Anyway, here they are, in chronological order.
As a side note, I've actually lost a lot more weight. I'm currently at about 197. In less than a year, I've lost 35 pounds.
Sunday, March 13, 2011
Changing the Past
So, Mom mentioned that she enjoys reading my blog, but it's sad that I have such a big gap in 2010. In an effort to help fill some of that gap, I'm posting some things that I wrote elsewhere during the last year or so. Some are a bit short, but I feel they add a bit to the overall narrative of my blog and Japan situation. I've posted them retroactive to the dates when I actually wrote them. Some of them fall between posts that I actually made here on this site.
Saturday, March 12, 2011
Mia's ASD Procedure
A few weeks ago, we took Mia in to see her doctor here in Imabari. She hadn't been to the doctor for a while, but we wanted to them to take a look at her heart to see how it was doing. A chest x-ray showed an enlarged heart, taking up over 60% of the width of the chest cavity. Optimally it should be less than 50%.
Mia was born with atrial septal defect, a hole in her heart that allows blood to flow between the left and right atria. We've had to keep watch on the hole to make sure it doesn't get too big. Since the beginning, we've known that she'd likely need some kind of heart procedure before starting grade school. There are two procedures that can close the hole in the septum, and the size and location of the hole dictate which of the two procedures will be done. The first one, available to children of almost any size, is a traditional form of open heart surgery, where an incision is made and the hole is patched. The second, less risky procedure, involves running a catheter up to the heart with an expanding umbrella-like device that plugs the hole.
We stayed a third year because the doctors told us that she should be able to get the procedure done once she reached 22 pounds, which is about what she weighs right now. When we took Mia in a few months ago, they casually mentioned that she could possibly get the procedure once she hit 33 pounds. Needless to say, we were upset, since there's no way she'll be 33 pounds by the time we leave. However, they said that the hole didn't seem to be getting any bigger, so we were somewhat relieved, holding on to the hope that the hole might close on its own without any intervention.
Having not visited the hospital for a good while, we were a bit surprised when we saw the size of her heart. The doctor, fearing that the hole might have widened, suggested that we set up an appointment for Ehime University Hospital, where they did her heart exams in the past. When we went in for her appointment, we found that the hole has gotten bigger. The doctors think that it would be best for her to get the surgery in the next year or two, and unfortunately don't think it will be possible for her to get the catheter procedure.
The procedure itself takes a few hours, but they figure she'll need about 5 days of preparatory hospitalization before the surgery, and a 2-3 weeks' stay after the procedure. There's a 0.5% mortality rate in Japan for ASD surgery--we feel confident that Mia will be OK. We definitely want to get it done before we move back home, since the procedure itself would be free in Japan, given Mia's age. I still haven't lined up a job for when I return, so it's unclear how long it'll take for us to be insured and able to cover such an operation. But now that we've given them the green light on the surgery, we're faced with a few problems (other than the obvious ones associated with risks and recovery).
The first is that we still don't know when they'll be able to carry out the procedure. About a month ago, when we had the appointment, they mentioned that there might be openings for surgery in April or May, and that they'd let us know. I've e-mailed, but they haven't been able to give me any sort of detailed response--just the run around. It's doubtful that something as important as approving a heart surgery would be processed very quickly in Japan. If it takes two or three seals of approval every time I get my $10 ferry tickets, I'd imagine that it takes the approval of various doctors at several different levels of authority.
Additionally, Mia will need to visit the hospital twice to have blood taken for use in the operation--the first visit being four weeks before the procedure, and the second two weeks later. They'll also have to insert a catheter to find out if they need to take any other precautions during the surgery. The later we find out, the later the procedure will actually take place. My contract ends on July 28th or so, which is about when we'd like to head back to the 'States. We'd need her to get the procedure done with enough time to get her post-surgery checkups and medication done here in Japan.
The second issue is that Stef is currently due to give birth on June 2nd--less than three months from now. We'd prefer to not have Mia hospitalized while Stef is giving birth. This also means that I'd likely need to be the one to stay with Mia in the hospital in Matsuyama. I'm not looking forward to the idea of being away from Stef while she's close to giving birth. My mom is coming out here around mid May and stay for a few weeks. We're hoping she'll be able to help out a bit with the baby while she's here.
I wasn't sure if I'd have enough vacation time available to take a couple weeks off to be in the hospital with Mia, and my supervisor told me that they wouldn't give me any special paid leave for my daughter's procedure or the birth of my child. According to my contract, it's possible for them to give me paid leave whenever they feel it's appropriate--like they did on the island when Mia was born. However, there's just too much bureaucracy, as well as a general uneasiness for all dealings relating to foreign employees out here. Even though my supervisor would like to help, his supervisors won't let him. I don't blame them--our contract has a lot of clauses that they themselves might not have in theirs, so it probably doesn't seem fair to give special treatment to the foreigners.
In the end, it all might be moot, since I was told by my helpful and supportive supervisor that I'll actually have my PTO clock reset in April, replenishing my balance of 20 days' worth, in addition to the 10 or 12 unused days that I'll be carrying over. When it's all said and done, I'll have enough PTO left that I could take a whole month off if I so needed. That was a pleasant surprise, though I'll be careful not to abuse the privilege of having so much PTO. The last thing I want to do is make life inconvenient for my coworkers just so that I can be comfortable. That said, I'll use what I need to use.
These last few months are going to be pretty busy. We're certainly not taking Mia's condition or the surgery lightly. But we feel good about her getting the procedure here, as long as we can work out the schedule.
Mia herself seems so happy, and she's developing so quickly. She shows an amazing capacity for music and language--she's been singing her ABCs for months, and she's able to string strikingly complex sentences together. She and Kelsey like to make up songs, improvising melodies and creating their own lyrics to narrate what's going on around them--something that I did while was growing up (and still do). Naturally, Mia's also quite a handful, being in the "terrible twos" stage and all. We feel very blessed to have such cute little girls in our family, and look forward to watching both of them grow up together.
