Kimono classes │ Coping with grief │ Photography │ Events the refill | April/May 2012 1
Editor’s note
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pril 1 marks the start of the new year across Japan. Old friends go to new places while new teachers and students come to school. And of course, we’re pleased to offer up that steadiest reminder of the seasons, a new issue of The Refill.
This issue is filled with travel suggestions - firsthand accounts of off-the-beaten track destinations from Tibet to Yakushima to the Sasebo Naval Shipyard. We have good advice on Kimono, teaching and whipping up healthy greens, as well as some terrible advice about haircuts. In opinion, we share an experience of coping with loss while far from home.
On an unfortunate note, we regret to say that an article written for a previous issue of The Refill has been removed from our archives over plagiarism concerns. Our editors trusted that the author was submitting original work but later discovered that vast sections were identical to an article in The Japan Times. We thought it best to acknowledge the error. While The Refill is run by volunteers, we hold ourselves to the highest standards and have taken steps to make sure this doesn’t happen again.
Rebekah Randle Editor-in-chief
the refill #9 ǀ Apr/May 2012
Editor-in-chief Rebekah Randle
Content Editors Keliko Adams Lauren Every-Wortman
Layout and Design Hugh McCafferty
Copy Editor Eryk Salvaggio
Contributors Tanya Bogaty Ashley Chin Laura Giorgio Mandy Hindle
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Jamina Ovbude Johnny Price Alanna Schubach Andrew Young
Cover photo: Mandy Hindle
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Inside
Photo: Rebekah Randle
4 Short shorts
Lesser-seen Fukuoka: Ace of base Top 5: Girly dates
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8 In Fukuoka
A nice thing to do once a year
10 Travel
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Green heaven Tibet or not Tibet?
Photo: Keliko Adams
15 Living
Talk to me like mothers do Kimohno! Recipes
20 Opinion
Depression, mourning and choosing to stay A man’s man
24 Entertainment Events Ask Professor Sempai Reviews
28 Photos
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Photo: Mandy Hindle
Short shorts: Lesser-seen Fukuoka
Base Laura Giorgio goes in search of anthropological insights (and Twinkies) at the US Navy base in Sasebo Photos: US Navy
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he first thing you see when you drive to Sasebo are the battleships. Many of them. It looks like a movie set. You drive down the mountains towards the sea and if you’re lucky, you stumble upon the ubiquitous Armed Forces radio station, letting some Phil Collins or perhaps Sisquo’s “Thong Song” soothe your roadweary soul. When you get to Sasebo, you will probably eat at Sasebo burger, perhaps you’ll go to some bars (body shots?), but if you are really lucky, maybe you know someone who can bring you on base.
Which is exactly what some friends and I were lucky enough to do last month. We called it: Project Freedom Fries.
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I’ve always been curious about military bases, especially foreign ones. Last winter I was at Narita, surrounded by about 100 foreigners at a security checkpoint. Every one of them was headed to the base in Okinawa except me. Our paths diverged at the airport and never crossed again. Of the three groups of Westerners working in Japan - business people, English teachers and military - none mix much, but only the military is shrouded in secrecy.
felt much connection to.
We had a hard time looking inconspicuous. A big giveaway was my friend’s long hair and beard, though perhaps an even bigger giveaway was my squawking at the canteen over how “this cheese only costs 100 yen! I mean pennies! I mean YENNIES!” The culture shock of so quickly and unceremoniously entering a mock version of my own country was a lot to handle. Plus, the cheese!
But this is not America. It doesn’t even count as American soil, a subject we debated on the drive up. There may be a sad-looking, windowless Chilis, there may be penises spraypainted on the sidewalks, and The Fugitive may be on your television, but this is still Japan. And, just like in Japan, fauxpaus were made. I assumed our kind host was a naval officer (he wasn’t). We all stared too much and got stared at as a result. We accidentally bowed and thanked people in Japanese. We mistakenly ignored a very blatant sign in English and drove the wrong way down a one-way street before getting yelled at by a man in a massive 10-gallon cowboy hat. In the end, the day wasn’t so unfamiliar-feeling after all: I still felt like the same nerdy English teacher, unaware of social cues, treating everything around me with a mix of awe and amusement.
There may be a sad, windowless Chilis, there may be penises spraypainted on the sidewalks, but this is still Japan
So when my friend mentioned he had a connection at the base in Sasebo, I saw it as part anthropological-field-trip, and part opportunity-to-buy-some-Reeses-Puffs-cereal.
Just past the security checkpoint, the base is a giant, small town American college campus, with battleships. There was tailgating. There were guys throwing a football around and expressing bro-ey affection with each other. There were dormitories. Several times our host stopped and rolled down his window to say hi to somebody in another car. Small town America, thousands of miles away. It felt familiar, and yet not at all a place I’ve spent much time in or
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We loaded our car full of cheese and Twinkies and bacon bits. We tipped our invisible cowboy hats to the security checkpoint and moseyed on home. With “Let’s Get Physical” on the radio to usher us out, we drove back to regular Japan, with the sun setting over the battleships behind us. Laura Giorgio is an English teacher in Nagasaki. She has previously worked in Fukuoka. She loves food. Period. She co-writes a food blog, The Pudcasts (thepudcasts.com).
