A Year in Japan

May 2002

I finally tried my `soaking bath` in the apartment. It is only about 4ft long and 3ft deep. I showered before climbing into a steaming bath to soak and read a book. It was a cramped experience, especially having to turn around to sip my G&T at the same time.

April 25th was ANZAC Day (Australian army day) and Danielle, the Aussie girl from Brisbane invited around fellow Aussies, Margot and Imogen for a celebration drink. I gatecrashed at 11pm after arriving home from Shimotsuma school. As the token `Pom` there was much pisstaking about what a bastard Churchill had been to send the Aussie army into the unwinnable battle at Galipoli in Turkey. `But you were the colonials, it was your job to support the British Empire`. These Aussie women have no sense of humour!

The next morning, after a 4am finish, I was rudely awakened at 8.30am by HQ. A teacher was ill and could I cover for her. Please be at HQ in 45 minutes. I was taken to a public elementary school on the outskirts of Tsukuba. The school infrequently asked for their children to have a basic English lesson. I followed a member of Bernard School`s admin staff down to the school and after removing our shoes at the entrance (no exceptions), we were led to a staff room for formal introductions, card swapping, cup of green Japanese tea etc. I had never taught at a public school and didn`t have a clue what was in store.

I was taken to a large room where three, thirty five minute classes were scheduled with 5 minute intervals. I was given the basic lesson plans. A large class of 40, 5 year olds filed in behind their teachers and stood in rows. I was introduced to the kids in Japanese as `the very important teacher from England, Jack-san` (and probably also `please ignore the booze on his breath, it was ANZAC Day yesterday`). I did the basic `greetings` drills which they chanted like mantras. A second class of 40, 6 year olds trooped in and I made a brief introduction which was translated into Japanese. Greetings drills, number drills, and then Bingo. I`d call out the numbers, and when they got a line, they`d rush up to get it checked and shake my hand. The game continued and I was continually flooded by 20 kids after each number called, all keen to touch the strange fat foreigner who smelt like a wino.

A final class of 40, 7 year olds appeared, who after my introduction were allowed to ask me questions (translated from Japanese) such as `what is your favourite food/movie` etc and `how big are your feet?` (Big enough to kick you up the arse, kid). I had to teach them actions (stand up/sit down/walk/skip/run/stop) and bounced around the room like a sad demented `Pied Piper of Hamlet`, while the kids all tried to follow me in complete bedlam. This had the teachers in hysterics. Then we had a game of `Bob Says` - if someone made a mistake, I`d point and make a loud buzzer noise and finally that old favourite - the head, shoulders, knees and toes song which I kept repeating getting faster and faster until I collapsed onto the floor in a sweaty heap, along with half the class. The morning was a roaring success, and I was carried back to the staff room for tea and nibbles and lots of compliments and how much everyone had enjoyed it. But it had been strange to experience the huge class numbers and robotic drills that the Japanese kids were used to.

I racked up 28 hours of teaching in the week before Golden Week. Golden Week is so called because between 29th April and May 5th, the Japanese have three national holidays; Green Day (29/4), Constitution Day (3/5) and Children`s Day (5/5) and so usually the country takes a whole week`s holiday and go somewhere.

My holiday started on Sunday April 28th. There was another Hash Harriers run organised and I met up with the usual suspects and few new faces. We drove down to the base of Mt Tsukuba to Ni-Hari Village to follow a trail around the paddy fields with the green rice plants sprouting out of the water. There was a welcome `beer stop` on the way round. Afterwards, the entire club headed for the Mexican restaurant.

Hokkaido is the northernmost major island of Japan. It has a natural beauty with features that combine the flavour of broad, rolling river valleys, flanked by low wooded hills and high volcanic mountains. Much of the island is empty with most of the 5.7m population in the river valleys. The climate is colder here than the rest of the country and the winter sking season is the peak time to visit.. The island contains 20% of Japanese land space but only 5% of it`s population and the Japanese see Hokkaido as one of the final idyllic unspoilt wildernesses and a perfect place to escape the endless industrialisation elsewhere.

The cheapest way to get there was an 18 hour ferry ride from Oarei about 2 hours north of Tsukuba. The ferry left at 11.30pm on Monday 29th. Today was the Green Day National Holiday. Forrest, 27, an ex-army, American teacher from San Francisco who lives in my block, had told me he was going too. I arranged to meet him at 7pm to drive up to the port in his car. When I knocked on his door, I found him scrambling around trying to pack a backpack, while his two American friends waited. We went and packed his tiny car with the luggage and set off up Route 6. There were another three American guys en route from Tokyo via train but they had been as disorganised as Forrest (Gump) and it was touch and go if they would get there in time. When we unpacked the car at the other end, we discovered that Forrest had left his backpack outside the flat against the wall. So he had no luggage. Doh! I couldn`t resist saying `Life`s like a box of chocolates Forrest, you never know what you`re gonna get, but usually you don`t get your luggage'. The rest of the motley crew made the ferry just in time. None of them had a guidebook and two of them had forgotten to bring any money. Typical young Americans. But they were good company for the long ride, and we were the only foreigners on board.

As we trooped on board, a member of staff bowed and we were led to a large communial bedroom. Tatami mats covered the floor with lines of neat folded blankets laid out and those tiny rectangle headrests that the Japanese seem to love. Enough room for about 50 people. But the boat was relatively empty and we had an entire area to stretch out (after removing our shoes). We stayed up most of the night in the lobby drinking beer and exchanging views on Japan/America. The rest of the ferry had gone to bed.

The ferry was quiet and very smooth. It was often difficult to know if you were actually moving. The toilets were spotless and near our room, I discovered an `onsen` (communial hot baths). You stripped off in a dry area and entered the main room. There were lines of taps, bowls and soap and little stools to sit on. Here you washed and scrubbed yourself (but there were also western showers). I wondered why all the mirrors were near the floor until I crouched on one of the stools. Then there were two large soccer team sized soaking baths to lie and watch the sea pass by through the windows. A smaller cold bath was available for the brave. There was also a steam room which we nicknamed the `Caligula Room` because of the strange thrashing of branches going over men`s backs inside (oo-er). There were separate onsens for both man and women and I wondered how much water the ferry was carrying to keep these pools filled with constantly replaced hot water all round the clock. It is a lovely relaxing way to pass a ferry ride and I think our English to France cross channel ferries could benefit by their installation.