Friday, March 11, 2011
Earthquake and Tsunami in Japan
With all of the commotion in Japan, some of my loyal reader (singular) might want an update on our situation. First off, we're safe at home in Imabari, which wasn't really affected by the quake or the tsunami. Now that that's out of the way, here's how I saw it unfold.
At about 2:20 yesterday, I finished teaching my final class of the day and went back to the staff room to study kanji characters. While I was plugging away, a call came in telling us that there had just been a massive earthquake in northern Japan, and that we should turn on the news for more information. I was so wrapped up in my study that I didn't really notice what was going on. I had heard about an earthquake in Japan sometime in the last week, so I figured the images that were being shown on TV was archive footage.
My desk is across the room from the TV, so I couldn't hear all the details, but I could see from headlines and subtitles that it was actually more recent. The few teachers that were with me in the staff room surmised that the magnitude was probably somewhere in the 6.0-7.0 range on the Richter scale. I pricked up my ears--knowing that such an earthquake could potentially be very serious--and opened my web browser to get more information. At this point, they were reporting a magnitude of 7.9.
To put such force in perspective, the Kobe quake of 1995 which claimed over 6000 lives and caused over $100 billion in damage was measured between 6.8 and 7.2. The Richter scale has a logarithmic base of 10, meaning that for every 1 point increase, the amplitude of the seismic waves is actually ten times greater. The amplitude of a 7.9 quake is 10 times higher than that of a 6.9 quake.
Yesterday's quake has actually been measured at 8.9, meaning that its amplitude was actually 100 times that of a 6.9 quake. The direct damage from earthquake was somewhat mitigated by the fact that the epicenter of the quake was 80-some miles off the coast of Japan, whereas the Kobe quake was about 12 miles from Kobe. While the earthquake damage doesn't look to be as bad as that of the Kobe quake, we still don't understand the extent of the damage caused by the resulting tsunami, which has frankly been the most terrifying part of the whole ordeal (I say this having not experienced the earthquake firsthand).
Back in the staff room, we started to get a picture of the sheer force released by the earthquake. NHK's live feed showed the scene in Iwate prefecture, where cars slowly drifted alongside boats. Warnings of a tsunami over thirty feet high started popping up for various prefectures, and the tension in our office started to build up. The number of people glued to the TV grew as each teacher came back from class, until about thirty people crowded the front area of the staff room.
Worry and concerned curiosity quickly turned to horror as the live feed switched to a helicopter shot of Sendai, where a monstrous wave of debris swept cars, trucks, and houses away, each becoming a new part of an increasingly dangerous wall of unstoppable destruction. Stifled shouts of "Oh, no!" and "This is horrible!" bounced around the staff room as cars and trucks attempting to outrun the reckless wave vanished in an instant. The drivers didn't stand a chance. I can't shake the image of a man standing on the high point of a raised road, on the back of a flat-bed semi truck, pacing back and forth as the tsunami approaches. It seemed to slightly change course at the last minute, possibly sparing the man's life. The TV station cut to a different camera before we could see what happened.
As I watched the peaceful farmland of Sendai disappear as it was engulfed by the tsunami, I couldn't help but notice how similar it looked to the fields and homes of Imabari, by which I ride my bike on my daily commute to work. Some teachers wondered aloud if the waves en route to Imabari were big enough to reach us at the school. Tsunami warnings were issued for pretty much the whole country, though Ehime prefecture didn't seem to be as high on the list as other places. Still, even a 2 meter wave could wreak all sorts of havoc out here. One of the teachers mentioned that the tsunami might hit us here a little after 5 PM. It was 4:15.
My thoughts turned to my family. What would we do if the waves did reach us? I had to go.
The front exit, through which I usually leave each day after saying goodbye, was so congested with people watching the TV that I slipped out the back exit without saying a word, not wanting to draw attention to myself. I raced home as fast as I could, with strong winds opposing me all the way home on my 30 minute commute. I told myself that everything would be fine, but resolved to get home and prepare my family. As I approached my apartment I realized that there had been ample time for warning, yet there were no signs that anything was amiss. Did all these people driving around have any idea what was going on, or did that mean that we were safe?
When I got home at 4:45, I got on the computer at once to check the reports and see if we had to make any plans. The Japanese web sites said that Ehime could expect the tsunami to hit at around 6:20, though it wouldn't even be a meter high by that point. I breathed a little easier, but couldn't pull myself away from the news. Who knows if an aftershock might trigger something else that affects us more directly?
What would I do in that case? I've had a bit of time today to think about how I can prepare for such an emergency. I need to make those preparations while the image of this disaster is still fresh in my mind. We basically have our TV unplugged here, so we don't get the news. If we did need to evacuate, who would tell us? We don't have smart phones or any other way to stay updated when we're out and about. I'd imagine that the majority of the people whose lives have been taken in this disaster either didn't know about the coming tsunami, didn't have enough time to prepare, or didn't take the tsunami warnings seriously enough.
We're lucky to have not been affected much by this. These people, swallowed by a tsunami in the blink of an eye, had their own lives. They each had their own quirks and talents, their own friends and family, their own goals and dreams. And now they're gone, leaving a hole in the hearts and lives of the people who are left scrambling for any information as to their whereabouts.
As soon as I was pretty confident that we'd be safe, I posted messages to Facebook in anticipation of the flood of calls or e-mails we might receive. It really does mean a lot to me that our friends and family thought of us when they heard about the disaster. I'm happy to report that we're fine. But many people still haven't heard from their family members in Japan. We appreciate the thoughts and prayers from everybody, but please don't forget to include those truly affected by this catastrophe. I'm sure they can use any monetary donations we all can muster. I hope and pray that that man who stood on the back of that truck made it out OK--for the sake of him and all those who love him.
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
I Think I'll Never Turn Japanese
I consider my time here in Japan a big success. I'm learning more and more about the Japanese language and culture every day, and I've come to a level that I can confidently call "fluent in Japanese". My grammar is strong, and as long as the topic isn't Japanese politics or a complex technical one like "Grooves on a Metal Substrate", I'm quite capable. But every once in a while, I have a moment were I realize that there's so much more to a communication than just speaking the language.
