Better Late Than Never 5!

Biking the Shimanami Kaido しまなみ海道 - 4/22-4/24

The final bridge of the route

This is about 6 months backdated so... enjoy!

Desperately needing to get out of the funk I have been in since my guest left, I decided to hop into a bike trip with a bunch of JETs from Okayama and a few of my fellow Oita JETs. The girl I had originally planned to go with backed out the week before so it ended up being a small group (6 of us total) of JETs from Oita whom I didn’t really know. It actually worked out really well though (except for my bitching most of the first day because of genital discomfort - sorry guys!) and I have no regrets!

Up we go!

As for the trip itself - Friday night I caught a train toward Onomichi (a city in Hiroshima prefecture along the southern coast facing Shikoku) and met up with the rest of my small Oita group. We found our hotel just outside of the station and spent an hour or so relaxing until we finally passed out uneventfully. On Saturday morning, however, the fun began.

Arriving about an hour early at the meeting point, we searched the map for the bike rental place. While skimming the map, an old man approaches our group and says, “come, present, third floor.” In any other country, we probably would have been hesitant but knowing we had three strong, big, guys in our group confidently followed the fragile grandpa up the escalator. He led us into a small breakfast restaurant where he prodded us into seats and handed us menus. Motioning to his favorite meal he waits while we all order our breakfast then immediately pulls out his newspaper and begins to read. Knowing this to be a pretty universal sign that someone doesn’t want to talk, we try for a few minutes to join him in conversation then give up and begin trying to decipher amongst ourselves the reasoning behind this strange happenstance. Shortly after our meals arrived, (our mysterious benefactor had only ordered coffee) he stands up, grabs the bill, and shakes all of our hands. Then pays the bill and leaves? It was very strange but breakfast was delicious and we ended up leaving very confused but full.

Here's the gang, setting out

The rest of the group passed us on our way out of the restaurant and we followed them to the bike rental place. After waiting the hour and a half for everyone to get their bike rentals sorted out we are finally on our way. The day started out rainy and me and some of the Oita group quickly pulled ahead of the group as we followed the blue line up to the first bridge. So distracted were we by the thought of riding up a giant bridge between two islands that we actually missed our turn. That served to teach us a lesson about getting too distracted and the rest of the morning went by quickly. We were the first at the meeting point for lunch and hung out for an hour or so while we rested our legs and re-hydrated. The morning had begun a bit chilly but had quickly turned into a sunny, warm day and the chance to wash up a bit was a nice relief.

Halfway point

Once lunch had settled a bit in our tummies we set off again for the last few of the bridges. The ride was beautiful but also tiring. By the time we had gone about 60km I was beginning to feel quite sore and it was almost a relief when I got a flat tire. Until I remembered I had a road bike and no one had a bike pump... We spent an hour or so with some gas station attendants ghetto-rigging a pump once we patched the tube and finally got back on the path after watching a majority of the people in our JET group pass us by. We lucked out about 20 minutes later when we passed a group of cyclists resting at a convenience store and I could finally pump my tire up all the rest of the way.

Things were pretty uneventful after that until the final bridge (which is actually a series of three bridges connected to pass over two islands and stop off on a third). A freak rain storm rolled in and began to pelt us on the way up the bridge. I can't really describe the way the cycling route led up to the bridge since it was about 500m above the ground so you will simply have to see the picture.

Firemen!

About three quarters of the way up the twisting cycling road, we decide to take shelter under a small gazebo with a number of other rain soaked Japanese bikers. This was mere seconds before a bolt of lightning struck the lightning tower right above our heads. Needless to say, we about peed ourselves and then decided it might be a good idea to wait a little on the rain to slow down before we set out again. Of course our impatience finally got the best of us and about 10 mins later we were battling the rain and wind while we tried to cross the 3 miles of bridge ahead of us before the sun set. Shortly after we arrived at the end station to meet up with the group the rain ceased - as expected. Damn my impatience.

Stop for some local citrus

We proceeded to wait about an hour for the rest of the group to arrive at the meeting point, including our guide (turns out only about a dozen people had passed me in my tire drama - none of whom would attest to having observed my plight). Once everyone got together it was off to the ryokan and our drinking party. Not much to be said since I passed out pretty early on.

