(This post details events of July 28th/29th)
Welcome to Saga!
After a whirlwind of a week in Tokyo, we were awoken in our hotel rooms at 4:15am. Our mission: bring our tired selves and over-sized baggage downstairs to board a bus, to board a plane, to board another bus, to arrive in a Prefectural Government Building, to immediately attend a meeting hosted by some of the most important people of our local governments. Be sure to wear your best suit and tie. Maybe you get time to pee.
Nate sporting green Prince bag, lower left.
Luckily, I am an actor, trained in the art of not freaking out in high pressure situations. Something that I knew in my head and quickly learned in my soul was that this was not an opportunity to be taken lightly. JETs are government contracted workers, paid a very large salary from the people's meticulously spent tax dollars. The people know JETs are expensive, and they watch very closely to see that their investment was not made in vain.
That being said, due to lack of sleep and hurried shaving practices, I nicked the mole on the right side of my neck shaving that morning. After changing out of my well ironed, perfectly white shirt with a bloodstained collar in an airport bathroom, I applied an American-brand cure-all: Band-aid.
To avoid embarrassment, I removed the aforementioned bandage immediately prior to entering the conference room, only to discover that I had ripped off any form of a scab that my hard-working collection of cells had nervously created in preparation for my Japanese rite of passage.
To avoid embarrassment, I removed the aforementioned bandage immediately prior to entering the conference room, only to discover that I had ripped off any form of a scab that my hard-working collection of cells had nervously created in preparation for my Japanese rite of passage.
Simply put, every 10-20 seconds during the meeting, my finger was placed on my neck as if checking the pulse on my carotid artery in an attempt to not bleed out in front of everyone.
Eventually, my poor platelets were able to re-coagulate the blood and stop my neck from dripping in front of my supervisor.
Eventually, my poor platelets were able to re-coagulate the blood and stop my neck from dripping in front of my supervisor.
The meeting was a good combination of Japanese and English, basically welcoming us to Japan and reinforcing our responsibilities while in Japan: teach English as a foreign language in our respective classrooms, encourage and participate in international exchange, and basically be an active member in our Japanese community.
The Japan Exchange and Teaching (JET) Programme aims to promote grass roots internationalisation at the local level by inviting young overseas graduates to assist in international exchange and foreign language education in local governments, boards of education and elementary, junior and senior high schools throughout Japan. It seeks to foster ties between Japanese citizens (mainly youth) and JET participants at the person-to-person level.
Here I am shaking hands with my supervisor, Ishida-san.
After about an hour of stress, terror, and wonderful anticipation, my supervisor quickly gathered me up, helped carry my luggage, and loaded me into a skinny government van bound for my host city, Omachi.
a blur of Japanese conversation
a few confusions of translation
frantic typing into my electronic dictionary
the repeated relief of successful human communication
Eventually the calm silence that settles over any good car trip hovered over the van's cabin like a warm, blanket.........
.............. we arrive in Omachi. My supervisor drives me to the local shops and important locations. Every so often, his supervisor, Chijiiwa-san sitting on his left, chimes in with something he thinks is important, and tells Ishida-san where to go. Little do they know, there is no way in HELL that I will remember any bit of this car trip. I am in a special kind of shock, and my brain is not operating at 100% capacity.
What I do have, though, is the prickly feeling that these strange, foreign, vacuous locations will, at some unforeseen future, be filled with some thread of experience, story, and life in my mind. It's like being driven through a ghost town in a half-waked dream.
A view of Omachi fields from the main road, 2 minute walk from my house.
お帰り！WELCOME HOME!
Welcome home. More like welcome mess. 200 lbs. of baggage, 3 closets full of old books, food, appliances, and useless folderol, and two large bags of gifted towels, toiletries, and toilet paper.
My supervisor helped me load in my luggage, and told me he would return in about 20 minutes to take me to work. That's right, work.
You know that feeling of unpacked luggage? Kind of like an unopened piece of candy? I'd have to bring that feeling around for another 3 hours that day. Torture!
That's where I'll leave you all. I hope this blog can be your unopened piece of candy.