Recently, I spent a couple class periods at one of my schools helping a couple kids prepare for a debate about the necessity of cell phones for junior high school students. I spent a good chunk of time with one of the kids coaching him on pronunciation and trying to get him to understand possible objections to his points. When it came time to hold the debate, he got really nervous and couldn't remember what he was supposed to say. I tried to give him hints, but he wasn't even willing to mimic my words. Frustrated with the knowledge that he really could say what he wanted to say, but was too afraid to make a mistake, I grimaced visibly. I encouraged him to use what we had prepared, and told him not to worry, since there were only 4 people present--him, another student, and two English teachers. He tensed up and shook nervously, unable to produce a single sound. Then the dam broke.
I sat, stunned, as he clenched his fist and repeatedly bashed himself in the side of the head. The other teacher eventually asked him to stop, which he did, and then calmly continued with the debate as if nothing had happened.
It's certainly not my fault that the kid punched himself. I don't know what examples or other influences this kid has in his life, or what kind of personal issues he deals with. I do know, however, that less pressure on the kid to perform and better control of my facial expressions could have possibly prevented the outburst. Japanese kids often seem to expect perfection of themselves, to the degree that they won't speak if they're not 100% positive that they're right. But in classes with fewer than 5 students, the same kids are forced to answer, whether or not they're confident. That must cause a mighty mental struggle for some of them. English class often compounds the problem by demanding that the students instantaneously adapt western behavior even though a different kind of behavior has been drilled into them from a young age. Perhaps if I had been a bit more sensitive to all these factors, things might have gone differently.
Before I came to Japan, I dreamed about going out and working with the missionaries out here. I figured it would help my Japanese and give me opportunities to serve. Unfortunately, it just never worked out. At first, when there were elders here, I lived on the island, too far away to really do anything. When I finally moved to the mainland, the elders were transferred out and they brought sisters in instead. After few months ago, the elders came back--but I've been too busy to get anything done. Yesterday, I finally had a chance to go out with the missionaries and do some work.
It's interesting working with young missionaries after having served a mission of your own--you feel a sense of inferiority, since they have the responsibility to serve and are much more dedicated to missionary work, and are likely much more sensitive to spiritual things. However, they haven't yet learned all the tricks that you learned back when you wandered around in a shirt and tie. They haven't learned how to be bold and confident, and certainly don't have all the life experiences that you get post-mission.
One of the missionaries is a 20 year-old from Utah who's having a hard time learning the language. The other is a 24 year-old from Japan. While both are very friendly, they both seemed a bit timid (I'd imagine that it was a combination of timidness and Japanese politeness). I came away feeling like they needed to trust their message more--if they believe it to be true, they should be willing to be bold in teaching it. My church Japanese isn't nearly as strong as I'd like, but I definitely have the confidence to say what I feel to people. Perhaps that came from serving a mission in a place where most people share similar beliefs. Maybe my way was too bold for some Japanese people. I'd guess that there needs to be some kind of balance between good ol' Japanese politeness and western boldness.
My experience knocking doors yesterday was a bit different than it was for me in Guatemala. Here, people are a lot quicker to shut the door in your face without needing a reason for doing so. A lot of people said they were too busy or not interested. Some people just said they were sorry and shut the door. Most people didn't even open the door, as they have these little intercom boxes with cameras on them that let them filter out any salespeople or Mormons. One old lady just said, "Chigaimasu," which literally means that something is "different" or "incorrect", but can be interpreted in many ways. I imagine that she was basically saying "Nah, I don't want to deal with you guys," but it came across as, "Sorry, you've got the wrong house." After she shut the door on us, I jokingly asked the missionaries what was incorrect--it certainly wasn't our message. The Utah missionary kindly reminded me that I have to be careful of what I say, as the walls are pretty thin out here. Apparently, he once got chewed out by an old man for making the same exact comment after getting rejected with "chigaimasu". It's considered very rude to question your elders out here, especially when they can hear you.
I admit, I was a bit embarrassed. I'm well aware that living with Americans out here doesn't always allow me to know what's culturally taboo. That's one of the reasons why I always hoped to spend a little time with the missionaries. A Japanese coworker will almost never be bold enough to tell you that what you've been doing for months actually annoys the living heck out of them. An American missionary, however, will likely have been corrected by his companions, and will thus offer a wealth of knowledge of Japanese etiquette.
On the subject of Japanese coworkers and embarrassment--the other day, a teacher approached me to collect money for school lunch (kyushoku). She mentioned that I couldn't make any changes in the month of March, and that I needed to pay beforehand. Typically, I pay after the month has ended, since I don't know what kind of schedule changes I might have. For example, I might have to go to Tokyo for a meeting, or take a sick kid to the hospital. I mentioned that I have never had any problems paying after-the-fact before, and asked if something had changed. Paying for kyushoku in advance is not a huge deal, but I wanted to know if it was a one-time thing, or if I'd never be able to make changes to my lunch schedule ever again. When I asked the teacher for an explanation, she started talking to me in broken English. When I told her that it was OK to speak Japanese to me, her face went red, and she replied that it wasn't her job to deal with such questions, and that I'd have to take it up with the vice principal. She mentioned that it said in a letter somewhere that I wouldn't be able to make any changes, but I didn't get to actually read the letter to see what it said.
We walked over to the vice principal, and the teacher started by saying, in Japanese, "It appears that he can't comprehend what I'm trying to tell him." I explained that I was merely trying to understand if it was just March, or every month in the future, that I couldn't make changes. The vice principal explained that it was just March, and I went back to my desk, semi-satisfied with the explanation. While pondering how something so simple could get so uncomfortable for everyone so quickly, I realized that the reason they couldn't make changes was likely that March is the end of the school year, and balances need to be settled before job transfers, which happen April 1st.
