Jim Jams Journal

Christmas and New Year 2006

2007-01-07T09:42:00.000+09:00

I have to say I was never looking forward to staying in Japan this year for Christmas and New Year. This would be the first Christmas for me to be away from home, without an actual plan to go somewhere or do something (like Thailand and Taiwan in 2004).

This year I was planning to stay in Japan and not waste over £1,000 on flying home and thus, waste money that I could have spent on fees for University next year. It turns out I still spent more than I’d planned anyway, although primarily this was because I have put on a bit of weight since moving to Hamada and moving in with Benji, who has a car. I found that in late Nov/early Dec I could not fit into any of my Benetton trousers, which I wear to work, without my gut attempting to escape via the fly…not a particularly attractive sight. I was forced to buy newer (gulp) bigger trousers at the retail outlet in Hiroshima where there is a ‘NEXT’ shop (a British brand). It’s quite depressing putting on weight BEFORE Christmas has even arrived.

This would be a very different Christmas for me, too. Benji was going back to America for a wedding and my other friends all went home. I’m of course like most people, simply used to being surrounded by people at Christmas. ‘I can do it!’ I thought ‘I’m a grown up now!’

Anyway, I took part in some Christmassy things. I made ‘Calennig’ (Welsh Xmas/New Year) decorations with my English club. The girls in my English club always look slightly bemused and bewildered with everything I ever do. They are quite possibly the most shy and timid girls in Japan. It’s always an uphill struggle communicating, so I have to ‘find a happy place’ and fight the urge to shout ‘FOR GODS SAKE! YOU ARE SOOOOOOOO BORING! CANT YOU GO OUT AND REBEL AND PERHAPS IN THE PROCESS DEVELOP A PERSONALITY SO THAT YOU ARE MORE FUN AND INTERESTING AND THEN I WOULDN’T MIND GIVING UP MY WEDNESDAY EVENINGS SITTING IN A FREEZING PRE-FAB HUT STRUGGLING TO ENTERTAIN YOU!’. But of course I am far too polite and well-mannered to execute such ghastly behavior! Anyway, I also made them a roast lunch during the last week of term and organized a ‘Secret Santa’…So I can’t be that evil.

I prepared my usual Christmas lessons with my special ‘Gaikkoku’ (foreign) candy prizes….which were bought exclusively in Hiroshima….shhhhhhhh. I show them a really depressing and graphic John Lennon music video (Happy Xmas…War is Over) which was re-edited by Yoko Ono in 2003 and tell then that they are damn lucky to live in rich Japan, because for the rest of the world, Christmas blows. The students were all eerily shocked and silent, and you could choke on the fumes of guilt. Then I had them write ‘Wishes for the World’ on little ‘peace angels’ (an Idea from a Canadian girl, Koren who used to work in a nearby town). Some of the kids wrote really thoughtful messages in English and they ALL tried really hard. One of the kids wanted to send the angels to an NGO or to Amnesty, but of course I quickly informed him that this was outside of my work remit and for god’s sake, it was bloody Christmas! I was going to be far too busy preparing my feast and shopping for presents – Duh! ;-) In my visiting school I made reindeers and snowmen with my special needs classes and showed them ‘The Snowman’ which is a cartoon made in 1981 by the English animator and cartoonist ‘Raymond Briggs’. ‘The Snowman’ cartoon is shown every year at Christmas in the U.K.

Benji and Rebecca and I organized a Christmas dinner for ALT’s in our town before everyone left for winter break. We ordered a big fat Turkey and a Ham from the Foreign Buyers Club in Japan and various parents sent the missing items and ingredients needed for a successful Christmas dinner. Rebecca’s mother sent traditional British Christmas crackers….not the type you have with cheese. Crackers are kind of ‘party poppers’ but with a hat, a joke and a toy inside. I was surprised that American’s don’t have them, although I expect if they did there’d be 20-ounce steaks or hand guns inside.

All ALT’s chipped in and we had some amazing food including Gratin, roast spuds, roast veg, mashed spuds, gravy, trifle, chocolate mousse, Austrian biscuits and eggnog. Some members of the local Board of Education were having a meeting in the same building with some exchange students who’d been to America on a study trip. We invited them in because we had so much food and they ended up having a very decent Xmas lunch and of course they discovered the joy and surprise of a British Christmas cracker!

For my Christmas day, I invited Mario and Barbara and my co-worker Tateishi Sensei. I cooked a really simple roast of two small (Brazilian!) Chickens and of course the customary mash, veg and gravy. Barbara made some fruit salad and Mario and I polished off a few bottles of wine. It was very nice company, so I’m glad I was kept busy on the day! The next day, I was supposed to be at work but I went in for the morning meeting before escaping and going home at 11am, tactfully hiding my bag and sneaking out the back entrance in a James Bond-type move…One should be able to recover peacefully from a Christmas hangover, I think. After all it is a religious festival, so it’s perfectly within my rights; I feel….even though I’m technically not a practicing (or believing) Christian…

Between Christmas and New Year I went up to see Hitomi Takeshita, my old Japanese teacher/gossip merchant from Hirata where I used to live. I hadn’t seen her since July, so it was nice to catch up. She was having a nabe (Japanese broth/stew) party and her daughter Naho was home from University and she wanted me to meet her. Naho had brought her friend Arisa and Steven, ALT from Kyoto (originally from Pittsburg, USA). Naho studies English at a prestigious University in Kyoto where they study Shakespeare every day and write and direct monologues and performances in English as part of their studies.

Her friend Arisa was hilarious music student, with bags of personality. It was snowing heavily when I arrived in Shobara, Hitomi’s town and Izumo was covered in snow. As soon as I walked through the door, Naho and Arisa were already shrieking ‘KAWAAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!’ (CUTE!) at me. I hate being described at ‘cute’, it’s so embarrassing! We had fun drinking and eating and then the next day we went to Yurari Onsen (Yurari Hot Spring) which is lovely.

The wind was blowing a gale and it was snowing lightly but the outside Onsen was toasty warm and very atmospheric and Japanese. I got that serene feeling of ‘Ahhhhhhhh I’m in Japan and I’m at peace with the world’-type feelings – you know? After that we went to Izumo Taisha shrine – the shrine of love and happiness. It was freezing and I couldn’t feel my feet but it was lovely and I discovered a new part of the Shrine grounds which I didn’t know existed. I saw a very inspirational tablet probably written by some starry-eyed girl, a message about her other half/prospective love which said ‘Shin demo Daisuki’ (I’ll love you till I die!). It was so romantic. See…All you need is love!

Of course being away from Benji at any time feels unnatural and weird. We spend so much time together that we’re simply not used to being apart. I was dreading Christmas and New Year, but I made it through in one piece and I’ll look forward to him coming back tomorrow (the 5th January). I have missed him so much. I got to speak to him a lot though while he was away, and even his friends – Dirty Eric, Nina and Darcy. I do hope some of them will come and visit us in the U.K. I couldn’t help but laugh when Benji told me he already has a back pack full of food, ready to bring back to Nihon. Benji really is a creature of comfort. He is particularly sensitive to the crap-ness of Japanese food and this frustrates him more than most. I try to comfort him by making sure we have good home-cooked meals and apart from Thursday (Sushi night) eat as little Japanese food as possible! I look forward to seeing what American Culinary delights Benji has brought back from his native land…perhaps some microwavable processed sausage on a stick covered in cookie dough? They’re real! I saw them on ‘The Daily Show’.

I am however, most shocked of all to learn that Benji has actually bought a pair of trainers! NIKE TRAINERS – Benji! I couldn’t believe it! Apparently, he is going to use them to go running! I was both shocked and proud at such a bold attempt at a New Year Resolution. Maybe I should take a leaf out of Benji’s book. I should join him! We should go running together! I could get us matching tracksuits! I’m sure Benji will be thrilled…

ASS(et) Management during the Japanese Winter

2007-01-06T19:26:00.000+09:00

There are a number of reasons why my health has taken a back seat and why unfortunately my ass is growing at a rather alarming speed…

The Japanese stubbornly refuse to actually ‘get with the programme’ like the rest of the world and HEAT and INSULATE their homes. Their ideas of energy conservation are to NOT have central heating in their freezing buildings, instead they prefer to choke and poison themselves by using KEROSONE STOVES! Ha! Yes, I kid you not…and In order to avoid carbon monoxide poisoning, they OPEN THE WINDOW in order for the fumes to escape…so when it is minus 5 degrees outside, they…OPEN THE WINDOW…!?!

So OK, we can learn to live with that, perhaps…BUT they refuse to have double glazing and thick walls and insulation, instead preferring to use paper, wood and hardboard to build houses. If they at least insulated, they could save energy, but no… Some schools and offices HAVE Air conditioning units that also double as heating systems, however they have to ASK THEIR SUPERIORS and have consultations and meetings about if it’s cold/hot enough to warrant ‘wasting energy’ by putting on the Air-Con/Heater.

Many people bring fleece blankets to work to place over their legs or have these sticky strips called ‘Kairo’ which you can stick to your back, your legs or your feet and your body causes a chemical reaction in the Kairo, which self-heats and warms that part of your body. When one day in work, I was visibly SHAKING and faltering when I was speaking due to the cold, I was given a Kairo by my teacher. She told me to stick it in my lower back, above my liver. ‘If your liver is warm, your body will be warm’, she said. She was right, it worked but I thought to myself ‘In a country where they have the most advanced technology in the world, why are people forced to use Kairo sticky strips to keep warm?’

So anyway, most Japanese homes have this thing called a Kotatsu. It’s a table with a removable top, where a blanket is placed underneath and a heater underneath creates a cosy ‘cocoon’ for you to out you legs and chest if you wish.

Japanese people refuse to ‘conform to Western tastes’ and get comfortable, cosy furniture. Instead, they use a cushion or a mat to sit on a hardwood floor. There is relatively little ‘lounging’ in Japanese homes, probably because most people work obscene hours and get very little free time to actually enjoy for themselves (heaven forbid they should bring shame on themselves by leaving work when they are supposed to or perhaps take their allotted time off!). I tend to use a ‘legless chair’ to place under the Kotatsu and enjoy the zen-like experience of being back in the womb!

