Sumimasen. Sorry for the long gap in posts. No excuse really. Just laziness. Plenty of excitement has been had by all, but I just couldn't motivate myself to share it with you lovely people. That having been said, let me share some of my goals for 2009:
*Cook one new recipe a week
*Study Japanese for 3 hours or more each week
*Plan the best wedding you or anyone you know has ever been to
*Eat a bit healthier (All those adorable Japanese sweets are so tempting!)
*Travel outside of Niigata 3 times
*Write on this here blog twice a month at minimum
*Do yoga and meditate more often
In the first two months of 2009, I've come closer to achieving some goals more than others. Our new Peppy School Year is starting in April and Spring is on the door step, so I feel a greater sense of renewal now than I did in January. I've been feeling sick for the past few weeks and therefore grumpier than usual, but now I'm feeling much better. With a happier demeanor, perhaps I can stick to my goals a bit more successfully. And now that I've put them out here on the internet for all to see, hopefully you guys can keep me accountable and bug me about my progress with these goals.
What have I been up to besides making and failing to meet personal goals? Well... At the end of January, one of my friends, Jessica, turned 23, so a bunch of us headed to Niigata to celebrate in "the big city." One of my other friends, Cat, is a belly dancer and teaches at a studio in Niigata. The owner of the jazz club below her studio told her about a jazz performance in the club that night and said she should bring all her gaijin friends with her. The performance started at 9:00, but we were only half-way through our bottle of wine and pizza at that point in the night. We finally made it to the studio around 10:45 and the performance was well underway. The club was packed. There were at least two people sitting on every chair and it appeared that every inch of floor space was covered by someone's shoes. The entrance door to the club led directly to the stage. When we peaked past the door, the owner waved us in, but there was no where to go. She continued to wave us in, so we headed for the only open area of the club, behind the bar. We had to cross the stage and walk in front of the audience to reach the bar. When the band finished their song, the club applauded the musicians and then gave the new audience members, us, a round of applause for being foreigners. The music was great though I only understood the very few English phrases thrown in here and there. It was my second Japanese jazz experience and I must say it is one musical genre they've translated beautifully. We were all enjoying the music when the owner got on the mic and announced there would be a belly dancing performance. Cat looked around the room for the belly dancer for a moment before realizing that she was about to do an impromptu belly dancing show to some jazz music. If she was nervous, it didn't show. She got up in front of the crowd and danced beautifully to songs I doubt any other belly dancer has ever used in a performance.
After a mint martini or two at cozy Café 37, we decided to head back to the station where we had stored our bags in lockers. We had planned to stay at a sento, an onsen/hostel. We got to the station and found, to our shock and horror, that Niigata Station was closed until 6:00 a.m.! We walked around the station looking for different entrances that might possibly be open, but to no avail. It didn't take us long to decide that the only place to wait out 4 hours until the station reopened was a karaoke bar. Some of us were more tired than others and fell asleep at random intervals throughout the karaoke performances. Cat was dozing off one minute and the next, I looked up to find her dancing around on the benches. Joe and I both took a little nap and then simultaneously popped up to join Jessica in a lovely rendition of Britney Spear's "Lucky." Yusuf's friend, referred to by all as Brother, had the most dramatic sleeping experience. In the middle of a tirade about something none of us can quite recall, he decided to pass out, falling suddenly on the table spilling water about and breaking a few glasses.
We went to retrieve our bags from the station at 6:00 a.m. We got to the sento, had a quick bath and fell asleep quite easily. Around 11:00, we began to wake up, bathe, and stumble around wishing we'd stayed on our cots a little longer. We had some Indian food, spend many hours in Starbucks trying to wake up, and ended the birthday revelry by engaging in one of Jessica's favorite activities, purikura.
Dustin and I decided to stay in Niigata an extra night on account of our Round One addiction. We played medals, but lost big time. We decided to come back in the morning for SportCha, the 3 hours of free play. Check out at the sento was 9:00 in the morning. Luckily, it was right next to Round One. We checked out at 8:50, ran into the conbini for breakfast, and headed to Round One. Unfortunately, we didn't know that Round One doesn't open until 10:00. So, we spent an hour in the snowy cold waiting and waiting and waiting. Once we got in, we decided to spend just an hour and a half at SportCha since I was especially tired and crabby. I spent my entire ninety minutes in the massage chair room listening to some relaxing Philip Glass. It was 1500 yen well spent.