Such an explanation, while so simple, is not something that a typical Japanese worker would ask for. When someone comes to collect, you pay without asking questions. Even if they were to make changes to the schedule, they would likely pay, regardless of whether or not they missed any meals. It's just the way they do things here. It's embarrassing when you don't know something that seems crystal clear to everyone else.
While I've actually become quite good at acting like a Japanese at work, I'm sure that there are many things that I'll never learn. It's easy to get discouraged about not becoming entirely Japanese; I will likely never get to a point where I do nothing that offends anyone. In the end, however, is that really such a bad thing? I will always identify with my mother culture more than any other--any time I analyze Japanese or other world cultures, it's through the lens of an American--and I don't think that's anything to be ashamed of. Most Japanese people will be viewing me through their own Japanese lens.
The more Japanese I act, the more people expect from me. Not that that's necessarily a bad thing--people just tend not to realize that I don't always know the Japanese way to do something, since I haven't given them cause to believe that in the past. While I know that I'll never quite be able to forget that I'm an outsider out here, I do admit that my coworkers have been wonderful about making me feel respected. In my mind, respect for each other, regardless of cultural differences, is a much more attainable and desirable goal than full assimilation into another culture.
Recently, I spent a couple class periods at one of my schools helping a couple kids prepare for a debate about the necessity of cell phones for junior high school students. I spent a good chunk of time with one of the kids coaching him on pronunciation and trying to get him to understand possible objections to his points. When it came time to hold the debate, he got really nervous and couldn't remember what he was supposed to say. I tried to give him hints, but he wasn't even willing to mimic my words. Frustrated with the knowledge that he really could say what he wanted to say, but was too afraid to make a mistake, I grimaced visibly. I encouraged him to use what we had prepared, and told him not to worry, since there were only 4 people present--him, another student, and two English teachers. He tensed up and shook nervously, unable to produce a single sound. Then the dam broke.
I sat, stunned, as he clenched his fist and repeatedly bashed himself in the side of the head. The other teacher eventually asked him to stop, which he did, and then calmly continued with the debate as if nothing had happened.
It's certainly not my fault that the kid punched himself. I don't know what examples or other influences this kid has in his life, or what kind of personal issues he deals with. I do know, however, that less pressure on the kid to perform and better control of my facial expressions could have possibly prevented the outburst. Japanese kids often seem to expect perfection of themselves, to the degree that they won't speak if they're not 100% positive that they're right. But in classes with fewer than 5 students, the same kids are forced to answer, whether or not they're confident. That must cause a mighty mental struggle for some of them. English class often compounds the problem by demanding that the students instantaneously adapt western behavior even though a different kind of behavior has been drilled into them from a young age. Perhaps if I had been a bit more sensitive to all these factors, things might have gone differently.
Before I came to Japan, I dreamed about going out and working with the missionaries out here. I figured it would help my Japanese and give me opportunities to serve. Unfortunately, it just never worked out. At first, when there were elders here, I lived on the island, too far away to really do anything. When I finally moved to the mainland, the elders were transferred out and they brought sisters in instead. After few months ago, the elders came back--but I've been too busy to get anything done. Yesterday, I finally had a chance to go out with the missionaries and do some work.
It's interesting working with young missionaries after having served a mission of your own--you feel a sense of inferiority, since they have the responsibility to serve and are much more dedicated to missionary work, and are likely much more sensitive to spiritual things. However, they haven't yet learned all the tricks that you learned back when you wandered around in a shirt and tie. They haven't learned how to be bold and confident, and certainly don't have all the life experiences that you get post-mission.
One of the missionaries is a 20 year-old from Utah who's having a hard time learning the language. The other is a 24 year-old from Japan. While both are very friendly, they both seemed a bit timid (I'd imagine that it was a combination of timidness and Japanese politeness). I came away feeling like they needed to trust their message more--if they believe it to be true, they should be willing to be bold in teaching it. My church Japanese isn't nearly as strong as I'd like, but I definitely have the confidence to say what I feel to people. Perhaps that came from serving a mission in a place where most people share similar beliefs. Maybe my way was too bold for some Japanese people. I'd guess that there needs to be some kind of balance between good ol' Japanese politeness and western boldness.
My experience knocking doors yesterday was a bit different than it was for me in Guatemala. Here, people are a lot quicker to shut the door in your face without needing a reason for doing so. A lot of people said they were too busy or not interested. Some people just said they were sorry and shut the door. Most people didn't even open the door, as they have these little intercom boxes with cameras on them that let them filter out any salespeople or Mormons. One old lady just said, "Chigaimasu," which literally means that something is "different" or "incorrect", but can be interpreted in many ways. I imagine that she was basically saying "Nah, I don't want to deal with you guys," but it came across as, "Sorry, you've got the wrong house." After she shut the door on us, I jokingly asked the missionaries what was incorrect--it certainly wasn't our message. The Utah missionary kindly reminded me that I have to be careful of what I say, as the walls are pretty thin out here. Apparently, he once got chewed out by an old man for making the same exact comment after getting rejected with "chigaimasu". It's considered very rude to question your elders out here, especially when they can hear you.
I admit, I was a bit embarrassed. I'm well aware that living with Americans out here doesn't always allow me to know what's culturally taboo. That's one of the reasons why I always hoped to spend a little time with the missionaries. A Japanese coworker will almost never be bold enough to tell you that what you've been doing for months actually annoys the living heck out of them. An American missionary, however, will likely have been corrected by his companions, and will thus offer a wealth of knowledge of Japanese etiquette.
