Category Archives: Japan

A Sudden Failure of Will and Skill

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The only thing more dangerous than over-confidence is over-confidence followed by the complete and utter failure of confidence.

I’ve mentioned before that I sprained my knee while skiing but I just realized (as I desperately search for a topic) that I’ve never described how that happened.

The ski resort in Nou-Machi has, whether they admit it or not, three runs: the meandering beginners’ course (that includes a couple non-beginner turns); the intermediate course and the “So, you think you’re a good skiier, eh?” course. (SYTYAGS, eh? That’s a technical term.)

The resort had been hit with a lot of snow which had left the SYTYAGS, eh? course covered in powder. After skiing a while on the easier courses, I decided to try the SYTYAGS, eh? course.

At first I did well. Powder skiing isn’t that hard, and I’d had lessons, but there’s a psychological tension when you can’t see the tips of your skis, especially when you’ve crossed them a couple times and left a number of impressive divots in the snow. Matters were also complicated by the fact it was still snowing heavily, taking away nearly all depth of field and making it hard to see the course’s surprises until it was too late to avoid them.

Eventually, I hit the hardest part of the course and started thinking about finding the “escape route” off to the right. Unfortunately, because of the snow, I couldn’t see where it was. At that point, over-confidence gave way to no confidence and I tried to finesse a part of the course I should have attacked. That led to crossed tips, a slide and my left knee doing an impressive pop as my skis stuck but the rest of me kept sliding. (My boots didn’t pop the bindings.)

Right away I knew something was wrong. (That “pain thing” is usually a big hint.) I managed to get my skis off and make a cross and a kind gentleman with a cellphone called for help. I then got to meet the ski patrol and ride down the hill in the coffin/covered sled. I was then picked up and taken to the hospital by She Who Must Be Obeyed.

Unfortunately, I chose to injure myself on December 30th and the hospital was running on a skeleton staff. (There were so few people working we couldn’t even pay when everything was finished.) My doctor, who looked only slightly older than 12 years old, told me all they could do for me was x-ray my leg to make sure nothing was broken. (Nothing was.)

Eventually my knee healed, but not before I put on lots of weight. (I’m still fairly heavy, but I used to be much heavier.)

Of course, a month after my knee healed I reinjured it showing off in karate. (But that’s another post.)

 

On Speeches and Thieves and Recyclers

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One of my colleagues is convinced the speech he heard today was the same one a student gave in his class last year.

Before that, I discovered I had a thief.

Every year the school where I work puts on a speech contest for high school students. Oddly, the topics haven’t changed in 15 years. The first year students (10th graders) speak about their dream or future vision, the second year students (11th graders) appeal to someone or something to change something or the other.

The responsibility for assigning, editing, and choosing the speakers falls to us, the foreign staff. It’s such a complicated process that it eats up three to four weeks of class time (each class meets only twice each week).

Early on in the process, one of my students presented a speech that was so good I was pretty sure he either didn’t write it or had received a great deal of outside “input” in writing it. Usually when this happens, the foreign staff start asking around “Did you get a good speech about XYZ?” When we discover two students with the same speech we conduct a version of the Prisoners’ Dilemma. We explain to the students “Someone gets a zero. If neither of you confesses, you both get zeroes.”

However, when my student actually stood up and gave his speech, he’d changed his topic to a fairly weak speech on a different topic. I didn’t think much of it until one of my colleagues told me one of the students he’d chosen to go to the contest wanted to change his speech topic. The student admitted that it had been copied by someone else. Turns out it was my student. The original speech had been copied. Or at least each was blaming the other for copying it.

What I think happened is my student, who usually doesn’t write anything, “acquired” a copy of the other student’s speech and presented as it his own but then chickened out and actually wrote one (or there’s another copy of the second speech roaming around somewhere).

Either way, he got a zero.

Then, today, one of the students in the contest gave a loud, energetic speech. After the contest,  my colleague and fellow judge said that was the same speech the kid gave last year in class for his “My Dream or Future Vision” speech.

It’s too late to give him a zero, though.

The Unplanned Party is Fun and Annoying

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Today was as close to a riot as I’ve ever seen a Japanese party get. It actually made we wish I’d drunk more.

First, although it was a farewell party, it was at a casual izakaya, rather than a more formal version of an izakaya which are typically dark and moody and expensive. This izakaya, though, was an unofficial hangout for the foreign staff. It was brightly lit, busy and had cheap beer: 190 yen (US $1.57) for a mug rather than the usual 500 yen (US $4.12) for the same size.