The next morning was bright and warm with only a slight wind and D, P and I took off on our own after seeing K to the train station (she would meet us at the ferry to head back to Oita since we had planned to bike down). After about 15km, however, the wind began to pick up and we found ourselves fighting to keep in a straight line on the road while not killing ourselves trying to outdo the wind. Of course what had planned to be a brisk, 80km cycle down the beautiful island of Shikoku turned into calamity as we hit another flat (this time on D's bike) and with no gas stations in sight. Luckily there had been a fire station not too far back so we walked along until we reached it and politely asked the firemen inside to help us with removing the tire from the frame so we could repair the tube. Despite all of our preparation, we were not equipped to handle a puncture from a giant nail (which turned out to be the culprit as I recall).

This might have been the most entertaining part of the journey as P and I just kind of hung back watching four firemen fighting over who could be the most helpful in solving the tire problem while they grilled us on our life stories. Sometime in the hour they were "helping" us, they admitted we were the first foreigners they had ever spoken with in their lives. I would be lying if I said this was the first time someone had said this to me. I don't even find it sad at this point but instead hope that this occurrence can continue to be reduced through the efforts of my fellow foreigners.

Freak rain storm....

Needless to say, with the wind howling at us from all sides and time lost to bike repairs, it was not much longer once we got back on the path that we decided we would need to train to the next biggest city to get lunch then decide about biking from there. Lunch at subway proved fruitful because we ran into K who had been unable to meet up with her friend and with full bellies and slightly reduced spirits we decided to give up on the rest of our bike trip and instead all train down to the ferry together. It did not appear any less beautiful from the train window and we sat in relative comfort chatting about this and that while watching vineyards and groves of fruit trees dotting mountainsides roll by.

Be careful of birds :-)

My magical Shikoku biking journey came to an end when we got on the ferry to head back to Oita and although I made little impact on the route, it made a big impact on me. 6 months later I am still thinking about those sparkling blue oceans and serene mountain-scapes. Hopefully I can back again before I finish up JET!

Love!

運動会 (Sports Day)

Sports Day Blog – 9/23/2011 and 9/25/2011

So, I know I mentioned there would be a significant increase in my blog entries lately and I still intend to fulfill on that promise, but have patience. Life has been keeping me very busy and honestly I would rather be experiencing things than stopping to write about them. :-)

View of Mt. Aso

Let's start back to the week of Sept. 19th, I need to give a bit of background update to set the stage for the rollercoaster I have been riding. The weekend was a three day weekend and one of the few I will be granted this work year. To celebrate, my old roommate from college, A, who is now doing JET in Miyazaki, planned to visit with me in Mt. Aso the biggest active volcano in Japan and located roughly halfway between the two of us. Unfortunately, the weather was against us and a typhoon hit the majority of southern and eastern Japan pelting us with strong winds, heavy rains and even some flooding. The worst of it hit Saturday evening and most of Sunday, officially drenching our travel plans, along with shutting down all public transportation.

Trying to avoid being too depressed and glad to be in each other's company after so long, we ventured out for some shopping, onsens, karaoke and dinner with friends when the weather had calmed. In the midst of all this excitement, I also stupidly forgot to cancel our fancy ryokan (traditional Japanese style inn) reservation for Sunday night. As the typhoon still spit down upon us angrily from above on and off, when the ryokan called to remind me of our reservation (at 7PM on Sunday night), I told them I was sorry but it had completely slipped my mind and that because of the obviously inclement weather I would be unable to make it down there. He insisted we come, going so far as to say murri shite kudasai (meaning roughly 'do it even though it is impossible'). After I continued to refuse, he finally requested we wire transfer half the money for the room to him the next day. It kind of made sense to me that they would ask for the money, since I had forgotten to give them advance notice of our cancellation (although the typhoon should have made it obvious) so I did not think to argue.

On Monday, the holiday, although the weather had cleared up, A and I just spent the morning sitting around, relaxing and talking.

Yes, he is walking on their backs.

She left and a few days later I got my MCAT scores. I must have known before I checked because as soon as I woke up I had a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach that couldn't possibly be related to food. My week had already been filled with bad luck – I accidentally wired the money to the ryokan twice and the bank was unable to cancel the transaction so I had to call and ask them to refund it to me (thank goodness for Japanese friends!), not to mention that we had been unable to go to the volcano – so when I saw the results I was not really surprised. Still, despite the studying, I did not score high enough to be competitive this application cycle so I have decided to hang up the towel on applying this year and try again next year. Perhaps this will mean another year in Japan, though likely I will travel home and volunteer at a hospital while moonlighting at a department store. Sigh.