HOWEVER the problem for most people is that once you’re under the Kotatsu, it’s very difficult to summon the motivation and energy to get back out. In the past, I’ve actually held in my pee and thought ‘Screw the weekly shop, it’s too cold to go out…’ I’m sure people must have dehydrated to death under the Kotatsu. There are urban legends of people burning their pubes under their Kotastu and Kotatsu’s also come with a manufacturer’s health and safety warning ‘Do NOT sleep under the Kotatsu!’

However, during his first year, Benji DID indeed burn himself ‘in a private area’ due to the Kotatsu being turned up too high. The area blistered and the doctor said it was similar to third degree burns. This very long winded point is anyway supposed to inform you that the reason why my ass is growing at an accelerated speed is because it is too goddamn cold to get my ass out of the Kotatsu and go exercise outside. I hate going outside anyway, to do so in the cruel Japanese winter is extra salt in the wound.

Another reason for my slug-like state of late is that my school is close to my apartment, as it was in Hirata BUT when I do my school visits, I no longer have to walk/cycle a total of 60 mins to get to my school and back, instead take a bus from right outside my house then get off right in front of my visiting school. The exercise sessions I was forced to take to get to my old visiting schools was plenty to keep me from growing love handles, but sadly those days are gone. When I go shopping, I no longer cycle 30 mins to go to the superstore, instead hop in the Suzuki and nip over to ‘Trial (Japanese Walmart, but crapper). Of course, my dance classes stopped when my dance buddies selfishly left Japan to go back to Amsterdam and Hawaii.

When it comes to exercise, I am a social butterfly; I prefer to communicate with people as I am doing it…a pleasant distraction from the task at hand, if you will. Also, I think the associated guilt of missing out on a group visit to ‘body toning class’ or Yoga is a positive thing. It stops you giving up quite so soon. But really, who is there to stop me from NOT exercising, now? Benji is allergic to physical activity-induced sweating. He really is more of an Arts and Crafts person than a Gym person, and as a consequence I believe the last time he wore a pair of trainers was in 1986.

Lastly, the internet had been both a pleasure and a pain. A pleasure in that I have not paid for a movie or a CD since possibly the end of 2005 and I am able to download and watch TV shows and movies in the ‘comfort’ of my Japanese apartment. A pain in that really, it has made me shrink into myself and cut myself off. The combination of the Kotatsu and the Internet has been the lethal nail in my social coffin. Quite often Benji and I will be on separate computers watching separate shows. It really is the height of geekiness. Whatever is the world coming to? Is this the future of family life? When we catch ourselves being anti-social, we always laugh, but it’s a scary thought.

With Benji away this holiday, I had many days where I would literally spend up to 9 hours staring in a somewhat demonic, foam-mouthed manner at the computer screen. Sometimes I wouldn’t even bother getting changed or showered. Instead lie there greasy-haired having my soul sucked out of me whilst I devoured Season 10 of friends, Season 11 of Frasier, the 3rd Season of Six Feet Under, the Fifth Series of Scrubs and numerous other shows and movies. This was also prime opportunity to use this time to watch things that Benji doesn’t find totally repulsive and vomit-inducing….like Desperate Housewives and the latest BBC Drama Literature Adaptation like ‘Bleak House’ or ‘Jane Eyre’. This was my winter vacation, I am ashamed to admit.

I noticed well before Christmas and the New Year vacation arrived that my back was starting to twinge and spasm sometimes when I bent my back. Over the vacation this was (I’m sure) made worse by my Kotatsu and Internet retreat. The pain intensified daily. I even tried venturing outside for an hour-long walk to try and rejuvenate my back muscles. I was surprised at one stage that even over my I-pod I heard my back/pelvis make a rather alarming cracking sound, however the pain refused to die. I found myself suddenly letting out a random shriek or a small scream when my back twanged in public places and I was beginning to walk like Quasimodo. I didn’t fancy being institutionalized over the festive break, so after some recommendations, my friend Nori as translator, I went hopefully to a Chinese Acupuncturist.

It was all rather bizarre. I was first ‘punched’ gently all over in a shiatsu-style type of way then the guy told Nori to tell me that he was gonna stick in the needles. To be honest, I just wanted a Shiatsu massage but the guy wanted to do the needle thing. Most of them I didn’t feel, but occasionally it felt like they stuck them in too deep onto my muscle and I let out a panicky shriek, much to the delight/amusement of the Acupuncturist. Do they live for these reactions, maybe? Sickos. All in all I had 16 needles in my lower back. They attach these vibrating electrode things to the needles and hook them up to this electric-looking device and put a hot heater over you. I felt like a mouse in an experiment.

It was kind of weird and it made me feel a bit sick. The guy kept telling me ‘Kimuchi, Yo’ (Feels good) and I was thinking ‘Erm….no…actually! If you just stuck to the punching thing, that would have been fine!’. I definitely felt suppler for the first five minutes, until it came to putting on my shoes, during which my back twanged again. So basically I was \4,000 (or £20) skinter but no nearer to walking upright confidently. I will try the acupuncture again, but if that fails I’m going go to the doctor and see what he can do. Also, I am going to try and look for a pure Shiatsu masseuse. It’s about time, I’ve wanted one since I got here.

Oh yeah, I thought I’d also mention the fact that I ran over a small child on my bicycle the other day at the local ‘Izumi’ supermarket. I was biking away, listening to my I-pod and this kid ran out from behind a car. My breaks are crap anyway and besides, I had no real time to stop. I rode straight into him and knocked him arse over tit. He was only about three. I know that had that been back home; a knife-wielding parent would have emerged telling me that they would wring my neck and/or phone social services and perhaps a solicitor. Here however, the guy came out and apologized to ME for running over his son and knocking him to the floor, possibly traumatizing him for life. I felt terrible, but there was no coddling and the kid must have been a hard-arse because although he looked stunned, he just hopped back up and went into the supermarket. Gotta love Japanese kids.

I’ll keep you posted as to my Quasimodo back situation…

The Green Green Grass of Home

2007-01-06T15:35:00.000+09:00

Visiting home with Ben last August was amazing and just the tonic I needed after 8 months without seeing the clan...

First of all, the most surprising thing was that my step-dad who ‘hates all Yanks’ really warmed to Ben. He took it upon himself to educate dear Benji on the customs and colloquialisms of Wales including incredibly detailed explanations on the differences of tone between the insults of ‘Wanker’ and ‘Tosser’, etc. Also, how to greet a local yokel from the Valleys of South Wales…

Valley Boy: O’rite, Butt? (Are you alright, old chap?)
Benji: Tidy butt/Tidy like. (Why yes, I’m very well, thank you for asking).

* ‘Butt’ in Valley-speak comes from the word ‘Butty’ or ‘Bytti’ meaning ‘friend’. ‘Tidy’ is also valleys slang for ‘Cool/Good/Alright/Nice’. ‘Like’ is used as punctuation, sometimes. It is usually used to join sentences like a comma, or as a full stop at the end of a sentence, as opposed to at the start, like in some countries. “I was walking down the street, like…and I saw my butty and ‘ee was with this boy, like…so we went to ‘ave a cupple uh pints and ‘ee was a really tidy boy like...”

I got to sleep in my lush bed which was a real treat and have a continental breakfast of French Goats cheese, English muffins, Parma ham and Italian cheeses every morning if I wanted. I got to eat lots of baked beans and multigrain bread and Branston pickle, which I really miss when I’m in Japan.

One of the most fun things was introducing Ben to new and strange foods that he has never tried before. It was like when you have a little cousin and you teach them to swear or give them a sip of beer or a bar of chocolate when their mother had told you not to. I kept buying things and getting excited because I knew he had never tried them before…like Melton Mowbray Pork Pies, Cornish pasties and Prawn Cocktail crisps.

Against Ben’s better judgment and will, my step-dad forced him to eat one of the scariest things on the U.K breakfast menu – Black Pudding (made of congealed pig/cattle’s blood, suet and spices). Bless him. Bob tried the same thing when I was eight. We weren’t allowed to leave the table until all our breakfast was eaten (including the black pudding), so when Bob left the room my step-brother Justin and I threw it over next-door’s fence into their garden and then claimed we’d finished it – voila!

One day, Benji and I visited the museum of Welsh life in Saint Fagans with my Dad and we went for lunch. My Dad couldn’t believe that Ben had never tried Cider before and since Cider was the new black last year, we tried some ‘Magners’ and my Dad took a photo of Benji trying his first proper pint of cider – it was so cute! Can I just say that if you ever go to the ‘Plymouth Arms’ in Saint Fagans, you simply must try the Steak n Ale pie, it’s a must. The Fish and Chips there were pretty damn good as well…and an American (epic) size portion, no less!

I finally got to meet Taiyo-chan, my new nephew. He is a gorgeous baby and I nearly abducted him and brought him back to Japan. My dogs Tess and Chips are in their winter years now. They were 14 last April, so they really are quite old. Chips is covered in gross growths/dog boils and Tess is fat with cataracts in her eyes. They absolutely reek of dog-old age-bad-oral-hygiene but from a distance or if you hold your breath when you stroke them, you can still appreciate that they are cute.

I was shocked by how tall and grown up my nieces and nephews were. Callum was nearly as tall as me and you could have full on conversations with Ellie-Mae although she was at the stage where she was asking ‘Why?’ all the time. Emily started high school the month after I left. Laura, my eldest niece was planning on going to University. Jesus. So much stuff goes on at home whilst I’m not there.

We got to road trip up to North Wales to go and hike Snowdon Mountain (OK, we’re not that hard-core; we got the train to the summit and then hiked down). The view from Snowdon was…..erm…well I imagine it was lovely but we couldn’t see bugger all due to the thick blankets of fog and misty rain. Bugger. It was quite annoying. After hiking for 2hours though, the fog cleared and we could actually see some nice views. Sodding Welsh Weather.

