Conversations

The nod of a head, the sweep of an arm, the wiggle of fingers, all these gestures mean something, and sometimes the meaning can transcend cultures and even spoken language.

I’d heard that body language goes a long way in communicating, while I was taking a crash course in conversational Japanese. I also heard that the Japanese are very forgiving when people try to speak their language and butcher it, like I do.

I have found both of these things to be true. Just try, was a phrase I grew to hate last year. I was overwhelmed with words I didn’t understand, and putting them together and hoping something understandable would come out of my mouth seemed nearly impossible.

By the end of my time in Japan last year, I could ramble off short phrases, and with some hand gestures (all on the polite-side), and a lot of smiling, I could usually get what I wanted, postage stamps, a table for two at a restaurant, the direction of Kyoto train station. Needless to say, I impressed myself.

This year, I was able to pick up where I left off, and I’m taking my language skills a bit further, but I still have a problem.

I love to talk, and I realize now that I probably will never approach the kind of skills I need to be fluent in the short eleven weeks I spend each time I come to Japan. What I have found, though, is that just a few words can be a whole conversation.

Today I stood behind a woman who was buying a toy for someone she obviously loved. She smiled at me and twirled the colorful toy.

I said, “Kuwai,” which means cute.

“What?” she replied, and I said it again. Then she burst out laughing and said, “Ah, yes! Cute!” We both laughed as she twirled her toy, and I realized she’d used all the English that would sustain our conversation, as had I, but it didn’t matter. We both laughed and smiled as she finished paying, waved then smiled at me, as off she went with her kuwai toy.

Her little bit of English + my little bit of Japanese = very pleasurable mini-conversation.

I sometimes like to bust out my skills with sugoi, which means great, and oishi, which means delicious, but my all time fave is sumimasen, which means “excuse me.” I seem to use that one a lot!

Typhoon Blues: Blue Skies That is! Te, he!

I don’t want to jinx our good luck so far with typhoons, but lucky is what we have been. We’ve had some high winds, but no damage to property or person from the two typhoons we’ve experienced this year. We’ve had intense rainfall, but no serious flooding. Knock on wood!

We prepared for Typhoon number two, Vongfong, and all the reports had me a bit nervous. Super-storm does not incite a sense of overall well-being in a faculty member responsible for fourteen students in a study abroad program who are eager to explore and have no sense of their own mortality (or so it seems to me, but what do I know. I’m old!)!

I’m sure the students have no intentions of putting themselves in peril, and they have been good about staying indoors and close to home when the typhoons are predicted to hit.

My visions come from an overactive imagination and the fact that I am a mother, and if it were my children, I’d worry about them too!  In my imagination, I see students stuck in Tokyo once the trains have been canceled due to flooding, and my visions deteriorate from there. It’s nerve wracking!

I’m waiting now for students to check in after last night’s typhoon (nicknamed “the wasp”) blew through with little adverse effect. I breathed a sigh of relief to open my curtains to blue sky this morning. The temperatures were in the low 60s yesterday and will reach near 80 today. What a difference a day makes.

I promised photos of this typhoon, but the highest winds came in the wee hours of the night, and I actually slept through them! The impressive rains came after dark, so I missed them too, thinking the storm would rage until eight or nine this morning, at the very least. I did take after-typhoon photos, but it’s just not the same, I know!

I’ll try again next time, but I truly hope there is not “a next time.” J

Typhoon Vongfong

People around the world react to weather events in different ways.

In the Pacific Northwest, if the weather forecast calls for a snow storm, people rush to the stores to stock up on water, food, batteries, flashlights. They rush to Les Schwab for snow tires. There are long lines at the cash registers. Lowe’s runs out of generators.

In Japan, they’ve forecast another typhoon, Vongfong or "the wasp." The first typhoon we experienced was Phanfone We advised the students to stock up on food and to close their storm screens. I went to the store to stock up on food, too, and there I saw all the usual folks meandering the aisles. No one rushed to buy water or batteries. The tone was calm. It was just another day.

I could see this same event playing out in my hometown in the states. Cars on the road racing to the store for last minute supplies, scrambling to the garage to make sure the generator starts, checking the candle supply, and making sure there are matches.

Phone calls would be made.

            “Any sign of the storm out your way?”

            “Not yet. You?”

            “No, and good thing too. Dad’s at the store picking up more batteries and getting gas for the generator.”

            “We got back with pizza in case the power goes out.”

And so on, and so forth.

It’s exciting, this preparation for natural events that are out of our control. We can’t really predict with certain accuracy the exact moment a storm will arrive, or how strong it will be, or if people will get hurt, hopefully not.

We’re waiting for Vongfong, a typhoon that is moving its way up Japan from the south as I write this. It’s been cloudy all day, and it is a bit cooler today. The storm should arrive sometime Monday, but today is Sunday, and Kogakuin has a festival to host.

Tomorrow (Monday, October 13th) is the KU sports festival. The plan is to meet and proceed as planned, but if the weather deteriorates, we will had to the safety of our apartments.