While this may sound a little like giving up (and in a way, it is) try to get a broader sense of the process. I spent about $700 just to take the test (travel fees included) and another $400 just sending out the primary application. It costs about $75 a school to complete the secondary application and the likelihood of me obtaining an interview afterward is slim to none with my scores. Thus, knowing my rejection to be fairly certain I decided to quit before I throw any more money into the process and get a confirmed rejection. As all my Japanese friends have said – “there's always next year!”

Although this may be a bit of an aside, I want to address failure in Japan as a culture phenomenon. If you did not know, to be a licensed teacher in Japan is a very time consuming and difficult process. While there are many teachers who work in the public education system, at schools everywhere, slightly more than half are actually licensed teachers. As far as I can deduce, the reason is, once teachers obtain their license, which they must renew every ten years, they have it basically until they retire. This includes the time they serve as principal, vice principal, education coordinator and in other offices (such as at the board of education office). It appears the prefectural board of education limits the number of licenses available to each subject area, though it may also be regulated on the national level by the monbushou. Either way, until a teacher retires or loses their license for some reason, the spot is unavailable to a new teacher, even if they current holder is not teaching. Thus, there are many open teaching positions and teachers-in-training to fill them, but very few licenses available.

kibasen, my favorite part of sports day

As you can gather, to actually get one of the few license spots for the year, you have to be at the top of your class, and priority is given to people who have tried and continually improved over a period of time. There is a series of tests, lectures and interviews required of each applicant and you chance of failure the first few years is almost assured. The number of spots seems to range anywhere from none-6+ in my region but the number of applicants continually increases every year. So, this relates back to me because when I failed to obtain the score I desired, everyone looked at me and said, with eyes full of understanding “it's OK, we have all been there.”

One of my closest teacher friends is 31 and still has not passed the exam, when I told him how sad I was he just said “I have spent ten more years failing than you. You can either get over it and keep trying, quit, or quit failing.” I figured after that although many of my friends have not had this setback, and although I have never failed anything before – it was just another part of growing up and having goals. If I was ever in a place to teach me that lesson, it is working in a room full of failures who fought and continue to fight against terrible odds with a patience and hope I can only dream of. So, in their honor and for so many other reasons, it is back to the books and another year.

My kid at speech contest

Back to topic, the sum of these back luck spurts and bad news threatened to ruin my birthday and when sports day rolled around on the 23rd, I may have been the only person in Yamaga not looking forward to it. But the day dawned bright and when the event began I was surrounded by oddly energetic teachers, ecstatic students and a surprising number of parents and elementary students who had become acquainted with me in one way or another. With all this positive energy I couldn’t help but be optimistic. I had asked some of the teachers the day before at rehearsal if they could give me something to do during the big day since every teacher and student had a specific job except me. Luckily... or unluckily, one of the students would be unable to attend the event and they were scheduled to shoot the pistol at the start of two events so all the teachers decided I could do it. Yay!

With an opportunity to actually participate in sports day this year (if you recall last year I debuted in various events because the students had asked me to play side by side with them), when I had previously been afraid I would be benched for the whole day, along with the aforementioned atmosphere of optimism, the day was looking bright.

Sports day slogan

My first event was shooting the gun at the start of the tug of war events, which this year were separated by grade level. Because no one knew I would be beginning the event, when I held up the gun and said “Are you ready?” most of them were momentarily stunned by the English until they broke out into a big group “yes!” Shouting “GO!” and firing the pistol all went without a hitch to begin and end the event three times (once for each grade) and I enjoyed the shock some of the later students still had when they realized I was blowing the gun for all of them.

Because I have been neglecting personal time and keeping too busy, this blog is being written late, and with the passing of time I have forgotten the order of some of the sports day events. I will sum them up though, as best I can and if you want more details, refer to last year’s post.