Benji got to hear Welsh being spoken all throughout North Wales which was probably weird for him. It was nice for me though. The landscape in North Wales is really spectacular. The homes there are amazing, gorgeous little stone cottages built with huge Llanberis stone and Welsh slate, tucked away in dense forests and green hills. We also visited Portmeirion, the Italianette village in North Wales. Again, the weather was crap.

We then drove down to West Wales, although we cancelled our night by the Sea in Tenby because it was cloudy and rainy. We caught up with some of my friends – Rhian and her fiancé Roger who came down from Staffs to see me, Caroline and Lee and their baby Rhydian, Sarah and Rob, Abby and Louise and the recently married Lyn and Helina. I saw my little gay Timmy and Welsh Sam, my friend from Uni. When we were out for dinner with Sam at Las Iguanas in Cardiff, I made the mistake of ordering a Tuna steak. If you have lived in Japan for two years and tried the seafood in Hawaii, this is a big no-no…unless you like feasting on scouring pads.

Seeing all the shops, bars, restaurants, events…It really made me wish I was back in Cardiff. I really missed the city. Even though when I lived there I was always skint! Being home was as always, a great chance to catch up with my mad cousins. I was keen to get Benji accustomed to our Welsh hillbilly way of life. He was, I think pleasantly surprised by our closeness, our crassness and our constant ribbing of each other. I think at one stage he was freaked out at all the volumes of people who came to the house. ‘There are so many people!’, we must have looked like the Corleone family with all that feeding and talking, although admittedly less money and organised crime. He had to go to bed for an hour to recover.

I had a really hard time leaving everyone (again). I knew that I wouldn’t see most of my family for another whole year. Because this is my last year on the JET Programme, I had to save money for University. This means that this year, there will be NO more holidays and/or trips home, until I am home in July/Aug. I am so excited to be coming home. There’s so much more of the U.K I want to see and it’s about time I went over to France, as well. I’ve seen a fair bit of South East Asia, but now I think it’s time to explore what’s in my own back garden….

Cream Teas, Mysterious Stones and Land Rovers

2007-01-06T14:51:00.000+09:00

During the last week of mine and Benji's trip home last August, we went down to Bath to stay with Shimane’s ex-best ALT in the Tsuwano region – Mr. Sam Barclay. He had only been back in Bath 2 weeks. He took it upon himself to be our tour guide around the city although we suspect he made most of it up...

We saw the Pump House, the Royal Crescent and had a Cream Tea at Sally Lunn’s – the oldest tea rooms in Bath. By the way, when you have a Cream Tea, it is advisable NOT to eat a whole tub of clotted cream, unless you enjoy feeling sick for the whole day. (I wasn’t being greedy, I just didn’t want to be rude….and it cost a bloody arm and a leg).

We were originally supposed to go and see Stonehenge because it is a World Heritage site and I wanted to use Ben an excuse to visit it and do things I would never normally do. However, Sam wanted to take us to another place called Avebury which is the same kind of thing – a number of large, strange stones in a random field, the purpose of which no one alive today understands. Avebury was cool and much less crowded than I expect Stonehenge is. The good thing about Avebury is that it is free, the stones are not roped off and there are cows and sheep wandering around looking at you in a bemused manner.

We stayed the night at Sam’s parent’s house.
Sam lives in a twee little village that really puts the ‘Priss’ in ‘Priston’. It is just like one of those chocolate-box English villages where every other person is called ‘Henry’ or ‘Edward’ and their wives are in the Women’s Institute and their children go to Boarding school and they all vote Tory.

I bet they don’t get many chavs in baseball caps joyriding through their streets at 4am high on Vodka and Tamazepam….lucky buggers. As I suspected I saw some Land rovers and muddy wellies in the vicinity, always a true sign of a well-heeled village. I found it charming.

It reminded me of the summer in 2000 I worked for ‘Bell Language International’, at Bloxham Boarding school in Oxfordshire. That year, I really got a glimpse of what it would be like to go to a £20,000 a year school. It was a bit like a Harry Potter school, and they had huge grand paintings of posh old pompous white blokes on the dining room hall walls. The village had just two pubs and a quaint little post office. I stayed in a stone cottage with twenty two bedrooms and the prettiest English garden you’ve ever seen.

This was where the sixth formers (year twelve) students stay. In their school they had archery and lacrosse teams, went skiing every year and had a big pool and sauna right in the middle of the school ground. This was certainly different to working for the ‘Welsh Language Initiative’ Play schemes in South Wales, where a child’s placement for a day used to cost about £3.75 you have to wait your turn to use the scissors and the only trip they get is at the free museum in Cardiff!

At Bloxham, however, I worked alongside people who had attended Eton and St. Andrews. I felt really conspicuous and at first, about as welcome as a fart in a space suit, but it was all my paranoia that perhaps I wasn’t ‘good enough’ or ‘posh enough’. I actually used to enjoy the banter between me and the Eton boy, he used to taunt me about going fox hunting on Boxing Day so I used to cut out adverts from the RSPCA and PETA and stick them on the wall, when I knew it was his shift.

This one time, his motorbike that cost more than a year’s fees at the same school was stolen from the village. He was devastated, but there was a little part of me that thought ‘ha-ha’ like the fat kid from ‘The Simpsons’. I don’t know whether that was just down to my Intolerable cynicism and cruelty or a more likely, a working-class chip on my shoulder.

Anyway later that day, one of our staff members happened to find his bike in a nearby country lane. He was so relieved to have his little bike back that he took us all out for a quick Magnum of champers at the local.

That day, I had torn the ligaments in my thumbs doing a spastic pike jump on the trampoline. It really bloody hurts, having torn thumb ligaments, so I put my hands in the champagne bucket to soothe them and Eton boy said ‘That’s what we love about you, dear girl…you’re so incredibly classy. But we wouldn’t have it any other way…’ He really was lovely (swoon) and despite being a toff, I found it impossible not to get along with him. Anyway…yeah so Priston reminded me of Bloxham.

Sam’s parents were lovely and they had lush dogs, one of which was named George, a Springer spaniel. There’s nothing that gives me more joy than an affectionate and stupid dog. George was both these things. Sam’s dad took me around their veggie garden and seemed surprised that I recognised rhubarb and runner beans. When I was younger and before both parents used to work quite so much, we had quite an impressive range of veggies.

I thought to myself ‘Ahhhhhh this is the life…’ I think Bath and Somerset and Gloucester areas have some really pretty villages and towns. I really wouldn’t mind settling there (even thought it’s England…I think I could get over it…) and it’s close enough to South Wales that anytime I wanted to go see the clan, or possibly go joyriding through the streets in a stolen car at 4am, high on Vodka and Tamazepam, then my little home town hamlet of Tonyrefail is no less than 1.5 hours away….

Peking is Pants...

2006-11-12T13:04:00.000+09:00

Well it's been a busy few months what with all the moving in and starting a new job, exam time is here and I've done a load of other stuff. I hope I can update everything! First of all, I wanna tell y'all about my trip back home last August. I took Benji to meet the family and we spent some time travelling around Wales and meeting up with mates...But that was after we stopped in Beijing for a couple of says first...You can see snaps and snippets from the Beijing stop here...

Naturally, wanting the cheapest option available we opted for the crapiest of crappy airlines – Air China. We thought, since we had to change planes in Beijing anyway, we might as well stay a few days there and go see the sights in Beijing and all that. So we decided to stay 3 days, before heading over to London. Air China. Wow. What a shower of shite they are. Terrible! The airlines messed up our luggage, the staff were rude and charmless, the food crap – everything they could possibly mess up – they did. Beijing. I think Ben and I have been spoiled in Japan. China was a bit of a shock to the system. Beijing is mental. The whole city is dirty, sprawling, noisy and blanketed in a thick smog. It's an experience! Our 'Chinese Courtyard Accommodation' was situated in the ghetto, down town. It was sketchy to say the least.

China is really 'dog eat dog'. People push and shout and ball. Of course, this is a 'city thing', but even Tokyo-ites aren't this harsh. Nothing can prepare you for how desperate people are to sell you crap. They will chase you three blocks to sell you something that costs 40p. Of course, you have to haggle for every single thing you buy. Everyone tries to rip you off. It's exhausting. Having lived two years in Japan, where people would rather commit Hara Kiri than be dishonest with you, I just wanted a straight answer or a true price. One thing I really enjoyed was visiting this Tea Shop in the middle of Beijing. They had these huge gold vats of all kinds of tea. This genteel Chinese woman sat us down and poured us Jasmine tea and gave us rose cookies. I felt really relaxed and zen-like and I spent 15 quid in there without blinking, I almost didn't want to go back outside to all the chaos.

We took a trip to Tienanmen Square and saw the big Chairman Mao image and the guards milling around. We saw the big statue of 'The Long March'. Even Tienanmen Square is crazy, with about seven lanes of traffic going right through the middle. The day after that we took a trip up to a place called 'Mutianyu' – a secluded section of the Great Wall. First of all, unless you want to spend an hour hiking to the top, you have to get a cable car up to the top top the wall. The cable car is really bloody high and rickety and old. I thought i was gonna die, and was a bit shaky. But, the wall looks amazing, as if it had been built 10 years ago.

It was really, really hot and humid there and a thick fog or smog that made hiking the wall sweaty and horrid. If you have a knee condition – don't even think about visiting the wall. It's almost all steps. Thousands and thousands of steps. Also, it's...well....bloody LONG! It just keeps going and going. After two hours up there, you start to think 'OK, what now?'. You've taken dozens of photos and you have about 1,900miles before you reach the end, so you have no choice but to turn back . Luckily, at this section of the wall there is a toboggan going down the side of the mountain. From the top to the bottom. It's so weird. It's like having a roller coaster looping around Stonehenge or something! I was convinced I would get thrown off the toboggan and would get thrown into the dense forest below, only to be devoured by a pack of hungry Chinese wolves. Luckily that was not the case.

