A Man Named Hiro Isobe

Fasten your seat belts and put the kettle on, this one is a long one; but a summation wouldn't do it justice. 

Part I

By the Nishiki River

Uninspired by the thought of spending another weekend sitting in my apartment, and it was a pleasantly mild weathered day, I decided to ride my bicycle to the nearby park and watch the Nishiki river flow by. On my way to the park I stopped at the convenience store to pay my telephone bill, one of the many conveniences Japan offers that the United States ought to adopt. Taking only alleyways and back streets, because these tend to be more interesting than main roads (and significantly less dangerous in Japan), I noticed a small crowd gathering outside a small Japanese style warehouse in a side alley. I quickly flipped a U-turn and rode down the side alley to see. Getting off and walking my bike as I approached, I saw there was an art exhibition displayed in an abandoned warehouse or studio, exactly the kind of place an artist would like to do work. In the back, tools were scattered about, carefully closed off by rows of easels supporting canvas paintings. The paintings were quite good, many inspired by places I had come to consider my neighborhood, places I often rode past. When I noticed the artist had postcard sized prints of this work for sale I remembered my mother tell me how much my Great Aunt Jeanne would appreciate a postcard. I had also yet to send my younger cousin Carson a card, which I had promised to do. I bought three. One for Aunt Jeanne, one for Carson, and one to write an old friend whom I also promised I would write.

Deciding to finish the length of the alley and take the adjacent one back toward the river, I came across a street market. Little commerce was actually occurring, most were milling about their booths talking and laughing, with friends and neighbors I assumed.

Street Market

Walking my bike down the alley, I browsed the goods laid out on tables at a distance far enough so as not to attract attention or conversation. A tall blonde woman in running attire followed by a similarly dressed man came jogging down the narrow street. The conversation did not stop, but it might as well have as everyone turned and watched the outsiders jog by. I felt glad people did not react the same way to my presence. I had nearly finished my walk through the market, keeping my safe distance from the booth, when a young girl, not yet school aged, yelled out “irashaimasen!”, a common phrase that roughly means [Welcome, please shop here]. Her parents were laughing and smiling at me so I walked over and looked over there bakery goods, and sounded out the katakana labels in an attempt to figure what each basket held. Naturally, I could not walk away without buying something after such a bold gesture from such a young salesperson. I bought a カレーパン [curry roll] for lunch, now realizing I had not yet eaten today, and continued in the direction of the river. Parking and locking my bike to a railing, I was about to walk down the short flight of stairs to where I could watch the Nishiki slowly flow past, when a loud group of Japanese tourists caught my ear from across the road. The street sloped down quickly so I could not see them directly but their laughter told me something that direction was worth seeing. Walking across the road to where they stood, I saw they were posing with a samurai statue in front of a long sunken iris garden, their laughter was merely the expression of friends amidst an afternoon out. Curious of the road I had never strolled down I decided to change my river watching plans and take a walk through the park first.  I had been to this park many times when I first arrived in Japan, I used to jog through here probably as conspicuously as those Americans I had seen in the street marketplace, but I had since taken to jogging in less mainstream areas and hadn’t been back in months. 

Park near my house

Walking through the expansive park, admiring its ponds and fountains and sculpture, I saw a group of American families. As we passed I gave the group an American nod, not to be confused with the Japanese bow, and greeted them with “Hello.” Nothing was returned, as each member of their party took care to look the other way as we passed. I hate tourists, as though acknowledging someone from the same country, of the same native language, somehow makes your visit less “cultural”. Whatever. Let them return to their manufactured homes, drink Singha, eat curry and call themselves cultured.

Continuing through the park I watch turtles bask beside a pond, took a quick stop at a Buddhist temple, and then settled into a Japanese garden on the hillside that clearly saw few annual visitors. 

Japanese Garden

Sitting and watching water trickle down the rocks into the pond below, I thought about how isolated I had become. Few people would describe me as a people person, sure I have certain people I like, I few I have even loved, but most would probably move more towards cynical, stolid, or misanthropic before calling me a people person. I enjoy being alone, in the woods and in crowded places. I am usually running from people; running to mountains, running to the basement, or hiding beneath the hood of a car, I enjoy even thrive on solitude, but for perhaps the first extended period in my life, I am lonely.

