Nude

Ok folks this one’s a doozey. So; strap in, get a beverage of your choosing befitting your time zone and mood, maybe a handful of salted almonds or some other munchy nibblings, and get ready for a read.

Last weekend was perhaps the most uniquely Japanese experience I’ve had to date. Five ALTs from Kochi forged out a chapter written in the book of my life to be forever told down the family line, a story of the mysterious and strange practices - of a culture from the other side of the world, a festival for purity and luck, and more than anything else - nakedness. The festival is called the Okayama Hadaka Matsuri (Naked Man for short ).

Check the link here (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hadaka_matsuri) for some more information. I signed up with Colin, Jon, Matt, and Jamie E. long ago, and had been doing nothing but reading about it, and getting progressively more and more worried over the distinct possibility that I could be trampled in what, for lack of a more refined description, is a 9000 naked man mosh pit. Why a mosh pit? Why naked? Why WHY WHY? Well. The best way to answer that is for me to recount my tale as it was experienced.

Phase one of naked man:

Ask other JETs you know from home about things not to be missed in Japan. First time hearing about Naked Man. Upon getting an e-mail about naked man attempt to get your friends to sign up for Naked Man, because no one wants to be naked and alone.

Phase two of naked man:

Spend two to three weeks chatting with friends about various tid-bits of information filtered through various sources of how crazy it will be. Doubt your decision to attend for the first time. Listen to horror stories from other JETs about wearing a fundoshi (the Japanese sumo style loin cloth).

Phase three:

Send in payment for naked man registration.

Phase four:

The week has finally arrived, you have hotels booked, your bus tickets arranged, and a ball of anxiousness and modesty bouncing about your stomach like a spiny peach pit accidentally swallowed whole. Despite the aforementioned nervous peach pit, traveling with friends goes well. Hotel bookings work, and suddenly you are on the bus nervously sipping on a beer, and tapping your fidgety fingers as you and your Kochi friends listen to the overly consumed chants of people still lingering a bit too much in the shadow of Belushi`s interpretation of Bluto Blutarsky.

Phase five:

Arrive at the event and spend about two hours walking about familiarizing yourself with the temple layout. Listen as you are told where you will be sprinting through cold cold COLD pools of purifying water. Watch the incredible taiko group in red uniforms and feel the rattle of the drums in your chest as you chomp down a stick of yaki niku (meat on a stick). [I would like to take this time to say that out of all the many snack, junk, festival foods in Japan (and not discounting my unyielding love for all forms of takoyaki, grilled onion pancake, octopus balls of joy) there is little more satisfying than a good kabob of well peppered beef or pork a drip in its own fatty juices and sweated soy sauce.]

Phase six:

Buy the dreaded fundoshi (roll of cloth to be wrapped about one’s privates for some semblance of modesty). So now, the event is explained in full just as we are about to walk into the changing tent. Listen as you are told that you will be competing for a “magic stick”. There are approximately 20 thrown out from the sealing of the temple at 10:00 as the lights are turned out. Before that happens hoards of mostly naked men will run a loop around the temple chanting, “Wa-shoi!” as they run. You will sprint through the previously seen waist deep purification pond, then up to the main temple to pray, then through the viewing section where you will have ice water thrown at you, pray again at second temple, then sprint out and through the streets, and repeat until the officials tell you to go line up around the temple. Once there you are told that the crowed will grow slowly at first until you are crushed, unable to put your arms down, unable to turn around, and unable to have much of any say as to where you go at all for the remainder of your night. Stare blankly when you hear that the crowed will potentially sway up to seven feet. . . once again ease away the thoughts of doubt swirling about your head, after all – you already bought the loin cloth.

Phase seven:

Awkwardly undress in giant makeshift locker room. Write your name, address, and phone number on identification card to be stuffed into your loincloth. Wait naked in line with fundoshi for Japanese man to help you put on the large cloth diaper.

Phase eight:

Real in horror as you are chosen to be the first of your friends to be wrapped into the fundoshi.

Phase nine:

Receive the worst wedgy of your life. I am talking lift you off the ground, take your breath away, OH DEAR JESUS that’s not going anywhere mother have mercy.

Phase ten:

Smile with vindictive amusement as your friends all receive the same atomic wedgy from hell that you just suffered through. Now, to your astonishment, you are ready to run the course and from here on out it’s all kinda gonna happen quicker than you will believe.