We made it to the bottom without dying, got ripped off in a café (welcome to China) then got hijacked by the tour company who tried to take us to a massage parlour or a silk shop. The other tourists and I told them this wasn't in the itinerary when we bought the trip and I told them that I wouldn't get out of the bus unless they took us back to Beijing city. There was a bit of a Mutiny on board the bus. The tour guide went from sweet Chinese lady to Scary Chinese dragon. The tour company manager was called, then they told us if we didn't go along to the silk factory or to the massage parlour then they would drop us off in the middle of nowhere on the outskirts of Beijing city, so we said 'fine! Now go and kindly take a flying leap', but not in such polite terms. Then Ben and I teamed up with another couple and managed to get a taxi (who also ripped us off by driving around in very large loops).

On another evening, we tried to attend the most famous Peking Duck restaurant in Beijing but got lead away by a tout for a rival (crap) restaurant two blocks away and ended up eating greasy sweaty crappy Peking duck in an empty restaurant and paying 15 pounds for the privilege. I couldn't wait to leave and vowed I'd never return to China again. BUT! At least I got to see two of the top heritage sights in the world. I admit I've been far too blanketed and spoiled in 'nice, clean and respectable' Japan. It must be some of the Japanese snobbishness towards China rubbing off on me. I've met some English teachers here who absolutely love China, so I know not everyone feels the same way as me. On the plus side, I picked up a fake Rolex watch for two pounds in China which is STILL working – even 3 months later, so it's not all bad.

Saying Goodbye to Hirata....and Hello to Hamada

2006-07-19T19:28:00.000+09:00

In four days, I will be leaving the place where I have lived for two years. I have come to love my apartment, grown comfortable with my surroundings and eased into a work routine. I have come to know scores of students and have some great memories of my time here. But all good things must come to an end. I will soon be leaving everything and heading down south for a new chapter of domestic bliss...(In this post, you can see pictures of my last 3/4 weeks in Hirata and Izumo...)

Since last November, I have been going through the painful, excruciating process of applying for a job transfer to be closer to Ben and take our relationship to the next level. We have encountered Japanese bureaucracy at its very ugliest and experienced it's slow, incredibly counter-productive systems grate on our nerves and stress us out. Only at the very end of last month was I finally (after much protesting and complaining) told that my request had been granted.

I will be transferring to Hamada Koko, an academic school in the centre of Hamada. Currently Ben lives about 15 minutes from Hamada, but he will be starting a new job and we will both take on the apartment in the town centre that comes with my job. I'm really quite nervous about going through the whole rigmarole of moving, starting a new job, getting to know teachers and students, visiting new schools (again).

The school I'm going to has a very serious reputation and is not known for being party central. Not that my school is Disney Land, but I am quite attached to some of the teachers in a distant and Japanese kind of way. I think it's going to be more traumatic, moving to a new job than it would be moving back home after three years. On top of this, my awesome ex-supervisor is moving back to Hirata High after I leave and so the new ALT will get to hang out with her and I will probably be lumbered with teachers who ignore me and stay in work 'til midnight and never crack a smile.

At least (I suppose) I am familiar with Hamada and know a few ALT's there and in sourrounding areas. It could be worse. This time of year is always busy. I will soon have to sort my life out (literally) by packing up my mountains of clothes (where do they come from?) and two years worth of spray cans, broken glass and strange kitchen appliances that I have no idea how to sort. (In Japan, things are categorised into garbage types...it's like the Krypton factor trying to decipher it).

I know, I know..I'm looking at this all the wrong way! I shouldn't compare my two jobs, no! I should look at this as a new and exciting opportunity! A new chance to shine and get to know new people! New places to explore! Yeah. Hmmmmmm. Right.

I can't help being a pessimist. It's part of being Welsh to be a bitter defeatist, it's what we do! Some people say you should expect the worst then be pleasantly surprised. But first we must draw up a good/bad list about the move...First the BAD...

Giving up a nice homey apartment
Having to consider another person when I want to listen to my 80's songs at 7.30am
Having a man leave teabags and dirty knives around the kitchen
Having to cancel bills, getting hooked up the net again (it takes AGES here)
Having to shave my legs more often
Not being able to squeeze my zits and dye my hair discreetly
More opportunity for conflict and and arguments
Hamada isn't as clean and quiet as Hirata
Further away (3hours?) from Matsue, the capital where our bezzie mates are
Less fun, crazy outgoing students

OK, so some of the good things about moving to Hamada...

Coming home to BENJI everyday! Yay!
Getting to use the oven me and Ben bought in Hawaii as often as I want.
Shared chores and bills
Free taxi service all week (c/o Ben)
Free massage and physiotherapy (c/o Ben)
More access to bars and restaurants
Closer to the beach
More intelligent and able students at school
Train station is behind my house
Closer to fun ALT's (I don't have any ALT chums in Hirata)
Fish and Chips at 'Pub Elf' and Sushi at 'Sushi Zo' every week, if I want.
Only a 1.5 hour drive to Hiroshima City, a fun little city with a MOLLY MALONES pub!

So that's that! After the move I will be packing up again a few days later and getting on a flight to Beijing, China. Ben and I are stopping off there to see Tienanmen Square and the Great Wall before flying to London – I'm really psyched about that! God, I can't believe it...I will be back in South Wales very shortly! Yo have no idea how excited I am about the trip. I am visiting Wales as a proper tourist for the first time! I can't wait to see Snowdonia and Pembroke and Cardiff. We'll also be visiting Bath and Salisbury (Stonehenge), too. I have been trying (OK, not so hard) to drop a few pounds in anticipation of gross overeating. The main purpose of the trip though, is to attend my brother's wedding. Justin and Fran are getting married at Rhondda Heritage Park, near Mam's house in the valleys. Its an opportunity for Ben to meet my clan. I hope he doesn't run for the hills!

I've warned him already to start training for the traditional 3-day Welsh family welcome he will have to face, although he is currently unaware of the details. In Wales, the brothers of a potential wife will challenge her suitor to a jousting and wrestling session in front of the house. Only sticks that have been hand-carved and no longer than the height of the sister can be used. Should the suitor not die in the fight, he will be deemed suitable and worthy enough to enter the house. The thing is, I have 3 brothers so he'll have to go three rounds. Once in the house, we take part in a traditional poetry and verse contest. Should Ben intelligently outwit his opponents (my three brothers) in strict Iambic pentameter, he will be be allowed to stay. On the second day, there will be a sheep-shearing contest, and on the third a Rugby tournament. Should he pass all the tests relatively unscathed, he will be granted honorary status and invited to join the Dudley-Michel-Davies Sacred Druidic Clan.

C'mon Ben! You can do it! See you very very soon, let the games commence....

Unleashing the Dragon...Gemsy's fight against cultural imperialism in Wales

2006-07-13T20:44:00.000+09:00

I have been thinking a lot lately about heritage and nationality. Ben recently wrote something on his blog about American notions of superiority and it got me thinking about my own little patch of green. I think Ben's perspectives have changed a little since being in Japan, but maybe mine haven't. I have realised though, that in the future my beliefs and expectations may have to be compromised and changed...

Since before Taiyo (my new nephew) was born, I had wondered about what kind of school they would put him in. Unfortunately, I don’t think my brother and Nak are planning on putting him in Welsh school, which I am a little disappointed with. Unfortunately, despite their excellent records and better overall education, none of my nieces or nephews have gone to a Welsh school.

I was the only one out of my brothers to attend a Welsh school. Welsh schools are an important (no, absolutely crucial) part of maintaining and preserving Welsh language and culture. For hundreds of years, Welsh was an unofficial language. We were not allowed to vote, go to court or get an education in our mother tongue. In 1847, Welsh was effectively ‘banned’ in schools, after an English investigation of Welsh education. The investigation concluded that we were ‘Barbaric, primitive, ignorant, superstitious and morally degenerate’, because we spoke Welsh and practiced non-conformity and Methodism as opposed to CoE. In an effort to completely humiliate and side the Welsh against each other (think Roman ‘divide and conquer’ ethics…), the system of the ‘Welsh not’ was introduced.

Teachers were instructed to place a wooden plaque/plank around the neck of a child who was caught speaking Welsh. Those children were then made to pass on the ‘Not’ to someone else who spoke Welsh. The aim was to annihilate the mother tongue by ritual use of blame and degradation (like the ‘dunces cap’, if you will’). That investigation by the English has since been dubbed by Welsh historians ‘Brad y llyfrau gleision’ (or ‘Treachery of the Blue Books’, since the colour of the report conducted by the English was blue). Even my late Great-Grandmother growing up in the valleys, was slapped and caned in school when caught speaking Welsh.

Call me a mad nationalist, but I am convinced that the reason why there has been such an understated (if not completely non-existent or delayed) sense of Welsh national identity, is because the Welsh have never had a cohesive sense of ‘us’. I think this is partly because of the language divide. Lots of countries have ‘North’ vs ‘South’, but with the Welsh we are ‘Cymry di-Gymraeg’ and ‘Cymry-Cymraeg – or ‘Non-Welsh Speaking Welsh’ and ‘Welsh-SPEAKING Welsh’. Perhaps not too surprisingly, our politics are as wide as our language gaps, with the Welsh speakers typically voting 'Plaid Cymru' (The party of Wales) and the English speakers typically voting for the traditional working-class favourites; the 'Labour' party. Anyone who votes 'Conservative' (or 'Tory' as we call them) in Wales knows better than to publicise the fact. Margaret Thatcher is about as popular in Wales as George Bush would be at a Taliban Convention.

Getting back on track, I think the English did a very good, very ‘roman’ thing with Wales. They divided us very easily and they conquered us successfully, wouldn’t you say? The very fact that Wales had to wait until 1997 to get its own ‘Assembly’ Government is evidence of this.

So, yes I am a staunch advocate of Welsh-language education. I think a lot of second-language Welsh speakers feel a more pronounced sense of guilt for the fact they are not ‘authentic’ Welsh speakers. Not only this, but a certain sense of shame or loss for Wales because of our history. Our last notable stand against English oppression was in the 1400’s when Owain Glyndwr lead a rebellion against the English. Glyndwr set up a Government in Machynlleth, but the army were defeated after a treaty we signed with France failed to come through. (Bloody French). Wales lay in mute limbo for years then apart from small pockets of Nash’s and a few bombing campaigns in the late 70’s and 80’s, there’s been nothing too exciting.