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Short shorts: Top five Alanna Schubach shares the best retreats for the ladies of Fukuoka Image: flickr.com/dominusvobiscum
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n occasion, the female JET may tire of moving about in a foreigner herd with her male counterparts, charming though they are. In such cases, she will seek a place to retreat and enjoy womanly companionship. Where does one turn in the modern Japanese metropolis for feminine solace? Reader, look no further than the following five localities for the answer. Honey Coffee 2-1-21 Kiyogawa 1F Chuo Ward, Fukuoka City 092-526-8025 Hours: 10 a.m.–7 p.m., closed Tuesdays
Meeting for coffee, though unoriginal, remains a beloved choice of appointment for the intimacy, and glucose infusion, that cafes provide. Enter Honey Coffee, with its imported blends and cozy nook overlooking the river. Your latte will come with a design traced in the foam and a cookie. Such an atmosphere might almost be romantic, but you are here to discuss your dating dalliances with a trusted female friend. You face an overwhelming choice of beans from far-flung locales to take home with you. Ask one of the shop clerks to assist you in your choice, but be advised they may silently judge you if you don’t own your own grinder. (For shame: every lady needs a grinder before she is ready for her debut.) Que 2-18-17 Kego 2F Chuo Ward, Fukuoka City 092-711-0132 Wine nomihoudai: Daily, from 6-9 p.m., for up to 10 people. Call for reservations.
This tiny Italian restaurant makes a singular offer to any woman weary of empurpled men shouting improprieties at her through a haze of nama biirus: a wine nomihoudai for 1,000 yen. Choose from eight whites and reds, served by a wait staff who will also assist you in selecting from a menu of antipasti designed for sharing, not corset-busting. You may find yourself emboldened enough to ask neighboring diners to teach you the Japanese onomatopoeia for a variety of unsavory acts, but don’t worry: you are here with a loyal lady friend, who knows not to disclose what is said under the influence of Sauvignon Blanc. Fukuoka Art Museum 1-6 Ohori-Koen Park Chuo Ward, Fukuoka City
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092-714-6051 Hours: 9:30 a.m.–5:30 p.m., closed Mondays. Enough drinking: it’s time now for culture. And won’t it be a pleasure to stroll through this museum free from male partners’ grumbling about how this time would be better spent pheasant hunting on the estate? Aside from the galleries of modern art and Buddhist sculpture, one may visit special exhibitions of Cambodian textiles and contemporary landscape paintings. Contemplate your inner landscape in good company, and then take a stroll around Ohori Park. Namiha no Yu 13-1 Chikkohonmachi Hakata Ward, Fukuoka City 092-271-4126
Why perform ablutions behind closed doors, as though your Venusian physique were a source of shame? Sisters, cast aside your decorum and experience the joy of becoming a human nabe. Namiha no Yu onsen, a quick bus ride from Tenjin, even offers ladies’ nights for discounted bathing. There are indoor and outdoor baths at different temperatures, rotenburo, saunas and a spa. You may find that nothing else permits you to open your heart to another woman like soaking together in a bowl of steaming water. After, to prevent swooning, visit the attached restaurant for delicious set meals. Neko Café Keurig 1-10-15 Daimyo, Watt Building 1F Chuo Ward, Fukuoka City 092-985-3202 Hours: 11 a.m.–11 p.m. daily.
It is a truth universally acknowledged that unmarried women have a strong affinity for cats. Indulge this at Neko Café Keurig. Here, you purchase time (60 – 90 minutes) to enjoy tea, sweets and dozens of intermittently friendly felines—but it is for their fickleness, reminiscent of the vagaries of a woman’s heart, that you adore them. Feeding time reveals some shockingly unladylike behavior, but this can be forgiven—are you no different during your monthly troubles? A word of warning—steer clear of one pussy named Goma-Shio, who is crosser than my mother after the maid fails to prepare high tea at the appointed hour. Alanna Schubach is a third-year JET who reads a lot of 19th century novels.
Why perform ablutions behind closed doors, as though your Venusian physique were a source of shame? Sisters, cast aside your decorum and experience the joy of becoming a human nabe. the refill | April/May 2012
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In Fukuoka
A great thing to do once a year Andrew Young gives a hazy review of the Jojima Sake Festival Photo: flickr.com/suckamc
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lthough I don’t remember it well, I’ll recount as much as I can. I met up with friends before heading to Jojima. We fortified our stomachs for the trials ahead with some kind of food, probably a bento with lots of rice and carbohydrates. I drank a lot of coffee. The train was quiet and the coffee made me impatient, my restless leg syndrome exacerbated by caffeine and expectations for Jojima. I really didn’t need that sixth cup.
We arrived to a line for buses that was long, snakelike and intimidating. The shuttle buses began arriving more regularly, bringing expired patrons of the festival to respite. More than one of the buses had men who had clearly over-imbibed – some were aggressive, some were sick and some were passing out. Soon, I thought, so very, very soon…!
