A short post to let you know I've updated with a few new backdated entries.

Please refer to the right-hand links under "Blog Archive".

New entries for 2010!

April - Accidental Acquaintances

September - Chef Savant

August - X Japan Yokohama

November - Punk Kaya

December - Questionable Medicine

Enjoy!

belated Baer

Miyavi! You did it!!

Amazing.

A-MAZE-ING!

AMAZING.

AMAZING!

...

Did I mention amazing? No?

AMAZING!!!!!

Remember my post last September about how, at his concert, I asked Miyavi to do a fanclub trip inside Japan before July? How he suggested an onsen trip and said he'd try?

He did it!! He's really making it happen! In April~!

I can't even think of anything coherent to write.

Amid the chaos of his world tour, he came through for me...

Wow! I am so impressed, and happy, and gleeful, and thankful, and... really impressed.

How can I not love such a man?

Amazing.

382(!!!!!!)* BAER!

P.S. On top of this, I found in the mail today that I won a Miyavi contest! Free poster and DVD! Whoohoo!!

Footnote:

*Some people were wondering why I always sign my Miyavi posts with "382". In Japanese, this can be read as mi-ya-bi(vi). He has it tattooed on his fingers and often uses it to refer to himself. Mystery solved!

Not-So-Happy Bag

The New Year arrives in Japan, and with it... bunnies!

...no, I'm just kidding.

The highly advertised mascot of 2011 may be a rabbit, but sales are the real god in January.

In my opinion, sales in Japan usually leave a lot to be desired. Despite investing in enough banners and poster to make me think a place is going out of business, I usually find that the one lonely little rack marked 50-10% OFF (yes, they write it backwards, isn't that sneaky?) MAY have, at one point, had a single item that was 50% off, but all the remaining items are heavy on the 10% side. Now I have a tendency to look at sale racks like the last inch of milk at the bottom of the carton.

However, come the end of December and the beginning of January, along with a few other times of year centered around the end of a season, stores in Japan have "Lucky Bag" or "Happy Bag" sales. They cram a variety of unsold items into an opaque shopping bag, tape it closed, and sell it for a discounted price. You have no idea what you'll get... but it's on sale!

Seems kind of crazy, right? Who would pay any amount of money, let alone $60 to $160 for a glorified crapshoot? Well, the answer is, a lot of people. More specifically,

Me.

and Chingyi, of course, my partner in consumer-insanity.

Although initially overcome with uncertainty, we finally settled on buying matching bags at Arrow, a store we both love in the local AEON mall. We decided that for our one and only "happy bag" indulgence, we would go all out and get large size bags. While neither of us set our expectations too high for the results of this experience, neither could we quite contain our excitement at the prospect of our own little mystery adventure, for which we had the privilege of paying $120 each.

After putting in our orders at the end of December, we returned yesterday to pick up our "Happy Bags". On the way to the mall, I noticed others that had also indulged in the yearly consumer tradition, primarily one girl who had a very large Hello Kitty shopping bag hanging from her shoulder. Inside the mall, many of the stores had signs advertising "Happy Bag" sales and pick-ups. We raced to Arrow with matching excitement and trepidation.

The bag itself was a nice satin zip-up affair, big and hefty, which we wore proudly on our shoulders. We immediately went to the food court to settle in for dinner and our own Christmas in January. One by one we took turns blindly taking one item at a time out of our respective bags, until the bags were empty.

The result? As sad as it was predictable:

A spectacular failure!!!

Almost musingly so. Almost, if so much (albeit misguided) anticipation hadn't been wrapped up in it. Still, it was hard not to find amusement in the extreme level of failure. Each item carefully unwrapped was like a Christmas present from a distant aunt - an embroidered-cat-pillows kind of aunt - and all you can do is smile ruefully and shake your head, oohing and ahhing over the smallest details in dictionary-style depiction of "make the best of it". When we were finished and still peering into the bottom of our bags hopefully, the bag itself became a sort of consolation prize. Seventy-two inches of nylon gold.

Two points to Chingyi and Lindsay. Just a couple o' girls with bags full of cat pillow.

Cheers,

consumed-consumer Baer

Ms.Stump Star

This year, Christmas at the JHS was pretty low-key (though I suppose it probably always is), and my Christmas lesson turned out to be a bit of flop. However, at the elementary school, we had lots of fun.