There’s this thing called ‘Hiraeth’ in Wales. It has no English equivalent but it means to long for/miss/mourn something. So, I feel ‘hiraeth’ in a homesick kind of way for my home, and I also feel a ‘hiraeth’ for the past and for the future continuation of Welsh language and culture. It really irks me when I hear Welsh parents excuses for not putting their kids in Welsh schools ‘But I don’t speak the language…’ or ‘Oh, they’ll never cope with two languages...’ What?! Do you think your child is an IDIOT or something? Kids are like sponges, they ABSORB languages. Kids in European countries speak FOUR languages. I hate this Colonial British shit that says that everyone should all be mono-lingual. What could they possibly gain through not going to a Welsh school? Why would you encourage ignorance of the past by sending them to bland English schools – what the hell will YOU personally teach them about Wales and the place where they are from?

There is an added complication with my nephew Taiyo, because he is Japanese. He will grow up in Wales, but ethnically he is Japanese. So you could argue quite rationally that his Japanese heritage is more important. But one of the things that would scare me most would be living with the guilt and sense of loss that I would feel If I were to have a child and never put that child through a Welsh education. OK, so not everyone feels the same way about this. I have loads of friends who left school and never gave a crap about keeping up the language. I don’t know why it became so important to me, but it really did.

This has turned into rather a long and unexpected rant. I do apologise if you’ve come with me this far. I have been thinking of these things recently, you see what with the advent of baby Taiyo and my dearest friend and cousin trying for another baby back home in South Wales. I’ve been thinking of cross-cultural relationships in general, since my boyfriend is American and my sister-in-law (to-be) is Japanese. Is it really possible to maintain your heritage in an alien environment? Will there always be a bigger, louder, stronger culture that will dilute your own?

Come back to me in twenty years, I might have an answer for you.

Japan-O-Celt (A new addition to my clan)

2006-07-09T21:16:00.000+09:00

I would like to officially welcome a new member to the Michel-Davies-Dudley family (perhaps ‘clan’ would be more appropriate?)

It’s really ironic that my brother Mat should have met Nak (as she is called in our family). I come out to Japan for three years and my brother meets a ‘Nihon-jin’ (Japanese) lady right there in S.Wales! Now when I go home, I have free practice with my Japanese!

Naoko comes from Tokyo originally and she settled in S.Wales when she was eleven. Her Dad is a senior with ‘Sony’ in South Wales. She works as a Doctor. I only got to meet her once or twice at Christmas last year and it was Christmas day that they announced her pregnancy. It’s certainly been a cultural experience for my ‘rents, who whilst meeting her ‘rents have been learning some new things about Japanese customs and practices.

I’m thrilled to have a living embodiment of Japan right in my family! It feels like I will always have a tie with this place and now that has become all the more special and valid. Taiyo will of course learn Japanese and Naoko is already speaking to him in Japanese. I hope that I can help a little and speak bits of Japanese with Taiyo, too. I have already bought him a gorgeous pop-up book called ‘Itadakimasu’ that I can read to him when I’m home (OK, I know he’ll only be two months old, but It’ll be good for him to hear Japanese sounds and noises). Also, I’ve sent him a baby Yukatta (Japanese summer festival pajama-type things). I know that by the time he is four, his Japanese will be too complex for me, but I’ll certainly do my best! Ganbarimasu! This is going to be one clued-up child!

Ive been Tagged!

2006-06-20T20:13:00.000+09:00

I’ve been tagged…

Ages ago I was tagged my Nathan (our resident Cardiff queenie here in Shimane). I was too lazy to reply, but finally here I am! I can’t remember what the original questions were, so I made most of these up…Have a read, maybe you’ll find out something new…

4 jobs I’ve had in my life…
* English instructor, Japan Exchange and Teaching Programme
* Researcher/PA for independent television production companies
* Girl Scout Counselor, Sierra Nevada Girl Scouts, Camp Wasiu, CA
* P/T Assistant for ‘Menter Iaith’ Welsh-Language play schemes

4 places I’d rather be than here…
* Having my shoulder/neck seen to at a Physio clinic
* Lying in a 4 poster bed in a cabin in Ko Tao, Thailand (again)
* Visiting my new baby nephew Taiyo-chan who I haven’t seen yet
* Shopping for groceries in Illinois with Ben.

4 things I could watch on TV over and over…
* Big Brother 7
* Shameless
* Sex and the City
* Frasier

4 Movies I love to watch…
* It’s a Wonderful Life
* Solomon a Gaenor (Solomon and Gaenor)
* Twin Town
* Lady and the Tramp

4 people I could talk for hours with…
* Benji
* Mam
* Catherine M
* Lyn Rees / Louise Foley / Tim H / My cousin Caroline (equally)

4 things I love to eat…
* Warm bread and butter
* Any kind/variation of meat ‘n 2 veg (Sunday lunch especially)
* Hoagies, Subs n Bagels at the New York Deli in Cardiff.
* Kettle Chips

4 Albums I have played to death…
* Rent – The musical (by Jonathan Larson)
* Jack Johnson – Compilation
* Stereophonics – Word Gets Around
* Queer as Folk (UK Channel 4) – The Soundtrack

4 Places I’ve been on Vacation…
* USA – (various states including CA, IL, HI)
* Thailand – Bangkok, Ko Samui, Ko Tao, Ko Samet, Ko Phangnan
* Taiwan – Taipei City
* (This summer) Beijing – China

4 places I really want to visit…
* Cuba
* Reykjavik, Iceland
* St. Petersburg, Russia
* Tuscany / Sicily / Sardinia

4 things I love about Japan/Japanese…
* Incredible, awesome politeness and consideration
* Innocence
* The way your shopping is packed in Japanese supermarkets.
* Beer / egg / magazine / necktie / camera vending machines

4 things I can’t deal with in Japan…
* Lack of visible emotion / casual friendliness
* Mind-boggling, excruciating red-tape and formality
* The lack of insulation and adequate heating systems
* Shite food and lack of tasty sugary salty goodness.

4 awesome Japanese people I’m glad I met…
* Hitomi Sensei (My irregular Japanese teacher/gossip merchant)
* Junko Tanaka (My supervisor/Colleague/friend)
* Yuka Oka (Ex-student now studying in San Diego)
* Naoko Koto (my brother’s fiancé and mother of my new nephew!)

4 things I have learned in the last few years…
* That you can’t go home again
* That I am far too frivolous with money for my own good.
* That I complain. A lot.
* That life is about the journey, not the destination.

Big Brother is watching...

2006-06-20T19:49:00.000+09:00

I didn’t think it could happen, since I haven’t watched this programme properly in a good few years (I lost interest a bit when the boring Scottish fart of a virgin priest won a few years back), but I am now re-addicted and re-united with Big Brother!

It all started when Nathan, a fellow Welshie (and Cardiffian to boot) lent me a humungous pile of BB DVD’s which Koren had taken from the net…26 episodes of BB 7 later I’m a sad BB Junkie! This year the programme makers have out-done themselves. The BB house theme is ‘Inside out’, meaning the chandaliers, pictures, sofas are outside and there is grass in the kitchen. There are glass walls and smaller spaces ensuring absolutely NO privacy and maximum claustrobhobia for the housemates.
Last year two of the contestants got a bit frisky in the pool and Makosi (the girl) had to ask Big Brother for the morning-after pill. Just to ensure that we don’t miss anything – anything at all this year, the BB team have installed an underwater camera in the pool. I mean, really! Also, BB teamed up with ‘Kit Kat’ and hid a number of ‘Golden Tickets’ in the chocolate bars, then the holders of the tickets (some of whom paid between 600 and 6,000 pounds for them) got to be randomly selected by a housemate lottery draw to enter the house…it was fantastic!

We’ve had some brilliant housemates this year; with I think what is officially the bitchiest line-up since Crufts. First there was dear Shabaz (the self-titled ‘Paki Puf’), a possessive, demanding, childish, egotist insomniac Scottish queen who left after nearly breaking down and becoming ostracized from the group. Skanky stinky Dawn and her BO who was thrown out for cheating, upper-crust George our little Aristocracy rep who left after two weeks because he didn’t want to be famous (of course you don’t, that’s why you go one of the UK’s most watched and scrutinized shows). Sezer the sleazy gezer – the UK’s youngest ever stockbroker, Imogen – former Miss Wales beauty queen. Cute Glyn the dopey North-Walian who before coming in the BB house, had never washed/ironed his own clothes, opened an oven or boiled an egg, the (now evicted) SUPER two-faced Sloane-ranger rich bitch Grace, Nikki the drama queen whose only dream in life is ‘To marry a premiership footballer, go for lunch and have my nails done…I mean is that too much to ask?’ and also ‘Oh god I HATE being middle class…I really, really just feel I deserve to be richer…’ (poor dab), Lea the girl with the biggest breasts in the UK and an ‘adult film’ entertainer, and my favourite to win – Pete the Tourettes sufferer who randomly shouts out ‘Wankers!’, ‘Wank!’, ‘Wow!’ and ‘Miaw!’. Pete has won everyone over with his nervous energy, heart of gold and his big schlong, which we all saw in when he flashed it in the pool. Pete to win! Go Pete!

Now, my mother argues that BB is done and that it should call it a day, and before I came to Japan I agreed. BB is after all in its seventh year and producers are having to come up with ever more radical and provocative ideas to keep the show fresh, but I really think this year’s BB has kicked Ass! The line-up has been great this year, just pure bitch-fest entertainment!

I encourage you to either tune in to Channel 4 (if you’re in the UK) or get onto Bit Torrent and download the latest Big Brother torrent from there (which is what I do). If you are even more desperate for more BB (it is addictive), you can watch live streams on the net and also watch/download Big Brothers Little Brother (a show on E4 discussing the latest BB news with celebs and other guests…check out Dermot the host, he’s a bit of a babe.) OR Big Brother’s Big Brain (haven’t seen it but I think it discusses the Psychology of the housemates). Ben argues that this is over-kill but I disagree! It’s wicked! (And you don’t have to watch the daily shows and the extras if you don’t want).