The reaction from the Japanese staff as they arrived was to look around and go “Here? Really?”

Second, we were actually in two rooms that formed an L. At least part of us would be at the little kids’ table.

Third, I couldn’t drink much because tomorrow I’m head judge at the high school speech contest and I have to 1) stay awake and 2) be coherent for at least one minute.

Fourth, there was no set menu. Usually Japanese parties are seven course affairs with various forms of salad and meat and things that are unrecognizable but usually pretty tasty. The courses arrive in waves and you find yourself (if you actually have an appetite) hoping the next dish arrives quickly. I usually grab a couple cheeseburgers at McDonald’s before I go to a Japanese party just to tide me over until enough food arrives to tide me over.

This time, though, everyone started ordering from the menu which led to the first problem that began to turn the group against itself: the izakaya was unusually slow. Some of us had been there before when it was busy but they were always diligent about getting food out. However, this time, when food finally arrived it was only half of what had been ordered.

The effect of this was that food would arrive on one half of the table and the people on that half would refuse to share with the other half who watched with longing and resentment. We also started ordering table by table rather than for the group. People didn’t get up and move to other tables to talk to the five people who were leaving. The kids table actually ended up being the youngest teachers and they had a noisy good time, although I kept pointing at them and saying “I told you kids to keep it down” and “You don’t want me to come in there.” (The latter was technically true.)

I was fascinated by it all because I’ve never been at a formal Japanese party that actually felt like a party. I only had two beers though, which meant I didn’t party much.

 

Smokin’ and Drinkin’ and Chillin’

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I spent most of the evening today smoking at a place called Chillin’.

I ended up there because today was the first of two consecutive farewell parties for the same people. Tomorrow is the official English Department farewell party but today we had the unofficial “foreigners in the department” farewell party.

Our original plan was to meet in Tokyo and go to an Irish pub because that’s what you do when you’re in Tokyo, especially if you’ve lived in Japan a long time. One of my colleagues, though suggested we go to a shisha bar called Chillin’ and smoke a couple bowls before going to the pub.

I was skeptical. The only hookah I’ve ever smoked involved “beneficial herbs that are now legal in Colorado” (a technical term) and I didn’t imagine sitting around in a haze of smoke would be very interesting without that “beneficial herb”. I thought about arriving later, when we went to the pub but ended up deciding to give the shisha bar a try. I did, however, mention that I probably wouldn’t enjoy spending the the entire evening there.

That, of course, is exactly what we did.

First we bought beer and snacks at a nearby convenience store and were disturbed to the find the bar closed in the early afternoon. We then decided to walk around and drink our beers before they got warm. (Note: walking around drinking alcohol is legal in Japan.)

Eventually we returned and the place opened and there were already people sitting around smoking.  We ordered our tobacco: Blue Mist, Spicy Chai Latte and Aloha which, now that I think about it, sound kind of like strippers’ names. I was immediately surprised by how smooth it was and how unlike a cigar, pipe or cigarette it tasted.

We were so relaxed and had such a good time we ended up staying for five hours. Eventually we sent people out for provisions (chicken, chips and beer) and we ordered more tobacco: Chocolate Cocoa; Blueberry and Licorice (which sound like desserts, not strippers). The Licorice was the best, although the Chocolate Cocoa had its moments.

There was a good crowd of Japanese and foreigners and everyone sampled everyone else’s tobacco. (We all had our own plastic mouth piece that we stuck on the hose when we smoked. This led to us trying to explain to the Japanese university students next to us what licorice was. This proved difficult as I’ve never seen black licorice sold in Japan.

Although we had a good time, we couldn’t escape the feeling that we were in the shisha bar version of Starbucks coffee. I don’t know if I’ll go back. Then again, I didn’t actually want to go in the first place so anything is possible.

 

 

Lots of Pens Without Much Passion

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A cute Japanese lady almost convinced me to buy a pen, but I told her I couldn’t.

Actually I said I’d have to think about it and then asked if they’d still be around on Monday.

Today was the 16th Mitsukoshi Fountain Pen Festival at Mitsukoshi Department Store in Downtown Tokyo. (It’s two blocks from where the Maruzen World Fountain Pen Fair took place last week.)

Last year when I went I was underwhelmed at what I found. Today I was only slightly more whelmed.