My new supporter, Akemi's replacement, is a very nice young woman named Rie. Her English is almost perfect, as she went to college in Hawaii. She is a very motivated individual. The ALT who handles the 1st, 2nd, and 5th grade classes dumped the planning of his Christmas lesson completely on her... and she did such a great job I stole most of her lesson for my own 3rd, 4th, and 6th grade classes. To her credit, she actually did work in an English school previously, so she already has the experience. Honestly, she makes me feel quite unnecessary...

Rie really went all out for the lesson. She arranged for the use of hula hoops and made big pieces of fake candy for the "Keyword Game", illustrated a Christmas story, obtained permission to hang balloons from the ceiling to create a "party" atmosphere, somehow convinced all the teachers to chip in for ~32 Santa hats, as well as convincing the homeroom teachers to dress up as Santa (to hand out the hats). I feel like that is more communication than I have accomplished in over a year.

Although months ago we were finally, at Akemi's

urging, given leave to convert a free classroom into an "English Room", this month we were told we could move to the recently refurbished section of the school. Everything is shiny and new, the wood is bright, clean, and un-warped, the walls are freshly painted, the shelves unlittered... it is very refreshing! I don't even mind having to move all of the decorations!

After we had bi-lingual Christmas story time, we took some questions from the students, most of which I could not answer, but did my best: Is Santa real today? (Of course!) Why does he wear red? (So you can see him coming) Why does he/do we wear [Santa] hats? (Because it's cold) Where is Santa from? (OH! I know that one! Turkey)

They also wanted to know what we usually get in our stockings. I told them "toys, money, and an orange". They all went "eeeehhhhh??" and asked why an orange (notice no one protest to free toys and money!), and though I have no idea why "Santa" always gives my brother and I oranges, I told them sternly, "Santa wants you to be healthy!". Everyone, I might add, found this hilarious.

After we finally finished with the last Christmas lesson, I moved all the decorations to create a "Christmas Corner". One of students had made tiny little cut-outs of crayon-colored trees, so I decided to incorporate these into my Corner. As I was moving them, I noticed that some of the trees were yellow.

Me: "Rie, why are these trees yellow?"

Rie: "Trees? I think those are stars."

Me: "Stars? ... but they have stumps."

Tie: "... it's a stump star."

Maybe it was because she was totally serious when she said it, but I thought this was so hilarious, I nearly fell off the cabinet I standing on. It still makes me laugh near to tears. Rie was equally affected and all one of us had to do was mutter "stump star" before we both erupted again in laughter as we were cleaning.

Today when Rie dropped off her Christmas present to me, she managed to incorporate all our little jokes; inside I found two oranges, a card with a drawing of an orange that said "Santa wants you to be healthy"...and the card was signed, "Ms. Stump Star".

Merry Christmas,

stump star Baer

Questionable Medicine

Ah, another Christmas in Japan.

I'm posting about this later rather than at the time it happened, because I didn't want anyone else to worry about me.
My track record for Japanese Christmas is pretty terrible. Last Xmas I was sick on Xmas day and several days after. Although it is not technically Xmas yet, it is close enough to say that this year was worse; I was sick for the last two week with some unidentifiable, unfamiliar, unyielding abdominal pain, ended up going to 3 doctors and wondering if I was going to have to fly home to the States.

None of the doctors did me a whit of good, and I ended up healing (whatever it was that needed healing...) on my own, so I think I'm OK now... However, it was certainly an interesting look into the medical profession in Japan. The first doctor I went to, they wanted to take an x-ray of my abdomen. I walked into the x-ray room, and they had these picture posters on the wall demonstrating how to pose for various x-rays; the woman used in the photos was a stunner... from 1940. I eyed the equipment a little more critically after that, my confidence not exactly full to bursting.

When we went to speak to the doctor, he pointed at some white lines on the film and asked me if I'd ever had surgery. It took me a moment (as I was surprised you could see such a thing on an x-ray) but I told him I had an appendectomy in kindergarden (talk about abdominal pain!). He was really fascinated by this for some reason and asked if he could see my scars. I showed him the three small scars I have from the endoscopic surgery scattered over my stomach, hardly visible anymore, and he got REALLY animated. From what I understood, he said that they (STILL!!) don't use endoscopy in Japan; just cut a big ol' hole in the person and take it out the old fashion way. Eck! And mine was done almost 20 years ago!! Really scary. Note to self: do not stay in Japan for major medical procedures.