Getting ready to shoot the pistol

A parent/student scavenger hunt followed tug-o-war and required the teams to run through an obstacle course ending with drawing a card with a final activity and a teacher’s name written on it. When the teacher was chosen it was their job to run out and help the team complete their activity. During rehearsal they told me I would be included as well but on the day of, when every other teacher had been called except for me, I was starting to get nervous. It was not until the very last team after I had watched all the other teachers play silly games, that my name was called. Big grin on my face, I ran up and linked in for what would be my first 5-legged race.

Most of the other events were the same as the previous year except that I blew the gun for jump rope instead of jumping with the kids like last year. Otherwise most was the same. Well, except for the 2nd grade 80m dash. About a minute before the event began, my favorite teacher, Mr. M, looks at me and says the other gym teacher (a girl of 22, like me!) will be running with the kids. I immediately jumped up and said “I want to run!” Thus, I lined up with my group of girls and when it was our turn to assemble on the line for our race I was a mix of excited and nervous. The announcer called out the names of each runner and although my entry in the race was a surprise, the announcer still had time to include me in the roster. When they said “Nichole sensei” a massive cheer erupted from the students that swelled over into the spectators. I had never been very good at sports in my youth and was often the last one picked for any team, not to mention never having had people cheer for me, so when I heard the people cheering and clapping for me for the first time in my life I almost cried. Well, I probably would have if I had not been in the last lane because as soon as the cheering faded out, we were bolting to the sound of the gun. I pushed the kids pretty hard and they kept pace with me but by the end I checked my left and seeing them a little behind me, slowed to let them win. I think I still took second but as long as I was not the first to cross the finish line I was happy. It was so exhilarating – in so many more ways than I can express in this mere blog entry.

Folk dancing with the students

The rest of sports day passed in a happy blur and at the drinking party that night, everyone was in excellent spirits. The PTA president made the kanpai (cheers) speech and talked about how me and the other gym teacher running (she ran with the boys and blew them out of the water) were the most surprising and exciting events of the day and how this year’s sports day had been the best in the schools short 3 year history. He had no idea. :-)

Later that night, another PTA member taught me the phrase isseki wo tojiru which translates roughly as “to cast the first ripple in the pond.” She said our running has reminded everyone that sports day is really a “festival” more than a spectator sports and that beginning next year, everyone was going to try and make some events that the community can participate in. After the party, Mr. M and I went out for our typical after party in Kitsuki and discussed various things – mainly how we were likely siblings in a past life. I guess the happiness just kind of spilled over.

Playing catch in a teacher/PTA event

Saturday the 24th was my birthday and so I let myself sleep in until 10 then did a 14K run (yes I am still marathon training) to start the day. After a few hours of cleaning and laundry, I allowed myself to indulge that night with a few local friends and B (who I had not seen for a good while). The next morning dawned bright and beautiful – altogether too much so for my hangover and I shrugged myself out of the apartment and into work for my Sunday, elementary school sports day.

This was the extreme version of the community involvement I hope to see from Yamaga middle school next year. The neighborhood was divided into three teams based on geography and they had their own separate scoreboard! Literally half of the day was devoted to community events, including putt-putt golf and a three-sided tug of war. It was pretty cool and I probably should have participated more because they asked me to join numerous events but I was just not feeling up to it – it was a struggle just to keep myself in the vertical plane most of the day.

All these sports days led to a very long two weeks since I had two six-day work weeks in a row and the 29th was speech contest with my student so I was pulling overtime most days to help her prepare. I might still be trying to catch up on sleep and it has been a month! Well, hopefully that updates you a bit and be ready for a spew of entries!

More pictures and hopefully a video to come! Love!

Better late then never... 4

Sumo

11/27

I showed up in Fukuoka with B in tow around 11AM for the sumo tournament that was to last all day, or so we heard. Rule number one of sumo is you don’t talk about sumo - apparently even to other JETs who have never been. So of course, no one told us that the real event wouldn’t begin until around 4 that afternoon. So we entered the area to the cheers of... 10 people, maybe? Some wrestlers were sitting around the center rink while two wrestled in the middle and a crowd of about 5 people filled the stands to cheer them on. It was a little sad but then I remembered that the event had sold out of tickets so we quickly put two and two together and realized we must just be early. So we took the opportunity to snuggle up close to the rink and take a ton of pictures since there was no one around to block our view then we left the building for some more interesting events (like people watching in Fukuoka).