So you tear off through the gates into the February chill, and there are already chanting teams of Japanese men running about. With a Kochi, Kochi, Kochi cheer you see your friend give a quick, unsure, kiss to his girl friend (the others anxiously pat one another on the back and stare wide eyed), and then your off jogging in rhythm to chants. Your feet are less offended by running essentially barefoot on cement and gravel than you thought they would be. It’s a good pace, one you could keep for hours. The crowd cheers for you all. Hands extended out for high fives from the gargantuan white men, all pale and big nosed. You get to the purity pond, and the breath goes out of you as you plunge in up to your waist. And then it’s over. Out, pray, shower of cold water from fans, pray again, out and around the temple, and repeat! Again, again, and again! Seven, eight, maybe even nine times you all run through with the coolness of the water lessening with each pass, and your chants getting more and more vivacious. The temple starts to pack in, and you want a good spot away from the steps (they are steep and made of stone. You’d hate to fall down them as the masses heave). You think . . . this isn’t too bad. It’s like a rock concert. Then another wave of runners hits, and another, and another and like the sea it flows in and then pulls back, and with each swelling of this fleshy sweaty tide it crushes you a little more till you are forced to put your arms up for fear of loosing use of them, and you stagger on tip toes to keep from falling (even though you’re wedged in so tight you couldn’t fall were you to loose your feet). You maintain eye contact with your friends, and look about wide-eyed as you hear that there is still about an hour to go before they throw the sticks. So, you stand and sway, and sweat, and watch as the steam from body heat billows out from the epicenter of this man mass. (You take a second to think . . . oh god, gross!) Then the lights go out and suddenly there are tiny bundles of sticks flying. The pressure breaks as fights and shoving matches for the single big luck (big money) stick break out, and your feel your friend poke you in the side with something small and wooden and hear him say, “I don’t know if it is the one, but help me.” Friend shoves would be magic stick in loin cloth, you push him out avoiding agitated old crotchety men gnarled like trees with whipping leathery arms. He makes it out, and you return to the fray to search for your other friends, and then . . . it’s over. You dress, hug your other friends who just watched . . . and go home to your hotel room where you shower and just think, “ well damn”.

So that was naked man. The stick that my friend Carter got was a fake one, still lucky, but not worth any money. A team of older men came away with the big luck (40,000 dollar stick). It has all the feelings of a cleanse. The sweating, the difference in temperature, the hours of physical exertion, and the fact that the whole time you are discarding any sense of modesty or self-consciousness you had (because you are birthday suiting it all through the town and PEOPLE ARE EXCITED ABOUT IT!?) The younger Japanese men give you vigorous high fives, and you even get a few hugs. There is the sense that they are as freaked out by it as you were, and that even though you never felt like you were going to die . . . you wouldn’t really want to do it again. The older generation still looks at you with skepticism a bit. Perhaps a quick smile if you were to wave, like they are saying, “yeah, you can be here, but you are never going to get that lucky stick”.

And that was that, we returned home, and I went back to work. Tonight I’ve made a Chinese style steamed fish (thanks for inspiring me Michelle Wigs this thing was delicious at Chinese new year so I’m doing it again).

My days at school are still boring, and I am still reassessing what I want my time in Japan to be like, but over all I am still having a really great time. After meeting the other, very frat boyish, JETs from other prefectures I am so happy to be in Kochi with the family dynamic we have created, but I will save that revelation and pontification for another post. I think this one’s given it all it can give. Sorry I don't have any photos of me actually at Naked Man, but the photo of the crowd should give you some idea of exactly how packed it was. Lastly cherry blossoms are starting to come out.

More to come.

The Promised Garden!

Hello interweb minions, all . . . five of you? Maybe? I’m coming to you from the rainiest week we’ve had in a long LONG time. Grey skies, hard rains all day, and if I’m being honest the hardest week I’ve had in Japan (for reasons I shall not elaborate on). That being said, I’ve always felt blogs are not the place to rant, rave, vent, or talk overly about one’s sorrows and hard times. No one wants to read that. So, I will simply say that I’m so grateful for the joys in my life here in Japan, and quote Mr. Bruce Cockburn (can’t do it without winking in mom’s general direction), “I bin through the ringer but I’m ok.”

So! With that cheery precaution out of the way. It’s finally time for some garden pictures! For those of you who do actually read this blog, last summer I started to learn about gardening with my dad. We bought seeds, made cold frames, and did the whole 9 yards. It was an absolute blast. Watching it grow each day, spending quality time with the parental units, and also I may be a tad bit addicted to the sensation of pride taken when one can say, “Oh, all this food – I grew it!” Long ago I walked the fifteen minutes to the hardware/ home store and bought a small green house, some soil, pots, and winterish seeds: kale, spinach, radishes, and broccoli.

The broccoli has only just sprouted, the kale (which I am not sure is really kale despite what I’m 90% sure the seeds said) and spinach are fantastic, and the radishes are now huge sprouts (which I may have been eating on salads because I don’t really love radishes).

This tiny box of greens will hopefully expand come spring. I plan on adding a few tomato plants and some herbs. What with travel I can’t get too genki with the garden dreams, but to do nothing would cause me a far greater loss.