On the subject of Japanese coworkers and embarrassment--the other day, a teacher approached me to collect money for school lunch (kyushoku). She mentioned that I couldn't make any changes in the month of March, and that I needed to pay beforehand. Typically, I pay after the month has ended, since I don't know what kind of schedule changes I might have. For example, I might have to go to Tokyo for a meeting, or take a sick kid to the hospital. I mentioned that I have never had any problems paying after-the-fact before, and asked if something had changed. Paying for kyushoku in advance is not a huge deal, but I wanted to know if it was a one-time thing, or if I'd never be able to make changes to my lunch schedule ever again. When I asked the teacher for an explanation, she started talking to me in broken English. When I told her that it was OK to speak Japanese to me, her face went red, and she replied that it wasn't her job to deal with such questions, and that I'd have to take it up with the vice principal. She mentioned that it said in a letter somewhere that I wouldn't be able to make any changes, but I didn't get to actually read the letter to see what it said.
We walked over to the vice principal, and the teacher started by saying, in Japanese, "It appears that he can't comprehend what I'm trying to tell him." I explained that I was merely trying to understand if it was just March, or every month in the future, that I couldn't make changes. The vice principal explained that it was just March, and I went back to my desk, semi-satisfied with the explanation. While pondering how something so simple could get so uncomfortable for everyone so quickly, I realized that the reason they couldn't make changes was likely that March is the end of the school year, and balances need to be settled before job transfers, which happen April 1st.
Such an explanation, while so simple, is not something that a typical Japanese worker would ask for. When someone comes to collect, you pay without asking questions. Even if they were to make changes to the schedule, they would likely pay, regardless of whether or not they missed any meals. It's just the way they do things here. It's embarrassing when you don't know something that seems crystal clear to everyone else.
While I've actually become quite good at acting like a Japanese at work, I'm sure that there are many things that I'll never learn. It's easy to get discouraged about not becoming entirely Japanese; I will likely never get to a point where I do nothing that offends anyone. In the end, however, is that really such a bad thing? I will always identify with my mother culture more than any other--any time I analyze Japanese or other world cultures, it's through the lens of an American--and I don't think that's anything to be ashamed of. Most Japanese people will be viewing me through their own Japanese lens.
The more Japanese I act, the more people expect from me. Not that that's necessarily a bad thing--people just tend not to realize that I don't always know the Japanese way to do something, since I haven't given them cause to believe that in the past. While I know that I'll never quite be able to forget that I'm an outsider out here, I do admit that my coworkers have been wonderful about making me feel respected. In my mind, respect for each other, regardless of cultural differences, is a much more attainable and desirable goal than full assimilation into another culture.
Decisions, Decisions
Recently, I went out to Tokyo for a conference for JET program participants returning to their home countries. While I was there, I looked into a lot of the job opportunities, and came away feeling very confident about the prospect of getting a job when I get home. After all, I've got skills that can go a long way--I'm trilingual, I've got almost ten years of proven sales experience, and I'm driven to excel in whatever it is that I do.
There were a lot of workshops about different career fields, but they happened to be scheduled so that I couldn't attend all of the ones that I wanted. There were always three workshops going on in each block, and the three that I had elected to attend all happened to be offered at the same exact time. The one I actually attended was supposed to be about finance, accounting, and banking, but ended up being mostly about becoming an accountant in the UK. It wasn't the most helpful of seminars for me, regardless of how nice the presenter was.
The conference was actually held in Yokohama at the Pacifico Hotel, a mega hotel popular for business conferences. I stayed with my a friend who lives in Tokyo in the Shinjuku area, which added about an hour and a half for travel each way, but supplied me with some company for the three nights that I stayed. We had hoped to hang out a bit, but he was so swamped with work and I kept getting home so late that we didn't to hang out until the hours of night when I probably should have been sleeping. The last night, I stayed up until almost 4AM dismantling and reassembling his laptop to fix its cooling issues. All three nights, I stayed up well past my typical bedtime of 10:30 or 11.
Travel is very expensive in Japan, and while I may have only saved a net total of forty or fifty bucks by staying with a friend and walking an hour every day, I made it a point to conserve my money in other areas such as food. I ate at McDonald's for most meals, ordering mainly from the 100 yen menu. I did splurge a bit one day and got the 400 yen Miami Burger, which was a hamburger topped with tortilla chips and what I assume was supposed to be some kind of chili (but tasted eerily similar to Indian keema curry). I'm pretty sure that no such burger has ever been consumed in or near Miami.
A lot of married guys yearn for the freedom they enjoyed in their bachelor days. Every once in a while, I find myself wishing that I just had a little more free time alone, since I'd be able to get so much more done without kids crawling on me. What I find when I actually get that free time is that I don't know what to do with it. When Stef and the girls were back in the States, I didn't actually spend all my time studying. I actually spent about the same amount of time as before, but replaced family time with loaf-time. No matter how good I am at being productive while at work, I'm never nearly as productive at home or alone.
In Tokyo, I didn't feel free at all--I actually felt like the absence of my family limited my ability to have fun. Once you've experienced family life, it's hard to go back. The tempting freedom of bachelorhood is nothing more than a mirage--how soon we forget that as bachelors we longed for the companionship we now take for granted.
Returning from the conference with renewed vigor and hope for the future, I flooded Stef with optimistic talk about future plans. Like I said, I'm confident in my marketability. So it comes as somewhat of a surprise to me that just a couple days ago I had a very strong impression that I need to go back to school to become a Japanese teacher. Given my overall sentiment about the job search, I find it odd that so soon after feeling so confident about finding a job, I would not only feel a need to go grad school, but actually feel good about the idea.
So now I'm looking at masters programs in second language teaching at various schools, including my alma mater, BYU. I feel really good about continuing my Japanese education, and Stef feels good about it as well. She's been very supportive through all my career twists and turns. This time, however, it just feels right. Since I missed the application deadlines for the program, I'm going to need to apply for a job anyway. And you never know--I may find a career that I feel gives me enough opportunities to use my language skills and keep learning. I'm going to actively pursue grad school and a good job, in hopes that grad school won't be necessary. Who knows--perhaps I can find a company that will help pay for my graduate studies so that I can advance my career with them.
There's a lot to think about--but it's nice to have such supportive family, regardless of the path I choose.
