The sun is slowly sweeping away and being replaced with grey gloomy clouds. The sun which shone fiercely on mine and Barbara’s faces over a week and a half ago as we glided down the Arrashiyama river in Kyoto on a rickety wooden boat has dissapeared behind clouds which threaten to burst on the people scurrying beneath them. Mosquitos are rearing their small alien like bodies in the humid weather and exotic insects are chirping and screeching behind my insect blind on my small balcony. It’s neither hot nor cold but stifling, annoying, wet and clammy. As people wait for the fierce rain to stop pelting from the sky I sit here here in these strange, tropical surroundings, smelling the foreign, damp weather which settles around me, watching the Japanese rush from shop to shop under large transparent umberellas. While the Japanese cope with the common, unispiring annual burden, I  look at the rain with awe, amazment and wonder: another reminder that I am no longer at home.

Pictures of the adventure that was Taiwan!

So we have everything: Passports, re-entry visa, clothes, trainers, underwear, toiletries, towels, a picnic for the plane and a sense of adventure anything else is superlfuous or can be bought.  So we though!

Embarking on our hiking adventures in Taroko Gorge we realised that we had left behind one vital piece of equipment:  a back-pack! Great!!!

So, what has my pink leather handbag experienced? Travelling to lands and heights that no handbag has been to before I dragged my girly companion up into the clouds in Taiwan to view a mysterious pond surrounded by green lush vegetation. Carrying my water, bamboo rice, guava and camera my bag and I perched in the long grass gazing at the secluded beauty which would have once been home to aboriginal tribes. Giving our legs a longed for rest after a steep hike of over 2000 metres we ventured (me and my pink friend and Felicity and her purple one) a little further to view settlements left by the Japanese during the occupation.

Walking in the clouds, far away from civilisation we carried on walking as the rain began to fall in the humid clouds. Reaching the white, small brick houses we saw remains of a fridges, beds and electrical appliances. An eerie feeling descended upon us as we gazed upon this secluded ghost hamlet and we wondered how the Japanese succeeded in hauling these heavy goods to the top of a steep mountain. Venturing forward to see what the next house had in store we saw a sight which made us turn, walk back down the mountain, briskly but quietly.

Over 2000metres high in the sky, we found a bed, a mattress, water, magazines; signs of inahibtation in extreme weather. Too many films made me presume the worse, who decided to live up here and why? After a joint decision Felicity and I decided that we had seen enough, reached the peak and should head down but neither of us mentioned the bed, the signs of life in the misty surroundings. Walking back, handbag securly fastened under my shoulder we headed down till Felicity had declared safety at what was the old settlement of a tribe. Still not at ease I declared I was no longer scared of someone following us but scared os who we may meet on the way down: what goes down comes up no? Say we meet the dweeler on his way back “home”. Calming down and realising that yes, I shouldn’t assume that my life is a film, haunted by memories of those such as “The wrong turn” (after all, we hadn’t yet died hitchiking) I calmed down and we decided our spot for our picnic. Arriving at our decideed there he was, the man who was going to kill us, the man who was going to hack us up on the top of a mountain where no body knew where we were. No phone, no help, no one to hear us scream. There he was, standing there with a sythe! Turning aroud he began speaking to us, talking and starring, unable to understand, his words were just sounds falling on confused ears. “Sorry, we don’t understand, do you speak English?” (Why are you holding a sythe?) blank stare, incomprehensible words, forming, floating, flying through the clouds. “English?” No…..”Japanese? Nihongo o shabemasuka?” and there it was, the magic word, the phrase that got two English girls on the top of a Taiwanese mountain speaking to a man in Japanese.

Far from death on a mountain the 18th March 2008, Felicity, our handbags and I hiked, got scared, spoke Japanese and like monkeys, smashed open our food on a rock to get to the yummy contents inside some bamboo.

Really, who said you shouldn’t talk to strangers?

Life and the media have taught us the follwing lessons: don’t talk to strangers, beware of the man behind you, don’t walk down that dark alley and be suspicious of the man offering you a lift.

So, what happens when two young girls decide to sleep in a house with three male strangers they have never met before and only seen on the interent…DEATH,MURDER, BLOOD? What happens when these two girls jump in a black car with a young man speeding to work…SLAUGHTER, RAPE? What happens when these two foreigners who don’t speak a word of the country’s language eat the food given to them by the old lady in the backseat of a car….really didn’t Snow White teach us not to eat the poisoned innocent looking fruit?

Travelling in a country with our clothes strapped to our back, a few coins in our purse and a sense of adventure, we avoided becoming a weeping mess even if we were relying on nothing but ”the kindness of strangers”. And far from being carried away, destroyed,  crazy or dead my love for humanity has only increased, the desire to help those in need grown and faith in the world and gone from nothing to indestructible.