After a few hours of window shopping in what struck me as bearing a strong resemblance to an American outdoor mall, we returned to the sumo tournament. I wish I could tell you about everything I saw there but, honestly, the videos will have to suffice. I didn’t understand the sumo tournament or rules in the least and the people I shared seating space with talked the whole way through about this or that or the other and didn’t pay much attention to the ring. Overall, the experience could have been vastly improved had I been sitting with B and/or with people who were actually enjoying the events we all paid good money to enjoy.

Enough bitching though. I was surprised by the amount of foreigners that were present in the tournament; and I don’t just mean white people. There were a good number of Chinese and Indonesian wrestlers, who put up a valiant effort against their smaller but more agile competition. In the end, though, the Japanese won out. I am told this is a rare occurrence though. I certainly would not have guessed the smaller fluffy-looking Japanese man would win over the biggest Bulgarian man I had ever seen in my life. The Bulgarian was so buff he had abs on top of his belly fat. But apparently pure strength means little in a small salt lined ring where the slightest misstep will see you face up on top of a small, brightly colored referee. It almost happened once, actually.

But while I understood that part of the match, once they finally grabbed a hold of each other and starting trying to throw one another outside of the ring. It was the soap opera-esc drama that preceded the actually throwing that had me confused. They would arrange themselves facing each other, stare into their opponents eyes, and then touch their fists to the ground. But more often than not, one player reached the ground just a split second sooner than the other and they would both stand and walk around the ring again, throwing salt and preparing for another face off. The more advanced the players, the more of this cat and mouse game they played until it got to the point where I thought they would never begin the match.

When I consulted another teacher a few days after the match about the play-drama that preceded the wrestling he informed me that in recent years it has turned sumo into more of a joke than a sport. A mind game of wits matched with hundreds of kilos of nabe filled tummies while they spew venom through their eyes at one another. I had to agree with his assessment when I thought back to how after a few bouts of play fighting I was sick of watching at all and I quickly lost interest in the matches.

Overall though, I have no regrets about going, although you likely won’t see me at sumo again this year, and I think it is something everyone should experience. Go get your culture on, then make sure you wait a year to tell people about it! Love.

New Year, New Me?

Sorry wrote this yesterday so the dating is a little off, but enjoy!

The trimester opening ceremony is this morning and while it is the second trimester, the longest of the three, and therefore insignificant to most of the staff and students, to me and my fellow JETs, this marks the beginning of a new year and the end of an old year of our time in Japan.

I can't help remembering this time last year when I looked around confused while for the first time since I had been in Japan the other teachers showed up in suits and hustled the students around the school. I think this might have been the first time I saw all of the students. It was a little scary and very unnerving then, but now I am relaxed with a schedule in front of me that I can actually read while I wait patiently for the opening ceremony to begin. Now I know I have to walk up the stairs to enter the gym from the second floor since there wont be enough outdoor sandals for me to change into to make the walk outside to the gym. And, I know I have to bring a pair of little socks to wear over my feet so I am not barefooted in the gym.

The ceremony has just finished and all I was thinking about was how different it felt for me this time around. Not solely because it was my second time experiencing it, but because of other experiences I have now had in my time here. A few weeks ago, for instance, I participated in my very own Japanese opening ceremony. Complete with lining up one behind the other, bowing, and aligning ourselves with our arms outstretched in front of us, all in unison. It was a volleyball/baseball/table tennis tournament between teachers in three different regions and I was on the volleyball team. We ended up getting second place overall and when we received the certificate, all the teachers thought I should have it. My first Japanese participation certificate. These things are such a waste of money on the city's part, but makes for a cool omiyage for me. Either way, the team also made me and another teacher participate in the opening ceremony as representatives of all the participants pledging to the city and head of the tournament. Watching the kids do just that this morning brought about slight nostalgia this time, instead of confusion and awe.