When we docked at the southern port of Muroran, Hokkaido in darkness at 6pm on the Tuesday night, it was pouring with rain. I had my itinery planned. The Americans didn`t have any plans (or any idea where they were), but the consensus was that they should head for the northern capital city of Sapporo to check out the nightlife. So I knew I was on my own. As we walked into town towards the train station, I saw a local bus. `Noberibetsu Onsen?` I asked the driver in his immaculate blue uniform and white gloves. `Hai` he replied but indicated he was leaving that very second. I jumped on board and yelled `this is my bus` to Forrest and was whisked away before the others even realised. It was the last time I`d see a westerner for the next week.

I was glad to be out of the pouring rain and off to my first destination about an hour away. Japanese buses are well organised. You enter in the middle and pick up a ticket with a stop number on it. At the front is a digital display of 50 stop numbers and the fare gradually increases for your boarding stop, the longer you stay on the bus. But at least you always know the exact fare. When you come to pay it into a machine by the driver, you can even get change from the machine. The bus timetable runs to the second. There were frequent buses everywhere and none stayed more than a minute at any stop. It averaged out about 1000Y (£6) an hour on a bus.

Noberibetsu Onsen

From my experience, I always prefer to start my trips in a small place, rather than a big city and since this was my first real backpacking around Japan, I didn`t know what to expect. I was pleased to discover that my planned youth hostel was 1 minute walk from the bus station and empty. By 8pm, I was soaking in a real onsen with volcanic water piped directly into the building. I wondered if the Americans would be sitting on a train somewhere, without a clue as to where they would be staying when they arrived in a city of 1.75 million people with little money and even less luggage (they ended up crashing a capsule hotel - one of those places where you get a coffin box each and sleep like sardines).

The Youth Hostels all had comfortable bunk beds with lots of blankets and quilts. The women proprietor (as with most other hostels spoke no English but used sign language to communicate). They all managed to communicate that hostel prices at between 2800-3400Y start at about £16, nearly double the price of English ones. I was genuinely shocked at the price.

A beautiful sunny day welcomed me to Hokkaido. Nestling amid lush green mountain slopes (though not today - Spring is only just arriving here), and ripped through by a bubbling wasteland of volcanic activity, Noburibetsu Onsen is a small purpose built resort and Hokkaido`s top `hot-spring` destination. It was deserted when I set off at 8am up the main narrow street to an area guarded by two large brightly painted demons that held Fred Flintstone type clubs in their hands. This was the entrance to Jigokudani (`Hell Valley`), a steaming lunar like valley that is the result of an ancient volcanic eruption and from where 10,000 tons of steaming hot water emerges daily to fill the town`s famous hot springs. Coachloads of Japanese tourists began to appear, taking group photos every 5 metres. I wandered along the wooden walkboards through a landscape of red, rusty rocks, streaked green and white and smelly sulphuric gases. Small in scale, it was actually quite underwhelming but the surrounding area was beautiful.

I hiked up through the forests to view Oyunami, a vast hot water lake and climbed a small volcano which was silent except for the violent sound of the hissing white steam eminating from a hole near it`s summit. It sounded like a marooned steam engine. Beside the path were some small stone statues with red cloth bibs. These were figures of Jizo, the protector of children. One of his responsibilities is the souls of dead children and sewn to each bib was the name of a dead child whose soul was to be helped into the underworld. Areas of subterranean activity like Jigokudani are obviously entrances to hell. I finally reached an observation point overlooking `kuttara-ko`, a classic caldera lake, almost perfectly round, with the surrounding shore rising sharply to an almost level rim. Today on a crystal clear sunny day, the water was an intense sapphire blue.

I skipped `Bear Park`, a small cramped compound of 50 large Hokkaido brown bears who sit around looking bored on Kumayama (Bear Mountain) which overlooks the town, but not as bored as the man who had to sit with a full size robotic mechanical bear complete with moving head and naff roaring sound, at the bottom of the hill to publicise the place. I also passed on the most famous hot baths in town at Dai-Ichi Takamoto San Hotel. The largest hot bath complex in Japan offers 29 different types of tubs, jacuzzis and a cypress wood bath. Since I`d had another free onsen at the YH that morning, there didn`t seem much point in paying £9 to go through the motions.

Toyo Ko Lake

I caught a special bus up the scenic mountain road through forests of white birch trees and over the Orofure Pass with a view of the caldera lake of Toyo-ko (and the volcanic cone island of Oshima within it) and the isolated white snow cone shaped Yotei-san looming in the distance behind it. Along with these spectacular views, of Shikotsu Toya National Park, the nearly empty bus came complete with a smart uniformed female guide who babbled in Japanese all the way through the journey and when the lake came into view burst into a Japanese song about it (which was nice). I checked into the spacious but deserted Youth Hostel just outside Toya-ko Onsen lakeside resort and walked up the road to see the two famous local sights.

Once upon a time, an active volcano called Usa-zan sprouted out of the ground like a large rust red/orange molehill. It is still active in that steam hisses out of various places and is off limits to tourists. Meanwhile in 1944, another volcano (son of Usa-zan) began to sprout out of the ground a few hundred metres away and within a year was 405 metres high and named Showa Shin-zan (`new mountain`). The Japanese wartime authorities were desperate to hush up this extraordinary event for fear that that the fledgling mountain would serve as a beacon for US bomber planes. There is now a tacky souvenir village in between the two volcanoes (one of which was selling a fully sized and stuffed panda bear for 3 million Yen) and a cable car that will take you up Showa Shinzan for a view of the crater. This volcano is still frighteningly active and erupted as recently as April 2000 covering Toya-ko Onsen with volcanic dust and forcing a three month evacuation.

Late in the afternoon, after the expensive cable car had shut down, I decided to climb the new volcano. I found a secret trail for cable car maintenance workers which was an absolute killer. It was like climbing Ayers Rock through forests. The trail was roped off with knots so you could pull yourself up the terrible gradients. No wonder, they didn`t publicise it to the tourists. All was silent apart from birdsong and the swearing, sweating foreigner clambering up the trail. When I reached the summit, I had the entire place to myself. From the observation platform, I could barely see the sunken crater a few hundred metres away with steam billowing out. It wasn`t exactly Mt Bromo in Java where you can get `hands on` with a volcano. But there was a splendid view of the lake below and the other volcano across the valley. My poor old knees took some punishment on the way down. If you ever visit, you may consider the cable car as a worthwhile investment as opposed to a hip/knee replacement if you use my route.