Alright, time to quit this sentimental bullshit and keep moving, but not back to the crowds seeking cultural enlightenment, instead I followed a trail that led up the mountainside without any real inclination as to where it might lead. Walking up mountainsides I always find peace of mind, neither fully conscious nor fully lost in thought, a happy medium where both states of mind lie in equilibrium; I am always disappointed when I reach the top. Switch-backing through the dense forest I can hear the rumble of the cable car directly overhead, but the bamboo and cedar canopies conceal it from view. In time the trail intersects with a road I had been familiar with when I often ran this way. Following the road to where I formerly would turn right, to Iwakuni Castle, I turned left, I had never gone this way before. The path was an old gravel road that followed the ridge of the mountain, after a mile or so it ended at a staircase. Climbing the staircase, I came to a small wooden tori at the mouth of a clearing. In the clearing was a small building constructed to protect burning candles from the elements. 

Wooden Tori at the Clearing

Mindfully circling the structure, behind was a stone staircase framed by stone lanterns that led to a hole in a massive boulder. 

A Hole in the Boulder

Crouching and peering up through the hole I could see light and a small platform not far above. Climbing in and navigating the dark tunnel, praying for no snakes, I emerged at the true shrine, a cedar cabinet housing bells and smelling of incense.

Platform Above

I scanned the crevasse I had emerged into and was surprise that my means of entry was the only way in or out of this narrow place. 

Shrine in the Crevasse

Making my way down and out of the cave, to the clearing, down the stairs and back to the gravel road, I started down the mountain.

 Feeling good on the walk down

Now headed downhill, I walked with big strides and felt good about having gotten out of the house. An older man was on his way up the road, I nodded and said “konichiwa” as we passed, he did the same, glad it really was the stupid American tourists and not me. Continuing down the road I passed another man, “konichiwa” I said, “Hello” he returned.

Part II

A man named Hiro Isobe

Laughing, I turned and asking how he was. Good, just enjoying a walk to the top he explained.

“Where did you go?” he asked

“Oh, just up to the shrine” I said wearily, still uncertain of the etiquette surrounding foreigners visiting places like temples and shrines.

“Did you see the view of Iwakuni city?” he asked.

“No, I couldn’t see the city.”

“You must turn left before the stairs, there is a path that….” He continued to describe the way to the top, but I couldn’t understand his English.

“Are you going that way now, why don’t you show me?”

“Really?”

“Sure, why not?”

Heading back up the mountain, this time with the Japanese man, he asked me to guess his age, Japanese people love that they they look 10 years younger than they are, and told me he had recently retired from a career at Yamaguchi Ginko [Yamaguchi Bank]. He was 65, I guessed 50, some how Japanese people don’t think I would have the sense to guess high because they all look so young, but I humor him. We spend the 30 minute hike talking about what it is like to teach English to young Japanese students and about the history of the nearby shrine. Apparently it was the site of the quarry used to build Iwakuni Castle in 1618, which would explain that huge boulder. At the mountain top, a clearing had been cut out of the dense forest so you could see the entire city, all the way to the inland sea, and some 60 kilometers away the island of Shikoku. It must be a clear day. Pointing at various buildings, I asked what this and that was, just making conversation, he started to tell me the history of the area and again how the stones used to build Iwakuni Castle had come from the quarry that it now a shrine.

“Have you ever been to Iwakuni Castle, it’s just over there” he asked, pointing back down the trail.

“Yes, a month or so ago I went there.”

“Okay, let’s go”

Laughing to myself, “alright, lets go.”

We walked the hidden trail to the road, then followed the ridge back to the junction where I have turned left earlier, but went straight down the right fork and followed the path to the stairs that led to the castle. Sitting on a bench admiring the castle, the Japanese man started to explain the castle’s construction, I interrupted, “my name is Nate, by the way Nate Conroy.”