By the way, the new ‘Golden Housemate’ Susie who was chosen randomly from the other Golden Ticket holders is a boring old fart with fake boobs. BORING! Get out, bitch!

Pete to Win! (Or Glyn, because he’s a nice innocent ‘*Gog’ from Blaenau Ffestiniog)

* ‘Gog’ is Welsh word South Walians use to describe people from North Wales. It literally translates as ‘Northern (er)’ but depending on the way you say it, it can be offensive. Gogs call us (South Walians) ‘Hwntws’ which apparently means ‘rapists’. Bastards.

Biology Bites

2006-05-30T21:45:00.000+09:00

Nope. This ain’t no biology lesson. (Let me remind/inform you that I got a double ‘F’ on my science ‘Award’ leaving high school). I am referring to the absurd and resolute notion of the ‘Biological Clock’.
29-year old women all over the world are as we speak, falling over themselves to get pregnant before the big 3-0. 30 is like the holiest of holy expiry dates is seems, before your eggs start drying up and you are forced to desperately marry an accountant with halitosis and a comb-over.
What’s the big deal with 30 anyway? If I am to subscribe to that notion, then I only have 5 years left before the inner demon in me turns into a red-eyed, bunny boiling, ovary-aching, fiend just dying to get her paws on some (any) seed. I have an awful lot to accomplish (house, job, car, start to pay off loans, maybe actually finish paying off loans) in just five years before I am apparently destined to a life of nappies, colic and part-time jobs.
30 is the ‘new’ 20. Not so many moons ago, if you weren’t up the duff by the time you were twenty, you were a spinster, a widow, a witch or a queer. We are the ‘have it all’ generation. We want everything our parents worked 25 years to achieve; NOW. We demand the house, the holidays, the wardrobe, the car(s). These are ticked off on our little list of lifestyle choices (or ‘necessities’ as we call them).
What with the wealth of education opportunities open to us and the tendency for us to become ‘boomerang kids’ (moving back home with our parents in our twenties to ‘save money’), women are delaying their domestic ‘fates’ in order to get the things our mothers could only dream of at our age. Despite all this, 30 is still the modern magic number for most women.

Now I am fast approaching the magic number, I am feeling the gentle but not so subtle prodding of the procreation bandwagon parade back home (my family). ‘Oh, did you know (so-and-so) had her baby….so did (X, Y, Z) and (blah blah) is getting married next summer as well…’ Long pause. ‘Aren’t you clucky…Don’t you get broody…When do you think you’ll….y’know…?’ are the kinds of questions I am asked these days.
Only last week I was asked one of those questions. I said I thought kids were cute, but then I saw some strange kid on the train from Hamada to Izumo who kept rolling his eyes and slapping himself in the face. I hear and read horror stories about kids with Leukemia, Multiple Sclerosis, ADD, ODD, ADHD, Dyspraxia and other hair-raisingly frightening disorders and diseases and I just think ‘Naaaaaaaaah’. On the Red Dragon FM the other day (I listen to it on the Internet) it said that the average child will cost somewhere in the region of £150,000 (nearly $300,000) by the time they are 18. That’s the cost of a brand new apartment in Cardiff Bay! I could probably buy a holiday home somewhere really nice with that and have enough money left over for a couple of pairs of shoes! Not that I’m comparing the joy of procreation with a new pair of heels, but….well, its food for thought….

Tom Cruise is a Tool

2006-05-30T20:45:00.000+09:00

What is it with Tom Cruise? What is he on? I’m sure I’m not the only one who just cringes with embarrassment every time I see him or hear him speak. I have compiled a list of reasons to hate him.

1.)He divorced Nicole Kidman. Hello – why?! Because he didn’t want anyone stealing his precious limelight and overshadowing him. Which she frequently did…even when she wasn’t wearing heels.

2.) Media Whore. As Catherine Zeta-Jones came to realise, you can’t have your cake and eat it (excuse the pun). You can’t relentlessly seek fame and then throw a fit when you are photographed eating a piece of fucking cake or walking down the street. In Cruise’s case, you can’t blame the media for character-assassinating him when he has consistently done everything in his power to make himself an easy target. For example…

3.) The Tom and Katy Show. I find it disturbing and vomit-inducing that he has made their relationship such a shameless publicity stunt. This is the kind of behaviour you expect from a lower-echelon D-List celebrity with no other way of gaining attention (Like Jordan and Peter Andre). 20 years of stardom and some 20-odd year-old flange have obviously gone to his head. I’ve never had the pleasure of seeing his unbelievable sofa-leaping performance on the Oprah show, but I can understand its immediate impact on the dirt-hungry paparazzi. Back in the valleys, such idiotic behaviour would earn you a good old-fashioned smack in the chops.

4.) Superiority complex. Tom’s scientology beliefs have unfortunately lead him to believe that he knows more about Psychiatry than the last 200 years worth of pioneering Psychiatric practitioners put together. Apparently, mental illnesses can be treated with Vitamins! Bloody hell, I’d better tell my mother to pass on the message to the thousands of clients at her organisation; that their hallucinations and debilitating mental illnesses can be easily cured with a quick trip to Boots the chemist and a £1.50 packet of chewy orange Vitamin C sweets!

After criticising Brooke Sheilds’ use of medication to relieve her post-natal depression, Tom Cruise told his interviewer ‘You don’t know the history of Psychiatry….I do’. I would like to suggest than Tom Cruise should spend the afternoon at East Glamorgan Psychiatric ward in S.Wales, where my 19-year old cousin has spent considerable amounts of time suffering with Bi-polar manic depression combined with Aspergers Syndrome. Then he can tell the nursing staff there that they should not medicate their patients and stick around for a few hours and see what happens. The man is an idiot.

5.) He is so bloody FALSE. Is there not something just, creepily false about him? Growing up in Wales, and probably in the rest of the U.K too, we are somewhat suspicious and critical of Americans with big huge smiles, who drown you with praise and want to hug you as soon as they clap eyes on you. What underlying motivation is there? What do they really think? Are they being sarcastic, by pretending to like me? Surely no one is that happy? Why all the endless whoring of himself to the crowd at premieres? Is he hoping to recruit scientology disciples or something? Tom Cruise is the epitome of a shallow, mind-bendingly false, ‘lost in showbiz’ American. He has such a high opinion of himself that he failed to see the funny side when an interviewer from a British TV show squirted him in the face with a water pistol at a London premiere. Oh c’mon Tom lighten up! If it was me I would have punched you in the face!

Funnily enough, I have no venom for Katie Holmes. I see her as a victim who got sucked into Tom’s beam. She is blinded by the fame and she’s probably tripping over the fact that she actually bagged Tom Cruise – the guy we all drooled over in ‘Top Gun’ in the 80’s. She’s certainly come a long way since ‘Dawson’s Creek’. As for Tom, there aren’t enough words to convey my loathing and despise of him except to say that he is one strange, twisted and deluded little man.

Roll up! It's Gem's Magical Memory Tour...!

2006-05-10T22:17:00.000+09:00

Following on from an 80’s-themed article in the ‘Black Taxi’ JET Publication which I co-edit with the lovely Ozzie Cat McDonald (or ‘Bitch’ as I affectionately call her) this is a trawl through the glittery, sparkly cellars of my childhood memory…Come with me on a 1980’s magical memory tour…your sure to find some things your familiar with...

Michael Jackson.
Who was alive in the 80’s that doesn’t remember seeing ‘Thriller’ and remember wanting to be MJ’s wife? I did…even though I was only 8! But then I knew nothing about race identity crises or inappropriate Chimpanzee relations. One of my highlights of the 80’s was my mint green Michael Jackson tracksuit, featuring the ‘Bad’ album cover on the front. I was the height of cool thanks to my generous (?) parents.

BROS. Bros were Aryan-looking twins called Mat & Luke and a surplus bass player called Craig. They paved the way for large-scale boy band ‘brands’ and were one of the first British groups to specifically target merchandise-hungry teens. Fans of Bros were called ‘Brosettes’ and wore (if I remember correctly) bottle tops on their shoe laces as a mark of their adoration. I can’t be sure but I may have owned a pair of stone-washed ‘Bros’ jeans bought at Bessemer Rd market in Cardiff. Top Bros tunes included ‘When will I be famous?’ and ‘I owe you nothing’.

Thundercats. Thundercats were scary but super-sexy ‘cat’ action heroes. A bit boyish for me, but me and my brother Justin used to get up early on Saturday mornings (about 6am at least) to watch Thundercats and other 80’s classics like ‘Happy Days’ and ‘Laverne and Shirley’. I used to love the Thundercats crisps (10p bags) Why did they stop doing them goddamn it – why?!

Madge. Madonna (or ‘Madge’ as trashy UK mags have christened her) exploded onto the scene in the 80’s with ‘Borderline’ and ‘Lucky Star’. She has so far failed to disappear. Despite being completely lost in showbiz (Kabbalah…changing her name to ‘Esther’…thinking she is English…giving her kids stupid names…) you have to give her some credit for sticking around this long and re-inventing herself every 1-2 years. One of my fave Madge memories is of me and my friend of ole’ – Rhian Thomas (formerly Westbrook).

We had a thing for Madge and a crush on a boy called Paul Jones so we dressed up as Madge and decided to go call for him. We backcombed our hair, decorated it with lace ribbons hanging down in our faces, draped plastic necklaces round our necks and drew Madonna beauty spots above our lips. We made the boy come with us round the back of the Chicken Sheds near our Primary School. His mate Gareth Whitnell was with us but we didn’t fancy him. We demanded that Paul kiss us both but we said that Gareth wasn’t allowed to look. Paul said he wouldn’t do it unless Gareth could look too, so we said OK. Thanks to Madonna and her sluttish influence, Rhian Thomas and I both had our first kiss with Paul Jones that afternoon. Tarts.

Gary J. Paul. You may not remember him. That’s because he was an imaginary boyfriend I made up to look cool. The afore-mentioned Paul Jones developed a bigger crush on my cousin (damn that evil wench) so I was forced to come up with an action plan. Gary J. Paul wrote some very romantic letters…but then I was a relatively creative 9-year old. (Note: the ‘J’ initial was totally influenced by the ever-cool Michael J Fox who was huge at this time).