In other news, went skiing for the first time with Colin, Kei, Jamie E., Marie, Gabriella, and Jayka. We all stayed at a big riokan (Japanese style hotel) in Ehime and went to the Kuma (bear ha ha fitting) Skie Land. After a whole day of attempting each, snowboarding and skiing I was left batter and feeling much like I did after attempting to ride the JET community bike cold turkey through Kochi City last summer. Just imagine a real bear trying to ski. . . not a pretty sight – but pretty funny when he falls down laughing hysterically every 4.5 seconds. It snowed heavily, and the sight of snow really helped lift up my opinion of Japan winters. As stated winter without snow is no fun.

So all in all things are on the up I believe. I’ll pick back up, and continue to have a great time here with the family I’m getting ever closer to here in Japan. As one door closes new ones open. Forever beginning there is an end, and for every ending a beginning. The end is where we start from. Love with all your heart folks. More to come.

Food Fest 2.0

My, oh my it’s been quite a time since we last talked. It’s a fairly standard Monday night, and I’m still trying to catch up on sleep from a lengthy and late chat with the fam. This weekend was the second weekend in a row of huge dinner parties and frisbee playing (greatly enhanced by our current warm spell here in Kochi).

All my life I’ve been a winter person. Words like humidity, heat, summer, and sweat were always enough to send this guy cowering to shaded corners and the air-conditioned spaces. Yet here in Kochi, cold seems more inescapable than it ever felt in the states. Most notably missed is the snow! Winter without snow is like Snickers without caramel and peanuts. That being said I’ve pulled out of the slump I had slouched my way into for about two weeks there. Thanks to those who suffered through my complaints of snowballing doubts about my future plans or lack there of. Work is still almost intolerably slow. I only teach one class this week because of high school entrance exams. Time to face the boredom dragon once more, this time I’m ready. RIGHT! on to specifics of my weekend, and food and plant pictures! YES!

Right, so this weekend’s food fest was a Chinese New Year’s dinner extravaganza held at Steven’s home. Steven is one of the 4 P.A.s (prefectural advisor). It was quite the orgy of starches. Noodles, green onion pancakes, more noodles, dumplings, wontons, more noodles, shark fin soup (with noodles!), and a whole fish! The biggest surprise of the night were these delicious hardboiled eggs (I believe they are called tea eggs).

GOD THEY WERE DELICIOUS, and they look like something straight out of Indian Jones and the Temple of Doom ( you know the feast part in the palace with the chilled monkey brains and eyeball soup). Speaking of eyeballs, I ate a fish eye, it was quite creamy and rich, and while I am not going to order eyeball soup any time soon it was a good experience over all.

Post feasting we all played a rousing game of pictionary as well as every summer camp game I can think of. It was fantastic (made me really miss the Kingsley Pines crowd and those legendary white sands on Panther Pond)!

I was going to include the fabled mini garden in this blog post, but in all honesty it’s 11:30 and I am fading fast. Love to all. Thanks to crew from this weekend for a fantastic dinner and day.

More to come!

Ranting, grumble grumble grumble, no photos, written last thursday. . . better post pending.

Right. . . twenty minutes left of work on Thursday, and let me tell you it`s been a humdinger of a week! The third year students at my school are now officially finished with classes until graduation (so that is two classes a week I no longer get to teach), and the second year students have been gone on their school trip since Monday (half of them went to Korea the other half to Tokyo). This all amounts to me only having 4 classes to teach in the span of a week. . . Let me tell you there is an art to looking busy while feeling bored. This is by no means a skill of particular use, or a resume building talent to be honed. It is a reality for ALT`s all across Japan. Some ALT`s (like Ashley and Cat) have schools that actually seem to put quite the amount of work on them, and keep them very busy (I am sure there are others of you out there who are very busy JETs) But there are also many MANY friends who, like me, have maybe one busy day a week. The rest of your time can be spent as you like (within the office or school).

I was told on my first day of work that I can read while at the office. Unfortunately, the book I`ve been reading was enjoyable for the first 100 pages, but since has become quite the battle to get another 100 pages into and I still have 250 to go. . . gggggahhhhhhhhrrrrrr.

So in my days I read (both books and blogs), research fun things to do in Japan, research better ways to grow stuff on my tiny little balcony garden, look up new recipes to cook, read random articles on Wikipedia, and check my e-mail an inordinate number of times. Also go in and out of frustrating slums of researching potential future career options (which keep going back to weird combinations of professional potter, summer camp owner director, and community gardener). Down that path however lies damnation because it ends up snowballing into my brain getting stuck in the rut of feeling . . . undefined in long term goals. So, I try to avoid those days if at all possible. If you`re wondering why I don`t practice my Japanese . . . I do, sometimes. The course books I ordered have proven to me that, as I suspected, I MUST have a tutor, professor, teacher, or some otherwise instructorish person to guide my studies else I am left with virtually no drive to study anything but phrases I frequently hear.