After limping back to the Youth Hostel, I was able to have a soak in the large hot baths and a meal of what I would describe as `bits of raw fish, fruit, probably vegetable,and other mysterious things, all sliced and laid out into neat little apartments in a neat little tray, which could be used to liven up endless bowls of boring white rice along with copious amounts of soya sauce`. It wasn`t exactly filling and at 1000Y, I decided I`d prefer to live on 1000Y of beer and snacks instead.

I was up early the following morning to try and hitchhike across the National Park to the other lake of Shikotsu-Ko. There were no buses on this road, and very little traffic. Japan apparently has a good reputation for picking up Western hitchhikers but I just got blanked. (`Banzai! Engrish pig-dog soccer hoorigan at thlee o`crock`). So I changed route and caught a bus north to Sapporo where I waited for oh, 5 minutes for a connecting bus to Asahikawa in the centre of Hokkaido, from where a free public bus took me 40km to Asahikawa Onsen in the Daisetsuzan National Park. I had crossed half the island in a few hours.

Daisetsutzan National Park; Mt Asahi Dake

Daisetsuzan is Hokkaido`s most famous National Park, and while it may lack the pictureque lakes of Hokkaido`s other green spaces, it makes up for it with its spectacular mountains including Asahi-Dake, the island`s tallest peak. Suprisingly, considering the bus is free, Asahikawa Onsen was a tiny alpine resort with low key tourism. The pink cherry blossoms were still on the trees, the hamlet was still covered in snow, the ski slopes were still busy and the new Youth Hostel was a beautiful large wooden affair and spotlessly clean. A few Japanese skiers were checked in but it was mostly empty. It was as nice as a western hotel and ample sized hot baths.

The next morning, I was up and out by 6.30am. It was a beautiful sunny morning and I was surrounded by snow and white birch trees/green fir trees. I could see the tall snow covered volcano looming in the distance. From the cable car terminal (closed that early), I followed the down hill cross country sking trails up through the forests with noone in sight. It was warm enough for T-shirt and shorts. I had reached the upper cable car terminal in a couple of hours and walked on to an ethereal landscape with half a dozen frissures of steam hissing from beneath the snow. A 90 minute arduous slog took me up to the summit. The wind was freezing and I was forced to don trousers, waterproof and wear a pair of sports socks as gloves. I looked like I the `Lamb Chop` puppet on my hands. Howling winds, and obscenely steep gradients over ice were a real ordeal but I plodded on and became aware of ant like people below me, the skiers who had arrived on the first cable car. From the summit of 2290m, I had a marvellous view over the snowy plateau of mountains and National Park that looked very similar in height and scenery to the Snowy Mountains in Australia. I could climb no higher on the island of Hokkaido.

As I decended, groups of Japanese skiers were hauling up their skies to the summit for superb off piste slopes. Tough little bastards these people. I retraced my route back down to the main sking trail which was filling up with skiers and snowboarders. One short cut attempt left me stranded on a steep icy slope and when my boots gave way, I ended up sliding down at top speed on my backside for 40m with the ice ripping my hands. Not recommended. I was back at the YH within 6 hours of leaving, pretty exhausted and thinking what a great place to come sking.

The free bus back to Asahikawa wouldn`t arrive until 5pm, so I stuck out my thumb and within 10 minutes I had a ride back to town with an athletic looking Japanese sking instructor and his wife. I struggled with my dictionary to make conversation. I told them that I was headed for the Youth Hostel there, and he pushed a button and panel lit up on the dashboard with a GPS system. A map of the town appeared and they followed the digital display and dropped me outside. I had been living off nuts and chocolate for two days, so a very welcome supermarket allowed me to stock up with a better variety of food and local beer. Rumour has it that the Braille on top of Japanese beer cans says `Don`t drink and drive`, which is really useful for blind people.

Sounkyo Onsen

I caught an early bus in the pouring rain around to the eastern edge of the National Park to Sounkyo Onsen, another small resort with towering hotels. I dumped my gear at the warm Youth Hostel before setting off in lashing rain to see the local sights. The famous gorge here with its vertical walls has been carved out by the Ishikarigawa River and as I approached it, the rain stopped and the sun shone to reveal the impressive parallel 100m long waterfalls of Ginya and Ryusei. A trail up through the forests allowed me to view the cascades of white water tumbling down the cliffs from the other side of the gorge.

You can usually walk along a bicycle path through the gorge to view its vertical rock pillars, but soon into the walk, I was stopped by an official little man who sat in his hut and threatened to commit hari-kari if I ventured any further. I couldn`t understand why the path was closed and decided on a stealth mission to see what I was missing. This involved doubling back and walking through a loud claustophobic traffic tunnel beneath a mountain next to the gorge for 5km (not recommended). Finally I saw daylight to one side, where the tunnel had an emergency exit out to the path by the gorge. I climbed over 2 sets of locked gates and wandered back along the gorge where I was rewarded with awesome views of the vertical gorge walls and the river running between.

Eventually, I discovered why it was closed. A landslide had collapsed over the path completely blocking it. I climbed over this, sneaked past a sleeping guard in a hut with his bicycle beside him and back around to my little man in his hut. Rather than try and sneak beneath his window, I climbed up around the side, above the hut and back down the other side. Never underestimate the tenacity of a British tourist to claim his right to see what he came to see!

Sapporo

The final two days were spent in Sapporo, the modern capital city. With 1.75 million people, it is the fastest growing city in Japan. It is an important agricultural base and now Japan`s largest food producer; wheat, potatoes, corn, rice and dairy products make up the bulk of production. It is famous for its Snow Festival (Yuki Matsuri) held in early February, when dozens of large, amazingly elaborate ice and snow sculptures are constructed in the winter snow.

It was designed with a grid pattern of streets and very easy to negotiate since all the roads were numbered in sequence from the TV Tower in the center which looked like a mini Eiffel Tower. Carp Banners fluttered from every flagpole (symbolizing strength and perseverance). I also saw the smallest Japanese car ever - about 6ft long, a 2 seater box car where the driver appeared to sit and drive from the back seat, although there was no back seat, if you get my meaning. There were lots of motorbikes in Sapporo; Honda Shadows and Harley Davidson Hog bikes and also with a large University in town, lots of students cycling along the cycle paths.