Maybe if we paid less attention to the media, more to our instincts and looked at the individual rather than thinking of the bad apple the world would be a safer place, happier and fun

Sometimes you have to leave a country to really appreciate it. It’s never till you leave that you can really appreciate all the small, positive points. Great things about living in a country soon blend into everyday life and become so normal that they are quickly taken for granted and no longer seen. Negative points however accumulate, get bigger and really begin to take their toll. Leaving a country makes you put it all into perspective, you realise that the small things which bug you, really are just that; small and inconsequential and likewise, the bigger, positive aspects are the great ones which make you stay in a country, want to learn more, explore and have fun. 

Snowboarding.

First at Christmas, then January, a day trip in Hokkaido and a day trip in Shiga and finally a trip to Tsukaige in Nagano. Each time I go the beauty of the white mountains never cease to amaze me: courses are made of metres of snow piled and packed on-top of each other, the tops of trees poke out feebly to say hello from the white blanket which engulfs them and conditions can change instantaneously and unexpectedly. Resistant building slush turns into a soft blanket to fall on when a bout of snow plummets from the sky at lunch. Clear skies may become harsh winds and thick mist or nice slopes become icy obstacles as the sun smiles in winter conditions.

Each trip begins in the same way: a group of people assemble with the sole aim of throwing themselves down mountains on a wooden board or two strips of wood and poles. Warm clothes are put on, boards, skis, binds and boots are rented, put on and zipped up. The precautious (or adventurous) gear up with protection ranging from knee pads, wrist guards or full body armour and then off they go. Sitting on a chair lift you see blurs of colours whizzing down mountains; blues, yellows, greens and pinks fly by while others tumble, crash and fall. Snowboarders idly sit on the slopes while skiers whizz by, beginners attempt to gain as much control as they can to refrain from smacking into others or falling on their faces and those with more experience spin, jump, glide up slopes, fly in the air and with a light thud, elegantly land back on the ground.

While the concept of winter sports may be perplexing and perhaps odd (attaching a board to your feet to throw yourself down a mountain) it is undoubtedly a fun and exhilarating one. Sitting on a chair lift watching skiers navigate their course down a steep slope and boarders whizz down, I started wondering (as I often do) when, how and why, snowboarding became popular. Thinking more about the concept of sports and there impact on those who do them and why it became clear that sports allow escapism.  When society dictates norms and to some extent behaviour (a phenomenon evident in Japan) sports allow it’s participants to take full control and responsibility of their own actions.  Snowboarding grants the partaker the ability to go as fast, slowly, dangerously or as safely as he wishes and the chance to sway from the group or partake on the adventure by yourself. Sports, apart from being keeping you in form, reflect who you are, your personality and who you want to be.

Golf: peace, calm, the chance to unwind. Surfing: fun, adventure, warmth, partying. Karate: discipline and strength. Cycling: speed, strength, willpower and determination…….

Everyone says that Japan is the country of four seasons.

Summer, Winter, Spring and Autumn are four distinct times in Japan where each season brings not only different food, weather and a changing landscape but also mentality. To some extent this is true in any country. Cold and harsh weather makes it more difficult to go and do sport, socialise and enjoy a walk in town whereas a glimmer of sun, warmth on the commute to work and a bit of light when you leave work can only encourage the growth of positive feelings.

However, while I sit at work today with the heater still on as the sun shines into my face through the wide window which faces onto the school gardens, I find it difficult to believe that at the beginning of this month in fact this time three weeks ago, I was running to catch a plane to fly to Hokkiado (a Northern island in Japan). For three days I had volunteered to subject myself to extreme winter conditions, snow and cold while looking at the beauty of handmade snow and ice sculptures.

Yuki Matsuri (yuki meaning snow and matsuri festival) was truely an amazing sight and a short but fun trip which I am glad to have organised and went on.  After a 2 hour plane journey, hotel confusion, taxi confusion (following a man who we believed to be a cab driver only to see him look more scared than Jayne and I) we dropped our bags off at the hotel, sneaked Felicity into our two person room and went into town to see some of the ice sculptures lit up at night.

Arriving at our destination I saw snow sculptures bigger and more beautiful I had expected. The wide streets and bright, clean town had been cast under a magic spell as it turned Sapporo into a winter wonderland. With snow piled up high against the roads and the pavements higher than usual as at least 10cm of packed snow raised the floor height we walked into town to eat and drink food from the numerous characteristic Japanese stalls which beckon you with bright lights, shouts of いらしゃいませ　and nice smelling food. After 30 minutes standing in the cold, unprepared for the cold which was about to attack my fingers and toes I watched my friends slide down an ice slide before we entered igloos, posed by ice sculpted penguins and seals and saw the leaning tower of Pisa, the statue of liberty, Disney characters and snow art.