Transformers (more than meets the eye…). OK, I didn’t like them (I was a girl for god’s sake). However, my brother Justin still keeps on harping on about the fact that in the 80’s, I broke his Transformers Radio a few days after he got it. I bet when I go home next he’ll mention it again. Girls have reasons for doing evil things like this. He was probably teasing me relentlessly and calling me ‘German’ instead of ‘Gemma’ and saying that ‘My Little Pony’ was retarded. So I did the only thing I could do; I stood on a wall and threw the Transformer Radio at the concrete below me. SMASH. More than meets the eye? Not any more, luv…

Timmy Mallet. Imagine this at 7am on a Saturday morning. “Ok kids, everybody say ‘BLLLUUUURRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGHH!’ – Louder c’mon ‘BLLLUUUURRRRRRGGGGGGGHHHH’” Timmy Mallet was a stupid-ass obnoxious Kids TV host of the U.K show ‘Wackaday’. He wore really CRAZY glasses and had a pet budgie. They had this word-association game on ‘Wackaday’ called ‘Mallet’s Mallet’. Those who messed up got a clonk on the head with a large pink and yellow foam mallet. The winners of ‘Mallet’s Mallet’ got given a plaster (band-aid) with ‘Wackaday’ written on it and got to stick it on their chin or forehead and look into the camera menacingly and say ‘BLLLLLLLLUUUUUUUURRRRRRRGGGGGHHH’ to their parents or their teacher or whoever. Many years later at my University Graduation Ball in Cardiff International Arena, WHO should be one of the guests on the play list? Bloody TIMMY MALLET doing a ‘come-back tour’ (catering to pissed-up students). He was selling miniature mallets for 10 quid a pop and there was a huge cue to buy them. Looks like Timmy got the last laugh.

Confectionary. First of all I would like to extend my belated thanks to Mrs. Jones (formerly of School Street, Tonyrefail) who used to run the ‘pop shop’ (sweets, crisps and soda shop next to my primary school). She was ancient (my MOTHER used to buy sweets from her when she was in grammar school, for gods sake). Every Friday my step-dad would take me to the 'pop shop’ and buy me those lush flying saucer sweets with sherbet in the middle, ‘fish n chips’ (made from chocolate), chocolate mice, cola cubes, peanut brittle, rhubarb and custard sweets (quarter or half a pound or a 10/20p ‘mix up’). You could also buy a cup of pop (soda) for 5p (that’s how long ago it was). Her shop was set up in the front of her house and smelled a bit like cats and old people. Original sweets that came out at the time were ‘Eye Poppers’ (the sourest sweets ever known to mankind) and ‘Nerds’ (tiny pellet sweets compartmentalized into color/flavor sections. Oh, how cool they were! RIP Mrs. Jones.

Biccies. As anyone in the British Isles will tell you, we all love biscuits. The Scots do these lovely chocolate-wafer biscuits and marshmallow ‘snowballs’ made by a company (from Glasgow I think) called ‘Tunnocks’. Lush. My cousin Caroline and I used to like smashing the Tunnocks snowballs on our foreheads before eating them. I don’t know why. In the 80’s I remember my Nan always used to buy ‘Fig Rolls’ and ‘Lemon Puffs’. That always used to puzzle me. Why would someone choose fruit-flavor over chocolate? I still like Lemon Puffs though. At our house, treats would include ‘Wagon Wheels’, ‘Trio’s’, ‘Milky Way’, ‘Club’ and ‘Penguins’. But we didn’t really have that much junk food at home like we do now, back then it was still a ‘treat’ that you might buy if someone was coming round or there was a party. Most people used to buy much plainer stuff like ‘Rich Tea’ or ‘Malted Milk’ – they were cheaper. Malted Milk used to have a dairy cow pattern on the front which I used to like biting around. Also, Malted Milk had a good ‘dunking’ performance. This means it can sustain at least three seconds in the tea before you take it out. You don’t want a biccie that will dissolve when you dunk it in the tea. ‘Chocolate Digestives’ and ‘Hob Nobs’ also have excellent dunking performances. For excellent Tea and Biscuit nostalgia you must visit this website; www.nicecupofteaandasitdown.com

I encourage you all to e-mail and post your contributions!

All the Nostalgic Love,

Gemma

(FAO Justin...'My Little Pony' are not retarded)

Flying Solo (Thanks for the title, Benji)

2006-05-10T21:36:00.000+09:00

I’ve come to realise of late that I am an anti-social (but sometimes sociable) recluse. Much to my alarm, I have recently found myself shunning possible drinking sessions with large groups of Japanese and even my own peers on the JET Program!

I’ve done this lots of times with groups of Japanese and usually claim I don’t want to go out with them because my Japanese sucks and I hate looking stupid and have no idea what’s going on, but sometimes the thought of going out to a party with lots of (especially new) people makes me want to vom slightly. I am fine with smaller groups and also with large groups of people I already know but often the inane small talk / politeness / predictability / making an impression stuff is just far too tiresome to contend with.

This was further confirmed the other day during cleaning time at school. Everyday in schools all over Japan, students and teachers clean the entire school together after lunch. I imagine they do this because they don’t want to give evening jobs to under qualified forty-five year old women. Everyday this teacher Yamada Sensei keeps bugging the kids to talk to me and ask me questions in English, which I’m sure they hate. I reckon he pretends his English is crapper than it is, so he can get the kids to ‘translate’ and then by praising them, deflect from his own embarrassment (I know! I have too much time to think of these things).

Anyway, I know it’s kind of my job to motivate/converse with the kids but really I just want him to stop bugging the kids and me. I just want to be left alone. We get along fine when we are cleaning quietly and peacefully and then a simple ‘thank you’ or ‘see you later’ is cool with me (and them). I could go to another part of the school to clean, but I never clean toilets unless they’re my own and I don’t want to clean classrooms. Corridors are good. Corridors are fine. So on that day, I was hovering at the back trying to be unnoticed (not easy in Japan). Yamada Sensei was obviously talking about me to the kids, trying to get them to initiate conversation. I usually jump in at this point and save them from his nagging, but today I pretended I couldn’t hear and kept sweeping further and further and further away…

As for socialising outside of school…I am apparently so relaxed and comfortable in my boyfriend and friend spheres that I really don’t care to extend my circle of friends. I’m happy with what I’ve got. You know, if I had no faith in my abilities, I would be more concerned at my current apathy for social networking, especially since I am hoping to carve out a career for myself in Public Relations (ooooops).

Sometimes when I was growing up, my mother used to call me ‘Greta’ (referring to Garbo’s famous movie line ‘I want to be alone…’) I used to mope off and disappear alone for hours on end. Still in my mid-twenties, it’s not uncommon for ‘Greta’ to make an appearance from time to time. My dear late Grandmother was another ‘Greta’. She never wanted to socialise with other ‘old people’. Because they had no appreciation for literature and the classics, because they didn’t read and recite poetry, because unlike her, they were not doing a Degree in Art History and English Literature at the age of 75. She was the most adorable snob. But I got to thinking, her snobbish claims were as transparent as my ‘poor Japanese’ excuses. She wasn’t especially concerned with all that stuff. She just preferred to spend time with the people that really mattered. Maybe I do too.

Greta Garbo

1905 - 1990

‘Biscuit Tin Fascists’

2006-05-10T21:17:00.000+09:00

My school is ripping me off.

Every month 1,000 Yen (Five British pounds or about 10 dollars) is deducted from my pay packet to pay for ‘tea’, coffee (yuk) and ‘snacks’ in the staff room. I resent this. I was never asked did I want to contribute, I was never asked ‘do you actually like our coffee that tastes like arse and do you like our paltry salty fishy offerings in the biscuit tin?’. No! I hardly ever drink the coffee unless I am dying of thirst (there is no water on offer), starving (you’ll definitely have no appetite afterwards) or freezing to death (November to March).

There is no way that the meager things I do consume add up to five quid a month. In fact, I have taken to bringing in my own Coffee’s and Hot chocolates. The stuff that they do put in the tin looks like it comes from Hyaku En (100 Yen store). Would it be terribly, terribly demanding to perhaps put something substantial in the tin – like a flapjack or a packet of crisps? Apparently yes it would. Fascists.

Benji n Gem Go Polynesian on your Ass

2006-04-28T21:31:00.000+09:00

So! Hawaii…! Sounds terribly exotic doesn’t it? Well to all intents and purposes it is. But there were of course a few ‘incidents’ that left our trip occasionally lacking on the ‘exotic’ front and veering more toward a downright shambles! Most of you will have indeed read/heard about this already, either fro me or from reading Benji’s post on his website (You must visit!). You can also see a wealth of pictures of our trip to Hawaii and a load of pictures n posts of the last year and a half, to boot. Despite the aforementioned bad luck, we took a leaf from the wise book of Puff Diddy (or whatever he’s calling himself now) as he once intelligently rapped ‘Can’t nobody hold us down...oh no…you got to keep on movin’…’ (Hmmmmmm)

By the way, I would like to positively discourage anyone from EVER flying with Northwest Airlines in the future, because they suck – BIG TIME. They charge for alcoholic drinks (an outrage!) and there were no screens in the backs of the seats. Darlings, it was like flying Ghetto Airlines circa 1976. Whatever happened to value for money? I hear Northwest is now charging per luggage item and extra for leg room and isle seats. Down with them, I say!

So yeah…our trip seemed slightly cursed from the start, really. All the buses to and from Osaka on our preferred dates were full (Pesky Japanese – how dare they travel) and the train to Kansai broke down and left us shivering on a platform whilst we waited for a bus to take us there instead. Then we were forced to sit next to fat foreign tourists and lots of Japanese tourists with offensive zoom lenses.

When we got to O’ahu – it was beautiful! And raining…and overcast. It had been like this for three weeks apparently. Oh joy! This was the weather pattern for pretty much the whole holiday! We had it all – thunder, lightening, flash flood warnings, evacuation notices, a supposed cyclone even! Despite all this, there was no dampening our spirits for too long ‘cos we were in Hawaii baby, yeah!