The Sapporo Beer Factory offers free tours and tasting and on a Sunday lunchtime, I ambled out past the crab market (full of enormous foot long crabs scuttling around tanks or packed into ice on the stalls) to the large tidy complex. I was the only westerner in the dozen strong tour and was given a tape recorder of English narration to click on and off as I followed the tour group getting their talk by the female guide. The narration by a bored sounding American girl had things like. (click tape on)`Exhibit of old Beer Bottles. This is an exhibit of old beer bottles` (click tape off). Beer is still brewed here, but it is the smallest one in the country. Ironically, the Japanese never drank beer until someone was sent to Germany in the mid 19th Century to learn the art of brewing and when he returned, Japan`s first brewery was opened here in 1876. This explains why Japanese beer tastes like German beer with lots of malts. They are now addicted to the stuff and quaff 7 million kilolitres of the stuff annually. I discovered that the biggest beer drinkers in the world are the Chech Republic, Ireland and Germany. (closely followed by British tourists).

We were led past the (closed today) factory and various exhibits which included walking through the `Tunnel of Foam`, a walkway with glass panels of bubbles everywhere; it was like walking through the world`s supply of urine samples. There was also a neat little 5 minute hologram story about the Brewery versus the Devil trying steal the magic formula which appeared to be a little pink fairy who appeared from a pouring glass of beer. Finally, after 40 minutes, we were led to the immaculate tasting room for 20 minutes of free beer. There were nibbles to eat, free postcards and we were all given lucky dip bags with a present. I did my best for England and staggered out 20 minutes later mumbling `Got a spare ticket for the World Cup mate?` and `where have you locked up your daughters?` (see last update for reference). Ironically, the best beer I have tasted in Japan is Sapporo Classic, but it is only available on Hokkaido and not even exported within Japan. Big mistake.

I also spent half a day at the Historical Village of Hokkaido where 60 buildings dating from the 1870s to 1930s have been relocated in the Napporo Forest just outside town. It was a wonderful place to stroll around and the interiors had all been refurbished as period pieces. I had to take my shoes off 60 times in that place over a 3 hour period, but it was worth it. There was a main street of buildings, fishing village, farm village and mountain village. Highlights included the 1919 Kurumasu Inn which was like an old Australian bar except it was Japanese inside where you sat on tatami mats to eat, drink and sleep. Sanmasu Buckwheat Noodle Shop (1919), Dr Kondo`s 1920 clinic full of Japanese medical torture instruments, Fujiwara Cart and Sleigh Factory (1903 and used for 60 years complete with recorded horse noises), Hokkai Junior High School (1909), Sapporo Agricultural College`s hostel (1903) and the entire Fishing village where 60 herring fishermen lived in a huge communial house. It all gave me a strong picture of what Hokkaido looked like before prefabricated buildings and concrete expressways became the norm. Thoroughly recommended.

That evening, I caught a bus back to Muroran for the 11.30pm ferry. On the bus were free headphones for various music channels or the TV which was showing a Japanese baseball game. The fans had an interesting ritual which you may see copied in the World Cup; they blow up a long balloon (not tying the end), and at a given signal, the entire stand lets the balloons go which zip all over the place as they deflate.

I spent another 18 hours sailing back to Honshu broken up by spells in the hot baths. A train from Mito took me in the pouring rain to the outskirts of Tsukuba where, over the phone, I bribed Danielle with a bottle of Vodka to come and pick me up (a third of the price of a taxi fare home). She was the first westerner I had seen since leaving the Americans a week ago.

Hokkaido is definitely worth a visit if you have the time, but I only saw half the place in a week. A car would be a real bonus of flexiability. I arrived too early to take advantage of the wonderful mountain walking but the sking opportunities looked fantastic. When the sun shone the island full of cherry blossoms and tulips was spectacular. When it rained it was bloody miserable.

As my first major independent trip, I discovered that Japan is a lonely place to explore on your own. I only met two Japanese people all week who could speak some English. Unlike the Indians or Indonesians who all rush up to talk, the Japanese are very reserved and too embarrassed to even try to communicate. It is a bit like being an alien on a foreign planet where noone sees you. I also discovered that my Japanese was hopelessly inadequate to communicate other than basic greetings/where/when questions. But it gave me a thirst to get out and see the rest of the country.

Arriving home, there was a letter from the British Embassy inviting me on May 11th to attend a summer fete at the Tokyo Embassy to celebrate the Queen`s Jubilee. Unfortunately I had to turn it down. That day, I`d be back at Shimodate teaching the children of the damned. I couldn`t wait.

I was not inflammable. It had to happen. I finally sent my first disruptive student out of class. On a Saturday afternoon I have a group of 6 kindergarten students. One 5 year old boy, Misato is pretty rowdy, but that day, when we did `chain` questions with a ball being thrown between the kids, he launched the ball like he was pitching for the New York Yankees at a girl`s head/door/windows. He got three warnings and I finally lifted him up by the scruff of his neck and said `you`re outta here sunshine` and dumped him in the lobby where the brooding mothers sat. He tried to get back in, but I had my foot by the door. Gave him two minutes and heard lots of screaming. Finally, he was admitted, crying and rejoined the class. I gave him a hug and he was ok, if subdued. He has never been a problem since. Yuka, the lovely girl who runs the one classroom school, suggested that next time, I tell her to do the warnings in Japanese, which, in retrospect would have been more correct, but on a hot afternooon with 6 screaming kids, I`d had enough.

I am getting a very good reputation for teaching the younger kids. I have them running around all the time and with the command games, I have them standing on the table telling them to jump, which they do. I have introduced the `monster` where I chase them around while they attempt to pick up flashcards (`find a pink telephone` etc). They run around screaming while I lunge around with open arms and roaring. The days are getting very hot and I run the children around so much that they have been forced to drop after 20 minutes from heat exhaustion and have their mothers remove their clothes. You should see the state of me. You don`t sweat much for a fat lad. NOT!

I had been observed after a month by English `Baked Beans` Steve in a couple of lessons and got my feedback. The teaching assistants at every school had given me rave reviews based on student feedback (which was nice). The feedback had gone to Yuko, the Director who was very impressed. My `hungover` session at the elementary school (see last update) was so successful, I`ll be teaching a fortnightly Thursday morning session at different elementary schools for the next six months. Steve said, for someone with such little experience, I was a natural. But it takes a lot of energy and I prefer the adult classes which are less taxing. But it`s always nice to receive praise.

Sometimes, I do want to strangle students. At Shimotsuma school, on a Thursday, I have a Junior High School group of 16 years olds. They are shy about talking, but I humour them and force them to talk. I have learnt that Japanese students are often afraid to talk unless they are sure they will be successful in the attempt. The cheeky male student, Takashi is usually good fun. One night I was handing out objects (radio, calculator etc) to practice `would you like a …?`. I gave Takashi my camera and while I was handing my watch to another student, he took the camera out of his case and opened the back of the camera, exposing my film; which contained my final photos of my Hokkaido trip. I couldn`t believe he`d done it. I wanted to strangle the little bastard. He apologized, while the girls giggled, embarressed, at me looking gobsmacked.