We were stuffed into the bus like unpleasantsmelling fish in a metal tin and eventually, it let us out at the Jojima Sake Festival. Crowds were enjoying the new batches of sake that the breweries of Fukuoka had brought. All of the breweries had different flavors of sake, ranging in potency and pleasantness of taste. Some smoky, some clear, others yellowish, and some pure white, but all delicious. Past the yatai (food stalls) and main stage (where there were taiko performances and other entertainments), there were three sake tents labeled A, B, and C. Tickets get you two samples from each tent, each housing multiple breweries. These were the first barrels opened for the new brewing season. When it comes to sake, quality is little more than a frivolity. I loved the sake at Jojima so much that it started to show on my face, perhaps in my mannerisms. Old men approached me often, asking me if I like sake. “Yes!” I told all of them, shaking their hands. “Jojima is de besht!” I explained, leaning on their shoulders. “Erry yearrr…let’s… let’s Jojima sake festival!!” I sputtered in the line for the return shuttle. I fully intend to honor that sputter. I’ll see you at Jojima next year. Andrew Young is an ALT at Omutakita High School and Yamato High School. He occasionally slams his head into a keyboard repeatedly and posts the resultant mess on soggiesttowel.tumblr.com
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Travel
Green Keliko Adams finds it’s easy to be green in Yakushima, as long as you don’t mind the walk Photo: Olivier Lejade (flickr.com/lejade)
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hile hiking across streams and between the large yakusugi (屋久杉) trees in Yakushima, a friend commented that “this would be heaven for someone who loves green.”
Stump. Big and hollow, 5 people can easily stand inside, and if you look up, you’ll see that the top rim of the stump forms a large heart shape, framing the forest in it.
The Shiratani Unsuikyo forest trails vary for different hiking abilities and wind across different parts of the forest. Monstrous yakusugi trees dot the trails, and some you can even hike through. (Yes, I said through!) The longest and most arduous trail leads up to a lookout point, where you can sit on a boulder and peer over the mountains and valleys of Yakushima’s interior. A
And what would heaven be without stunning beaches and natural onsen? Yakushima’s beaches are pristine and you can even find some that have natural onsen. What better way to relax after a long day of hiking than lying back in an onsen with the ocean’s waves lapping near you as the sun sets. The southern side of the island has many - and if you’re lucky, an obaachan will come over and scrub your back for you!
It’s true. Yakushima is both very green and heavenly. The center of the island is covered in green: moss, ferns, leaves, pines, trees of all kind - and hiking is the best way to see it. Two of the most popular hikes are the Arakawa Trail and the Shiratani Unsuikyo forest trails.
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The southern side of the island has many onsens - and if you’re lucky, an obaachan will come and scrub your back for you!
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portion of the Shiratani Unsuikyo forest is called ‘Mononoke Mori’, named after Hayao Miyazaki’s film “Mononoke Hime”, which was inspired by the forests of Yakushima. This portion of the forest is dense with plant and animal life, and feels so mystical that you begin seeing kodama faces in twisting tree branches and moss covered-stones. The Arakawa Trail a much longer hike. Though the terrain is relatively flat, a round trip hike can take up to 12 hours, depending on your ability. Parts of the trail are along an old wooden railroad track, making for a well-blazed trail to follow. Whereas in Shiratani Unsuikyo you can easily step off the trail into the tangled forest around you, the Arakawa Trail is wide and well-defined.
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The Arakawa trail leads into the heart of the island, ending at Jomon-sugi, the oldest of the ancient yakusugi trees and the most popular tourist destination on Yakushima. About 45 minutes before you reach Jomonsugi, another popular sight is Wilson’s
In addition to the plant life, Yakushima boasts an abundance of animal life, most notably deer (yakushika) and monkeys that dart across trails and chew on all the green as you walk by. On the more remote Western side of the island, migratory sea turtles also use some of the beaches as a nesting ground, though these turtles are endangered and heavily protected.
If you’re staying in Yakushima for a few days, there are hostels in the bigger cities of Miyanoura in the north and Arao on the east side of the island, and a few spattered on the less populated south side. In addition, you can stay in the forests the entire time in one of the mountain huts on some of the trails.
These huts are very sparse, so pack your own food, water, sleeping bag and toilet paper (and don’t litter.) Yakushima is a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Like any other place in the world, carry your trash on you until you can dispose of it properly.
Public transportation relies on taxis or a bus that travels one route, from the north side of the island to the southwest side and back. Bus times can be infrequent, so be sure to plan ahead! There are special bus schedules for people heading out early for Jomon-sugi. Taxis tend to hang around only in the cities, so get a taxi company’s number ahead of time. If your legs aren’t too tired, you can also rent bicycles. The tourist information center in Miyanoura has bus schedules, maps and a lot of information, mostly in Japanese. Keliko Adams is a third-year ALT in Yukuhashi and likes to play her ukulele for the makkuro kurosuke in her apartment.
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or not Tibet
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Mandy Hindle finds mixed blessings in the land of machine guns and yak milk Photos: Mandy Hindle
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n top of a mountain, under an imposing statue of a golden Buddha, I found myself chatting with a monk. We were miles from anywhere. I showed him my photos, then he gestured to his little dorm. We stepped around the candles and incense to a digital printer in the corner. He asked for my memory card, popped it in and snagged some choice shots. He didn’t even own a camera. He then tossed me his mobile number and we parted ways. Tibet is strange and confusing in more ways than I could have imagined.
I’ve wanted to go to Tibet for almost 10 years and the change since then has been unimaginable. When your itinerary needs pre-approval by the Chinese government, but is still at the whim of border guards; where protesting monks are setting themselves on fire, you know you’re in for an interesting holiday. But Tibet is just one of those places; a land of pilgrimage that kept calling to me, where the challenges seemed more than worth the reward.