“I am Hiro Isobe,” he returned, then continued to explain castle construction. I am still never sure which is someone’s first and which is their last name. Generally the Japanese give their family name first, but some switch when speaking English, and I can’t tell the difference by the name alone. There is a fish on top of many Japanese castles, he explained, because so many homes and castles were burned down historically. The significance is that if there is a fish above the home, certainly the home must then be underwater and could not catch fire. “It’s for good luck,” Hiro said. The first thing that came to mind was that many Japanese homes were also historically lost to flooding and that the fish could just as well be perpetuating such ill fate, but I thought it better not to mention. Hiro told me he often fishes on the weekends.

“In the Nishiki River?”

I had seen many people fishing in the river I had planned to watch that afternoon.

“No, in the sea.”

“Really? What kind of fish?”

“Do you know Blacktail?” holding his hands out to describe the size of the fish, about 30cm, “would you like to come?”

“Absolutely, let’s go fishing. When?”

“Soon, there is good tide in November”

“Alright.”

We walked down the mountain, this time via the closed road I used to run up that leads back to the park. Hiro offered me a lift to my bicycle and not wanting to appear rude I accepted the 2 minute ride to my waiting bicycle. I said good bye, thank you, and rode home. Later that evening Hiro emailed me, fishing in 2 weeks, he would prepare a rod and coat for me, I just needed to bring myself. 

Part III

Pending Authorship

  With Hiro Isobe and my first catch, Sea Bream.

 The Day's Take

 sea bream, garlic, cheery tomatoes & rosemary

GRE in Osaka

So, in an effort to "make something of myself" I traveled to Osaka last weekend to take the GRE (Graduate Records Exam), the SAT for grad school. It was a weekend of remarkable coincidences, one after another...

Downtown Osaka at Midnight

My tale begins at 8:30am Saturday in my apartment- realizing that I had nothing to make breakfast and the grocery didn't open until 9:00, I decided to lay back down for a bit longer. I had not yet packed, but my train didn't leave until 10:50 so I had plenty of time.  Moments later the phone rang. I scrambled up to it,
"Hello?",
"Ohayogozaimasu, yamamoto desu. Sensei no takamori koko desu."
[good morning, this is yamamoto, the teacher from takamori high school].
"Hai?" [Yes?]. From here the conversation was beyond my Japanese abilities,
"ummmmm, sumimasen wakarimasen" [ummmm, sorry I dont understand].
The person on the other repeated the long bout of Japanese.
"Gomennasi wakarimesen" [Im really sorry, I dont understand].
*Click*
I had received phone calls in Japanese that I did not understand before, I assumed they were telemarketers, but why would someone from my work who didn't speak English call me? It didn't make any sense. I glance at the clock, 10:15, jeez... I thought I had only laid my head down, but I had been asleep for almost 2 hours. The mystery phone call saved me. I still have no idea what the caller wanted, and no one approached me about it later, so who knows. But whoever you are mystery caller... thanks.
I made a cup of coffee, threw some cloths and my GRE study guide in my pack, and caught the 10:50 train to Hiroshima.
At Hiroshima Station I bumped into several JETs who had all convened there for the annual Sake-Fest. It stood as a taunting reminder that I would be amidst a day of testing whilst they would be enjoying a day of unlimited sake. Poor planning on my part. I found my bus without too much trouble and embarked on the 6 hour bus ride to Osaka. Studied vocabulary most of the way and made occasional broken Japanese/English conversation with the fellow sitting next to me. In Osaka I claimed a bed at a hostel before grabbing some okonomiyaki (local specialty) for dinner.