There were a lot of workshops about different career fields, but they happened to be scheduled so that I couldn't attend all of the ones that I wanted. There were always three workshops going on in each block, and the three that I had elected to attend all happened to be offered at the same exact time. The one I actually attended was supposed to be about finance, accounting, and banking, but ended up being mostly about becoming an accountant in the UK. It wasn't the most helpful of seminars for me, regardless of how nice the presenter was.
The conference was actually held in Yokohama at the Pacifico Hotel, a mega hotel popular for business conferences. I stayed with my a friend who lives in Tokyo in the Shinjuku area, which added about an hour and a half for travel each way, but supplied me with some company for the three nights that I stayed. We had hoped to hang out a bit, but he was so swamped with work and I kept getting home so late that we didn't to hang out until the hours of night when I probably should have been sleeping. The last night, I stayed up until almost 4AM dismantling and reassembling his laptop to fix its cooling issues. All three nights, I stayed up well past my typical bedtime of 10:30 or 11.
Travel is very expensive in Japan, and while I may have only saved a net total of forty or fifty bucks by staying with a friend and walking an hour every day, I made it a point to conserve my money in other areas such as food. I ate at McDonald's for most meals, ordering mainly from the 100 yen menu. I did splurge a bit one day and got the 400 yen Miami Burger, which was a hamburger topped with tortilla chips and what I assume was supposed to be some kind of chili (but tasted eerily similar to Indian keema curry). I'm pretty sure that no such burger has ever been consumed in or near Miami.
A lot of married guys yearn for the freedom they enjoyed in their bachelor days. Every once in a while, I find myself wishing that I just had a little more free time alone, since I'd be able to get so much more done without kids crawling on me. What I find when I actually get that free time is that I don't know what to do with it. When Stef and the girls were back in the States, I didn't actually spend all my time studying. I actually spent about the same amount of time as before, but replaced family time with loaf-time. No matter how good I am at being productive while at work, I'm never nearly as productive at home or alone.
In Tokyo, I didn't feel free at all--I actually felt like the absence of my family limited my ability to have fun. Once you've experienced family life, it's hard to go back. The tempting freedom of bachelorhood is nothing more than a mirage--how soon we forget that as bachelors we longed for the companionship we now take for granted.
Returning from the conference with renewed vigor and hope for the future, I flooded Stef with optimistic talk about future plans. Like I said, I'm confident in my marketability. So it comes as somewhat of a surprise to me that just a couple days ago I had a very strong impression that I need to go back to school to become a Japanese teacher. Given my overall sentiment about the job search, I find it odd that so soon after feeling so confident about finding a job, I would not only feel a need to go grad school, but actually feel good about the idea.
So now I'm looking at masters programs in second language teaching at various schools, including my alma mater, BYU. I feel really good about continuing my Japanese education, and Stef feels good about it as well. She's been very supportive through all my career twists and turns. This time, however, it just feels right. Since I missed the application deadlines for the program, I'm going to need to apply for a job anyway. And you never know--I may find a career that I feel gives me enough opportunities to use my language skills and keep learning. I'm going to actively pursue grad school and a good job, in hopes that grad school won't be necessary. Who knows--perhaps I can find a company that will help pay for my graduate studies so that I can advance my career with them.
There's a lot to think about--but it's nice to have such supportive family, regardless of the path I choose.
Sick Again
Last July, I came down with a cough that ended up lingering for over a month. I was back in Japan by myself for a few weeks, having just visited family in the US. With my wife and kids still in America, I was going out of my mind. I was having trouble breathing, making me anxious and depriving me of a lot of sleep. I went to various hospitals and saw many doctors, who each seemed to have a different opinion about my state. In short, I had no idea what was wrong with me.
At one of the hospitals, a doctor suggested that I might have asthma. My symptoms were consistent with those of asthma, but I had never heard of adult onset asthma before, so I was a bit baffled. I saw another doctor, who repeated the first doctor's opinion that I had asthma. For the last few months, I've been taking a few different asthma medications. The inhaler itself never really seemed to have much of an effect, but the allergy pill and anti-anxiety med curbed some of the side effects and allowed me to sleep, so I continued going to the doctor, consigned to my future as an asthmatic.
Even though the breathing and anxiety problems were somewhat controlled, I've been sick a lot over the past few months--a lot more so than usual. I've always chalked it up to working around hundreds of kids, who all carry their own special germs to spread.
About three of four weeks ago, I came down with a cough almost exactly like the one I had last July. It has lingered since, leading to a lot more sick days than I'd like. Ready to finally put this beast to rest, I went to a doctor again a couple days ago to see if there was anything we could do about my condition. I'm pretty confident that it was a good choice.
Doctor Fujiwara at Imabari DaiIchi hospital recommended that I get a CT scan from my brow down to my chest to see what was going on. They had me lie on my back on a moving table (like any other CT scan) with my arms high above my head while they scanned my insides. It took a considerable amount of willpower to keep completely still. It's strange how you feel every itch when you're not allowed to scratch them. To keep myself distracted, I imagined shooting through a vacuum tube in one of those space-age personal transport pods you see in science fiction shows.
When the results came in, it showed that one side of my head was plugged up. The sinuses on one side of my face are completely blocked, which supposedly causes all of the problems I've been experiencing over the last 8 months or so. My bronchial tubes are inflamed as a result, and the doctor also mentioned something about empyema. So, I've got bronchitis as a result of chronic sinusitis and empyema. Sinusitis is actually pretty common, but it can get so bad that it greatly affects the rest of the body. The treatment plan will last at least a month, and likely up to 90 days.
While that was all somewhat surprising, the bombshell came at the end of my checkup. Dr. Fujiwara says I don't have asthma. All of the asthma-like symptoms that I'm experiencing can all supposedly be explained by my sinus problems. As much as I'd like to take this diagnosis and run with it, the differing opinions about my condition leave a non-trivial amount of doubt. One thing that makes me want to believe the current diagnosis is that I actually got a CT scan with this doctor, whereas the others took inconclusive chest x-rays and theorized that I probably have asthma. I saw the CT photos with my own eyes, so I know for sure that I do have sinus problems. CT scans don't seem to be used for asthma detection, though, so I don't know how he could know that I don't have asthma.