Two new Canadian teachers had arrived from Korea. One of the problems that Danielle and I have found is that the teachers at the school tend to hang around with the people who joined around the same time as them. We would meet up once or twice a week in our rooms for a few drinks asking each other `why don`t we get invited out with other teachers?`. So, with new teachers, I thought I`d make an effort to meet them. Joel, 47, had spent 5 years teaching in Korea and was a very private person who stayed in his room and painted. I invited him round for a beer, but he was a cold fish with seemingly little interest in socialising. Forrest (see Hokkaido) has already concluded that he is an extra from any movie with the `walking dead`. Maybe he just takes a long time to bond.

Rick was a different kettle of fish. 31, 6 ft 5 inches, built like the proverbial `brick shit house door`, three years in the Canadian Navy ('so where did you patrol? ` I asked `Lake Erie?`), one year teaching in Korea and a degree in Psychology. He had moved into the room below me and said `what is it with that SOB dog?` (referring to the hound from hell). `It either barks all day, or howls like a werewolf`. Incidentially, I have now seen the hound, a short little brown terrier that deserves to be dragged behind a car. I can see his kennel through the trees from my balcony and if I can find a .22 rifle, I think it could be terminated from a distance.

Rick loved his beer and talking non stop. He was a very open, articulate, burn your bridges kind of person. After meeting him one afternoon, he was in my room that night from 11pm. We got on like a house on fire and judging by the number of empty beer cans when he left at 5.30am, we could have put the fire out ourselves. He even had the same catch phrase as me (I drink to make people more interesting). I got 3 hours sleep. The following night (Friday), after lessons, Forrest, Lindsay (a 24 year old English girl who had spent a year teaching in China) and Rick, all turned up at my room around 11pm, when I got back for a party. Rick had provided free booze for the other broke teachers, as well as replacing my supplies which he had finished the night before.

Danielle had flown to Korea to pick up her work visa, and I`d agreed to wait for a phone call, from somewhere, asking for a lift home. I hoped it wouldn`t be from Narita Airport. While the others got started, I nursed coffee until the phone went at 12.40am. She was at Ushiko and I returned her favour to me after Hokkaido, by driving out there to pick her up. We were back by 1.45am and my small room had 5 of us, staying up until 6am. I had a breakfast of champions (pizza) before going to bed at 7am.

Rather shattered, after another three hours of sleep, I had an appointment. Yuka`s mother (my assistant at Shimodate) was a hairdresser and she`d offered a free haircut (which start at 15 English Pounds in Japan for a trim). So I drove down to Yuka`s for my first visit to a Japanese home. She lived in a small rural village surrounded by rice paddy fields. Their garden was full of beautifully manicured bushes. The house, from the outside looked enormous. The hair salon was an extension to the house. Yuka`s mother was a lovely friendly woman who spoke no English, but Yuka (who had spent two years in Australia at college) translated, and I got an excellent trim. I had bought her mother a bunch of flowers as a gift. Gift giving is very important in Japan and it is traditional to bring back presents to everyone, after you have had a holiday somewhere. I`d bought Yuka some cheesecake from Hokkaido.

After the haircut, I entered the house and removed my shoes in the reception area. How do you describe a Japanese house? The floors are all polished wood, but the rooms have inlaid tatami (fine straw) mats. Unlike English houses with doors, entire walls of wood and white fabric slide back between the rooms making it all look very open and spacious. The rooms were sparten but still looked elegant. Yuka`s 88 year old grandfather lay on the only chair in the lounge. He was a grey, haired, wrinkled old man, the architypical ancient Japanese man, with a lifetime`s stories imprinted on his face, who got up to shake my hand. The lounge contained a massive digital TV and just a low table and blanket to sit on. In the corner was a family Shinto shrine with fruit offerings. Yuka`s mother added my flowers to the shrine.

The kitchen was part of the lounge and while the mother prepared lunch, I sat on the blanket with Yuka`s laptop on the table and started to design an internet homepage for her called `Princess Yuka`. (my part of the bargain). We were ushered to the kitchen table where a vast lunch was laid out; The greeting of Itadakimas (Bon Appetite) was said before we tackled the Tonkatsu (fried pork in breadcrumbs), Tofu slabs, Potato salad boiled in squid, miso (fish soup), boiled eggs, tomatoes and a bowl of rice. Everything was eaten with chopsticks. Half pint bottles of fresh milk washed it down. `Goshisosama` (that was a feast) was said afterwards. After lunch, while grandad napped in front of the TV, I followed Yuka through beautiful rice paddy scenery to Shimodate for another 8 hours. Some of the kindergarten mothers presented me with gift wrapped home made cookies. I am happy to report that the kids can now count to 20. Some of them have picked up the phrase `Oh my God` from a Japanese TV show.

Arriving home at 11pm that night, I felt shattered, but Rick knocked on the door with more beer and stayed until 5.30am. He moaned about the salary and the cost of everything. I grabbed another 3 hours sleep. I had to get up. I had to fly to Korea.

I had arrived in Japan in March on a 90 day tourist visa so technically I had been working illegally since I arrived, but immigration turns a blind eye while schools sort out work visas. Traditionally, you have been forced to leave Japan and re-enter with a work visa. I know that you can now get a work visa from within Japan, but English schools still follow the tradition of flying you out of the country to pick it up. It is probably to make certain you want to stay. The school pays for your flight but you pay for the rest of the trip.

To avoid Danielle`s problems with public transport, I decided to drive to Narita on Sunday, and leave my car in a long stay car park, only 3km from the departure lounge for less than 3 English Pounds a day. No sooner had I jumped out of my car, paid, and filled in a form, an empty bus took me to the airport within 10 minutes. I picked up my ticket at the airport (I`d only been given 3 days notice by the school). For the first time, I was heading for a country with no research. Narita Airport, was geared up for the World Cup. There were computerized English info centres, lots of Information desks and all the staff spoke English. All announcements were in English/Japanese. Soccer fans should have no problems until they have to pay for anything (Hint; avoid taxis). When I checked in, a Japanese woman led me (shorts/t-shirt and hand luggage) to my check in desk. All part of the service. With 9 hours sleep since Thursday morning, I slept most of the flight. Just as well. They had a one beer limit on the two hour flight. In flight entertainment was embarressing moments from English soccer. What kind of service is that?

