A Year in Japan

September 2002

In early September, the hot weather continued unabated. Everyday was roasting and I was dripping with sweat anywhere without air conditioning. One night, I had 5 teachers in my room around midnight. The temperature read 35`c and the fan couldn`t cope. My air conditioning went on for the first time this year.

The rice had been hanging off the stalks in huge bunches and the harvest started. Farmers would either cut small fields with long curved knives or sit on small harvesters under umbrellas. Once the fields were cut, they would burn the stubble. Driving to schools on late afternoons, the flat landscape was one of drifting smoke everywhere and farmers in sunhats tampting down the flames. About 10 days into September, we got the fall out from a southerly cyclone and it rained heavily for 5 days. The rice fields were flattened and the farmers had to wait for them to dry out. The climate this year in Japan is the strangest they have had in years. The hottest summer, the earliest cyclones, serious flooding.

I entered for the Tsukuba Marathon on Sunday November 24th. I was being very optimistic. It was a stupid move and I virtually no chance of completing it. With a nagging back pain (which I blamed on my bed) and little exercise for 6 weeks, I started to attempt to get in shape over the next ten weeks. I started to climb Mt Tsukuba (877m) on a regular basis. I took the longer, more pleasant stroll beneath the shady trees, until the final slog up one side of the peak and then down the more direct but steeper route. It took 3 hours everytime and with a 30 minute drive both ways, it took a serious chunk out of my day. I sweated buckets in the searing heat. On alternative days (when I could be bothered), I would jog around the rice paddy fields, but the heat was overbearing. I twisted my ankle one day and it also took ages to go away. I also came down with a stomach complaint in late August which lasted three days. I have no idea what caused it (allegic to children?), but I did my teaching days with bad stomach pains. I think I solved it with a plate of baked beans on toast. None of that Japanese rubbish! It was so bad, I didn`t drink a beer for 3 days. I must have been ill.

I continued to play tennis regularly with James and also with Chieko`s club. James has yet to beat me, the undefeated champion. One hot morning (after Danielle`s late night birthday party), I made the stupid mistake of having a 7 mile jog with US Kip who is seriously training for the marathon before playing James. He was suffering from a hangover but still managed to take a set off me. My legs were like jelly, but the Duracell bunny came through to take the second set to call it a draw. We both looked totally wrecked afterwards, to the amusement of tiny Japanese housewives playing on the next court.

In late August, four teachers left. Only US Forest (Gump) was part of my social group. He flew to Taiwan to try teaching there. New teachers had arrived but kept to themselves and didn`t hang out with my dwindling group of late night boozers. Matthew, 29, arrived from the Forest of Dean, England. He had already had two spells in Japan before spending two years teaching History in England. It was a nightmare and he fled back to Japan advising me to stay out of teaching in England. He`s a nice guy and has plenty of teaching experience to help me with lesson plans and can even manage a bit of Japanese. US Kip (3 years in Japan) had also started hanging out with us. I suppose we are seeing the inevitable division of the `lifers` who have survived the tour so far and the `rookies` who are making their own lives here. Two young attractive Chinese Canadian girls, Yvonne and Tracey flew in and were immediately nicknamed `The Goddesses` by Matthew and Kip who swooned a lot in their presence. They replaced US Sam and Christina (18 month tours) who left the following week. I prepped Sam on their prospective tour of SE Asia and secured his large bilingual TV and video for £44 which I can sell when I leave. We has a massive farewell at the Mexican restaurant where nearly every teacher showed up. I also caught up with US Jeff at an Izakaya bar. He had just returned from a month in SE Asia based on my information and had a great time in Thailand, Cambodia and Thailand.

I had been here 6 months here and my teaching schedule had dropped to about 24 hours a week. A few students left (kids whose parents were relocating jobs, high school students who were starting to prepare for University entrance exams and adults who had better things to do). It suited me fine. I could prepare all my lessons inbetween the classes (rather than at home) and pretty much took each day, one lesson at a time and each lesson, one sentence at a time.