This week has been spent looking forward to the weekend. It`ll be a busy one. We`re kick`n it off right by hosting a dinner party at mine. I used having folks over as an excuse to finally get my self back together and make my apartment clean enough for company. Every night this week I`ve been a whirl in the kitchen. Over 20 some hand rolled tortillas, two jars of pineapple salsa, jumbo vat of red bean and corn salad, and the meats need dry rubs tonight! Love prep work. . . keeps my mind from aforementioned snowballing.

Photos of dinner party will follow

Right! Officially quitting time, and I`m off to start my hike home. The best store to buy big cuts of pork (the kind one needs for making carnitas) is about half way between my apartment and the school, and no where near the train line. . . these boots were made for walking!

More to come!

Life!

Right folks! So, all of the new year`s adventuring photos are up, and to some degree described on my flickr page. (http://www.flickr.com/photos/bearsartorius/sets/ ) Do it, go check them out.

Just a little sample of what awaits at Flickr.

It`s another frosty sunny day in Susaki. I think cold is colder in Japan than I remember cold being in the States. My fingers are quicker to turn that burning redish pink and for the life of me, the tip of my nose is numb most of the day.

I`ve been getting in touch with my inner wanna-be chef (You know? the career goal from way back in the high school dream days.) My mom forwarded me the blog of an ex baby sitter from my childhood, and I must say that Mrs. Heather`s writing, talk of gardening, and push for more more more homemade food has me all sparked up. (check out her page, seriously it`s a great read, http://heatergirlie.blogspot.com/ ). I have been plundering great recipes from her page for many days now. The pickled onions she recommends are fantastic (the recipe calls for red onions, but they are crazy more expensive for some unknown reason in my supermarket so instead golden onions were used) and then there were the Green Potatoes from Laurel's Kitchen.

Green potatoes and pickled onions

Lastly there was home made tortilla's and persimmon salsa with chicken and peppers! For all you devout followers out there, mexican food is near impossible to find in any form here in Kochi (hell I'm fairly safe saying in Japan). So, discovering a method of making tortillas from scratch was one of the most satisfying achievements imaginable.

Ultimate craving destructor.

Lastly, it's a grand hour and thirteen minutes until I turn 24. One might think that next to Christmas your birthday would be the time when someone working and living abroad would most miss their family and friends. However! I have already been sent this!

And tomorrow I'm off right after work to spend another weekend with the Benson. Promises of post birthday baking (Heather I may have borrowed your chocolate chip whiskey bunt cake recipe), and a gathering of the Kochi Christmas crowd plus frisbee team friends means I've got high hopes for a birthday filled with bliss.

As always more to come!

Christmas Kochi Style

The feast well after is was cooked with dear Saint Col himself.

Prefeast kitchen chaos. Everything turned out perfectly despite semi crowded conditions.

The first real cup of Christmas cheer Kampaied in excellent style.

Photo taken Christmas morning.

To see all the photos with more captions please go to

http://www.flickr.com/photos/bearsartorius/sets/72157625745193052/

MERRY CHRISTMAS ALL YOUS AT HOME!

January 4th WHAT?!

Happy new years oh you readers of mine. Did ya miss me, because I sure as sugar missed you. It`s a cold January mid afternoon, and my finger tips are numbing as I type so I`m going to keep this quick. Christmas here in Japan came and went with a blur. Many celebrations – too many to tell the truth, every organization has a what`s called a bonenkai (end of year party). With the Susaki Broken English Club, Taiko, my school, and my family of friends all in need of substantial celebratory festivities I am finally well and partied out.

Rather than post an incredibly long blog post about all that has happened this holiday season I will be posting several photo journal (can you tell someone recently got a new SLR Nikon toy?). They will be the best of the best of photos from Christmas Feast Kochi, and a three part instillation of Andrew and Ashley`s trip round Japan. There will captions and links to flicker where all of the photos of my holiday season will be eventually up for your public viewing pleasure.

Typically I would be writing an over worded post about all the joys in my life. The illustrious ways the light roles off the mountains in Japan, the deepening bonds with now dear friends (both far flung and more tangible here in Kochi), and the constant adventure of living abroad, but to be honest . . . I want to see if my pictures (once I figure out how to upload them off the new camera) will do the trick. So until then, unquestioning love to everyone back home, and be warned though it will be extremely late there is a holiday themed card/ letter/ flyer thing on its way. Upon returning to my apartment Christmas night I was horrified to see a huge stack all my Christmas cards and letters rubber banded together because I had put them in the wrong sized envelope for international mailings. . . PHOTOS TO COME!