So it rained almost every day and most nights, but the sun came out for a little while each day. Benji and I changed from a pasty white to a nice creamy white instead. Indeed, one day we were lucky enough to be able to spend four whole hours at the beach! (Wow!). It was however, raining when we got there. But like the determined tourists we were, we defiantly went swimming in the Pacific on a deserted beach called Kailua. It reminded me a bit of going swimming on holiday in North Wales when I was eight. “Ah well I’m on holiday, I don’t care that the water is freezing…what’s that? My lips are blue…?”

We got to imagine we were holidaying within spitting distance of the mighty Maverick and Ice Man (Top Gun) because we stayed at Hickham Air force base for most of the holiday. (Ben’s sister Christina is in the Air force). Can I just say that people in the Air force in the states have it made. Benji and I were expecting something far more hardcore and erm…military-like! The base was just short of resembling a Butlins holiday camp. Actually, on second thoughts…it was a bit nicer than Butlins. What is the world coming to?

O’ahu. It’s REALLY touristy but it’s hard not to like it. The tourists are mostly Japanese, so in some cases I felt like I hadn’t left Japan. That is, until I ventured into a restaurant and found an abundance of tasty food on the menu. Ironically, despite being sick to the back teeth of (raw) fish, I couldn’t get enough of the seafood in Hawaii. Mainly cos they like to cook and season the fish. That’s the secret, you see… (I recommend the Swordfish, the Mahi Mahi and big fat tuna steaks).

One of the coolest places we went was the Polynesian Cultural Centre, where they’ve built a number of huge replicas of real-life Polynesian villages (Hawaii, Aotearoa, Tonga, Marquesas, Samoa, etc). You get to wander around, see the displays and shows, take part in cultural activities, see dudes making fire out of rubbing sticks and climbing trees for coconuts, drumming, dancing and all that jazz. I walked around all day wearing a ridiculous Tongan flower headband and Benji wore a banana leaf head decoration and we both wore Hawaiian Leis. We looked stupid, but you have to get in the spirit, don’t you? We went to a crap Luau and a great show in the evening called ‘Horizons: Where the Sea meets the Sky’.

We stayed at a resort called ‘Turtle Cove’ for a few days. It was a resort for family members of the Air force and it had a lovely beach…apparently. We weren’t allowed on it ‘cos it was closed due to possible flood water contamination. Nice. It was bloody typical. We also wanted to go to Hanauma Bay. Y’know, since it’s a world-class beach and one of the top 5 beaches in the world for Snorkeling an’ all that. But guess what? THAT was bloody closed too…Poisonous Jellyfish this time. And so the theme continued…!

St Pat’s night was cool. We went along to a pub called ‘Kelly O’Neill’s’, one of the few (if only) Irish places on the Island. We hooked up with a guy who was dressed up as St. Pat himself and a couple who have five kids and now live in Silicon Valley. Top peeps. They had a big thing for my accent. I think they thought I was Cerys Matthews from Catatonia or something. St. Pat was a bit of a sleaze and his costume was an obvious ploy to win over the ladies, but it actually worked! Dear St. Pat was no spring chicken and his loins were obviously burning because he took us to a pick-up joint with a ‘twist’. A place called ‘Coco Willies’, just off Waikiki beach which to our horror was full of old ‘wrinklies’ with one foot in the grave, drinking G & T’s and doing the Waltz. They had one of those terrible cabaret duo’s wearing Hawaiian shirts and singing along to a keyboard and a backing track. It was like a Hawaiian version of ‘Phoenix Nights’.

Our Limerick couple nearly keeled over in shock and disgust. However, after the initial shock, Benji and I saw the opportunity for comedy. So after a few Mai Tai’s, we showed the Geriatrics how to shake their asses and do the ‘pump pump pump’ and ‘shimmy’ moves. Unfortunately, we were asked to leave by the management when one of the Gerry’s popped their hip out. So we took our leave and prepared for an ungodly hangover the next day…

...Which was unfortunate because the next morning I was scheduled to swim with Dolphins. I asked Ben if I could cancel because I didn’t want to projectile vomit all over the dolphin and the other participants. I was doing the Dolphin Discovery Swim at Sea Life Park with Christina, Ben’s sister. My hangover was vile and my head felt like somebody was smashing coconuts against my skull. But I went ahead and lucky for me and the Dolphin, I managed not to hurl. The adrenalin of touching the dolphin and getting him to pull me along made me forget my alcohol dependency problem. I had a great time, even though this big huge fat woman kept pushing in front of me. I couldn’t be sure, but I was sure I’d seen here earlier…participating in the Whale show.

I feel really, really lucky that thanks to Japanese tax-payers and the unfair pay advantage for participants of the JET Program, I have been able to see places like Thailand, Taiwan, Quincy (Illinois) and Coco Willies Cabaret bar, Hawaii. It just goes to show, you never know what’s around the corner…

The Curse of the Yakult Woman

2006-04-27T18:20:00.000+09:00

I would like to draw your attention to something gross and despicable that is happening right here in my school and schools all across Japan.

You know Yakult, right? In Japan they are freakishly obsessive about health (that’s why they live 'till they’re 190 years old). Lots of people drink those yukky yogurt drinks in the morning. You know the ones, the sour, lumpy ones. Spookily, they have this woman come every day who is supposedly some kind of health consultant/Yakult PR lady. She drives a custom-made Yakult van and carries a suspicious looking ‘Yakult’ bag. I’ve been observing her closely and I have decided that she is actually a drug user and dealer. Her ‘Yakult’ façade does not fool me for a minute.
I have evidence to support my suspicion. I grew up in an area where there were plenty of Junkies and pushers to observe (Tonyrefail in Rhondda-Cynon-Taf, S.Wales). The Yakult woman displays ‘manic’ symptoms. Extreme cheerfulness, darting eyes and a demonic fixed grin. I have never seen one of her ‘lows’. I can only surmise that she snorts/injects/consumes her stash before she gets to school. She’s always leaving school just as I’m arriving, so she must do her ‘rounds’ before I arrive.

It’s a shame that drugs are everywhere, even in rural Japan. Drug users and dealers have many faces. That innocent 97-year old grandma working in the rice-field may be an evil drug dealer. Have you looked closely…really closely at those ‘rice crops’ she’s so precious about?

Let’s all be drug aware. We can overcome junkie scum together if we try.

We’ve just got to believe in ourselves...

Election Vans, Flag Patrol, The 80's...

2006-04-27T17:47:00.000+09:00

Welcome to my first post on Jim Jam’s journal! I was going to start off telling you all about my strange but wonderful trip to Hawaii. But I’ve decided to go with something more in the present for the time being. Keep an eye out for a write up of my Hawaii trip, though coming soon…!

I think I may have been suffering from the post-holiday blues of late. Recently, after the crap cherry blossoms and crap weather, everything seems to look comparatively pale and uninteresting. The school year in Japan has just started (it starts in April here). So everyone has to contend with new teachers…and old ones you’d grown to like disappearing off the face of the earth. We had opening ceremonies…the most rigid funeral-esque, mind-numbing thing I’ve ever experienced. Sometimes the incredibly regimented, almost military approach to everything in Japan can get you down. The endless bowing, stiff-necked speeches and ‘yoroshiku’s’ can sometimes make me long for office piss-taking and ‘in jokes’ like you get back home. How I miss those days when five gin and coke’s down the Romilly pub was what you’d get for lunch, and strange locations and zany Welshies and arty-farty’s and more eccentrics than you could shake a stick at.

Pretending to learn new teachers’ names (which you’ll instantly forget) is the name of the game these days. I sit next to a really stony-faced guy whose name I don’t know. I miss Mr. Kimura! At least he had a personality. And he giggled. I like men who giggle. It’s cute. Also, I’ve decided that one of my JTE’s (Japanese English teachers) has a Sociopathic personality disorder. He is quite positively the vilest, most anti-social, uninspiring man I’ve ever met. Today after speaking with him I was physically shaking with rage. But being in Japan, you have to do as the Japanese do…so I wasn’t able to tell him ‘Oi...wanker…why don’t you just stick the lesson plan where the sun don’t shine...al’rite?!’.

Whilst I am on a rant, I will tell you something else…I hate flag patrol. Basically Flag patrol teachers take turns to stand in the pissing down rain waiting for the green man (or walk sign) and ‘cross’ HIGH SCHOOL students across the road using a yellow flag, and in the process attempt to make me feel guilty because I am on my way to school at 8.15am and they are already working. I understand the need for flag patrol for elementary kids, but high school kids? C’mon… Anyway Hirata is hardly a buzzing metropolis; you’d have more chance of getting run over by a milk float.

A week or two ago, I was subjected to one of the most loathsome things ever…The Election Van. A few times a year (it seems) a group of 40-60 year olds (with nothing better to do) compete against each other to sit on some obscure local authority committee in the arse end of nowhere. For weeks on end, the unsuspecting public is bombarded posters of their ugly mugs and shrill soundtracks of their voices being played at 1.5 million decibels by some decrepit coffin-dodger wearing white gloves. Sometimes they start at 7am. 7am!!! If that happened in the S.Wales valleys, first of all that would be noise pollution – an offense. Secondly, anyone stupid enough to try it would be beaten within an inch of their lives….and they’d nick the car as a finale.

Ah yes…the valleys…how I miss you! I did get to relive some nostalgia however, last Saturday. Teaching 80’s dance at the International Dance Day in Matsue City. Ah yes…remember the 80’s and the fabulously gaudy outfits? I love it! I am a child of the 80’s through and through. Catherine, the Amazing Adelaide chick and I taught the poor folks how to do the Nutbush, the birdy song and ‘Superman’ by Black Lace. A good time was had by all. (Even Ben…reluctantly)

I shall finish this post by suggesting you go out and purchase/download/steal or borrow some classic Black Lace tunes…including Superman, Agadoo and Do tha Conga. “Agadoo doo doo, push pineapple shake the tree…!”