Winter in Tibet is prime pilgrimage season. Nomads bring in their animals from the plateau over winter in their villages before setting off on brightly fringed Harleys on a cross-country trek to holy places, the center of which is the Jokhang in Lhasa, the holiest temple in Tibet.
Pilgrims wear canvas-bag shirts and wood planks on their hands as they prostrate themselves around the temple, night and day, in a clockwise manner to show reverence to Buddha. The guilt you feel jumping to the head of the queue while the pilgrims wait for hours to give what little money they have, light yak-butter candles and paint liquid gold on Buddha’s face, will not be the last time you feel this way. Here, you are a freak amongst people that do not know of a world beyond China, and you are nosing your way in front of them to learn about compassion while they fulfill the most spiritual part of their year, possibly their life. Irony is not lost on you here. You might not be religious, but a wall of hand-written scripture several stories high will make you well up with tears. A cup of homemade barley beer from a troupe of pilgrim women will fill you with joy and bacteria of the likes your stomach has never seen. You’ll rub your injured knees on healing rocks then walk up the block to buy some Tibetan rap music. You’ll admire prayer flags strung from mobile phone towers in a remote mountain valley. I made the journey along with the pilgrims, but did I know how to feel about it?
If you’re interested in Tibet, you’ve probably got a few opinions about China tucked up your sleeve, but even in the most distant nature reserve, there’s no escaping politics.
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Traveling across Tibet should rank near the top of any road trip list: Winding roads scream out for motorcycles,
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landscapes are dotted with yaks and nomad camps, and the altitudes take your breath away. I struggled not to beg the driver to let me have a go at the wheel for a few hours - the freedom of a road trip isn’t quite the same from the back seat. But like the Tibetans, your freedom is limited. Along with the beauty and open spaces, there are police checkpoints every few hours. There’s no changing your itinerary. They will notice. And you just can’t ignore a man with a big machine gun on the corner, or the sniper on the roof while you try and bargain for yak cheese. You’ve shown your permit and paid for the pleasure, and you will be
reminded of it at least once a day.
Tibet’s politics never dissuaded me from making this trip, until I was trapped on a 24-hour train to Lhasa with nothing to do but watch the rising altitude meter and think. This is not the ideal time to reconsider your ethics. Despite the political reality, Buddhism is what makes Tibet a place still worth experiencing. It’s the force that has sustained it through battles that would destroy most cultures.
Buddhism is beautiful in its ability to embrace all things contradictory. Like the Jokhang, Tibet feels like the eye of the storm in a world full of paradoxes and mixed feelings. It’s the most stunning, special and emotionally challenging place I’ve been. I left as confused as when I went in, but for a new set of reasons. If you have a strong interest in Tibet, politics included, a trip into the Autonomous Region will be worth it. If your interest is more passing, or you want more liberty to explore and experience genuine Tibetan culture in the relative freedom of China proper, the Tibetan regions just outside of the TAR will give you much of what you’re looking for at a fraction of the hassle and cost.
Mandy is an English science editor living in Fukuoka City. She blogs at truckersatlas.wordpress.com.
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Living
Talk to me like mothers do Tanya Bogaty considers the pros and cons of using baby talk in the classroom
use this, OK!” I bellowed with the force of a giantess. I added gestures, widening my eyes and jabbing my finger at the handouts: “You can use it, you can not use it! Both OK!”
aby hungry? Baby wanna cookie? Yes, COOKIE. Here baby, here’s a cookie!” That’s how parents and adoring strangers greet babies. But why do we talk to young humans like this? Do they need this to learn a language?
Tsukatte mo tsukawanakute mo, dochi de mo ii desu. (使っても 使わなくても、どちでも いい です.)
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Research suggests they don’t. In the ‘80s and ‘90s, linguistic anthropologists Elinor Ochs and Bambi Schieffelin studied cultures such as Papua, New Guinea, where adults don’t use high-pitched, Teletubby-style speech with children. Without baby talk, these kids learned to speak just fine. While baby talk may help children learn a language, most kids become experts of their native tongue whether or not their parents use it. If anybody needs baby-talk, it’s older learners of a foreign language. They’ve passed the most fruitful period for language learning and often need explicit instruction to achieve fluency. Older language learners depend on teachers or patient native speakers to help them understand. Native speakers slow down, talk loud and strip sentences to their barest parts to convey meaning: “Can you eat cookie? Cookie, OK? Foreigner want cookie?”
Dumbing down makes sense. It helps learners focus on the most meaningful information. Stephen Krashen, a researcher in second-language acquisition, says language acquisition depends on access to such “comprehensible input.”
Finally, most students understood. I’d stripped the sentence of nonessential words, slowed down and talked louder, but the only thing that worked was copying the pattern of their native language.
They got it, but I felt guilty. I’d deprived my students of an opportunity to understand a good example of English.
This story depresses me. It shows how inflexible our languagelearning minds can become. However, it also shows the strategies we have to meet the needs of different learners. We can talk like Teletubbies, like a normal people on sedatives or like unedited Google translate – it’s all OK!
We can also help learners by carefully using their native language. Recent research suggests that ESL learners in the U.S. fare better in bilingual, rather than immersion, classrooms. Some use of the native language can be beneficial.
Most important is to be creative and flexible in communication. This is one of the best lessons for any student, and if we can model that successfully, I’d consider it a job well done. Tanya Bogaty want cookie.