I trained my kindergarten squad to do jumps from the table followed by parachute landing rolls, though they still love to stand on their heads. I had been teaching a 5 year old boy who was ok, until his mother asked me to teach his 3 year old brother at the same time. The kid was just too young and uncontrollable. After two sessions I told the school `either he goes, or I do`. My next lesson was observed and the mother was subtedly told that the 3 year old would only last 10 minutes. So now I have him for 10 minutes and he gets taken outside to scream the place down while his brother gets 20 minutes. Nightmare. I continue to try and entertain Tomoki, the 5 year old `Child From Hell`, but he doesn`t give a toss either. It`s babysitting. One day he presented me with a bag of large dried bugs and insects that he`s collected. Which was nice. Various kids give me presents (keyrings, cuddly toys, chocolate) if they go on a trip.

I still enjoy teaching the kids because they are still enthusastic, know me and I can pretty much do what I want depending on their mood. And I can see them progress. Hurling objects at each other around the classroom goes down well as they count to 100 or ask each other questions. I don`t know how windows have survived. But I also enjoy the adults because you can sit back, fire questions and just try and keep a conversation going. Sometimes its like pulling teeth. For example, on a Tuesday, I asked someone what they did on Sunday. `I don`t remember`. Doh! My robotics engineer, Osamu (who is designing `The Terminator`) had returned and I edited his technical papers with some serious heavy jargon. I must admit that when I get a dozy adult, there is a lot of clock watching (how long until the 30 minutes end). There`s only so much you can talk about if all they do in their spare time is go shopping. I already feel as if I have seen more of Japan than most of the Japanese I`ve met. On particularly bad lessons, I fill in the green report cards with such gems as `Discussed Einstein`s theory of relativity and the concept of parallel time universes`. I was interested (or was it shocked) to hear my 8 year old group at Ami yell `Bugger!` Oh no, I thought, they`ve picked it up from me. I have learnt that the Japanese for `Idiot` is `Bakka`. It sounds funny to hear them yell `Bugger` very loudly when someone gets something wrong.

On my infrequent free days (Sundays and the occasional Wednesday), I tried to get out and do something. One Wednesday, I drove north for 3 hours up to lush green forested hills, through small pictureque villages where the colourful summer flowers were in full bloom by the roadsides. I visited Fukuroda Waterfall "one of the three largest waterfalls in Japan, it overwhelms visitors with its impressive views". But at the height of summer, it was a sad sight. I drove onto the Ryujin Great suspension Bridge which was a lot more spectacular. With a length of 375m and a height of 100m, this is Japan`s largest suspension bridge solely for pedestrians. Like the World`s Biggest Statue, I never did discover why they bothered to build it other than to give the punters something to do. From the bridge, there was a view of the V-shaped Ryujin gorge cutting through 10km of unspoilt McDonalds, er, sorry, forests "offering beautiful seasonal views of the canyon" (says the Japanese tourist blurb. It was a bit of a revelation to find such beautiful scenery so close to home and I will be exploring the area a lot more.

Tsukuba had it`s Matsuri (festival) on the weekend of Sept 7/8th. I was teaching on the Saturday night and missed the big street parade, but made an effort to visit it on the Sunday. Located around the Information Centre, there were literally hundreds of food stalls selling strange Japanese concoctions (battered octopus balls, fried squid tenticles, bananas dipped in chocolate on a stick). Street entertainers juggled and entertained. Classical, jazz and pop bands played in the surrounding parks. On a small stage, I watched a Chinese dragon dance and then traditional Hyottko dancing. The dancers wore colourful kimonos and those strange Japanese masks which are oval with a strange expression on them, using comical eyebrows or a pouting mouth (see Terry Gilliam`s movie `Brazil`). The dances were in slow motion to a drum beat. The dancers would move an arm or a leg at a time like a robot but keep their heads completely still. It was very mesmerising as they gradually moved out towards the audience. The next act were the Taiko drummers. There was a drumming band of small drums to keep up a rhythm while two men stood and thrashed out a loud beat on the large vertical drums with huge drumsticks. It took so much out of them, their arms gave up after 10 minutes and two other men replaced them.