At this point, I'm going to just go through with the sinus treatment and believe that I don't have asthma. I'm hoping that doing so will take care of all the asthma-like symptoms and get me to my previous healthy state.
At one of the hospitals, a doctor suggested that I might have asthma. My symptoms were consistent with those of asthma, but I had never heard of adult onset asthma before, so I was a bit baffled. I saw another doctor, who repeated the first doctor's opinion that I had asthma. For the last few months, I've been taking a few different asthma medications. The inhaler itself never really seemed to have much of an effect, but the allergy pill and anti-anxiety med curbed some of the side effects and allowed me to sleep, so I continued going to the doctor, consigned to my future as an asthmatic.
Even though the breathing and anxiety problems were somewhat controlled, I've been sick a lot over the past few months--a lot more so than usual. I've always chalked it up to working around hundreds of kids, who all carry their own special germs to spread.
About three of four weeks ago, I came down with a cough almost exactly like the one I had last July. It has lingered since, leading to a lot more sick days than I'd like. Ready to finally put this beast to rest, I went to a doctor again a couple days ago to see if there was anything we could do about my condition. I'm pretty confident that it was a good choice.
Doctor Fujiwara at Imabari DaiIchi hospital recommended that I get a CT scan from my brow down to my chest to see what was going on. They had me lie on my back on a moving table (like any other CT scan) with my arms high above my head while they scanned my insides. It took a considerable amount of willpower to keep completely still. It's strange how you feel every itch when you're not allowed to scratch them. To keep myself distracted, I imagined shooting through a vacuum tube in one of those space-age personal transport pods you see in science fiction shows.
When the results came in, it showed that one side of my head was plugged up. The sinuses on one side of my face are completely blocked, which supposedly causes all of the problems I've been experiencing over the last 8 months or so. My bronchial tubes are inflamed as a result, and the doctor also mentioned something about empyema. So, I've got bronchitis as a result of chronic sinusitis and empyema. Sinusitis is actually pretty common, but it can get so bad that it greatly affects the rest of the body. The treatment plan will last at least a month, and likely up to 90 days.
While that was all somewhat surprising, the bombshell came at the end of my checkup. Dr. Fujiwara says I don't have asthma. All of the asthma-like symptoms that I'm experiencing can all supposedly be explained by my sinus problems. As much as I'd like to take this diagnosis and run with it, the differing opinions about my condition leave a non-trivial amount of doubt. One thing that makes me want to believe the current diagnosis is that I actually got a CT scan with this doctor, whereas the others took inconclusive chest x-rays and theorized that I probably have asthma. I saw the CT photos with my own eyes, so I know for sure that I do have sinus problems. CT scans don't seem to be used for asthma detection, though, so I don't know how he could know that I don't have asthma.
At this point, I'm going to just go through with the sinus treatment and believe that I don't have asthma. I'm hoping that doing so will take care of all the asthma-like symptoms and get me to my previous healthy state.
Friday, March 4, 2011
FREE KETCHUP!
I originally posted this on a sports blog named after the fact that the Oakland A's don't offer free sauerkraut at the Coliseum. I figured I might as well post it here, too.
There are some false ideas about service here in Japan. Granted, flying JAL is probably going to be a bit more pleasant than flying USAirways, but the stereotype that Japanese customer service is better than American customer service does not always hold--and restaurants are at best a mixed bag. At McDonald's today (it's edible in Japan), I asked for a packet of ketchup and was told that ketchup is only for people who order fries. I replied that I always ask for ketchup and have never had a problem, to which I got an uncomfortable stare, since most Japanese people don't respond after getting "no" for an answer. I motioned to another employee, who deferred to the manager, who gave me the single packet of ketchup I had requested.
I've been denied a refill on water once before at a big city location, and I've been told after requesting water after already having ordered that I would need to purchase something else. But never before had I been denied a packet of ketchup at McDonald's.
I'd also like to address the idea that I can somehow only have ketchup if I order fries (which I don't usually do). When you order fries in Japan, they don't give or offer ketchup. You have to specifically ask for it. I have not once seen a Japanese person eat fries with ketchup. Besides, ketchup is not just for fries--some people prefer a little more ketchup on their burger, or to add it to something that doesn't normally come with it.
Full disclosure--I actually am not a big fan of ketchup. I actually order it so that my daughter will eat her chicken (they have breaded, fried pieces of chicken on the 100 yen menu here--much cheaper than the 300 yen McNuggets, and better). That's how she wants to do it, so that's how I order it.
I'm a pretty level headed guy (in America--I'm the Incredible Hulk from a Japanese perspective). I don't like to complain when my order isn't perfect, and I generally just prefer to leave people alone when they don't do things exactly how I ask. I'm not driving through the drive through again or going inside to talk to a manager if they don't give me extra pickles or if they accidentally give me a chocolate shake instead of a strawberry one--if they overcharge me or don't give me something I paid for, that's another story.
Anyway, in the friendliest voice I could muster, I said, "It's hard to imagine not being given ketchup at McDonald's," causing the embarrassed employee to apologize. Later, I saw her going through the store policy documents with the managers, hopefully learning that ketchup is not such a precious commodity that it must be preserved with an iron fist. I'm sure there are a lot of aspects of the service industry in Japan which I'll miss (not having to tip, for example), but the faux politeness and bureaucratic unwillingness to adapt or make exceptions are not things I'll be clamoring for when I'm back on American soil.
The idea that the customer is always right is surely a western one. While I don't necessarily always agree with it, it's nice to know that many American business do take it into consideration. They realize that it's better to take a minimal loss than to lose a customer. Also, they give free refills on drinks. Hooray for America!