I feel like that about summarizes how this year will progress for me. I will see everything again for a second time but instead of thinking 'how wonderful and new' I will think 'Oh it's like last year and this is the last time I will see it.' Coming into Japan knowing I would be here two years left me with a bit of lee-way concerning attending events and keeping my eyes peeled for new things because I knew if I missed something I would be there for it again the next year. As summer flew by and festival after festival encroached on my test date, I had to make sacrifices on either studying or fun to try an fit everything in, knowing this was the beginning of the end of my time here. Sept. 1st has arrived and thus my 13th month in this magical and confusing country and it is my job this year more than ever to experience everything I can before I take the next step in my life, one that will likely having me working in windowless rooms for the next 10 years while I try to be innovative and save lives. Whether I get into med school this time around or not, Japan will very quickly become the past and I need a collection of memories to keep locked away for those bound to happen bad days in the next quarter century of my life.

Japan has taught me a lot about... everything. But there is still so much more to learn and experience. Come on guys, let's live it up, because we only have 11 more months to do so! Love.

Another year bites the dust.

In accordance with many of my friends and a desire of my own, I decided I am going to celebrate my one year in Japan with an update of major events in my time here and a list of things I still have yet to do.

Since August 2010 I have:

• Moved to a foreign country, 
• Lived on my own, 
• Bought and paid for a cell phone, 
• Paid every bill, 
• Saw more stars than I could count,
• Decorated an apartment from the ground up, 
• Become comfortable in my own company, 
• Walked home drunk by myself, 
• Danced a traditional dance to taiko drums, 
• Seen half/mostly naked men drunkenly carry a golden shrine, 
• Prayed to a god I did not know the name of, 
• Got slapped by a teacher for messing up, 
• Learned a measure of patience, 
• Developed the ability to sit on my heels (seiza)for up to 30mins without a break, 
• Bought a car, 
• Got a Japanese driver's license, 
• Applied to medical school, 
• Seen snow and cherry blossoms,
• Taken the MCAT entrance exam, 
• Taken the JLPT exam, 
• Gotten served beer by my boss to the point of being completely trashed (he was too), 
• Watched a sumo tournament (I know this entry is a year late in coming, haha), 
• Learned to appreciate and participate in sado, tea ceremony, 
• Worn a kimono, 
• Watched noh theatre, 
• Eaten wild boar at a backyard BBQ, 
• Eaten raw horse meat and blowfish, 
• Planted rice, 
• Biked the Shimanami kaido (entry coming soon), 
• Trained for and completed a MARATHON and TRIATHLON, 
• Tried judo and learned badminton, 
• Joined my first adult sports team (then switched to different adult team ;-P), 
• Ran my first, and more, races in taikai events throughout Kyushu, 
• Visited Hiroshima, Nagasaki, Osaka, Tokyo, Kyoto, Miyazaki, Saga, Sasebo, Sendai, Nagoya, Shikoku and a few more prefectures and cities, 
• Gone to a lot of drinking parties, 
• AND enjoyed numerous festivals, sightseeing spots, and local treats. 

Goals for this year:

• Get into medical school, 
• Pass JLPT N2, 
• Visit Korea, China, and a third world country, 
• Visit my Dad in the Philippines, 
• Do the Tokyo Marathon (in under 4.5 hours), 
• Be a bride's maid in my friend's wedding, 
• Do another Triathlon (maybe more than Olympic distance?), 
• Go camping, 
• See more of Kyushu (Mt. Aso, Takachiho gorge, Yakushima, etc.), 
• Climb a mountain, 
• Try kyudo, 
• Eat whale (I just want to try it), 
• Play soccer with my kids, 
• Go to the snow festival in Hokkaido, 
• Go skiing (did not get to go last year), 
• Stay in a love hotel (by myself?), 
• Keep up with my blog more, 
• Be a better girlfriend, 
• Move back to America. 

 That's all for now, back to planning out songs for the students to sing for the year!!!
 Love.

On Religion

i have spent a lot of my sightseeing time in Japan hopping around temples and shrines trying to decipher both why I find them so beautiful and some of the aspects of these religions that still seem so foreign to me. As a disclaimer, I am not particularly religious in any way though I do think there are many things in this world that science cannot explain and I am not willing to step on other people's beliefs to disprove that. That being said, I usually try to pray to whatever god is worshiped at the shrine I am visiting. Not in the 'please give me this' way, but in the 'I'm sorry to intrude on your space and am opening myself to anything you are willing to say or not say.' So far I have not received any responses, though I am not really looking for them, but I continue to go regardless because if nothing else, places people designate as holy always seem to have a certain peace about them.