Straight from the festival, I headed into Tokyo by train with James, Matthew, US Sam and Christina. It was Sam`s birthday and he wanted to watch a Japanese baseball game that evening. We met Danielle and Tom at the stadium. They had attended Tokyo`s Gay Festival that day. It was a small outdoor stadium, about half full (maybe 10,000). We seemed to be the only foreigners there. The home team, the Swallows, were playing the Dragons and creamed them 9 -1. There was a relaxed atmosphere and a strange ritual. Whenever the Swallows scored, the home crowd would lift up a forest of green umbrellas and wave them around. There were also men who led the crowd chanting. The Japanese always seem to like to be organised by somebody. We ate a Japanese meal at Ueno before heading back. Another relaxing Sunday. Thankfully, I have Monday mornings off.

The following Sunday, we had a long weekend. It was time to hit the Sumo tournament for a day of bone crunching action. I caught a train into Tokyo with Yuka, the teaching assistant at Shimodate (who had accompanied me to the World Cup and archery on horseback - not at the same time!) and we set off to check out the Asakusa district east of Ueno. It is best known as the site of Tokyo`s most venerable Buddhist temple, `Senso-Ji, whose grounds have a continual throng of people. Approaching the temple, we passed beneath a solid red laquer gate with a massive paper lantern (at least 3m by 2m). The temple was founded in the 7th Century, but most of it is postwar reconstruction. A colourful parade of small shops lined the main approach to the shrine. Packed with tourists, they sold trinkets, Japanese crafts, souvenirs, kimonos, calligraphy. Inbetween were fast food stalls and restaurants. I tried white bean curd dipped in honey, and hot Japanese biscuits (also with a sweet bean filling like jam). To reach the shrine, we passed beneath the great `Kaminari-Mon` (Thunder Gate), named for its two guardian gods of Thunder and Wind. A constant crowd clustered around a large bronze incense bowl where people wafted the pungent smoke (breath of the gods) over themselves for its supposed curative powers. The hall before the temple was full of life; the rattle of coins tossed into a huge wooden coffer, swirling plumes of incense smoke, the constant bustle of people coming to pray, buy charms and fortune papers or attend a service. Afterwards, we walked past the famous eyecatching Asahi Brewery building, its rooftop flame looking more like a golden turd. Following a river, we passed temporary shelters built by homeless people. They were the first I`d seen in Japan.

Sumo is Japan`s national sport, though now heavily outweighed in popularity by baseball. It is an integral part of the country`s cultural fabric and as emblematic of Japan as Mt Fuji or a mouth full of sushi and a quintessentially (good word!) Japanese experience. It can also lay strong claims to being the world`s oldest sport; its roots lie in the realms of mythology, and it is said to have been popular with the gods. Before becoming a sport in the 6th Century, sumo was practised as a form of divination and as a way of invoking the good of the spirits. Sumo`s connections to its religious past are easy to see. For example, the referee`s elaborate costume is strikingly similiar to that worn by Shinto priests, while the wrestlers `mawashi` belt with its tassels are reminiscent of Shinto`s purification wand (a type of loincloth) worn at Shinto festivals. The bout itself is also all ritual ceremony with the actual wrestling often lasting only a matter of seconds. As soon as they enter the ring, (dohyo), the wrestlers (rikishi) purify themselves by rinsing their mouths out in the Shinto manner and throwing salt into the ring to ward off evil and purify the ring. (see later). Sumo wrestlers are highly respected in Japan and expected to behave with the decorum befitting a religious event. So, despite the evil looks they exchange before lunging at each other, its very bad for a wrestler to display emotions of anger or frustration at losing; the gods may still be watching. But I am getting ahead of myself.