While I was still looking for doctors to visit in Tokyo, with the hope of finding someone who spoke English, my father sent me some links on medical information. I was really shocked to find out that in Japan, once you have your medical license, you are set to practice medicine FOR LIFE, without any monitoring, continuing education, or re-licensing necessary. The example was that a doctor could decide to stop practicing medicine and then, 20 or 30 years later, pick it up again and open a clinic without ever having to do a thing to brush up on his (or her, though you wont find many female doctors in practice) skills. In addition to that horrifying thought, doctors can advertise themselves as "specialists" of any field of medicine without any particular qualification; quite literally, all they need to do a print of business card! I couldn't believe it... Of course, in Tokyo there are plenty of very qualified doctors in hospitals who ARE certified specialists, so it is important to do your homework and go to the right hospital. As usual, the answer is: go to Tokyo.

Honestly, it explained a lot for me. In my little town you can find a clinic almost on every street corner, sometimes more than one. Part of that is because Japanese people go to the doctor for absolutely everything, including the common cold. Now I can't help wondering if the other part of it is that opening a practice is an incredibly easy way to lead a profitable semi-retirement for old fogey doctors who don't have to be inconvenience with pesky things like actually being qualified to practice medicine in the 21st century.

Scary.

Cheers,

Baer

Punk Kaya

Went to another Kaya/Kaleidescrope live tonight. His lives are always interesting. For one, you never know which "Kaya" you're going to see. Will it be "boy Kaya" or "girl Kaya"? I have seen him as a boy so seldom, I always secretly hope for it, at least for a few songs (he often changes clothes in the middle of the concert).

However, I absolutely didn't expect what DID happen. The band members came out one-by-one and there was a half-hearted response, fans calling out their names in greeting. When the drummer, bassist, guitarist, and keyboardist were in place, someone else came out, and I was like "who the hell is that?". Much to my surprise, the fangirls next to me started calling out "Kaya!" My eyes about fell out of my head. As a "girl", Kaya wears lolita-style, super elegant, lacy, elaborate dresses with matching hair accessories and usually a rose somewhere on his person. Even when Kaya dresses as a boy, he is very cutsie and sticks to cute clothing, like flowy poet shirts or silly school uniforms... THIS Kaya was one I had never seen before. He was dressed head to toe in Algonquins!! (a Japanese punk brand). He had on a long sleeve tan-ish t-shirt with writing scrawled on it, a really hideous, open, loose black zip hoody with a pho-leopard fur hood and pockets (doesn't sound punk until you see it), SUPER tight red pants complete with studded patches and fashionably shredded holes (thus solving the mystery of wether boy Kaya shaves his legs - NO), and grungy hightop sneakers with the tops folded over to reveal the plaid red inside. The only thing that wasn't awful was his hair, which was slightly red in color, permed, and flipped to one side of his head, where it had been pinned, sprayed, and braided into submission until it hung in nice frizzy curls over the right half of his face. Seeing Kaya dressed like that -in PUNK!- was like...Obama showing up to give a national address in a 1980s bubblegum, puff sleeve prom dress. Let's just take a minute to picture that, shall we?

...

...Anyway, it was still adorable because Kaya made it extremely obvious that he felt no more at home than he looked, wearing such clothes on stage. He kept asking if he looked alright. When his adoring fans told him he looked cool ("かこいいですよ〜！"), he didn't believe them because he kept saying, "Really? Really?" He sighed, "It's so hard being a boy," and we all laughed because, for him, it was so true. He was trying to figure out how to stand and look "manly" with the microphone, and finally just sort of slung his arm over the microphone stand and slumped like a bum, saying "Like this, right?" to the general hilarity of all (apparently the key to being a boy --> look like a slob). For a split second he did his usual girly, twinkle-toes microphone posture, and the contrast was so vast is was painfully funny (I think there were tears in my eyes). Of course, he might have just be fishing for compliments, because one of the fans said, "You're so cute!" and he gave that amazing million-dollar smile of his and said, "I know!" (Ah, there's the Kaya we know and love)

It wasn't until he actually pointed it out and said this was an "Algonquins live" that I noticed the other members were also all wearing the same brand. It looked normal on everyone else!