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o ot
ou :B
ds eren ijn B w de
(flickr.com/boudewijn bere nd
s)
I’m constantly questioning where modifying my speech is necessary and where it’s patronizing; where it is helpful and where it’s detrimental. I might need to talk loudly with old people, but not with students and co-teachers. Talking too slowly disrupts the natural rhythm of speech and deprives students and colleagues of natural input, which languagelearning depends on. Without hearing natural-sounding English, how will our students learn to speak it? We all have stories of natural speech being impractical. While passing out a handout, I explained, “Here is a worksheet with some sample sentences. You don’t have to use it.” The students didn’t understand, so I said it with simpler words. “You don’t need to use this. It’s just for students who need help.”
Natural English wasn’t working, so I slowed down. “Not to
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Original illustration: Lauren Every-Wortman
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Kim Lauren Every-Wortman learns that the intricacies of kimono run deeper than expected
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ast year, I flippantly expressed interest in learning how to wear kimono. Come January, a brochure was on my desk: I was signed up for kitsukekyoushitsu (着 付け教室, kimono-dressing class) in Kokura. I didn’t even own one!
As the Japanese are known for their generosity, I wasn’t in want for long. A coworker graciously handed over two kimonos that were, in her words, “too young.” They weren’t exactly my style, but how could I pass on her offer? I thought the hard part was over. It was just beginning. For weeks I looked through recycle shops, scoured Yahoo! auctions and rampaged through catalogues to find the required accessories. I thought I did OK, considering I didn’t know what I was doing and didn’t want to spend a fortune.
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Then at my first class, the sensei did an inspection of everyone’s goods. Oh no.
Next is the kimono: Two more elastic bands wrap around the waist and bind the neck of the kimono in place, one goes around your hips to hold the skirt, the datejime secures them. Finally a piece of cardboard is placed across the abdomen - utterly obscuring any hint of a waist - in preparation of the obi. Behind your back, with the aid of two cotton koshihimo, you blindly fold the obi over, around, across, up, down, then tie it with the obijime (帯締め).
With the pride of a kindergartner dressing for her first day of school, I dressed myself in kimono for graduation day
Nearly everything I had was wrong: One kimono is too short in length, the other too short in the arms, my obi (帯) is “unfinished,” whatever that means. My obiage (帯揚げ) is an obaachan (お婆ちゃ ん, grandma) color, the nagajuban (長襦袢) shouldn’t have ties attached to it, the neckboard is too stiff, my koshihimo ( 腰紐) are the wrong fabric, the datejime (伊達締め) is the wrong length, even my tabi (足袋) aren’t formal enough. To top it all off the kanji (感じ, feeling) of everything put together is chotto henna (“ちょっと変な,” a little strange). I set to work memorizing the elaborate dressing process. Under the kimono is an intricate layering of sashes, clips, slips and other various reinforcements. First there’s the bra, helping to smooth away any sign of
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femininity. This piece of underwear clasps in the front binding you like an ace bandage. Next comes the cotton slip, then the nagajuban, which lays flat against your collarbone peeking out beneath the collar of the kimono. A stiff neckboard is inserted into the nagajuban collar to keep it standing away from the body. The robe is held in place by two elastic bands and one stiff sash.
We learned this in the first three sessions. The obaachan in my class (after unashamedly adjusting my garments in spite of personal boundaries) couldn’t be more impressed, regardless of my erroneous purchases.
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With the pride of a kindergartner dressing for her first day of school, I dressed myself in kimono for graduation day. Everyone loved it. “So beautiful,” they said. “You look like spring!” Almost everything was slightly off, but it didn’t matter because it “suited me” and I could put it on all by myself.
Visit www.washou.net to find a free kimono class near you! Lauren Every-Wortman is a second-year ALT in Kitakyushu. She loves vintage clothes, city parks and mac and cheese.
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Recipes file:///C:/Users/Hugh/Desktop/The%20Refill/Issue%208/Images/ Ashley Chin shares some green recipes for a Brett%20Spangler%20 green spring! naz66.jpg
Photos: Ashley Chin
Amasuzuke
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masuzuke means, literally, “to soak (or pickle) in sweet vinegar,” and these cool, pickled vegetables make a perfect side to complement any meal. You can use any veggie you like, really, but I like including wakame, cucumbers, daikon and carrots because they work well together and are readily accessible at any grocery store here in Japan. Making amasuzuke is very simple, and mostly involves waiting. Ingredients • 8 tbsp rice wine vinegar • 1 1/2 tbsp sugar • 1 tsp salt • 4 tbsp water
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Directions Step 1: Mix vinegar, sugar, salt and water until everything dissolves.
Step 2: Cut veggies very thin. Soak wakame in warm/hot water until it re-hydrates and becomes soft. Drain.
Step 3: Pour vinegar mixture into a glass or ceramic container. Add sliced veggies. Step 4: Shake (if you’re using a glass jar or other sealable container) or stir well.
Step 5: Leave to soak in the refrigerator overnight. Step 6: Drain before serving.
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Healthy green spring smoothie
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lot of people have kind of a negative visceral reaction to the words “green smoothie,” but they are actually incredibly flexible, and you can transform them to suit your taste. You can’t even taste the spinach, and they fill you right up. Green smoothies are super healthy and fun to experiment with, so here is one of my favorite combinations, a green smoothie for a green spring.