There are half a dozen major tournaments (Bashi), every year each of which last two weeks. We visited Tokyo`s autumn Bashi in the middle of the fortnight. The media had built up the event as the return of the injured grand champion (yokozuna) Takanohana. He had missed the last few bashi and this was his last chance to make an appearance and attempt to retain his crown. He had already wrestled for the last 7 days, with a 5 out of 7 victories. Each wrestler has one bout every day throughout the fortnight. Top sumo wrestlers have the status, the media attention and the riches of Hollywood stars, and are treated with the respect and deference usually only accorded to royalty. They have fan clubs, corporate sponsers and like me, the pick of Japanese women (Not).

While wrestlers compete individually, they all belong to a `stable` with communial training groups headed up by former wrestlers. At these stables, morning practice starts around 6am, while the top rankers put in an appearance around 8am. The stable is a hierarchical community that weighs heavily on new recruits. Rookies rise at 5am, get beaten and battered during practise, help the high rankers to their baths and then prepare `Chanko Nabe`, the traditional high calorie stew of meat, chicken, tofu, noodles and heaps of vegetables (which sounds like my standard meal). Sumo wrestlers are well known for their huge size, but the biggest wrestlers are not necessarily the most successful as I was to see.

The Sumo tournament took place at the enormous green roofed Kokugikan (Hall of the National Accomplishment), an imposing 10 billion Yen structure. As we approached the indoor stadium, we saw colourful banners bearing the names of the competing wrestlers fluttering in the breeze. A tall bamboo tower displayed the `Banzuke`, a rice parchment poster written in highly stylised Kanji (Japanese writing) listing the wrestlers` rankings. We stood and watched some of sumo wrestlers struggle out of taxis and dressed in long flowing kimonos and wooden sandles, pad up past the roped off crowds to the dressing rooms. I was tempted to yell `Who ate all the pies?` in Japanese ( a favourite English soccer taunt to overweight soccer players), but after considering the size difference against my bulk, kept my mouth shut.

The Kokugikan arena is an impressive sight. Seats are arranged in two tiers around the ring (Dohyo), clearly visible from all angles. A ringside box seat, where you sit on red cushions in squares of 4 people goes for anything from £55 to £275 (including Japanese food and drink), depending on the proximity to the ring. A large Shinto type thatched roof was suspended over the Dohyo. The Dohyo is a square platform, nearly a metre high of brown handpacked clay with a circular ring on top, surrounded by flat rice straw bales. Two hardened white chalk lines in the middle of the ring divided the wrestlers. The ring was constantly swept and after 16 bouts would be soaked down and rebrushed. Around the roof of the arena on all sides were life size paintings of former champions.

We had the cheapest (£20) seats up near the roof, but arriving at 2pm for the middle ranking sessions, the arena was virtually empty. The main action did not start until 4.30pm so we were able to stroll down to ringside and get some close up photos and hear the crushing of bones, before retiring to the first tier and sit in empty seats just above the action. Whenever the owners arrived, we just moved to nearby seats. We never did have to sit up with the gods. The event was televised live and watched by many of the teachers back in Grimdale. There were a fair few foreigners also attending in person. The Arena was nearly full by 4.30 with thousands of people.

We had missed the lowest division fighters who had started competing from 9am. Their elaborate prebout rituals were limited to two minutes with the fights over very quickly. Just after arriving, a ring entering ceremony took place for the `Juryo Rikishi`, the lowest middle ranked of the salaried fighters. Dressed in snazzy ceremonial aprons which looked like giant nappies, they entered in order of rank from two sides of the stadium and walked up around the ring. They all stood and faced out towards the crowds and when the top dog strode up, they all turned in to face each other and then performed a peculiar dance representing their intention to fight without weapons. This included lifting their aprons as if they were going to flash each other. They then padded back to the dressing rooms. This was repeated for each set of ranked wrestlers at the beginning of each stage.