On Saturday, an early start, a group of JETs assembled at the train station to partake on a ski-ing, snowboarding trip at Niseko. Confusion ensued with train tickets, meeting points, reserved seats and non reserved seats, buses which arrived and buses.. However, after hours of travelling, i in line to hire clothing, boards and boots and journey to the top of the black runs of Niseko it all seemed worth it for a good few hours boarding and throwing myself on the ground to experience the fact that it really didn’t hurt at all. The powder at Niseko was so soft and comparable only to the idea of throwing yourself into a room covered in cotton wool.

Finally, on Sunday, our last day at Hokkaido, we went to a children’s snow park. What initially sounded to be an odd place to visit only showed us the beauty and ingenuity of the organisers of this festival. Superb snow and sensational sculptures filled the park. An ice haven for children, the park was filled with slides, a maze, thousands of miniature snowmen, ice cream, sleds which parents pulled their warmly wrapped bundles of joy in and the chance to ski on old fashioned bamboo sticks. More impressively however, and the best 500 yen spent (around two pounds fifty) was jumping on a rubber dingy and being pulled around an ice course by a snow mobile.

Walking away from the extreme cold of Hokkaido and into the warmth of a sunny day in Osaka this little adventure seems so far away. An amazing and unforgettable trip, Japan and its seasons are rife with exciting events waiting to be explored and  thus my time here  will fly by as I divide the year into four blocks in which each one respectively offers different sights, fun and memories.

The teacher at the end of the staff room speaks to me reluctantly.

The teacher who sits opposite me sheepishly mutters おはよう  as I take my seat directly opposite his paper covered desk and tea stained cup.

And quivering and sweet teacher still seems unable to grasp the concept that I am unable to understand 日本語.

Everyday it’s the same drill: me no speak English, please don’t speak to me, please try not to ask me anything I may not understand!

But wait, can we just pause a moment!?……These aren’t history,math, or Japanese teachers…God, if only I could get them to stop practising their English on me! These meek, unconfident teachers comprise of the head of the English department, one of my team teachers and a third year English teacher! 

I’m not offended! I understand that people are reserved, shy or just quiet! But when I have been told numerous times that these teachers just don’t want to talk to me because they are too embarassed to speak English I sigh in dismay!

…Maybe I’ll become a math teacher yet avoid talking to anyone about the 20% I got on a jacket in the Christmas sales. Better still, a history teacher and talk only about things which are happening in present time just to avoid any chance of dealing with the fulcrum of my profession.

nevica.

sto dentro la scuola guardando fuori dalla finestra.

fa freddo.

pezzi del gelo cadono dal cielo.

fa freddo.

le mie gambe sono congelate e ho le mani ghiacciate.

fa freddo.

ma, mentre guardo la bellezza dell’inverno prendo la mia decisone! RIMANGO!

perche’? perche’ io so che in qualsiasi situazione vedo sempre il lato positivo.

si’ la mia bici e’ rotta e devo caminare a casa. si’, mi mancano i miei amici, i miei genitori e tante cose da casa! si’, non voglio dimenticare questa bella lingua con cui sto provando a scrivere! Ma un anno qui’, in un paese talemente diverso dal mio puo’ soltanto portare tante belle esperienze, molti nuovi amici, l’opportunita’ di acquistare nuove abilita’ e una profonda comprensione della cultura giapponese!

rimango…perdo niente…guardagno tanto! 

(e….un brava amica mi ha fatto capire che i veri amici non si spariscono…sono li’ sperando che prendi la decisione giusta e se qualcosa ti succede, sono li’ per aiutarti, per incorragiarti, per farti sentire meglio e meno sola!) Bacione ad una che ho incontrato a yoga :) 

It’s a grey Sunday morning.  My leopard print skirt, black leggings and glittery leg warmers are curled up on a chair by my window. Hazily looking at survivors of a drunken 80s fancy dress party I sit here drinking my tea while listening to the BBC world service in my western style appartment. Am I really in Japan?

Recently the news has been rife with the debate about immigrants in Western countries: the influx of Poles to England, Zimbabweans to South South Africa, Mexicans to America. The debate pivots around the usual topic of integration. To what extent should immigrants accept their new country’s culture, customs, beliefs, religions, language and to what extent should the host countries welcome what is essentially “foreign”?

Are we JETs here in Osaka stubborn, patriotic expats? (And why expats and not immigrants as a friend from home  recently pointed out) How much do we bend ourselves to accept Japan’s culture and customs, do we adapt and change our behaviour and attitudes enough to fit in to this homogenous society. Are we the immigrant in England upon whom we frown for not being able to comunicate fluently in our mother tongue, the immigrant who we glare at in contempt when he is merely laughing and talking loudly with his friends on a train in joy, the immigrant who makes the superficial changes in culture when it suits him? 

When my friends and I were running around town with flourescent tights, glitter hair and leg warmers, were we merely confirming negative steretypes of Westerners in Japan or were we looked at kindly as some foreigners having fun? In a country completely different from your own, is it better to always blend in and constantly try to integrate or should you give yourself occasions to go crazy, not care and be yourself regardless of what people think?