Today was helped by the presence three of Japans’ small fountain pen makers: Nakaya, Ohashido and Eboya (more on them later). I also like that the Mitsukoshi Festival has a table with racks of pens visitors are welcome to try. Piles of notebooks are also provided although, being a writer and a proper addict, I brought my own.

Try it, you'll like it. (Then you'll want to buy it.)

Try it, you’ll like it. Then you’ll want to buy it. (I spent a lot of time here trying and rejecting rationalizations.)

Mr. Yoshida of Nakaya was there fixing nibs and I was actually able to get get close enough to the table to handle some of the pens. However, She Who Must Be Obeyed apparently put a curse on me before I left the house because each Nakaya I touched burned my skin and I heard the Devil’s voice telling me I was going to burn and that forever was a very long time.

I also got a chance to try out Eboya pens. They specialize in pens made from ebonite. I impressed and scared them when I showed my Edison Glenmont LE. I was impressed with the Eboya and they are now on the possibles list.  I was disappointed, though, that they use Peter Bock nibs rather than manufacturing their own.

Two ebonite pens from Eboya. The force is strong in these two.

Two ebonite pens from Eboya. The force is strong in these two, but I don’t like the gold band on the cap.

The problem with the show is a problem that seems to apply to all Japanese pen shows: they are run for the stores and not for the enthusiasts. The Mitsukoshi fair had a terrific selection of pens, but most of the counters were run by Mitsukoshi clerks. Mitsukoshi, for those who don’t know, is similar to Harrods in London and Saks Fifth Avenue in New York. It’s for people with money and not the unwashed saving up to buy a Nakaya.

As such, there are no small stores selling pens, no vintage pens, and no fountain pen peripherals for sale. Although Mitsukoshi has a stationery section, there are no pen cases or pen cleaning items for sale. There’s also very little or ink, except that produced by one of the big pen companies. Sailor’s ink mixing master usually makes an appearance at the show, but he wasn’t there today.

Each company provides their own pen repair expert, but only at certain times on certain days. It’s all very serious and there’s also not a lot of charm or passion.

Th Pilot Pens section. The man in the front is repairing pens.

The Pilot Pens section. The man in the front is repairing pens. There’s not much passion on display here.

For example, Pelikan had an impressive display where visitors could try pens of different sizes with different nibs. It looked cool and after playing with the larger pens, I asked if I could take a picture. The clerk half scoffed/half sneered a “no you can’t take a picture.” I walked away saying that I didn’t realize that “Pelikan” was German for “asshole”. I may have to work that into my vocabulary: “Watch where you’re walking, Pelikan,” “Hey, Pelikan, stop trying to cut in line,” or “Hey, Pelikan, let me take a picture of your pen display.”

I’m not sure I’ll ever go again. That’s a lie. I’ll be there again next year.

Goodbye and Good Luck and Good Riddance

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Today was the last day of exam passback classes which means there are a lot of students I won’t see again, at least for a while. In many cases this is a good thing.

At the school where I work, there is a progression in behavior. Junior high first year students (7th graders) are a lot of fun until the end of the year. At the beginning of the year you can scare them and trick them because they haven’t figured out the scam yet. (More on that later.)

Second year students (8th graders) have begun to figure out the scam. They are also entering the more incoherent and disruptive phase of puberty. Most, when they return from summer vacation, are suddenly grown up young men. At this point they begin working on the important things they’ll need for the rest of their teenage years 1) angst, 2) semi-coherence; and 3) absolute knowledge of anything and everything.

By the end of 8th grade most students have figured out the scam: 1) Mr. Lively’s class is only a percentage of their English mark and 2) they can’t fail.

This means that 9th graders, especially in the lower level classes, are difficult to teach. My biggest tool at this stage is orneriness and inherent meanness. Students quickly learn that I really will make them do homework at lunch and/or after school. One student had to come in at lunch everyday for a week until he finished spelling all the numbers from one to one-thousand.

Even the most disruptive students learn that making their lives miserable until they finish their work is something I do for sport. By the end of the year there are students who never want to see me again and I never want to see them again either even though that meant that I’d be passing my problems on to others. (Basically we all scream “Do it to Julia! Do it to Julia!”)

In all fairness, sometimes the student does better with the new teacher.

Today, though, was kind of pleasant. Although there are some students I hope I never see again, two of my 8th graders asked if I was going to be teaching them in 9th grade. I told them I wasn’t and they seemed disappointed. (Most are disappointed when they find out I’m going to be their teacher.)

Another student surprised me by having a fountain pen: A metallic green Pilot Vanishing point. (As seen here.) I was so impressed I gave him a bonus point (even though he didn’t actually need it).