Over the next 4 hours of so, I guess we watched over 40 bouts. I found it riveting. It was an elaborate but constantly moving affair of rituals and wrestling. And some serious overmanning by the Japanese. Here is a run down of the stages involved for just one bout. Before they appeared, each wrestler would have their large fat bastard size cushion carried out to ringside. The cushion had their name on it. It would be removed and replaced as soon as the bout was over (great job - cushion carrier). There would always be 4 wrestlers ring side at anytime.

Before the two wrestlers entered the ring, (and while the ring was being swept down meticuously by 4 guys with brushes), a costumed man would sing out the names of the two competitors in high pitched warbling Japanese. There was a bunch of these guys and they are paid to do it. It sounded like me singing in the bath. The referee, also donned in a beautiful Lord of The Rings wizard costume, clutched a wooden paddle, and also yelled something about the bout. The referee was changed for each bout and it started looking like a fashion parade. An extra umpire, dressed in a black kimono and matching cap, sat on a cushion on each of the 4 sides of the Dohyo, in case of close calls. There was only one during the day, when two wrestlers tumbled out of the ring together. The 4 of them huddled up with the ref like the `Magic Black Circle` and had the bout rerun. These guys were also changed whenever the next ranks of wrestlers came out for their dance. At two corners of the Dohyo at ground level would stand two attendants for the wrestlers. They`d pass the purification water, keep the buckets of salt topped up and everytime the salt was thrown around would jump up and sweep up the salt that had landed outside the ring. So they had to sweep up three times for each bout! After the first throwing, I think I would have been saying `Don`t take the piss son. I just swept that up` and quit on the spot.

So the two wrestlers are sat on their cushions and their names are called. They have already disrobed and attendents have taken their kimonos. Their long hair is jet black and pulled back tightly over their heads and tied at the back. Some wrestlers are broad and massive with thighs like tree trunks. Others don`t look any bigger than me. Their `mawashi` belt with its many hard tassles looks like a pain in the arse and they have to pull the tassles over their thighs whenever they squat.

Once in the ring, the wrestlers head for their corner and sip from a ladle of water, hold up a peice of paper in front of their mouths and spit it out into attendent held bucket. Then at ringside they get loosened up with a movement called `Shiko`: they raise each leg sideways to waist height and then bring it down with a formidable stamp. This movement is said to drive out stray devils (don`t try this at home first thing in the morning). Then they would waddle back to the corner, and grab a handful of salt and throw it around the ring to purify it. They are now allowed to enter and face each other in a low squat in the middle of the ring, divided by two short chalk lines, trying to stare each other down. Suitably psyched, they stand up waddle back to corner, grab another handful of salt and throw it. Most bouts had three salt throwing/psyching sessions. Some had 4! One guy who had lost all 7 matches so far, grabbed the biggest handful of salt he could, yelled something and literally covered the first rows of the crowd. This untypical behaviour drew a big cheer and when he went on to win his first match, the crowd threw cushions into the air. The final 16 wrestlers (the big league), all had corporate sponsers. A couple of youths would parade around the ring with sponsers banners. The champions had about a dozen banners going around the ring while they were doing their warm ups.

Finally, at the word of the referee, they squat, lean forward, touch hands on the ground and then crash into each other at full force. Each wrestler attempted to throw his opponent to the ground or out of the ring using one or more of the 70 legitimate techniques. The first to touch the ground with any part of his body other than his feet, or to step out of the ring lost. The bouts (yes all 40 of them) were hypnotic. There were different tactics; some smaller wrestlers stepped out of the way of charging monsters (not the done thing traditionally), others grappled and came to a standstill, afraid to move in case they lost their balance. Some used sheer bulk to muscle the opposition out of the ring. Some bouts lasted seconds. Others went on for a couple of minutes.