The performance was different from any other of the lives I went to, with no real soft or particularly jazzy stuff, but he had redone some of his old songs in the Kaleidescope style. Honestly, I wasn't super into the music, but I enjoyed watching the members. I noticed that Kaya never seemed to actually look at anyone in the audience. He looked off to the side, or up at the ceiling, or at a point at the back of the room... But I was standing in the first row, three feet in front of him, and he never once looked at me. It was bizarre. Is he shy? He doesn't usually look at the crowd when he talks either, but usually looks behind him to the other members. I always thought that was really odd. I got a lot of looks from Shingo, the bassist though. He is such a pleasure to watch because he is always smiling and honestly looking like he is enjoying himself.

The members were all pretty cute, personality wise. The leader of the band was clearly the drummer, but he was way awkward too and usually began his talks with a grunt, and [the Japanese equivalent of a] "umm...", "yeah..." or "so..." which was just generally adorable to all, including the other band members who were all too shy to say anything at all (except for Shingo, of course, who revels in the spotlight). There were two guest artists as well, a guitarist who looked about 17, and a keyboardist playing a hand held synthesizer that could have been stolen from A Flock of Seagulls. I don't think anyone there was old enough to have seen one in action before, so everyone was impressed. After they played one song, he admitted it was his first time playing it! Even Kaya seemed shocked.

The whole concert was very laid back and kind of funny. They kept poking fun at each other and having these little discussions between songs that were clearly unrehearsed (or, that they had talked about saying something... but never decided WHAT to say). Considering the minuscule venue and small number of us there, the easy atmosphere made sense; more like two dorms rooms shoved together than Tokyo Dome.

The stage was really tiny and didn't really fit the five members comfortably, yet with the guest artist, they sometimes had up to seven people on stage! Kaya almost smacked straight into the bassist when he turned around (the girl next to me gasped and reached out her arm, as if she could somehow throw herself across the stage to save him). When Kaya went offstage, the other members would take turns standing center stage. Most of them didn't really like the limelight, so Shingo was more than happy to soak it up on their behalf (lol, I adore that man).

It was a strange and unexpected experience. I hope I get to see him and Kaleidoscope play together a few more times before I go home. Since they seem more like a group of friends than a real band, I doubt they will ever make the journey together overseas.

Cheers,

'Addict' Baer

The End

I suppose you are wondering why I haven't posted a blog is over a month. My apologies. However, for a while now I have come to realize that I've lapsed into a sort of "Stage 2", highly critical mentality: suddenly a lot of things just seem "wrong". I recognize this delayed culture shock (from my experience living in Russia) as being a result of staying in Japan for too long an uninterrupted period of time. Quite simply, I need a break.

However, rather than spend time and money giving myself that break, I decided that the time has come to go home. Permanently. I officially declined re-contracting for another year and will be returning home at the end of July 2011.

It's not as rash as it sounds. I've thought about this for months. Technically, I've thought about it since even the moment I first arrived, always testing, asking myself "Am I still OK?" It's not as though the answer to that question has suddenly switch to "No!" It's more of a slow sighing "... yeah, I'm OK..." like a reluctant seven year old that doesn't want to talk about a fight on the playground.

Definitely it's been a wonderful experience that I would highly recommend to anyone who has time and even the smallest inclination. I thought it was particularly wonderful for me because, like many JETs, I got into it immediately following graduation, with no job prospects, significant other, or property (beside a car that my father happily babysits) to tie me down. Real interest in Japan has, of course, also been crucial; without my searing love for Jrock music, my time here would never have been so colorful.

Still, anymore than 2 years and I find myself wondering how exactly I'm going to explain this on my already multifarious resume. Just generally, I feel very nervous and eager to hurry up and move on to the next, more permanent, stage of my life. I have some idea of what I want to do, and I'd like to get started on doing it.

Cheers,

better already Baer

A hug from Miyavi

Today is Miyavi's 29th birthday. Happy birthday, Miyavi!

To celebrate, he had his 2nd fanclub only live. I had to take off a day from work (which is a story on its own, but one I will resist telling), but there was no way I was going to miss this live.

Arriving at the venue, I went up to do the ID check. As this was a special event, everyone got a free fanclub hand towel as a gift at check in:

Miyavi Fanclub: C.W.I.F.