The Lonely Planet starts it’s Korean guidebook with the following; `The people of South Korea are spontaneous, friendly, patriotic, a little romantic and interested in foreigners and the outside world. You will be constantly approached by people who want to strike up a conversation.... They will try their best, regardless of language and cultural differences, to establish a rapport with you and always with humour and without being overbearing. If you respond with friendship you will often find yourself the recipitent of the most unexpected and disarming hospitality`. This statement turned out to be the most accurate thing that LP has ever said.

I touched down at the brand new Incheon airport, Seoul, Korea around 6pm. World Cup promotions everywhere. There were a line of the national flags with `welcome` in their individual languages. I noticed that the Japanese flag came last (bit of politics there). Danielle had given me the low down on what to do. I changed money and caught a cheap 602 airport bus 90 minutes downtown. The subway has not reached the airport yet. En route, I could have been in any country. I hopped out at the YMCA, where teachers usually hole up a private room for £22 a night.

There must be cheaper I thought and wandered around. It was Buddha`s birthday (Bucheonim Osinnal, Feast of the Lanterns) and today, May 19th, he was 2546 years old. The streets were littered and crowded with people partying. In the backstreets, I attempted to find a cheap guest house, but couldn`t find it. I asked someone. It had closed down but a youth led me for 5 minutes to another one. First sign of Korean hospitality. The Korean Guest House was not in the guide book. I got a bed in a dorm. For 8 English Pounds, they also offered a free breakfast, free internet, free laundry and a communial satellite TV. Sorted.

I headed out on the nighttime streets and witnessed a `lotus lantern procession`. A hundred locals held multicoloured illuminated lanterns and chanted Buddhist mantras while following a Buddhist monk through the streets. The lanterns symbolize the wisdom of enlightment. As the wax and oil burns, light is shed upon darkness. Lanterns had all been strung along the streets between the trees and it all looked very colourful and atmospheric.

I found a food market of outdoor stalls which had an assortment of strange meals. I sat down at one and pointed at someone`s dinner. It looked like cold spaghetti in a bowl of cold milk. Which was pretty close. It was `Kong Guksu` which is noodles in a soya broth. A sidedish of chopped pigs trotters was added and gimchi was provided. Gimchi is a Korean staple of chopped vegetables, mixed with various other ingredients; chilli, garlic and ginger and left to ferment in an earthenware pot. It had a raw, tangy taste and was very spicy (Mexican galapino pepper strength).

A man walked over and presented his business card. He was Kim who worked for the Seoul subway system. He spoke in broken English. `My friends and I are celebrating Buddha`s birthday and we would be honoured if you would join us for a drink`, indicating his friends who sat at the next stall surrounded by a pile of about 20 empty green plastic bottles and mobile phones. I was introduced to the gang. Kim, (33), Park Jin (28) and Bang Seung (45) were all ticket sellers at Oksu subway station and Jeng Jae (47) `Mr John` was their manager. They had all been paroled by their wives to have the afternoon and evening out together.

They had been quaffing bottles of Makgeolli, a white rice brew, a bit like drinking milk and flour with wine in it. My guidebook said that it was cheap but `potent enough to embalm a frog`I tried out my abysmal Korean; Anneyeong Hasimminikka (a formal hello), Gamsa Hamnida (thank you), Je ireumeun Bob imnida (my name`s Bob) and Jeoneun England eseo watseumnida (I come from England). Only Kim spoke some English, and translated questions and comments from the inebriated trio who would yell `David Beckham!`. They started to ply me with bowls of the local hooch and taught me how to pour from the bottle. If you are pouring for an older person you hold the bottle with both hands. If they are younger you use only one hand. This gave us all many opportunities to refill each other`s bowls. Koreans are very physical, in that they like to touch you and hug you (or was that the booze?). So within four hours of arriving in a new country, I was already a regular at a Makgeolli Jip (drinking parlour).

The next morning, I walked to the Japanese Consulate for it opening and handed over my passport, a form, photo and certificate of eligibility. It took less than 15 minutes. Since Kim and co were on the nightshift tonight, they had offered to meet me and take me around for the day. I met Kim and Mr John at the nearesr subway station. The other two were too hungover. We climbed into Mr John`s landcruiser and took off for the World Cup Stadium on the outskirts of town.

Seoul with 10.3 million people is the fifth largest city in the World. It was established by the Josean Dynasty in 1392 and has been the capital ever since. Flattened during the Korean war in the 1950s, it has risen from the ashes and become a modern metropolis; the high rise buildings with giant video screens on the sides and 12 lane boulevards contrasted with the centuries old royal palaces and temples and imposing stone gateways. Today, it was very overcast and smoggy with heavy traffic. It reminded me of Kuala Lumpur in Malaysia, a booming city to rival the old western capitals.

Korea is co-hosting the 2002 World Cup with Japan and with less than ten days to go, the city was gearing up. There were huge soccer ball everywhere, posters with the mottos `Korea welcomes the World` and `Korean Team Fighting` (the soccer catchphrase for the locals). The short riot police dressed in black kharki patrolled the streets with batons almost as tall as them. They all had this year`s World Cup cartoon character sewn on their chests. It was funny to see a kind of minitature Asian SAS patrol walking around trying to look tough with Donald Duck patches on their uniforms. Kim told me that they are under instruction not to bother any western visitor, but if the fighting starts, they have crack troops in the stadium roofs, ready to descend by rope upon the crowds, APVs in the exits and they can mobilise 400 troops on the field within three minutes ready to crack some heads. Have fun! The stadium had been closed for the final few days by the police, so we just drove around it. Hundreds of small cute looking schoolchildren dressed in bright yellow uniforms were being led around by their teachers to get their photos taken in front of the stadium. Ironically, Seoul doesn`t even have a soccer team. South Korea has built 12 new stadiums just for the World Cup in a bid to prove just how much cash is flowing around the economy and give the Japs a run for their money.

Ganghwado Island

We headed out north west from Seoul, up towards the North Korean border (which the South Koreans cannot visit even to sightsee) and 90 minutes later drove onto the large rural island of Ganghwado which Kim had never visited. We pulled into a restaurant at Ganghwa-eup for lunch. They ordered Bibimbup, which consists of a bed of rice with gimchi, vegetables, meat and dollops of hot chilli, which you stir around until it all mixes. There were a dozen other small dishes with things like raw octopus. (Incidentally, as well as eating dog, the Koreans like to tackle a live octopus or two. They have to get the thrashing tentacle down their throat before the suckers attach themselves to their teeth. Sounds like a good party trick). Ginseng Makgeolli washed it down. It was much stronger than last nights beverage and I was assured that it had good effects on diabetes, hypertension, skin and wrinkle care, recovery of liver (eh?), promotion of energy, brain activity and high blood pressure. The stuff should have a Government Health Warning on the bottle. Not exactly my choice for a `hair of the dog`.

