I have a restaurant that knows my name and order. In Japan. :-)

A (national holi)day in the life

We didn't have school today. It rained all morning, but I was able to get out in the afternoon. I got on my bike and headed towards the park by the river. When I arrived at the river, I was pleasantly surprised to find that the path was freshly decorated pink paper lanterns. (illustration A)

This made me happy. The sight of two men sitting on a bench enjoying lunch in the park made me happier (so much so that when they whistled at me, it went almost completely unnoticed. The only thought it evoked was, "Hm, they must be Brazilian." Japanese men don't whistle at women, and Brazilians are the largest minority population in Moka.) As I rode my bike along the path, I tried to determine the spot from which my camera could best capture the scene. I finally chose a spot, stopping just after I passed two little old Japanese ladies chatting. While I snapped a few pictures, their conversation drew to a close, sending one little oba-san in my direction. Much to my delight, she not only acknowledged my existence, she greeted me and lingered a little, giving me an opportunity to strike up conversation, which I quickly seized in my best Japanese (read "complete butchering of the language"). I pointed to the lantern and said precisely "This, what?" She explained to me that the lanterns were hung for "hanami," the cherry blossom viewing party that would begin as soon as the flowers sprang forth from their buds. She estimated it would be in about 6 days. She told me that the lanterns all represented different business and organizations in the community, and that when the flowers began to bloom and the festival kicked off, there would be food stalls in the park, as well. She said all of this in Japanese. :-). Then she asked a few questions about me, where I'm from, what I do in Moka, if I'm married. When I answered no, she said my parents must have cried when I left. I admitted that my parents miss me a great deal, and she encouraged me to press on. Then she smiled, laughed, shook her head at my terrible Japanese, and continued on her walk. It was beautiful. I continued on my bike ride, which lead to crossing her path once more, and she smiled and said "Ja ne! Bye bye!"

Then I rode my bike to the shrine, hoping to find more pretty lanterns. I did not find lanterns, but I did find beautiful flowers. In my limited knowledge, I ascertain that they are cherry blossoms. However, this is my "hajimete" (first time) hanami experience. So maybe they're plum blossoms, who knows? Either way, the photos are quite nice. (exhibit B)

I must admit that until today, I really couldn't grasp what could be so wonderful about cherry blossoms that every town in Japan would have a "flower viewing festival" each year, where people put on their very expensive, traditional Japanese attire and walk along lantern-lit paths, surrounded by thousands of other people doing the exact same thing.  I mean really? They're just flowers.

But I must also admit that today, as I walked under one of the trees, on a carpet of fallen pedals, and the wind blew just right causing a few more pedals to fall around me, there was something magical about it. And, as I said before, for all I know, these were just plum blossoms, and the cherry blossoms will be even more majestic.

The shrine is a really peaceful place. Sometimes I feel like maybe it should feel oppressive or uninviting to visit a shrine, but there was not even a trace of this at the Moka shrine today. I could have stayed for hours admiring the flowers, enjoying the weather, and taking in the peacefulness, but I was a little apprehensive about the clouds rolling in. So I continued on.

I took a little path I saw near the entrance of the shrine, and, man, did I find some interesting things. First, there were the pretty things. (See images below)

Just after crossing the train tracks, I noticed a fenced in area with a few people walking  around, looking around, almost like they observing some sort of exhibit. Two of the people walked up to the fence, smiling from ear to ear, and said hello to me, in English. It was incredibly un-Japanese. It made me feel like I was the thing on display. It confused me, but I liked it. I always like friendly strangers.

I ended up taking a path that circled around this strange park, and was startled to turn a corner and see a donkey, an ostrich, and an entire rabbit farm. Just beyond these, I saw signs for a squirrel farm. Adding to the oddness, for the entirety of my park-circling, there was this music box-esque melody coming from speakers that I couldn't see. It was really strange. I felt like I was in a horror movie. I didn't stick around.

On my bike ride home, I decided to stop at Fukudaya, the upscale everything store that has the best selection of produce and a bakery. 

As I park my bike in front of the store, I hear someone call out my name. I look up to see about 6 of my 1st year students sitting in McDonalds directly across from me. Two more are running up to me, and they invite me inside.

I'd be lying if I said I didn't feel a secret sense of victory when the surrounding Japanese people, who usually despise me for existing on their island or stare straight through me, were forced to acknowledge that their own kind desire to be in my presence, so much so that they will come running up to me to invite me inside.

The other side of the coin is that all but one of my girls were wearing their school warm ups, AND loads of makeup. Junior high school students aren't allowed to wear makeup, but here they are, wearing it with their school uniforms, loud and proud. Here are my girls:

I sat and chatted with them for a little, relying mostly on the one Peruvian girl, who typically speaks to me in Spanish, to translate. 

Then I continued on to Fukudaya, where I discovered that I did not really want to pay twice as much for the things I could buy across the street for half the price. So I bought only the things I couldn't get at the cheaper store.

As I walked over to the cheaper grocery store, I passed the tiny little Thai store, where the first stranger in Moka to ever talk to me works. I said hello to him, and we chatted for a few minutes. I told him, in my still terrible Japanese, that my parents are coming to Japan soon, and we talked about that for awhile. It was an awkward conversation. I was grasping for any Japanese words I knew, but he is a kind man, and he held up the conversation, until finally I felt like more of a burden than a conversationalist.