Back at the hostel I met a guy who had flown in from Korea for the GRE, apparently its not offered in Korea. He said he wants to attend A&M. I asked if he wants to moved to America or if he would return to Korea after A&M, he warily told me he planned on returning to Korea. No worries, I'm not applying to A&M. The Korean dude, I didn't catch his name, let me take a practice verbal test on his laptop; the results were less than encouraging, but I had completed the test in half the allotted time. The moral: slow down. Went to bed.
I woke up early after a panicked dream about not resetting my watch for daylight savings and being late for the GRE. In my dream, no one was willing to help me. It was a pretty funny dream:
Nate:   Mom! Im late, could you give me a ride?
Mom:  Can't you just take it again?
Nate:   Dad. I really late, don't have time to find parking, could you give me a ride?
Dad:    I would help, but I thought I would get Mike in the Christmas drawing and I got Ginny instead.
           Now I have to decide what to get her.
Nate:   Yeah, thats a real doozy.
*Disclaimer: I have no idea who anyone actually got in the Christmas drawing.
Anyways, decided I shouldn't sleep anymore... clearly my mind was in no state to handle the responsibilities of dreaming. I checked out and caught the subway to Nakatsu, the district where the test was being held (I think this was my first time on a subway). Once at street level, I pulled out the map I had printed from the GRE site and realize that it is worthless; there are no street names in Japan. All I know is that the building is called Nakatsu Center Building and is somewhere within a few blocks of the subway station. Well, glad I came 3 hours early I thought to myself as I started wandering and thinking: how the hell am I going to figure this out? Slowly strategies started developing, the test was on the 7th floor so I needn't look at building with fewer than 7 stories. Then, a stroked of genius. An American hotel chain with have a concierge that speaks English, I found a Ramada. When I asked where the Nakatsu Center Building was the women pointed across the street. Of course, the building was literally right across the street with "Nakatsu Center Building" written on it.

That's Japanese-English. It reads "Nakatsu senta- birudeingu". I felt like an idiot, especially after how many times I had walked past this building by now, but at least I had found it. And with 2 more hours to spare, I found a Starbucks and settled in for a Pike Place Roast and a vocab cram-sesh.
Taking the GRE is similar to getting hit by a Mack truck, except after the GRE people are happy for you and you celebrate. I walked to streets of Osaka until my eyes could no longer take the over-stimulation. Then stumbled upon a back alley Indian restaurant, likely only found by people not looking for it, and ordered some masala, nan, and a Kingfisher. The server was a nice guy, brought me free tea and gave me a hefty discount on my bill. It later occurred to me that I had been writing while I was there, he probably thought I was a restaurant critic or guidebook writer (my new strategy to get special treatment and discounted food).
By the way, I did about as I expected on the test: destroyed the math section and the verbal section was well...painful.
Nate Verbal Section thought Simulator:
Question: What is the antonym of qmeuoism. [jeez, what is qmeuosim?]
A) lksjdflim [hell if I know what this word means.]
B) owijeifj9i [or this one]
C) wofjisnmfvrkln [yikes, what if I don't know any of them]
D) jfwoimvsdlkjhn [dear god, what do I teach English]
After dinner I wandered the streets of Osaka admiring the buildings and killing time until my midnight bus ride back to Hiroshima.

Finally, I settled into a quaint bar in what I assume is the "Belltown" of Osaka called Monsieur & Madam. This place was about the size of Probably the Smallest Bar in the Universe, Dunedin, but had a ladder leading to a second floor of the same size. A salary man in an oxford shirt sat at one end of the bar and I sat at the other. The bartender wore a black vest and bow-tie and exercised a level of artistry for the trade you only see in a personally owned establishment of this size. I ordered a port and started to feel good (Kerouac). I had also never had a port, but always wanted to after reading his books. A couple came in and sat next to me, after they had been served we exchanged pleasantries in broken English and Japanese. The women owned a small french tavern nearby and invited me to come by next time I was in Osaka. I spoke with the couple for some time. The salary man stayed quiet, but he and I exchanged laughing glances as the couple  tried to come up with the English to speak to me. Before long the couple left. Then the salary man, who shook my hand and said "sayonara," on his way out. Then I took off to catch the night bus home.
Arrived in Hiroshima at 6am and in my tired state walked onto the wrong train. In my defense, it was the right track... my train just hadn't arrived yet. I figured it out before the first stop, caught another train back to Hiroshima, then had to wait for the second train. Anyways, made it home. Exhausting weekend.