We drove onto Bomunsa, a small temple complex on a hill. The small temples had very ornate painting on the exterior woodwork, and gold Buddhas inside, but it was the thousands of red, purple, pink and orange lanterns that stood out They had been hung everywhere as part of the lantern festival. Every lantern had a label hanging underneath with a hand written message. The locals book their own lantern for good luck requests. As part of the World Cup, the government had opened many temples in Korea for `Temple Homestays` for the first time. You can book in for 24 hours, dress up in orange and blue robes and follow the routines of the monks, getting up at 4am to pray , join them for meals etc. I talked to a Canadian mother and teenage daughter who were doing it here and it sounded fascinating. They were overwhelmed by the hospitality and friendliness.

We drove on to the `Temple of Pure Water` where white lanterns had been hung everywhere to commemorate dead people. Then along the coast with the tide out and locals in the mudbanks collecting shellfish, before reaching a small town and the fish market. Here we sat at a stall and my Korean buddies introduced me to Ben Daeng (raw fish). Here`s what you do. You take a lettuce or plant leaf in one hand, then use chopsticks to grab a sliver of raw fish which lays on a tray of ice. You dip the fish into hot chilli sauce and dump it on the leaf. Then you add a lump of green chilli pepper and a raw clove of garlic which is dipped in another chilli sauce. A dab of potent horseradish sauce is added before you roll up the leaf into a ball. Before swallowing, you down a small shot of Soja, the local Vodka like firewater distilled from rice and as potent as toilet bowl cleaner. Then you cram the leaf into your mouth and lose your sineses a second later. Repeat process half a dozen times until you can no longer see for the tears running down your face. After the first attempt, my friends learnt a new English expression `Holy Shit!`.

Primed for work, Mr John drove us back to Seoul for the 6pm shift, but we were victims of a massive traffic jam and arrived 30 minutes late. `No problem` said Kim, `Mr John is the boss so we are not late`. We parked at Oksu subway station where I re-met the other two buddies, already dispensing tickets to the passengers. I was ushered into their office which was also a staff room and introduced to the top man. A cup of coffee followed and I felt I`d better let them get to work. They bade me a fond farewell with exchanged email addresses and they even gave me a free subway ticket back to my hostel. It doesn`t get much better than this for a traveling experience. I noticed that the subways had wheelchair elevators by the side of the stairs and saw one being used. Does London have these yet?

Back at the hostel while I checked email, four Korean girls who were staying had cooked themselves a vast meal in a frying pan. One walked over. `Are you hungry, because we have too much food`, so I had dinner with them. One of which was headed to England in a few weeks. I was starting to wonder how much hospitality Korea could throw at me.

Seoul Sightseeing

The next day, I picked up my work visa and spent 6 hours walking around central Seoul. The major palaces were closed today. No matter, I`d be back. I checked out the National Museum. Compared to the Tokyo Museum in terms of content and presentation it beat it hands down with an array of interesting artifacts, informative English explainations and touch screen computers in 5 languages; Korean, English, French, German and `Lussian`. Of the 135,000 art and archeological artifacts, 5000 were exhibited in 18 galleries. It took you through the history of Korea from prehistoric times onwards. In the basement was a `Masterpeices of Japan` exhibition which had been sent over by the Toyko Museum and was magnificent.

The Jogyesa Temple (1910), was the largest Buddhist temple in Seoul and awash with thousands of colourful and differently shaped lanterns. In one of the smaller chapels, I watched a monk take 20 devotees through a service as he knocked on a wooden conch shell to set a rhythm while he chanted the service. Namdaemum Market was the biggest in town and had been on the same site for 600 years. It was packed with people shopping for cheap clothes. The local lunchtime cafes were heaving. I entered one and ordered noodle soup. When I looked around, I realized that I was the only male in a room of 100 women. All the staff were women too. Noone gave me a second glance.

Running out of time before my flight home, I headed for the War Memorial. Despite it`s name, it is a fully fledged military museum and appeared to be on par with Canberra`s and the Imperial War Museum in London. It was vast and I knew I couldn`t do it justice in an hour, so just walked around the exterior grounds which were free. There was an impressive full assembly of every military weapon, tank, plane from the Korean War and some from Vietnam. A immaculate B52 bomber stood complete (the only ones I`d seen previously had been wreckage outside the Vietnam museums) and you could walk through a C119 `Flying Box Car`, the mainstay of the Korean War cargo fleet. In the parade ground, sets of Korean trainee soldiers went through their paces (some in silly but colourful uniforms). They stood in lines, brandishing long decorative swords parallel to their chests, while a Sargeant Major went around with a tape measure to ensure absolute accuracy. Others waited with gleaming rifles waiting to strut their stuff. I`d be back.

I was genuinely sorry to leave Korea. The 48 hour pass had been a blast. Korea was a real eye opener for me and an undiscovered treasure. The hospitality overwhelmed me, and it was nice to have people, both male and female, just walk up to you to say hello, where are you from etc. I suspect that English soccer supporters would have a far better time here than in Japan. At least the beer is cheaper. It also reminded me that Japan is a country unto itself, more western than Asian, and completely unique. A major tour of Korea would have to wait, but at least I had some contacts for my return visit.

At the airport, security was extreme. Every passenger had to remove their shoes and put on slippers before passing through the X-ray machine. As I waited for last call, the England vs Korea friendly football match was just kicking off. I`d hear the 1-1 result back in Japan.

First through immigration, I was picked up within 10 minutes by my car parking people. The car had been moved to the other side of the dual carriageway heading north. The engine was running and there was a gift of fresh onions on the dashboard, or was that to cover up the smell of my car? I was back in my flat within 90 minutes at 11.30pm.

The next day (Wed), all hell broke loose. Rick had done a runner, leaving a note in his room, saying he`d leave the car at Narita. It took a week to find it. He`d also borrowed $1000 from the school. Everyone was shocked, especially the Japanese staff. It had only happened once before. I was forced to cover that day at Ushiko which I`d never visited. Shun took my company lesson. At Shinotsuma on Thursday, I interviewed two potential students who both signed on for my classes. One was a 13 year old boy, Ricardo from Peru with a thick Spanish accent. The poor sod was having to learn Japanese and English at the same time. I was now teaching 70 students.