I went on to the cheap store, and fell pray to the onigiri, a very important part of Japanese life. These delicious treats are essentially rice balls stuffed with various fillings and wrapped in seaweed. And they're surprisingly delicious. The problem I sometimes run into is that I can't read the Japanese writing that tells me what will be inside. So today, I bought three, completely clueless as to what I might find inside. It was an adventure. Then I headed home to eat my three tasty treats. However, my eyes were bigger than my stomach, and I was full after one. The one I chose was filled with a sweet soy-flavored substance that was most likely a type of seaweed. Admittedly, when I caught my first glimpse of the filling, I was alarmed, but, as it turns out, it was scrumptious. Take a look. 

The remaining onigiri will be enjoyed at a later time. Yum!

And that, my friends, is a national holiday in the life of yours truly.

Cheers.

Spring!

An update:

Spring is breaking through, and warm weather brings hope. I want to play outside all the time. I enrolled in a dance class on Thursday nights. Two weekends ago Meghan and I found a Japanese church we like (read more about Meghan's thoughts on it here). My parents are coming in 11 days. There are only 3 school days left in the Japanese academic year. 

All of these things bring hope.

I can't wait to see my parents.

Spring means more daylight, more time outside and more fun activities. It also means cherry blossoms. These are all good things.

Out of habit, I turn my emotions off when things get hard. I'm so good at it that I don't even recognize I've done it. For the first 19 years of my life, I didn't even know I had this habit. It comes naturally, subconsciously. It's a such a smooth transition that I rarely know when or why I've done it. I don't even get a chance to identify the emotions I'm shutting off, and I can't ever recall when I shut them off. It's that quick and easy. Today, I realized I was numb. 

Last night, I began reading a book with characters that felt raw emotions. The emotions were extreme sadness, loneliness and depression, and I was drawn to them.I couldn't put the book down. Today, when I woke up, I finished the book. It was all I could do; it was all I could think about. I had to keep reading because I couldn't feel on my own, but I could read about the raw emotions of the characters and it was stirring something in me. I finished the book, and it sent me into a frenzy - literally. I wasn't ready to be done almost feeling these things. They were so close to the surface, but they had not yet surfaced. I could not yet consciously identify these feelings in me, but there were no more pages to read that would bridge the gap. So I did what the character in the book does. She runs. I went running. I ran until my body hurt. I ran to parts of Moka I've never seen. I didn't know where I was going. I didn't care. I just needed to run until I cracked, until I laughed or burst into tears or collapsed from frustration. I needed to feel something, anything, and I thought running to the point of exhaustion could make that happen. I ran up hills. I ran down hills. I sprinted. 

Nothing.

Just a sore body.

So here I am, aware that I am numb and unsure of how to feel once more, aware that the emotions I will feel will be difficult and painful - loneliness, isolation, longing, a sense of uselessness. They will hurt. But they will be real and they are a part of life. It will be better than this. Please, God, may I feel them soon.

I'm famous!

I made it into the slide show at the "farewell party" for the third year students. I win.

and then we went to Kingdom Hall to hang out with the J.W's

Most of you know I've been church hunting here in Moka. 

Yesterday:

I checked out a Catholic church that one of my students told me about. She said it was a Spanish-speaking church, which got my hopes up. Joe took me to find it. When we arrived, no one was there, and all the signs were in Portuguese. Boo. So we got back in the car, and as we were pulling away, we saw three Spanish-speaking women. Joe stops the car and says, "Go talk to them! Ask them about the church!" So, after a minor hesitation, I do.

Turns out, the church is most likely Portuguese only. BUT Sara, one of the ladies, invited me to go to her church - an "English-speaking, evangelical church."

Today:

Side note:  two Jehova's Witnesses came to our door. I answered the door and boldface lied to them when they asked me if I had their "Bible study booklet." Two other Jehova Witnesses visited us a couple months ago and gave us some other printed materials, so I said they had given me said book and kindly ended our conversation.

At 2 this afternoon, Meghan and I met Sara, and walked with her to her house. She invited us inside while we waited for her sister to come pick us up. Her sister came, along with her brother, and a few other family members. We divided up between two cars - Meghan and I with Sara's brother and nephew. On our drive, we chatted it up in Spanish. Miguel, Sara's brother, is from Peru but has lived in Moka for 18 years. He was really kind. As we continued driving, farther and farther from Moka, I asked Miguel how he heard about this particular church, thinking to myself, "this is a long way from Moka, too far to simply stumble upon..." Miguel told me people from the church had come to talk to him, and then he started going to their church. #$%*. That was how I responded in my head. I knew exactly what it meant, and I didn't have the courage to ask what denomination the church was, I already knew.

We drove on and finally, I asked Miguel the denomination, just in case Meghan hadn't drawn the same conclusion I had. The answer "Salon del Reino, Testigos de Jehova." Boo.

So, we went to Kingdom Hall with the Spanish-speaking J.W's today. So much for an "English-speaking Evangelical" church. Maybe this is my punishment for lying to the JW's that came to my door. Jesus didn't condone lying, no matter what the subject. Oops.

Regardless, we had wonderful conversations with Miguel in the hour long car rides to and from Kingdom Hall. I'll be thankful for those. :-)