You can easily add or substitute ingredients, such as cinnamon, honey, flax or chia seeds, various fruits, Greek yogurt, kale in place of spinach and the milk of your choice in place of coconut milk. Try out different
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combinations! You pretty much can’t go wrong with a green smoothie.
Ingredients • 1 ripe banana • 1 handful strawberries • 1 small handful blueberries • 1 cup coconut milk • 1 heaping tbsp raw almond butter or peanut butter • 2-3 handfuls spinach • Ice or water to adjust smoothie’s thickness Directions Step 1: Toss everything into a blender, mix and enjoy.
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Opinion
Depression, mourning and choosing to stay Jamina Ovbude shares advice on finding your footing in the face of grief Photo: flickr.com/thomasleuthard
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ost of us will experience some form of depression while living in Japan. Being far from home and dealing with the stresses of this job and culture do little to help combat feelings of sadness. So how do you deal when sadness is coupled with mourning? There’s really only one way. You just do. A macabre phone call A few weeks before my first JET year anniversary, my father died. My mother gave me the news during a very brief phone call. The last thing she told me was to “be strong,” which I understood as “go to work and do your duties.” So I did. I was “OK” until I arrived at my train station and began to walk the 15 minutes to campus. I quickly became lost in a labyrinth of questions, suppositions, and maybes, what ifs, guilt, fear, and despair.
I hadn’t seen my father in person in almost a year. I had only spoken to him on Skype maybe once every three months since I had left home. I didn’t get to say goodbye. I hoped he knew that I loved him. I hated myself for being here. The narrative was dizzying. At school I sat down to begin my work and realized I couldn’t see straight. I couldn’t see the words on my computer screen. I couldn’t focus on anything other than death. And then I broke. I released more emotion at school than I ever have, having previously taken the Japanese approach of remaining positively upbeat in the workplace.
The thirty minutes after my outburst were a blur of swift efficiency only privy to the Japanese — my supervisor was informed, Kyoto sensei too, and I got clearance from my front office, rode in a car and returned back to my apartment. Alone again. People tend to give superfluous labels to certain events in their lives, but I can honestly say that was one of the hardest days and one of the most revealing days I have experienced in Japan. I was so well taken care of and yet so alone. A few days later I was back in America to attend the funeral. Pressure-cooked depression When I returned to Japan, the sun was glaring and the weight of the air made me full from breathing. The oppressive heaviness of summer made me hate Fukuoka and all of Japan. I should be home with my family, I thought, this place will never be my home. I spent my last few vacation days weeping, writing and eating very little. That was the beginning of an intensely depressive emotional cycle and I hadn’t even returned to work yet. Chasing normalcy I was greeted with bowing and condolences upon my return to school. I received a sum of money, which is the customary Japanese funeral gift (no buckets o’ fried comfort-food here). Mostly, my work and home routines have returned to
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normal but I continue to struggle with finding my own sense of normalcy. I’ve been physically but not mentally present for the past eight months. And despite my best efforts, everything occasionally becomes a different shade of gray. It’s in these moments that I seek assistance. Help If you find yourself slipping into sadness, here are a few things that may help:
1. Write and let the negative river of thoughts flow from your mind. Sometimes we can torture ourselves with negative thoughts. Writing them down will help you to escape yourself and quiet those often blinding mental narratives. 2. Verbalize your concerns, fears and frustrations. Talking with friends may actually exacerbate your depressive feelings. So if you can, talk with a professional. Though it can be difficult to find an English-speaking physician in Japan, there are resources available to JETs and other expats living in this country that may be of use. Get in touch with a PA or call the JET line. 3. Run, jump, hop and skip The endorphins that your body produces while exercising have mood-altering qualities. A good run or bike ride can help to retrain your mind on something positive. 4. Laugh it out When afflicted with intense bouts of sadness, laughing may seem like the most impossible task of all. But there is true power in a good, hearty laugh. If you’re in need of some outlets, check out these: hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.jp, whatshouldwecallme.tumblr.com. 5. Find comfort in the bosom of food There is nothing like the euphoria that comes after a delicious meal. When you’re sad, treat yourself with a fantastic meal and invite a friend. The phrase “comfort food” wasn’t created by happenstance.
Staying present Some might wonder why I’m still here. Mostly, I am dedicated to my job and I am again finding great joy in my everyday experiences. Even with this progress, something about my time on JET still feels undone. That could be part of the reason why I’ve decided to stay for a third year.
Above all, I want to finish what I started, see what I want to see, continue learning, and move on when it’s time. After all, I had signed up for “life changing.” Jamina Ovbude is a second year ALT from California. She likes to spend as many Saturday mornings in bed as possible. Not because she is lazy, but because her bed is incredibly comfortable and there’s no better feeling than spending a few hours catching up on American television shows, shopping and eating kumquats while horizontal.
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A万 Man’s
Eryk Salvaggio offers food for thought on money management Photos: (this page) flickr.com/mujitra, (opposite) Hugh McCafferty
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e all know how much money I make. It’s the same as you, and it’s a lot. But I never know where my money is headed. The only certainty is that on the 20th of every month I will be fishing 370 yen out of my couch cushion to afford lunch.