 

Short Days At Work And Long Work Days At Home

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Today counts as my shortest day of work ever. Sort of.

Because we are in the pass back phase of exam season, I originally had little reason to go to the office today and, in fact, had planned to work from home (more on that later).

Then, suddenly, yesterday, lots of reasons to come in today found me. First, junior high school marks were due today which meant I finished marking my exams “yesterday” (at least that’s my story and I’m sticking to it) and had to enter final marks in the computer today.

Then, yesterday, I got a text from one of my colleagues telling me that the make-up exam assignment was also due today. Basically, at the school where I work, if a student fails, he is “required” to take a make-up exam which, if he passes and/or bothers to show up (“required” means different things in different cultures apparently) he can get a passing grade. Also, if a student gets a near-failing grade, he has the option of taking the exam to improve his score to a not as near-failing grade. The exams can be either take home writing assignments or sit-down exams. In this case, I planned to assigned long essays and then read them at my leisure when and if they arrived on my desk.

Of course the assignment was due at 8:20 a.m. This meant I had to trudge into work as if I actually was going to work. (The school has not yet discovered an effective way to use the resources of the internet in situations like this.) I got to work at my usual time (7:50 a.m.), entered marks in the computer and filled out the proper forms for the make-up exam and then found the proper teacher and passed the assignment off.

That was all finished by 8:15.

As I’ve written before, I work at the school not for the school, which means if there are no classes I usually don’t have to be there.  Still, I felt kind of guilty being the first person to leave when not everyone had yet arrived. I meandered around a bit pretending I had something to do.  That lasted only a few minutes, though, and I left school at 8:30, which is ten minutes before classes started.

However, although I was not at the place where I’m assigned to work, I was responsible for filling the time with work related activities, which I totally did. Totally. I worked up next year’s calendars and started thinking about how I’m going to fill the days at the end of next week when I’m not working but am responsible for working.

Avril and the Spy Quarters and the Witch’s Doll

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Although I’ve traditionally had a very short temper, as I’ve gotten older I’ve learned a few things about revenge.

Several years ago there was a strange series of stories about Canada’s poppy quarters and whether or not they were actually listening devices. This was, of course, poppy cock, because everyone knows that Canada gets all its intel from the hundreds of comedians it exports to the USA every year. (Although, it should be added, that now that most filming is done in Canada, Canada’s spy chiefs are a bit confused at the chatter coming in.)

We are listening to you, eh?

We are listening to you, eh?

Although this odd controversy proved true everything I think about government–too many people, too much money, not enough brains–a Canadian colleague of mine decided it proved everything he thought about the USA–too, well, I didn’t actually listen when he complained so I’m not sure what the complaints were. He therefore determined that he would slip spy quarters in our stuff and let us discover them in our own good time.

Let me say that again: To mock my country he was going to give me money. Mock on, I say. Mock on.

We, his colleagues, found the quarters right way. That’s when the revenge ensued. We agreed not to mention it just to see how long it took him to crack and bring it up himself. It took just over two weeks of him hint dropping before he finally just asked us if we’d found them.

The other revenge involved Avril Lavigne. A different Canadian colleague knew that I was not a big fan of the Canadian crooner and after he somehow “stumbled across” one of her posters. (i.e. took a spare one off his wall at home) he decided to use it as a joke. When arrived at work the next day, Avril Lavigne was tacked above my desk taunting me about why I had to make things so complicated and why I could actually spell “skater”.

I knew this would require a special level of revenge. I left the poster in place as inspiration and tried to think of a good way to get back at him. Two years later, my colleague was cleaning out his desk and commented that there was a shocking amount of brown twine in his desk. (The brown twine is used to bind bundles of exams.) He said “what is this, something from the Blair Witch Project?”

A bell went off in my head and my hunting dog ears went up and I knew I had the revenge. I got a bunch of brown twine and shaped it like a voodoo doll. I cut Avril Lavigne’s face out of the poster and stuck it to the voodoo doll and put it in his desk drawer.

He reacted exactly the way I hoped he would but the last bit of revenge happened when he got ready to go home. I’d made a second doll and put it in his coat pocket. He found that one when he went to put on his gloves.

 

I haven’t had to do anything like that for a while, but now that I have fifty cents Canadian listening to everything I say, I’d probably better get ready for something to happen.