All in all, it was a fun weekend; however, the hour spent outside Round One combined with the hours of sleep lost on our adventurous night cost me my health for a week. Luckily, it was an office week and I spent most of my time at a desk, being particularly un-genki. I did have to fill in for a co-worker at the end of the week. I tried to don one of the surgical masks courteous Japanese people wear to keep their sickness to themselves, but after 5 minutes, I thought I was going to suffocate. I don't know how they wear them all day long. It made me feel even sicker. By some miracle, I had a rare three day weekend, so I spent many hours in bed and drank loads of o.j. Dustin, being the kind and loving fiancé that he is, went to the drug store to find something to make me all better. He brought back Strong Wakamoto. On the box, there is a picture of a girl holding her chest, a picture of a girl holding her stomach, picture of a guy flexing his obviously strong muscle, and a lot of kanji that we didn't understand in the least. Dustin said he thought they were general vitamins to build a strong immune system. I was sickly, so I didn't question him and starting taking 3-4 a day. He took one occasionally to fight off any potential immune system deficiencies. After about a week, I began to feel better, but I didn't know if extra vitamin C, lots of sleeping, or Strong Wakamoto deserved credit. I wasn't sure if I should continue to take these vitamins, especially if I didn't know exactly what they were. I wasn't too worried, since the Japanese don't really do medicine and almost anything you find at the drugstore is actually a bunch of herbs and vitamins. Still, my curiosity had to be sated, so we (and by we, I mean Dustin) looked up all of the kanji that were written on the front of the box. Much to our surprise, we discovered that we'd both been taking an anti-constipation pill for about 7 days! It must not work too well, because neither of us noticed too much of a change in that area. Needless to say, I will be translating anything and everything I put in my body from now on.
January and February were very snowy months. When I first realized the snow was going to be sticking around longer than the 2-3 weeks I'm used to in Missouri, I retreated to my apartment where my warm blankets and space heater kept me unfrozen. After weeks of laziness and boredom, I gave in and decided to participate in some Japanese winter activities. Some of the Peppy teachers formed a team to compete in the International Snowball Fight Championship (also known as the World Snowball Fight Championship depending on which banners or literature you read). It was my first Japanese festival complete with vendors selling squid on a stick, chocolate covered bananas, and sake starting at 8:00 a.m. The boys began drinking beer around 9:30, but I waited to try some Niigata sake until 11:00. I had just enough time to finish my cup before we had to fight our enemies. Since girls could be hit 5 times before being out and boys could only be hit 3 times before being finished, I was declared the team captain. I had a lot of pressure on me, because the rules stated that if the captain got out, the team lost. As team captain, I was required to dress like an idiot. I was given the type of hat a rice farmer might wear, giant snow shoes, and a huge wooden paddle with which I could defend myself. Some of the teams come just for the costume competition. Teams like the Obamas, the girly men, and the banana-head girls weren't there as serious snowball fighters; they just wanted to dress up and have fun. Our first competitors were a bunch of girls dressed up and not serious about winning. We creamed them. The second team we fought, however, was full of baseball players, who were much more athletic than anyone on our team. In this case, we were the ones creamed. Towards the end, I looked around and realized that Dustin and I were the only ones standing. I said, "Dustin, we're the only ones left." Moments later, Dustin was out, too, and I suddenly found myself retreating into the fetal position trying to escape the barrage of snowballs raining down on me. Defeated though we were, we didn't let it get our spirits down. A few magical rides down the hill on sleds and 10 minutes of awesome BMX bike tricks and everyone was more than happy. We'll spend next winter training and be champions in 2010!