Co-Miyavi Worldwide International Family

My ticket was rather unfortunate. It was one of those rare concerts where the there are actually seats instead of standing room. My luck clearly having run out starting with the X Japan concert, my seat ended up being on the 2nd floor... in the back. I was pretty depressed about this until I got into the venue, Mt.Rainier Shibuya Pleasure Pleasure (no, that is not a typo) and saw that it was actually pretty small. The view from the 2nd floor turned out to be pretty good, even from the back. However, the saddest part about being on the 2nd floor is that the band on stage can't see you at all... Naturally, I want to be seen as much as I want to see. For Miyavi, this is especially true, as I am always hoping that maybe, just maybe, this time he will remember me.

As I sat waiting for the show to start, two girls approached me from the left and leaned over to talk to me. From what I gathered, they were there together but had seats apart, so they wanted to know if I would trade seats. I couldn't quite believe it when she offered me her 1st floor seat for my 2nd floor one. I grabbed my stuff and jumped at the chance before the magical opportunity disappeared, then practically floated down the steps to the 1st floor. For a brief second I worried that maybe it wasn't a good seat, but it turned out alright, about in the middle of room, and not too far to the side.

I was quite pleased as I looked around at my new settings. I noticed that one of the foreigners I had been talking with before the show (let's call her Laura) was sitting right in front of me. To my left was a guy wearing plaid pants, sunglasses, a black shoulderless punk top with D-rings and black leather (pleather?) boots. On my right was a tall, skinny wisp of a woman in red high heels, a trendy brown tench-coat style pencil dress, hair carefully pulled back, with a Louis Vuitton bag in her lap. Staring between them, I was suddenly reminded of the time I was talking with a man on the Shinkansen, and he said that I didn't seem like a visual music fan because I was too "clean" looking. Looking around at the fanclub members that night, it was clear how off a statement that was.

All the sudden as I was sitting there, I had a really good feeling about the concert. I knew realistically, it was likely just my general excitement and happiness over the new seat. Still... my usual reticence toward hope was strangely silent. I had a REALLY good feeling about the blind box questionnaire session I knew would take place in the middle of the show...

The beginning of the concert was a surprise for me. The stage was dark, no intro, and a shadowy figure walked onto it and waved to everyone before sitting down, but it wasn't actually apparent until the lights came up that it was Miyavi. I had at first thought it was just stage hand doing a sound check. Only a small cheer went up. The unusually inconspicuous opening set the atmosphere for the whole concert: relaxed, laid back, casual. As he began playing, I was really shocked that everyone stayed in their seats, not even attempting to stand. This was another first for me, but one I welcomed readily, as it gave me a far better view of the stage. In general I was quite surprised at the reactions of the audience. Everyone was very subdued, and even the moments designated for cheering were far shorter and quieter than normal.

Miyavi was dressed in a dark outfit, his usual elegance in simplicity, the only items of which I can remember being a black jacket (likely with a t-shirt underneath) and expensive-looking shoes that shined in the spot lights. I was more interested in his hair, which was hat free for once. Wonderfully free of extensions, it was slicked back on his head either with water or gel, and was nearly shoulder length. It was definitely another look that very few people could pull off, but one that made him look serious and professional. I was surprised, but pleased. He didn't play any new songs that night, but he did play in a rather unique, blues-house fashion that made the songs seem revamped, if not new. The whole evening he sat at his little one man setup to the side of the stage with an amped acoustic guitar. His current drummer BOBO and keyboardist Coba84 played in the background.

After a few songs and what seemed like far too little time, Miyavi took a rest and started talking to us. BOBO went offstage, but Coba84 started playing some quiet background music on his keyboard. It was pretty amusing, actually, because every once and a while, Miyavi would get annoyed at having to speak over the BG music, so he would wave him impatiently off or say "Cut the BG!".... then, a few minutes later, he would get tired of the silence and ask for "a little BG, please". They weren't exactly subtle cues, and soon we were all laughing at him, and I think he made some comment about it that I didn't catch. While he was talking, he was looking around at the audience (sucks to be on the 2nd floor!). He paused and said "There are a lot of foreigners/foreigners(Eng)/on the first floor." He look around and pointed at someone near him, "Where are you from?" She answered (we were all girls) and then he went around one by one and asked all the foreigners where they were from. Everyone was from either America or France. When he got to me, he didn't ask but just said, "America?" I am not so sure if that meant he had a vague recollection of me or, more likely, he was just tipped off by the huge freakin' grin on my face: nobody does enthusiasm like Americans!