Searching for the Rhythm but Finding the Denial

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A couple hours ago, a friend of mine gave me a tip to help me get through the rest of my exam marking: Mark one test. Play one game. Mark one test. Play one game.

The funny part is, this is pretty much what I already do.

I’ve written before about how this time of year is confusing for us and how we have to pay attention to what we’re doing.

This year, at least for me, is especially complicated. I finished marking my high school exams  Tuesday evening and have spent the last few days passing the tests back. Since I haven’t had much to do in the afternoon and evenings, I’ve gone to pen shows and played games. Mentally and physically, I feel as if I’m already finished.

The problem is today I got a new batch of exams, which means I have to somehow convince myself that I’m not finished. To make matters worse, there are not that many of them (48; for high school I had over 160) and they are not due until Wednesday.

Now, the adult thing to do would be to sit down and start marking and not stop until the last exam was marked. Yeah, great plan, too bad I’m not actually an adult once I’ve finished exams, even when I’m not actually finished. In fact, I get down right lazy once I’ve finished. This means if I don’t get past this denial phase and start marking, it’s not joke that the work will expand to fit the time and it will take four days to finish the exams. (And I don’t mean by doing an efficient

I started marking exams this evening and then spent an hour playing games whilst chatting with my friend via the glorious time wasting magical powers of the internet. While we were playing he suggested the plan I mentioned before.

I’ll have to surf the internet a while and think about that plan more carefully. Then I’ll do some marking. Maybe.

Racks of Temptation But Little Fun

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I only reached for my credit card twice but I ended up not buying anything.

Well, maybe it was three times.

Today was the 6th World Fountain Pen Fair at Maruzen Books in downtown Tokyo. After work, I rushed down to Tokyo, cameras in hand, hoping to get some useful material for this site. When I arrived at Maruzen, I was surprised to see the fair was taking place in the basement.

When I got to the basement, the first thing I did was look for the Nakaya table. (Note, For those who don’t love fountain pens and therefore have no soul: Nakaya pens are one of the Holy Grails of fountain pens.) (Second Note: in this case “Holy Grail” is Japanese for “Really F@#king Expensive Pen”). They are sought after because they are handmade by experienced artisans and manage to be both simple and beautiful.

Unfortunately, Nakaya didn’t seem to be anywhere in the basement. Instead I looked around at famous production pens like Pelikan and, oddly, Platinum, which is the company Nakaya split from. The entire fair could have been mistaken for simply another department in the store as there was nothing special about it. While I was there, I tried out a Pelikan Souveran 800 and started reaching for my credit card. I do not claim this was a sane act but I did it. Luckily, I remembered I was looking for Nakaya pens so put my credit card back.

I then went to the 3rd floor to check out a rare and antique books section and found a new must-have item for work: a fake dictionary that houses a bottle of whiskey and a shot glass.

On the way back downstairs, I suddenly stumbled across the Nakaya table, which was set up practically in the foyer next to umbrellas. It was a terrible location where casual shoppers met pen addicts in a small traffic jam.

Today was especially interesting for Nakaya fans because Mr. Shinichi Yoshida, the nibmeister for Nakaya, was at the table adjusting nibs for newly purchased pens. The cheapest pen I saw that I liked was just over 59,000 yen or 491 US dollars. Oddly, this is a decent price for a Nakaya with a nib modified by Mr. Yoshida so I started to reach for my credit card. I then realized that I was like the 10th person in line hoping to even get in line so I put my credit card back.

Mr. Yoshida works on the youngest man at the show's new purchase.

The Nakaya table. Mr. Yoshida (right) works on the youngest man at the show’s new purchase.

Right next to the Nakaya table was the Ohashi-do table. Ohashi-do is a Sendai based fountain pen maker who also makes everything by hand. Or, maybe, by foot.

I neglected to write down the name of the artisan, but he was busy working a foot-powered lathe to make a pen and I didn’t want to interrupt him. The line for the table was short and I started to reach for my credit card, but I was more interested in watching the man with no name work.

The man with no name works using his feet.

The man with no name works using his feet. He has really cool socks.

The man with no name adjusts the lathe with a small mallet.

The man with no name adjusts the lathe with a small mallet. You can see how long the orange acrylic rod is.

All in all, I find that Japanese pen shows are lacking in energy. The Nakaya and Ohashi-do tables were fun, but the rest was boring clerks in suits. I’ll go to the 16th Mitsukoshi Fountain Pen Festival next week. I hope it’s more fun.

I probably better leave my credit cards at home before I go. I don’t know if I can survive temptation twice.