There are some false ideas about service here in Japan. Granted, flying JAL is probably going to be a bit more pleasant than flying USAirways, but the stereotype that Japanese customer service is better than American customer service does not always hold--and restaurants are at best a mixed bag. At McDonald's today (it's edible in Japan), I asked for a packet of ketchup and was told that ketchup is only for people who order fries. I replied that I always ask for ketchup and have never had a problem, to which I got an uncomfortable stare, since most Japanese people don't respond after getting "no" for an answer. I motioned to another employee, who deferred to the manager, who gave me the single packet of ketchup I had requested.
I've been denied a refill on water once before at a big city location, and I've been told after requesting water after already having ordered that I would need to purchase something else. But never before had I been denied a packet of ketchup at McDonald's.
I'd also like to address the idea that I can somehow only have ketchup if I order fries (which I don't usually do). When you order fries in Japan, they don't give or offer ketchup. You have to specifically ask for it. I have not once seen a Japanese person eat fries with ketchup. Besides, ketchup is not just for fries--some people prefer a little more ketchup on their burger, or to add it to something that doesn't normally come with it.
Full disclosure--I actually am not a big fan of ketchup. I actually order it so that my daughter will eat her chicken (they have breaded, fried pieces of chicken on the 100 yen menu here--much cheaper than the 300 yen McNuggets, and better). That's how she wants to do it, so that's how I order it.
I'm a pretty level headed guy (in America--I'm the Incredible Hulk from a Japanese perspective). I don't like to complain when my order isn't perfect, and I generally just prefer to leave people alone when they don't do things exactly how I ask. I'm not driving through the drive through again or going inside to talk to a manager if they don't give me extra pickles or if they accidentally give me a chocolate shake instead of a strawberry one--if they overcharge me or don't give me something I paid for, that's another story.
Anyway, in the friendliest voice I could muster, I said, "It's hard to imagine not being given ketchup at McDonald's," causing the embarrassed employee to apologize. Later, I saw her going through the store policy documents with the managers, hopefully learning that ketchup is not such a precious commodity that it must be preserved with an iron fist. I'm sure there are a lot of aspects of the service industry in Japan which I'll miss (not having to tip, for example), but the faux politeness and bureaucratic unwillingness to adapt or make exceptions are not things I'll be clamoring for when I'm back on American soil.
The idea that the customer is always right is surely a western one. While I don't necessarily always agree with it, it's nice to know that many American business do take it into consideration. They realize that it's better to take a minimal loss than to lose a customer. Also, they give free refills on drinks. Hooray for America!
Joe & Gavin--If You Stay I'll Mow Your Lawn
My parents divorced when i was about 6 years old, and my mom won custody, except for every other weekend, which really is not enough time to spend with your father. I was jealous when my dad took my older brother to a Kings game, and kept pestering my dad to take me to a game some time.
I was eight years old when my dad got me tickets to my first Kings game for Christmas. The game took place two days later, on December 27, 1988. From the moment we arrived at the Arco Arena parking lot, it was magical—I stepped out of the car to see the first falling snow I had ever seen in Sacramento. I remember being impressed by size and skill of the Blazers’ Kevin Duckworth, and watching head coach Jerry Reynolds fall and lie face down on the ground—even getting a technical foul—before getting carted away on a stretcher. The Kings ended up winning that game on a buzzer beater by Harold Pressley. It was a fantastic way to initiate my true Kings fandom—I think I even got a free Jr. Western Bacon cheeseburger or something because the Kings won.
From that moment on, I started listening to all the games on the radio. Soon after, the Kings acquired Wayman Tisdale, who quickly became the player I would imagine myself as while playing basketball in my back yard (later, that player would be Mitch Richmond). I became obsessed with reading every newspaper article about the Kings, checking every box score, and gobbling up any information that I could. I loved those Kings, even if we were too poor to go to more than one game every three years or so. I was still just as much a fan as anybody.
I stuck with the Kings through all the tough seasons, and, together with my dad, cheered on the Lionel Simmonses, Briant Grants (future Karl Malone!), Sarunas Marciulionises, the Mahmoud Abdul-Raufs, and the Bobby Hurleys. Even if they didn’t win a lot of games for a few years, it was in no way a one-way relationship. The Kings gave me just as much as I gave them.
When the Kings won in the playoffs at Utah, I drove 40 minutes or so the airport to cheer for them as their plane arrived. I spent a few hundred dollars for two nosebleed seats in the game where Stockton killed us. The Arco Thunder is, to this day, the loudest thing I’ve ever heard.
I moved to Guatemala for my church mission between 2001 and 2003. During this time, I wasn’t allowed to watch TV. It killed me to see in sports page clippings sent from home that after all the years of struggling, the Kings were dominant—and I couldn’t see it. When I got back, they were still pretty good. They were never quite as good as they were while I was in sports exile, but it was still enough to keep me hooked. I watched, listened to, and attended every game I could.
After I got married, my wife converted to Kingsfandom. She taught me to keep my emotions in check by actually being more crazy about bad calls than I was. One time, after the Kings were screwed in consecutive home games on blown goaltending calls in the final seconds, I got so angry that I threw my shoe at the front door, leaving a big dent in the metal. My wife and I screamed at the TV so loud that I’m sure the refs could hear. Our neighbors certainly did—they visited my wife’s place of employment the next day to make sure that she hadn’t been beaten by her husband.
The press and Sacramento City officials have basically conceded that the Kings are leaving for Southern Cal. I have so many more memories of my time following the Sacramento Kings. Some big, some minor. I’m going to miss things like being able to talk to just about any random person on the street, and them somehow knowing the score of the game. Sacramento was always passionate about the Kings. Maybe that’s changed since I moved away for college and subsequent life abroad. But now that I’m going back, one of the most charming parts of Sacramento will be gone. Luckily, I’ve got a good enough relationship with my dad and other family that I don’t really need the Kings anymore.
I’ll be grateful forever for the memories I have of this team. But I’ll always wonder what could have been. I won’t be able to take my daughters or my first son, due in a couple months, to a Kings game. My wife will never get to hear the Arco Thunder. Life will, of course, go on. Until the A’s get contracted.
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