My New Whip

As fun as riding the train (densha) through the Japanese countryside might be, the 40 minute ride (+20 minute walk) to work everyday lost in novelty in the first month. Not to mention the expense, I was paying about $5/day getting to school and home and that adds up (would be $1200 for the year). Unfortunately, you forfeit your free-will when you become a JET (they don't tell you this, its in the fine print), and my schools administration can not allow me to use a car or motorcycle for work related purposes, including getting to work. No other JET's school has exercised this right (most seem to encourage it), but alas... that is the nature of my administration. And so I regressed to my 16 year old self and took to a bicycle. I got a killer deal on last years model Fuji 4.0 road bike from the Japanese equivalent of eBay and have been riding to school on clear days. It actually takes me a little less time than the train/walk; more specifically, I found it takes the same amount of time as Springsteen's Born in the USA album (I think most people who read this will probably be able to ballpark that.)

The train goes through several tunnels, needless to say it wasn't really an option for me to take the same tunnels on my bike. So armed with my memory of a google map (dont have a printer), I set off to find my new route to school. A piece of advice for those who decide to plan bike trips via google map: maps don't do elevation changes justice and if most roads go through long tunnels that means there is a mountain. There is one road that uses a 1.5 km tunnel to get through the mountain, but its along a highway and the shoulder disappears 100m into the tunnel (I tried it once... never again). And so I was left with the old abandoned, pre-tunnel one-laner that goes up and over the mountain. Clearly engineered before the invention of switchbacks, this road would put any cars 1st gear to the test... and for that reason, few ever actually drive on this road (prefect for biking). Baldwin Street, near my old flat in New Zealand, claims to be the steepest street in the world, its not:

But most of the ride is quite pleasant, including this stretch that reminds me of the Burke Gilman:

Heading down off the mountain and into the town where school is:

The road was also subject to a mudslide that made it on a meter wide in one place, definitely helped make this road my own private highway:

I guess there actually is one unavoidable tunnel. As old and forsaken as the rest of the road, no cars use it either, and if there is an earthquake it'll be the first thing to go:

Anyways, its been good. Excellent way to wake up in the morning and Im no longer dependent on the hourly train. With the added benefit of ~25-30 miles/day exercise cycling over a mountain; not to mention, I can ride to school in the same amount of time as the train took. That being said, I'm still looking for wheels, preferably with a motor of some kind attached, to do some weekend adventuring. My school administration "doesn't think its such a good idea," its like having strict but passive aggressive parents; but they can't actually do anything. Rode past one of these the other day for about $800, what do you think?

Dharma Bumhood

Well, I've become a rucksack wanderer that works a 8-5 Monday-Friday; so a pretty crappy rucksack wanderer really, but perhaps someday.... Anyways, my weekend wanderings usual being with my hearing about something worth doing only a few train stops away and end with my thinking: how hard could it really be to find my way home on foot? This strategy has landed me at bamboo jungle dead ends and in prefectures (states, essentially) I hadn't known I crossed into but I also found a few gems along the way:

Here is the bamboo forest dead end.

Bamboo is EVERYWHERE, but its really useful stuff if you've got a few thousand years of people thinking "what the hell could we do with this stuff" on your side. Its crazy strong and tough but flexible, the saplings are edible too; not real flavorful but if you're looking to increase your fiber.....
PS Bushwhacking through this is a lost cause, I tried. Made it maybe 15 feet, and covered in spiders decided it simply wasn't worth it. Their bodies aren't real big, some maybe a couple inches across with their legs, but I've heard a bite can land you in the hospital. They're real pretty though, I'll get a picture of one soon just never think of it at the time. Also, rumor has is this area is riddled with mamushi, a pit viper like a cottonmouth or a water moccasin; haven't seen one yet, but I'll let you know. Anyways... bushwhacking is a little different here. Back to wandering...

I would tell you where this is if I had a clue where I was when I took the picture. But I did remind me of a stereotypical industrial Japan skyline. All dive more into the "Japanese way" of conquering nature once I have a few more pictures to illustrate this interestingly developed country.

Some old Japanese sailor is really pissed off.

I went into a thrift store in hopes of finding a coffee maker and found this. Tag is all in Japanese. I assume whoever designed it had no idea Walla Walla actually exists (the kids in my classes always laugh when I say I lived in Walla Walla). Perhaps a sign.... when I return, I should open the Walla Walla Repair Shop. Now I wont need hats...

Nate realizes he crossed the border at some point....