I grew up without money, at least relative to most Americans. So I panicked whenever I got large sums of it at once. I felt like it was under siege. If I didn’t spend it quickly on something I wanted, I knew it would be sucked into everything I didn’t want: my credit card bills, rent, car inspections and repairs, medical checks. Paycheck-to-paycheck living felt normal, so I didn’t save extra money when it crossed my path. By the time I’d come to Japan, I had a 401(k) plan, a stock portfolio and zero commercial debt, just like a responsible rich person. But the Japanese system of once-a-month paychecks still pokes the part of me that twitches to spend, and quickly.
“
the furikomi demons come to take it away.
So I’ve started sorting my money into envelopes. I’m a bit like a crazy-lady with cash under her bed, but it works. I send money home on the first of the month, including savings. I leave enough for bills and rent in the account and withdraw the rest. I put 20,000 yen into a “general fund” (an envelope). I divide the rest by four and put it into a “weekly fund” (four envelopes). I spend the weekly fund, well, weekly, but draw from the “general fund” for special expenditures or other events, like sneak-attack enkais.
If I have money left over at the end of the week, I put it in the general fund. At the end of the month, I take the general fund and send it home.
This doesn’t work well with the siege mentality of money management. Put your money in an actual envelope.
Some of my expenses are reasonable: Student loans, or the inevitable rent and heat. But the vast sum of my spending is downright nouveauriche. I’ve done the shameful math, and I spend a quarter of my paycheck on weekends of Karaoke and Korean Barbecue. That’s the same amount of money I spend bitterly paying Bank of America for my student loans. There are smaller indulgences. When I take the train to Hakata (220 yen) to have a tall Starbucks Mocha Latte (440 yen) and Chocolate Scone (380 yen) to read a book for an hour before going home (220 yen), it’s an insane comfort ritual that costs more than my meals on any given weekday. Worst of all is the culture-of-poverty mindset that kicks in when the paycheck first arrives. I battle the panicked desire to put that money into someone else’s hands before
”
I’d been given this advice before and mentally compartmentalized my money without physically separating my cash. This doesn’t work well with the siege mentality of money management. Put your yen in an actual envelope.
When you grow up without money, a budget is just a constant reminder of how far away you are from breaking even. When you finally get a reasonable sum handed over every month, a budget turns money from something you don’t have enough of to something you can actually use. But the stigma lingers. Making a budget is more than keeping track of your expenditures. A budget is a declaration of purpose, a stake planted in the belief that you can shape your destiny through sheer force of math and willpower, at least for a week or two. Which is more than I can say for a tall cafe mocha latte.
Eryk Salvaggio is a second-year ALT. He writes about life in Japan at www.thisjapaneselife.org.
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Entertainment
Event guide compiled by Keliko Adams
Do not miss
Fukuoka SoftBank Hawks All season
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N
ow is a good time to go if you haven’t been to a Hawks game yet! The 2012 baseball season has just begun, so go support our home team and current national champions! For more info: www.softbankhawks.co.jp April 24-26: May 4-6: May 22-23: May 25-26: June 2-3:
vs Saitama Seibu Lions vs Tohoku Rakuten Eagles vs Hiroshima Toyo Carps vs Hanshin Tigers vs Tokyo Yakult Swallows February/March April/May 2012 │
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e
we
Photo: flic kr.co m/ ch ar li
lle
ll in
March Spring Flower Festival Green Park, Kitakyushu, March 3 – May 6 Tulips, poppies, daisies and many others make up the 300,000 flowers that fill this park. More information at www.kpfmmf.jp/green.
April Yame Kuroki Wisteria Festival Yame, April 18 – May 1 Check out the 600 year old wisteria tree at Sasano Shrine in Yame. During the festival, the tree will be lit up at night. Cheese Dontaku Hakata Miyako Hotel, April 22 100 cheeses will be on sale during this event, as well as lessons on matching cheese with wine and cheese making. 5-8pm, tickets 6,000yen. Morrissey Zepp Fukuoka, April 26 Former Smith’s front man will tour Japan for one month. 7pm, tickets 5,250yen. 092-714-0159 or www.zepp.co.jp for more info. Arita Open Air Ceramics Festival Arita, Saga, April 29 – May 5 Famous for its Arita porcelain, this festival includes hundreds of shops lining the street selling ceramics.
May
Photo: Ch ris H arb er
Niji no Misaki Matsuri Kunisaki, Oita, May 1–5 Outdoor music festival at a beachside campground. Tickets 3,000yen. For more info dadachild.exblog.jp. Tokyo Ska Paradise Orchestra Zepp Fukuoka, May 3 A Japanese ska and jazz band. 7pm, tickets 5,250yen. 092714-0159 or www.zepp.co.jp for more info. Shimonoseki Straits Festival Shimonoseki, May 3 Events include a reenactment of a samurai sea battle and the famous duel between Miyamoto Musashi and Sasaki Kojiro. Hakata Dontaku Fukuoka City, May 3–4 Fukuoka’s largest festival features music parades, dance groups, and events all over the downtown area.
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Kawawatari Jinkosai Tagawa, May 17–18 Ten teams carrying decorated mikoshi (神輿, Shinto palanquins) race through Tagawa and cross the Hikosan River.
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Ask
Professor Sempai
Dear Professor Sempai, Is there any special etiquette for getting a 1,000-yen haircut?? - Hirsute in Kyushu
Photo: flickr.com/stevensnodgrass
A
h, I’m glad you asked. Many foreign visitors to Japan seek out a haircut, see the vacuum hoses suspended from the ceiling and assume that it’s just like home. Inevitably, this causes tremendous intercultural tension as foreigners fail to respect the poetic beauty of the 10-minute haircut.