No one will rush, no one will panic. It will be just another typhoon, and just other day in Japan. :)

p.s. I will try to get some photos of this typhoon. I can't see much from my apartments, but I'll see what I can do. :)

Japan-time

Today is payday. Wait! No it’s not. Payday is tomorrow. What?!!!

One of the issues of living in Japan is dealing with the time difference. Seattle is sixteen hours behind Hachioji, which means, I have to wait.  It’s not like I can’t wait, but it always gives me pause to wake, realize it’s the 10^th of the month, or the 25^th, then realize there will be no deposit in my checking account for sixteen hours!

It’s not like I didn’t plan for the lag in paydays, and it’s not like I’m spending money hand over fist. It’s the principle of the thing! Psychologically, I need to feel the gratification of receiving monies earned on the appropriate day, even if I am in Hachioji.

The other telling aspect of the time difference is communication. I send emails during my waking hours, and my spouse sends them back during his, but he always wants to know what time it is here when I’m sending my emails. What?!!

I guess I understand, but I always forget to mention the time. It is something I should get in the habit of doing because some of my colleagues send out time sensitive emails while I’m in REM sleep. Then they badger me, while I doze, with emails on my lack of response. That does wonders for my blood pressure the next day because even though I am teaching in Japan, and it feels partially like a vacation, it isn’t a vacation, and I hate feeling like I’m not preforming at my usual capacity.

When we arrive in Japan, I set my watch, my computer, and my phone to Japan time. This year, though, Canvas (my online classroom) was still set to Seattle time! That was a bit confusing because all my due dates have an electronic time signature, and that sixteen hour time difference gave the students the impression they had more time to post papers. Alack and alas, I have fixed that issue to their chagrin, but I had to revise all the due dates and times because they translated to Seattle time on Japan time. Does that even make sense?

The time difference can be very confusing. My approach is to be on Japan-time while I’m here, and Seattle-time when I’m home. It simplifies things, plus it’s all relative, right? Just be in the right place at the right time!

Typhoon Phanfone in Three Parts

(There are no photos because the rain and wind would have ruined my camera! I'll try next typhoon and see if I can capture the winds. The rains flood the area and drenched me to the skin.)

I

It begins with rain,

thick, heavy drops

that forms puddles

then splashes

into them

The birds still call

But the crickets

Are silent,

And my neighbors

Close their storm

Shutters, one after

Another with a screech

And a clank.

No person walks.

No dog barks.

No cat visits

my back door.

The breeze begins

slow from the south

east.

It blows through thick

drops that fall

faster. It blows

the drops until they

no longer fall.

They fly into house

walls and windows.

The breeze becomes

wind,

blowing,

gusting,

barreling through my

ally.

The squall whirls

now, a train-like

roar, rushing past

my house,

a constant vibration,

a mechanical

engine roaring.

Small cogs sit

behind storm screens,

listening to the roar.

The flood reshapes soil,

the gales scouring the land.

The dull roar

becomes a constant,

a drone that buzzes

in the brain,

until

the singular sound

of rain

falling,

splashing

into puddles,

can be heard

again.

II

The typhoon is on us, and like last year, it seems worn and tired by the time it reaches Hachioji. The winds are only fifty miles per hour. Rains fall and winds blow, to be sure, but aside from the racket, I am dry and safe in  my apartment.

I quickly learned how to shut my storm shutters, though. It took some finesse, but soon I slid the metal panels, one-by-one across my eight foot expanse of patio door glass. Breaking glass is a real concern because objects fly in the blowing winds.

The sounds outside dimmed immediately, and the entire process took less than ten minutes. (Hey! It was my first time!) My hands felt dusty, but not grimy, which was a surprise.

I sleep with earplugs, so the storm raging outside was reduced to a gentle murmur, and I slept peacefully through the night.

I’ve opened the storm doors this morning, but even as I sit here in the dim morning light listening to the rain, the winds grow stronger and louder, and I wonder if I should have left the shutters closed a bit longer!

Apparently the storm is not finished with us yet.

III

I hiked to campus in roads that have become rivers. My umbrella almost blew inside out, then out of my hands, but I hung on. The drips from my umbrella soaked my backpack, and the horizontal rain soaked my pants, but my new rubber boots and my gore tex jacket kept my feet and torso dry. My umbrella began to leak, so I wore my hood up.

There was one student on campus waiting for us, and later two more showed up. I only have Wifi on campus, so one by one, students started checking in, letting me know they were alive and well.

The typhoon gave one last burst at noon, with “death-to-umbrella” gusts, and bursts of rain, but by 1:00 pm, the skies were blue and the temperatures shot up to the mid-seventies. The humidity shot up too, but at least the storm has passed.

It’s like we had two days. One that began cool, dark, and stormy, and another day of blue sky, gentle breezes, and warm sunshine, not bad, Hachioji!

P.S.

Angry wind blows rain

against my window. I wait

for calm to return.