This scooter claims to be a BMW. I haven't a clue if BMW actually makes scooters, and if they do... I'm skeptical the Germans would opt for blue flames and a spoiler atop the pod thing, not to mention the bubble. But who knows. The Japanese do like to customize their rides. There are so many aftermarket wheels around here you'd think you're in south central, the subcompact mazda attached to the wheel in the only giveaway.

On a side adventure, I was invited by the Oshima Institute of Marine Technology to going out of a ship with them. So I did that:

They let me steer the ship, taught me marine knots, and fed me emergency "rations" just so I know what Im in for if an earthquake or typhoon hits. Cool experience. I mentioned I like to work on engines and they're having me back for some diesel thing in November. Woohoo!
All I have for now, thinking it might be time to get a car so I can go to places I cant just walk home from. The wheels are turning on that one... so to speak. I let you know.
Cheers.

Hakari Beach & The Music Playing Windmill.

Just to prove I have actually left my apartment since I arrived here (sorry, these few blog posts have been remarkably uninteresting), here are a few photos from this past weekend. The local Yamaguchi JETs had a beach party in Hikari. I got bored on Saturday morning so I headed to Hikari a bit early and found a Shinto Shrine. Briefly:
The Stairway.

The Temple.

And this dripping water thing that would make a sweet bathroom sink.

Then there was a beach party... beach parties are internationally identical:

After the beach party a few of us crashed at Michael’s (kiwi JET on the right) apartment and the next day decided to climb the hill to a windmill the supposedly played music.

There is the climb.

There is the windmill.

And lo and behold, it actually did play music. Check it out, it’s like one of those old piano/organ dealies; but has cymbals, bass drum, and puppets with little bells to go with it. 

A couple of Japanese dudes who worked at the wind mill really got a kick out of us, played us more songs on the puppet organ thingy, and then the dude on the left taught us how to walk on Japanese stilts while the dude on the right carved us each a Japanese puzzle game and a “helicopter” out of wood. Nice guys.

Japan is kind of like Alice in Wonderland; after climbing to a music playing windmill to be met by old Japanese men who carve you puzzles you don’t walk down the mountain, no that would be too predictable, you take the slide down (yes, there was a slide back down the mountain). I didn’t take a picture of this for some reason; was too busy sliding.

I will be getting internet at my apartment on the 11th, so hopefully I’ll be better about sharing pictures and stories once that happens. Also, I’ll be able to Skype folks once I get that. Hopefully get to see/talk to you then. Cheers.

川西にようこそ

Welcome to Kawanishi.

Well, I have been in living in Japan for just over a month now and am starting to feel a bit settled. Ironically, maybe, that’s because I haven’t actually been to one of my schools since the 11th nor have I been home for more than one consecutive night.  I’ve been traveling around the prefecture helping other schools run their summer English camps; picture going to camp as a 14 year old, but none of your counselors speak your native language, or at least they pretend not to, that’s my take on the kids’ perspective. Nevertheless we had a dozen tearful eyes when everyone left the last one, so apparently we’re doing something right. I haven’t been alone, JETs from all over the prefecture come to these things; it’s a great means of getting out of the school office during the summer, and also a good way to pick up some new tricks (English games and things) and practice the whole “teaching” thing. The teachers seem to really dig it too as it acts as a little 3 day vacation while being at work. Life at school will be changing real quickly here as well, classes will be back in session on Monday and I am beginning to better realize the responsibilities of my job.  Rumor has it that I was handpicked to become the JET at my base school because they are the only school in the prefecture to maintain a cultural education program (also the only one with both a middle and high school, usually very separate here). Why I was picked I still haven’t figured out, but teachers both at school and at the prefectural office keep mentioning things. Anyways, it would be pretty cool if my job were geared toward cultural awareness just because that means I can research cultures I find interesting, make it a lesson or game, and call it a good days work… not too shabby, really. But we’ll see what happens. Anyways, I digress. Here’s a quick photo tour of Kawanishi:
Our Welcome sign.

My apartment building.

A few minute walk from my place is the famous Kintai bridge, Iwakuni Castle, and the cherry blossom tunnel (pictures coming soon [well, in April]).