After that, he played a couple more songs, then paused again. This time, the staff handed him the blind box full of questionnaires. I tried not to get too excited, but I was at least happy that he was going to read the notes himself this time instead of having one of his staff do it. To give you an idea of the suspense, there were somewhere between 200-300 people in attendance, and he only ever pulls out about 4-5 names. He went through the first two questionnaires: no dice. It would have been interesting anyway except unfortunately (as per usual), I couldn't understand almost anything of what was said. I did catch one of the questions though. One of the girls asked (something like), "What does your daughter call you?" He said she called him "Papa" but had also learned to say "Daddy" (sounding like more like "dodi"). Then he said, he's been trying to teach her some English words for animals, using a picture book. He points at a picture and says, "Monkey", "Dog", etc. However, instead of repeating the word, she just point at each animals and says, "Daddy, daddy, daddy." It was a cute story and everybody laughed.

He pulled out the next name and made a sound of surprise,

Myv: (Jap) "Oh! it's in English!"

The crowd "Ahh~!"ed appreciatively.

A frission of hopeful excitement shot through me. I always write my answers on the questionnaires in English first (with a little note at the top that says, "Please speak English!"), then have a friend translate it into Japanese. "That could be mine!" I thought. My heartbeat shot up as he read my name from the bottom of the paper. It was surreal! Without waiting for him to ask, my hand shot up into the air, ready to be acknowledged (though he couldn't see me yet with the lights down). After he saw who and where I was, he turned to the first question on the questionnaire, which was something like "What do you want from the fanclub?" I had written "I go back to America in July of next year... I'd love to have another fanclub trip in Japan before then." He read this aloud in English, then he actually sat back on his stool and seemed to think about it, which, no matter his answer, made me so happy, so appreciative.

Myv: *stares off at the ceiling and mumbles quietly as he translates 'July' into Japanese and then counts off the months*

Myv: *still thoughtful, he looks over at me* (first in Jap, then in Eng) "You are going back to America next year?"

I replied in the affirmative.

Myv: *stares at the ceiling some more, thinking* "Hmm"

Myv: "I want to take a trip to Hawaii, America, etc... but you want to go in Japan, right?"

Another enthusiastic affirmative reply from my corner of cloud 9.

Myv: "Do you like onsen?"

I don't know what I said, something like, "I love it!" but he had translated into Japanese and everyone was cheering, so it was mostly lost in the general uproar.

Myv: *Still considering (Gods, I love him!), "Maybe in Aomori, Nagano..."

His voice was lost as everyone cheered heartily. The idea seemed pretty popular.

He looked at me again and nodded his promise,

Myv: "I'll try to make it happen."

Me: "Thank you!" a fervent reply, my heart full to bursting.

It's hard for me to even remember all of what was said, even immediately following the concert; I was too excited for the focus of memory. Still, although it is hard for me to communicate it here, it seemed like he spent a long time on my question, pausing as he really seemed to be thinking about it, working the possibilities over in his mind. I really believed him when he said he would work on it.

Finally he turned to the next question on the paper, which was something like "What do you want from me right now?" or "What do you want to ask me right now?" I never have anything I can think to ask, so instead I wrote, "In Okinawa, I wanted to ask for a hug, but I was too nervous... Can I have a hug now?" When my friend had translated this into Japanese, she laughed and rolled her eyes at me, but I figured, why not? The chances of being chosen were so small, and the likelihood of it ever happening twice were even smaller, so you might as well ask for what you really want!

Miyavi laughed as he tried to read the paper, clearly finding it difficult to read the small squished letters and equally squished Kanji (the paper was not exactly designed for multi-lingual translations). Aloud, he mumbled his way through the English version, and laughed out loud, saying (Jap), "Huh? What?" probably thinking he had read my request for a hug wrong. I suddenly felt bad about my sloppy handwriting - and more than a little silly for what I had written. He read through it again, slowly, sounding out the words. After finally distinguishing my scrawled word "hug", he read the whole thing aloud in confident English. There wasn't much of a reaction at first due to the language barrier, except from Laura, who turned around and gave me and incredulous "Really? REALLY?!" clearly not approving. I just smiled and laughed, "Why not!"