About 2 weeks ago, my friend who works at the gym introduced me to a girl from Nepal who is visiting an Aunt in my area. She does not speak any Japanese, though she speak perfect English, so she does not have any friends outside her family since she can't communicate. But we communicate fine and have become fast friends, though sometimes she can be a bit overwhelming (I think mostly because she is lonely), and since I finished my test she has been intent on keeping herself attached to me. On that note, yesterday my beach plans got cancelled because a big storm rolled through and it rained the whole day and so I went with her and her mom and aunt to a temple. It is one of the more famous temples in the area, not because the building itself is particularly beautiful (of course I didn't see the main building but I will get into that later) but because there are ancient, giant stone Buddhas carved into the stone. They were carved around the 8th century by monks seeking enlightenment and were made without any tools besides other rocks. They are not very pretty likenesses and there are just the two of them, but I found them very moving.

To access the Buddhas, you have to climb up the side of a mountain. With the pelting rain it made the trek a little more dangerous and as we climbed we quickly approached a path that changed from the typical bamboo lined steps in the dirt to what looked like a landslide of rock. My friend P explained that this path was created by a demon in the guise of an ogre who, in an attempt to spare his own life, constructed the entire path in one night at the request of a god. The ogre was still killed, in one of those sly ways the Japanese gods seem to kill people who abuse their power, but the Japanese people in the area since that day have left the path unchanged as a testament to the strength of their gods. I was more afraid of slipping and falling that anything else and when I looked closely at the very wet and uneven rock face and then down at my flip flops I thought, 'oh crap.' P saw my hesitation and explained that the gods would not allow us to slip so she almost literally starting skipping up the rocks, also in flip flops. I called back that it would be possible the gods would be displeased with me since I don't really believe in them and perhaps would not extend the same protection to me but she responded by saying merely that since I have a good, open heart I would be fine. not willing to take my chances I crawled slowly up the rock face until we got about halfway up and they veered off the path to go see the stone Buddhas.

Standing well over 10 feet tall, the bust of Buddha in two different phases of his life looks down on those beneath him not in a condescending way, but one of contemplation. One of the figures though, looked angry. I asked my friend P why and she said while Buddha was praying one day some people came over and started harassing him, he found them entertaining and thus the look on his face is one of distant amusement rather than anger. Not quite content with her explanation, I sat and stared at him a while longer. As the rain pelted us from above in the alcove of trees and rock, she came over to me again and told me a story about a man who came to the area a few years ago. The man, upon seeing the face of Buddha turned away in disgust saying "I traveled all the way from Osaka to see this and it is just two old rock figures, nothing special." On his way down the rocky slope he supposedly lost his footing and fell. P was convinced this was divine retribution for defacing the name of Buddha and his followers, and while I was not so convinced, it made me tread even more carefully down the stone path.

On the way back I asked P why we didn't go all the way to the top of the route and she said it was because the building for the main temple was closed. What I discovered later was that the building was closed to her and her mother because their (grand)mother has passed away less than a year ago and they were not allowed to enter the building until a year had passed. I suppose next I will enter the building, assuming I can gather the courage to face the landslide slope again.

Once we got back to their house, P's aunt was explaining to me about the life of the monk who worked at this particular temple and the values they have to possess to be a good monk. This particular one is married to a Korean woman who is always complaining that he does not make enough money at his job. The monk replies, like a good monk should she explained, that being a monk is not a job, it is a lifestyle and making enough to merely live is all that is required of his profession and his own fulfillment.

Between going to the temple and the stories I heard yesterday, a lot of questions have been answered for me in terms of how some people view these religions and yet, a lot more have arisen in my mind. I did not enroll in the Shinto or Buddhism classes offered at UF while I was student and I do not regret that decision because I think some of the patience and openness I purportedly possess now was not present during that part of my life. I will of course continue to visit shrines and temples and try to open myself to the possibilities, but I will also maintain a comfortable respect whenever I visit these holy places. If even Japanese people can fear their own gods, surely I should not question them in their own home.

Usually I try to summarize why I thought this was worth writing about at the end of each entry, but this time, I will let you decide. I just wanted to get those thoughts out there. Also, I will try to attach a slideshow of some of the shrines I have been to visit within the week.

Love.

Just a moment, please?