The weekend after the snowball fight, we headed to another mountain for snowboarding. Neither Dustin nor I had ever tried the sport, but we'd skiied before, so we figured we could get it easily enough. We rented snowsuits and snowboards and scampered up the practice hill to learn the ways of the board. Our friend Mikiko gave us tips and showed us how to fall and get back up. I mastered the falling part, but never quite got the getting back up without taking the board off first. Dustin slid down the hill a few times before feeling confident enough to hop on the lift and snowboard down the mountain. Mikiko asked if I wanted to come along, but I opted to stay on the hill and practice a while longer. When she'd made it up and back down again, I was still trying to make it down the 50 foot hill without falling and it wasn't going well. My frustration was obvious, so Yuko, Mikiko's friend, suggested I switch to skis, which I'd told them I had tried before. What I hadn't told them was about my last experience with skis, when my much more experienced sister had taken me on black diamond hill where I freaked out half-way down and had to be carried down by the ski resort staff on a snowmobile.
I got to the top of the practice hill, donned my skis, and skied down the hill flawlessly. At the bottom of the hill, I was greeted by a joyful Mikiko and Yuko clapping and telling me what a great skier I was. (It's the Japanese way to overly praise. My friends and colleagues are continually amazed at my Japanese despite the fact that I know a very limited set of useful phrases and Japanese characters.) They suggested that we go to the top. I was slightly nervous, but I knew they would wait with me all day if I didn't go then and there, and I didn't want to delay their fun any longer. The view on the ride to the top was peaceful and gorgeous, but as we got closer and closer to the end of the lift, I got increasingly terrified. I wasn't ready for this.
Mikiko sailed down the moutain on her snowboard, but she asked Yuko to stay with me, since she was on skis, too. I started going down the beginners path slowly and not so surely. I remembered that I need to make a pizza shape to slow down and I just kept pushing the backs of my skis out further and further until I'd slow down to a halt and then speed up a bit until I got scared again. Yuko tried to give me pointers, but we had a major language barrier. We got down the mountain about a third of the way and suddenly, it got very steep. I tried to make the pizza, but I pushed out my skis too far and they crossed and I tumbled down, slamming hard on my right shoulder. Memories of my last skiing experience flooded back and any sliver of confidence I'd had left my body. Yuko helped me get grounded again and put my skis back on, but I just kept falling over and over again, each time landing hard on my right shoulder. Eventually, the pain and terror became too much. I didn't want to go on, but I literally didn't know how to tell Yuko. I pointed to my shoulder and said, "Itai," or "Hurt." She said, "Daijobu?" or "Are you ok?" I said, "Daijobu nai. Kowai." or "I'm ok no. Fear." We looked at each other not knowing what to say or do. I started repeating, "Kowai... itai... kowai... itai... kowai."
The pain, anxiety, and frustration got to me, and I started to cry. I'd only met Yuko a few hours before and she really didn't know what to do and was getting increasingly more uncomfortable. Being the polite Japanese girl she was, she tried ever so hard to make me feel better and assure me everything would be ok. She said, "Walk?" I really didn't want to walk the remaining third of the mountain carrying my skis with a bum shoulder, but it seemed a far superior choice to skiing the rest of the way down. I slung the skis over my left shoulder and started to walk while she went to put her skis on to, I assumed, ski the rest of the way down alone. She must have called Mikiko to ask her what to do, because I walked down for about 5 minutes before Yuko found me and told me to stick my skiis in the snow and called Mikiko to explain to me that the medic was coming to take me the rest of the way down. Yuko and I sat awkwardly in the snow, not able to say much to each other. I hadn't bothered to enjoy the scenery until she said, "It's beautiful." and pointed to the view. Since we were just sitting there and it was rather breathtaking, I decided to take a picture. Tears were streaming down my face, but Yuko thought I should be in the picture. She motioned that I should wipe away the tears and said, "Don't cry." before snapping a photo. It was an oddly sweet moment. A short while later, the medic came, I got on the back of yet another snowmobile and had quite the déja vu. I spent the remainder of the day in the "lodge" drinking tea and reading. A trip to onsen after skiing, a lidocaine patch, and a few days of moving my arm as little as humanly possible did wonders and I have no lasting damage from my second traumatic skiing experience. Maybe I'll try it again next year, but I'll wait to buy a lift pass until I've spent half the day on the practice hill. And I will be taking a Japanese class at the Civic Center starting in April, so I can better communicate with everyone.
*Photos of the snowboarding trip are at the end of the "Oh, Brother" album and the snowball fight photos are now at the top of the list!