Meanwhile, Miyavi began reading the Jap. translation. My heart swelled again when everyone cheered and clapped for my cute and heartfelt request. I was really happy to have their support, feeling as self-conscience as I was. Miyavi let them clap and then said something like, "Yeah, OK, come on up" except my excitement in that moment totally obliterated my recall, and I have no idea what he really said. Everyone let out sounds of surprise and envy, giving a little cheer. Laura was looking back at me, and even as I slowly stood, I looked down at her with wide eyes, asking, "Really? Really?" I knew when I wrote the request that Miyavi was not the sort of person that would say no, but still, until that moment, I had been unable to hope for quite that much.

I should have been staring at Miyavi as I walked down the middle isle toward the stage; now, as I write this, I can't believe I didn't! At the time, however, my attention was wholly centered on the stage, looking for stairs, very focused on how I was going to get onto the stage. A female staffer practically crawled halfway across the stage to point me toward a door with a hidden staircase. As I walked toward it, I heard Miyavi getting to his feet and taking loud, clomping steps to get out from behind his setup, the bells attached to one of his ankles (part of his one-man setup) ringing with every step. Behind me, I heard everyone laughing, but I was too distracted to look above his feet and as I moved toward the door. From the corner of my eye, I saw him fixing his hair.

Two steps up and a male staffer ushered me around the corner to the right. Suddenly Miyavi stood before me. Still halfway across the stage from me, he looked straight at me and smiled. He rolled his shoulders, then smoothed his thumb and forefinger over the front of his jacket and flicked out edge of the lapels, puffing out imaginary wrinkles. Suddenly I had this thought in my head of Miyavi as my prom date (LOL). he smiled radiantly as I approached him, a smile I full-heartedly returned. Then he threw his arms out in a welcoming gesture, and I walked into them. It felt so good, so... normal, to wrap my arms around him, to let his bigger size engulf me (like a praying mantis hugging a lady bug). Until that moment, none of it had felt read: him calling me to come up on stage, the walk to the front, the sound of the crowd, the anticipation... it was like watching a movie inside my head. I couldn't feel it. Just that moment, as he hugged me, and the one that followed after as he pulled away, were the only ones when everything didn't feel surreal. Just then, in those moments, there was no crowd, no staff, no stage. Just us. As he pulled away, still smiling, he repeated his promise about the fanclub trip, "I'll try to make it happen." He was so sincere. I knew he meant what he said. I thanked him and turned to walk back off the stage. Before reaching the door, I laughed my excitement and disbelief into my hand, and the crowd, still watching, laughed. Everyone clapped as I returned to my seat.

For the rest of the concert, I tried to burn the memory of that moment into my head. I thought about him going home that night and laughing as he told his wife about his crazy American fan's request, and it made me smile with happiness.

As I stood up to leave at the end of the concert, I smiled my happiness at Laura. She shook her head at me, "That was so American... that was SO American." Her intonation made it clear that 'American' in this case, was a synonym for 'foolish and selfish'. maybe hearing her own words, she quickly followed this with an enthusiastic but insincere, "but I love you anyway." ... I just smiled and laughed: Let her be jealous! I just got a hug from Miyavi!!

As we were all filing out of the venue, a few people in the crowd gave me knowing looks, recognizing me (Jap), "Wow, you gave Miyavi a hug, didn't you? Amazing. What was he like?" How to find a word to describe the stars? I just said "Really cool!" ("すご~い　かっこいい！") Soon after that, my friend Wako burst through the crowd at me (Jap), "I heard him say 'Lindsay' and I was so surprised!" I hung out and spoke with Wako for about an hour while she met up with other friends, the most recognizable being Hikaru. I recognized many of the others, but couldn't say much. She told them all about my interaction with Miyavi and they all stared at me with huge eyes.

Afterward, we all walked to the train station together. I told Wako my concern/suspicion (in bad Japanese) that when I had gone on stage, the other fans had been thinking "I hate that girl a little bit." She told Hikaru what I'd said (yeah, my Japanese is pretty bad) and they both emphatically assured me that it wasn't true. "We were really happy for you! We're all family, after all." I glowed when I heard that. Before we said our goodbyes, Wako and I made a promise to each other, again, that we would have to meet up. I took a picture before slipping off to my train.

Wako, Me, Hikaru, Wako's friend

What an amazing night. I don't think I'll stop glowing for days.

Cheers!!

382 Baer