I had just got out of a shower after returning from a rare jog on Friday lunchtime. These together with my Japanese took a nose dive in May with the late nights and increased workload. Shun called at 12.20. Natasha, an American girl, who I never knew had also absconded over night in strange circumstances because she was due to complete her one year contract in 3 weeks. She lost her bonus, but left a note saying she`d leave the car at Narita. They had cancelled her classes at Tsuchira school but forgotten to tell a doctor who had a 2 hour private lesson scheduled. `Can you get to HQ in 15 minutes?` Yeah right. I had to dry, dress, pack my books for my Ami school shift and drive like a bat out of hell 10 km to HQ. I was there at 12.42, running as many red lights as possible. An assistant escorted me to the school where I had an interesting session with the eye doctor who operated used a razor rather than laser technology. I made a mad dash to Ami through thick Friday afternoon traffic and arrived three minutes before my first lesson. Usually we arrive 30 minutes before our teaching shifts. (The next day, I was praised by the school for my Batman antics and Yuko the Director gave me a hug for saving the day).

At 10pm after my Ami shift ended, I had previously arranged to meet Jeff, an American teacher whom I`d met at the running/drinking club. He lived in Ami and we repaired to a local Izakaya (Japanese pub/restaurant) where the customers sat on blankets next to foot high tables. We sat at the bar. It had been, how should I put it, an eventful day.

No rest for the wicked. A full day at Shimodate on Saturday until 10pm and the annual school picnic on Sunday. The event was held at the Potiron childrens`s park about 20 kms outsideTsukuba. It is a chance to get all the young kids to come with their parents and meet the teachers informally and participate in activities. We met at the park at 10am in different states of consciousness and the families began to arrive. The park is a mishmash of children`s attractions; horses, sheep, paddling pools and activity centres. Once assembled, speeches were made and teachers had to introduce themselves with the standard Japanese megaphone. `England for the World Cup` I yelled to blank faces who didn`t understand English. 8 of my students turned up from assorted schools. I chatted to the parents, posed for photos (copies were brought in for me by the children the following week). It was a blazing hot day and everyone was in shorts and T-shirts.

Uncle Bob led his motley crew around the park to throw stones at the horses, molest the sheep and go skinny dipping in the paddling pools before we regathered. The 120 students then made wax candles in a large room with their teachers. Picnic time. The school provided all the food for the teachers while the families tucked into assorted Japanese delicacies. I met Shaun, a loud 38 year old Aussie who`d just been hired to help cover the absentee teachers. He`d been living in Tsukuba for 3 years with his Japanese wife and knew all the rude words in Japanese. `Fancy a beer?` he said, since we had some spare time before the games. We repaired to a restaurant where four attractive and busty 18 year old German girls dressed in traditional German costumes did `Sound of Music` impressions for the Japanese punters; singing, dancing, banging on glockenspiels etc.

The first game involved children picking up a envelope off the ground. Inside was a photo of a teacher. They had to find the teacher and answer the standard questions `what is your name, how old are you` before we led the child to collect a prize. Then there was massive Simon Says game involving all children and many parents. Teachers would take turns in the middle with the megaphone. I was tempted to say Simon Says `get me a world cup ticket`, `get me an ice cold beer` etc but stuck to the usual format. It took an age to whittle down the 15 winners who all got massive prizes. Pooped out by the heat, the picnic was over by 2.30. but not the day for my other appointments.

Ryan, an American was leaving the next day and still had a stack of things to get rid of. I followed him to his apartment and filled my car with a 2 seater couch, a giant inflatable mattress with electric pump, a space heater for the winter, a 5 foot snowboard, assorted kitchen stuff and a dozen ties. The car was full and for the giveaway price of 1000 Yen (about £5). I then dashed off to an Italian restaurant to meet up with Chieko, a tiny 30 year old Japanese woman who spoke fluent English. She had spent 10 months in Ohio teaching Japanese culture. A week, before, at the Information Centre, I had seen an ad for a small tennis club, run by Chieko. They had been playing that afternoon, but I couldn`t attend. (My running club also had their monthly get together today). Chieko had emailed me and arranged to meet up anyway to introduce ourselves. I`d hopefully find time to attend the next session. Two hours later, at 6pm, I headed to the Mexican restaurant for Ryan`s farewell. There`s nothing like a quiet Sunday for relaxing and this was nothing like a quiet Sunday for relaxing!

Surprisingly, I could barely get out of bed the next day. I felt shattered but I had arranged to meet Little Yuko and Danielle at 9am to visit Tsukuba City Hall and start processing our `Ganjin cards` (foreigner cards which makes us totally legal in Japan). Yuko filled in our forms and we waited for the processing to be done. The cards would arrive within a fortnight. Then we headed to a bank to open Japanese bank accounts. I`m pleased to announce that the bank queues in Japan are just as long as in England. I wouldn`t say it takes very long to get served, but there is a TV set up and seating so you can watch the daytime Japanese soap operas while you wait. I think Danielle watched two all the way through while I had a welcome nap.

On Thursday morning, I was scheduled to visit another Elementary school at Mishima. Following my classic performance at the previous school, I was in big demand. This time, I had 4 classes of 20 students to take 4 back to back 30 minute lessons. 15 minutes of greetings drilling, followed by 15 minutes of numbers. I went through the numbers 1 to 50 and then had a team race. There were assorted numbers on the board for each team and I`d yell a number and a kid would dash up and try and rub out the number he thought I`d said. I`d throw in dummy numbers to confuse them. Lots of screaming. The classrooms were a non air conditioned sweaty shambles by the time I departed each one, since the desks and chairs all had to be moved out of the way. Ken, the staff member who escorted me here (as he did before), led a sweating wreck from the classrooms to standing ovations. `It was like watching `Patch Adams` in action` he said, referring to a Robin Williams movie. Praise all around by the teachers and students. I`ll be teaching at different schools every Thursday in June before returning home for a shower and heading off the the Shimosuma shift.

I estimated by the end of the week, that with extra cover, driving, lesson prep and actual time spent at each school, I`d put in a 70 hour week. I`d also not had a proper day off since returning from Hokkaido three weeks ago. My monthly driving between schools has been topping 1400km for the past two months. Added to that, the World Cup was just about to start. Because we are teaching in the afternoons and evenings, we miss all the live games on TV. Steve, from England had come up with a cunning plan. He`d video the games and then have a open house starting the games at 11pm. To watch them `live` ,we have to avoid knowing the scores which wouldn`t be a problem. So added to the heavy workload, I`d be driving over to his for selected games.. Guess it wasn`t going to be the month to quit drinking!