So I was sitting in Osaka airport, taking up space at a starbucks after I fed the corporate beast 500 yen for a soy chai latte, and thinking. After months of spending all my mental energy on remembering scientific concepts I learned as a college freshman just thinking seemed a nice respite. Unfortunately, it seems after such mental expenditure, I don’t know how to just let my mind wander anymore.

To that end, as I sit here trying to get the rest of this drink down (I never drink coffee because it makes me super hyper and chai sugar filled lattes aren’t much better - plus starbucks always seems to give me a stomach ache) I was pondering adult life and how much things have changed in the last few months. It could be the contrast between teaching such young kids and working with mostly significantly older people that puts me in this grey area - but I am constantly finding myself weighing how the decisions I make and the things I do are so different than they would have been years, or months, before.

I used to wonder when exactly you became a grown-up. I guess I, like most kids, just thought you woke up old one day. Not necessarily old in the sense of age, but just... old. Of course as you age, you come to realize you don’t just turn old, you grow older.

While walking down the streets of Umeda this morning I tried to imagine what my seven-year-old self would think of me. If she is anything like my students perhaps she would find me fun, cute, a little loony and strangely enough, young. But I don’t feel youth the way my seven-year-old self did. Because that Nichole got bored waiting in starbucks at an airport, or window shopping in crowded Osaka malls. She didn’t have to remind herself how beautiful a walk through the park could be, or how much fun swimming in an ocean could be - because she just knew. She knew being outside was the best thing in the world and watermelon and a hose on a hot summer day was heaven. Now I find myself getting so caught up in life that I could the calories on my summer ice cream cones and swim in heated pools in the middle of the night to burn off those calories and avoid the sun.

Would she be ashamed? Would she think I was silly? Or would she say - ‘Nichole you’re a grown-up’. I certainly feel like a grown up sometimes - at least until I talk to my colleagues with families and ‘real’ lives. So could we say being a grown up is just being grown a few years longer? Is it even really about years? Sometimes I feel an awful lot more grown than some of my peers - hell even of some people my senior. I certainly look at college students now and think of how young they are sometimes. It is in those times that I wonder if perhaps I traded lack of responsibility for freedom, and if I can go back temporarily and entertain the other choice.

When I went home to America 2 months ago to visit my mom who was recovering from surgery but hadn’t begun treatment yet (just setting the stage so you don’t think I am crazy selfish for what comes next) and I found myself battling the urge to curl up on her lap and just bawl. Not necessarily because she was sick, for those tears had to be shed in private where she couldn’t see, but for the loss of my own ability to fulfill that very urge. For the loss of my own innocence. For the ability to leave her house without her asking me where I was going, who with and when I could be home. In some twisted way, I wanted her to ask me. I wanted her to take some of that freedom away from me. Wished she would say “be home by 12” instead of “see you in the morning, good night.” I never did curl up in her lap for fear she might mistake those tears for my own loss as tears of misplaced faith in her ability to battle the demons raging within her.

Someday I will have children of my own, likely not too far in the future, and is the day when my own child curls up in my lap the sign I have become an adult? Or was it when I graduated from college? When I stopped using my mom as an alarm clock? When I could cook my own breakfast? Or were these all just little steps in the long process of growing - one I sometimes wish I could turn around. Because after all, there is only so much ‘up’ growing we can do before we have to start growing back down again.

I guess the point of this whole philosophical wandering is more than pining over the loss of my childhood, it is a memo to try and slow down the ticking of the clock so I don’t look back on a disappointed 22-year-old Nichole and wish I had ‘grown-up’ different. I hope to never forget to remind myself how beautiful the stars are at night, to never forget to look out the plane window at the clouds, to never fight the urge to swim in the ocean. I don’t ever want to feel too “grown-up” to enjoy my life, to be silly, or to make mistakes.

So with one foot in the door on the path to a hopeful career as a doctor and half my body out the door on my Japan adventure, I left reminding myself to live each moment 100%. To embrace the patience I seem to have developed and rather than wonder ‘am I there yet?’ think instead ‘that cloud kind of looks like a turtle.’

I have a lot of blog entries to post and a lot of experiences to record, but I wanted to take a moment to remind myself - and maybe remind you - that while all those experiences are unforgettable, I have to promise myself to try and make every day if not unforgettable, at the least, unregrettable.

Love.