 

Summer time is festival time in Japan, this is a festival I went to at Kintai bridge.

The dairy department, eh hem, I mean daily department at the grocery store.

Someone told me the statistic that, in Japan, there is 1 vending machine for every 4 people. Its probably true, you’ll be walking through a rice patty and then BAM, vending machine.

 They don’t really serve junk food here though, mostly coca cola and iced coffee.  And yes, the one on the right IS a beer vending machine. They’re real tough on underage drinking here.

Now I may live in a town with only a train stop, supermarket, and a beer vending machine to its name… but just two stops away is the bustling metropolis that is Iwakuni.
Heres the view from the train station.

What a typical street looks like (they even have bicycle parking garages at some stations).


Alright, thats all I have for now; but if I ever get around to doing something interesting you'll be the first to know.

My Apartment in Kawanishi

Hey! Some of you may have noticed you haven’t seen or heard from me for a while now; that is because I have moved to Japan to teach English for the next year. I won’t be able to get internet access in my apartment until the beginning of September, so I’ll likely be pretty detached from the outside world until then; but in the mean time I figured I could write a Blog to keep you all posted on life across the Pacific (i.e. I can write a blog while I’m at work and it looks like I’m working [not that I have any work to do anyways {its summer vacation here, and everyone else pretends to be working too, strange and hard to get used to}]). BUT that’s a cultural discussion for another time. Anyways, I took some pictures of my apartment yesterday so I could give you a little taste of what I come home to over here. First off, I live in a town named Kawanishi, it is very small (apparently not large enough to warrant a Wikipedia page), hosts a single grocery store, a train station, and a beer vending machine (I’m told these only exist in the boonies these days). But it is walking distance from many really interesting and historically significant sites of Japan, due to its existence as a feudal lord’s territory at the end of the samurai era, such as: Kantai-kyo bridge, Iwakuni Castle, a Shinto Shrine, many historical residences, and is also home to an albino snake which apparently exists nowhere else in the world, Japan or otherwise. I’ve been running up the mountain to Iwakuni Castle a couple times a week and exploring Kawanishi very thoroughly, but haven’t yet figured out a means of getting out and exploring the rest of Japan (working on it though). Here are a series of pictures of my apartment (it’s not as dark and dreary as it looks, my camera flash wouldn’t go off):

My bedroom. Notice the tatami mat floor and rice paper sliding doors, yes these things are still widely used. I did however manage to get an actually bed which is pretty lucky.

The Living Room. Inherited a nice couch, table, and TV/DVD… TV even works if you hit it hard enough. Channels however are all in Japanese, so I’ve been relying on my predecessors’ taste in film for entertainment; highlights include: Bad Boys 2 and Xena (i.e. I’ve been reading a lot of books).

The Shower Room. People don’t really have water heaters in Japan, not in the American way anyhow. So, the thing to the right there is my gas powered water heater; you have to light it when you want a hot shower or bath. The whole setup takes some getting used to, but it’s really energy efficient and actually kinda cool.

The Kitchen. Simple, but not too many notable differences other than the size of the fridge (left) and there’s no oven, just a gas stove (right).

Bathroom/Toilet Room/Laundry. All in a compact little package, my drier consists of a pole on the balcony, haven’t yet figured out what people do during monsoon season.

Here’s a close up of the washing machine. Can you read the buttons? Yea…. me neither, but if I push enough of them it fills with water and starts spinning, so that’s good.

Guess Room. I also have a large guest room (family sized apartment) just in case someone feels so inclined as to visit (highly recommended).

The Little Room. I have no idea what this room will be used for, I can’t even figure out what it’s supposed to be used for (tea room?). For now it’s the little room with the coffee table in it.

The train going by from the balcony; this is the train I would normally take to work.

Here’s another one that has me stumped. This is the microwave…. And there are no numbers!

The view of Kawanishi from the train station, my building is on the far right.

That’s all for now. Hope everyone is doing well, I will do my best to keep you posted on my life on the other side of the pond. Email is still the same (conroyna@whitman.edu) , but they kick me off the that in a year so I phasing into my new address (conroyna@gmail.com). Thanks for tuning in.

nate.