At the end the bout, the loser would exit the ring. The victor would return to his side of the ring and squat down. The referee would then wave his wooden paddle at the victor who would then exit the ring. Then the two wrestlers would start walking up their separate side of the arena, turn and bow to the ring, and head back to the dressing rooms. Takonohana, the current grand champion, had the final bout around 6pm. There was big crowd anticipation and a lot of yelling.He was supreme in psyching out the opposition and expertly demolished him. Afterwards, he was given a low golden bow (without the string) which he twirled around in various ways going through the champions ritual for a couple of minutes. It was a really enjoyable day and if you get the chance, I`d say the experience, in all senses of witnessing something really Japanese, is unmissable. There is an excellent collection of photos from a similiar sumo tournament. It is worth checking out to see what I have attempted to describe.

Sumo Tournament Photos

The following day, Monday, was a National holiday (Aged People`s Day), and we had the day off. Terue, a Japanese grammar teacher at the school had called to see if I wanted to attend the Ishioka Festival, about an hour north of Tsukuba on Route 6. I rounded up a few teachers (Matthew, Kip, Chris, and the Goddesses) and we drove there on a dreary wet morning. The Ishioka Festival is a Rain Festival (not that you would know it on a day like this!), held over three days and, despite the weather is one of the best festivals in our Prefecture of Ibaraki.

Terue and her husband took us down the road from their house to a communial meeting point, where about 100 people of different ages were sat at long tables under a canopy being bombarded by rain, eating rice lunches and drinking beer and saki. It was 11.30am on a Monday morning, a bit early to start drinking but I rose to the challenge (as you do). We had to stand and introduce ourselves in Japanese. Watashi wa Bob des, watachi wa Igirisu des (I`m Bob, I`m English) and yelled `David Beckham` with raised fists, which got a cheer. We sat and ate and suffered from the traditional Japanese custom, that someone pours your drink and you pour theirs. Whenever your glass is getting empty, it is refilled. The only way to stop getting a refill is to leave a glass full of beer. A serious problem, when you don`t like to leave a full glass of beer on the table. So, the small glass kept getting refilled and the saki arrived. I haven`t drunk much saki here and always assumed you downed it in one like a shot. So they half filled a glass and down it went. Puzzled expressions by Japanese. So they filled the glass completely and down it went. Then I was subtedly told that you are supposed to sip and savour the saki in your mouth before swallowing. `Well I did` I said, `just very quickly`. Someone came around with a huge dried and salted salmon. You ripped off chunks if it to go with the saki. They were a nice bunch of friendly Japanese people out to enjoy the day and interact with rarely seen westerners.

Cats and dogs were dropping from the clouds. We were given plastic macs and umbrellas (the Japanese always seem to have endless spare macs and umbrellas at any sign of rain), and then instructed to grab the rope to pull the float (Dashi) into the town centre to join the parade. Our dashi had a couple of guys under a red Chinese Dragon head that ducked and dived in front of the float that contained women and children. Arriving in the centre, there were two dozen other dashi with different themes. Some had drumming bands with Hyottko dancers (see Tuskuba Festival above) with comical masks, doing their strange dance without moving from the spot, as the dashi was dragged up the street. There was a large crowd sheltering under umbrellas. Alcohol was banned during the actual parade, but Terue`s husband, not a lightweight with the booze, got a couple of large beakers of saki to keep him and me going. Big mistake. We finally pulled into a deserted garage for a rest and parked up. Nearby was a stationary dashi with Hyottko dancers, a drumming band and about 30 teenage girls with fans, led by a male chanter, all chanting songs to the drumming. I was ushered between the girls and handed a fan, which you spun around with each chant. I was also invited to give the drums a bash. We retired to Terue`s for a buffet dinner, slightly the worse for wear.

Fortunately, Matthew was driving. Later that night, refreshed, we assembled at my apartment around 11pm for a screening of the `Apocolypse Now` Redux verson. It weighed in at 4 hours. The following night was Danielle`s birthday and a dozen of us assembled in her room. That went on until 4am. (see above for the jog/tennis match escapade the morning after).

The social life was relentless but someone had to do it. I had been in Japan for 6 months and it all seemed very easy and very comfortable.