Like most things in Japan, there is an elaborate, ritualized set of etiquette rules for haircuts, derived from ancient ceremonies celebrating “ryoushi-dou,” the barber’s way. Ignorance was considered a deep insult to the art of haircutting, and samurai often barbers themselves - were allowed, by law, to strike dead any man who brought dishonor to himself by disrespecting the formalized rules of barbershop etiquette. In ancient Japan, the 1,000-yen barbershop was a shrine, and the barbers were priests. This is why an old word for hairstyle, “kami gata,” contains the word for deity, “kami.” In modern times, it is important to carry the same respect into the QB House. First, deposit precisely 1,000 yen into the vending machine. Making change is bad luck. They won’t do it. In another
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callback to ancient customs, the machine will print out a fortune when you insert your donation. This fortune will be understood only by the barber, who will quietly contemplate it while cutting your hair. The barber will spray your hair with water in a purification ritual and the cutting will begin.
If you have endured through the haircut honorably, you will be offered a comb to take back with you. The comb is an amulet to protect you from evil spirits on cursed koppidoi-mouhatsu-hi, or “bad hair days.”
R
Accept the comb with both hands, bow deeply and be sure to thank the barber with a deep, bellowing “watashi wa kudanai desu.” As a guest, you should do this as loudly as possible when you accept the comb. This is the barbershop version of “gochisou sama deshita” or “otsukare sama desu.” Other patrons might laugh, because it’s odd to see a foreigner who understands proper haircut etiquette!
Prof. Sempai is neither a real Professor or a real sempai, and you really, really shouldn’t take any of this advice. April/May 2012 │
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M
y motto is “Why do now, what you can do later?” It describes my approach to work, life, cleaning my apartment, listening to recommended music and reading recommended books. That’s why it took me so long to discover the amazing Slam Dunk.
If “Dragon Ball Z” is to Japan what “Superman” is to America, then “Slam Dunk” is the Japanese equivalent of the “Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.” Serialized from 1990 to 1996 in the weekly manga magazine “Shonen Jump,” most Japanese – from high school kids to diligent mid-thirties salary men leaning into you on the train – have read it. And everyone will have a surprisingly (for Japan) strong opinion about the best character of the series. *cough*SAKURAGI*cough*
The series is a classic. The story is basic and seems cliche: a first year high-school student, Sakuragi Hanamichi, has a better record at being rejected by girls and getting into fights than attending class. He’s convinced by a pretty girl to try out for the basketball team. The thirty-one volumes follow Sakuragi and his team’s trials and triumphs as they aim for the national high school championship.
Even for those who are thoroughly confused by trying to figure out what a point guard or power forward does and what a screen pass is - I admit to some (or all) of the above - Slam Dunk remains entertaining and easy to understand. The reader and Sakuragi learn together at a reasonable pace, and there are always explanations of the confusing vernacular, making the story and games as emotional for the readers as for the team.
Slam Dunk Inoue Takehiro Shueisha
The pacing of Slam Dunk is well done, especially for it being only the second manga Inoue wrote. It starts slow, taking a while to weave the tangled threads of the team’s dynamic and the relationships of its members and supporters. But there is little filler once the series gets going, and even less romance (much to Sakuragi’s disappointment). It has just enough downtime between games to be excited for the next one, and you will feel justified staying up until 3 a.m. to finish a game. All the characters (and there are a lot) are well-rounded and different enough for everyone to find someone to relate to or cheer for, although their designs are ridiculously ‘90s Japan.
An anime version ran on TV Asahi from 1993 until 1996, and four films were released featuring new story lines. For the purists, the manga is the pillar of the series. In my opinion the anime falls short of recreating the dynamism or atmosphere of the manga, but I’m in love with it and therefore biased.
Reviews R And the ending. Oh, the ending! The purists will tell you if you don’t cry at the end you have no heart. (To note, I cried. A lot.) And for those who think the resolution is too short or there could never be enough Slam Dunk to satisfy you, Inoue wrote an epilogue in 2004 which was drawn on chalkboards in an abandoned high school in Kanagawa, and published them in a beautiful art book. Sarah Davis lives in Yukuhashi and teaches English to elementary schoolers. When she’s not teaching, she enjoys cooking, hip-hop dance, and arguing about who is cooler, Sakuragi or Mitsui.
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Photos
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Lauren Every-Wortman Tokyo, 2012
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Lauren Every-Wortman Roppongi, 2012
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Lauren Every-Wortman Tsukiji, 2012
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Lauren Every-Wortman Tenzushi, 2012
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Lauren Every-Wortman Todaiji, 2012
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Lauren Every-Wortman Kyoto Collage, 2012
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the refill?
Based on Fukuoka’s tradition of kaedama, in which a refill of ramen noodles is served for leftover broth, The Refill serves up additional information about life in Japan for Fukuoka’s JET community.
contact us at
the.refill.fukuoka@gmail.com The contents of this newsletter are strictly for entertainment purposes. The magazine cannot be held responsible for actions taken as a result of its content. The viewpoints published herein are those of the authors and do not reflect the philosophy or viewpoints of the Fukuoka Board of Education, the JET Programme or CLAIR. Photo: Lauren Every-Wortman
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