sick in translation

You'd think that without a full-time job, there's all this time to do everything. Except that there isn't. I have part-time work, on top of that studying Japanese intensely since I decided I might try to shoot for the JLPT N3 this December (yes, lots to study), and then I started a blog in February: Surviving in Japan: (without much Japanese) , for anyone new to Japan or even those living here who might find some unique resources. Oh that's right, you must be thinking, and didn't she say she was working on writing?

What have I gotten myself into.

The work is good, in many ways, perfect for where I'm at and what I'm doing,  and of course, gives us a little extra money. Japanese, well, it's nice to have some extra time to study more intensely. Finally found someone willing to practice speaking with me (in exchange, we'll practice English for her as well), as speaking is what I'm the worst at. I'm basically like an adult two year old who walks around saying the same ten words all the time, just smiling and grinning every time someone else says anything. Seriously, I'm learning this language the natural way, though I'd rather it all catch on more quickly.

What about the blog? I've been tweeting, socializing, networking, designing, programming and doing about everything I can to put myself and the blog out there. I want people to find it. And, hopefully, people will find it useful. So, if any of you know anyone going to Japan, send them the link, and let me know what else is useful to add - I'm beefing it up.

Never before did I understand how much work and time building something like this takes. Can't say I don't enjoy it, because honestly, I love it. It's fun and it incorporates things I love to do - writing, photography and design. A lot of the programming is self-taught, which makes the process take even more time, but I enjoy it nonetheless.

And then there's writing. Oh dear, sweet writing. Writing on this blog, or working on my book. I've discovered Starbucks is the best place to go - my perfect office. Except that Starbucks is a half hour away by train, so whenever I can go, I seem to be most productive. So for now, with all the other stuff, the writing is coming along, albeit rather slowly. Extremely slowly...

No matter. My body mounted a revolt against me last Friday - I have no idea what is wrong now. Sometimes I think I have some alien cells inside of me just mutating as they wish, evilly laughing as they poke around at my intestines, my liver, my bladder, my nose, my lungs, and whatever else they feel like disrupting. This should all seem normal - the extreme-I-can't-move-at-all fatigue, head that feels like it has doubled in weight, and volume, upset stomach, weakness that leaves me shaking just to lift a hand over my head. Yeah, yeah, been there, done that. I may as well dub myself the Queen of Illness and just move along with it.

As this happened over the weekend, and I had a training Monday morning, I frantically e-mailed my supervisor (since it was the weekend) letting him know something had happened and that I wasn't sure I'd be able to make it. Then I call Monday morning where the training was taking place, but no one answers so I leave a message. No one calls back, I wait. Then I decide to call again to make SURE someone had gotten the message and passed it along to my supervisor. The phone rings. A woman answers. "blah blah blah, company, blah blah," is essentially what it sounded like to me since it's Japanese, my head is cloudy and I can't focus at all. I knew she had just said the standard greeting, so I asked if English was ok (in Japanese).

She answers (in Japanese): "Oh yes! It's ok!"

Me (in English): "This is Ashley Thompson, Native Teacher. I have training..."

Lady on Phone (in Japanese): "Ah yes! What is your name? Are you a home teacher?"

Me (in English): "Ashley Thompson. No, not a home teacher, I'm a native teacher."

Lady on Phone (in Japanese): "I see. Where are you from?"


I knew she meant what country, but since this wasn't going the way I had imagined, I just said:

"Shimada."

Lady on Phone (in English): "No, what country."

Finally, she speaks English...

Me: "No, no, I am a native teacher, and I called this morning. I left a message. I am sick. I have training right now. There is training and I am sick."

Lady on Phone (in English): "Oh! Yes, yes! Native Teacher!"

Me (thinking, I want to sleep, why is this conversation so difficult): "Yes, I called this morning. I am sorry to miss the training but I am very sick."

Lady on Phone (English): "Ah yes I understand! I will tell (supervisor). I have your number and will call you with any questions. Take care!"

Me: "Thanks. Bye."

I still don't understand how we managed to have this conversation, but alas. I don't fault her really, she may have been confused about what I meant for all I know, but I didn't have the mental capacity to explain myself in this other language I'm trying to master. It's just my life. My life in Japan.

journey on

Sitting on the shinkansen (bullet train), staring out the window, as Fuji-san comes into view, trees, rivers and buildings blurring by in the foreground. I've witnessed foreigners jump up in excitement enough times, leaning over Japanese folks in the window seats, shoving their cameras against the glass. Strangely enough, Japanese people often do the same, although they are more subtle, and don't crawl into people's laps just to snap a photo - but I'll hear gasps and exclamations as they pull out their camera phones and snap away.


Fuji-san represents Japan, in all its glory. Even I, homegrown in the Pacific Northwest - home to some of the most majestic mountains in the world - feel a sense of awe when I see it. Mt. Rainier always captures me with its booming voice - a beast of a mountain that presides over everything around. Rainier feels wild and untamed, a mountain boasting its splendor. Mt. Baker is friendly - smiling over Whatcom County, shining on those few sunny days - inviting everyone to come out and play. Its presence is familiar, understandable, and trustworthy. The other volcanic mountains of Washington all have their own characteristics and feelings they provoke. Yet none capture the essence that Fuji-san offers, (likewise, Fuji will never be a beastly mountain like Rainier). Its song is subdued, melancholy, and humble, much like the traditional behavior and culture in Japan. The Japanese consider Fuji-san sacred. So I see Fuji, and I feel Japan - its heart. Those feelings sometimes become something I can't distinguish from what I feel - they are fast becoming ingrained in my understanding of Japan and the world.

History. Culture. Post-modernism. Japan was what it was and now is what it is, as it continues to change - holding onto parts of itself in the process, but allowing other parts to adapt, or being forced to simply because of the pace of this world. Japan is often accused of not keeping up, of not changing or adapting relations, or ways of thought. This is evident. Is it not understandable? When we are hit with change, with circumstances that force or require us to change, we often resist, hoping to hang on to the things that we think we are and define our identity. We don't always want to let go.

My time in Japan is fast approaching two years. My Japanese is improving, as it has suddenly taken hold as never before. My eyes and heart are seeing things even more clearly than those first days - taking in situations and events, looking at them through my Western eyes, but putting them through an Eastern view, a Japanese view, and adjusting, learning. I learn to distinguish, what equals culture and what equals humanity. What does it mean to be Japanese, or American. What does it mean to be human.

I never felt called to go overseas when I was young. There was never a pull or draw for me other than travel or perhaps school. Japan wasn't on my radar. Meeting my husband changed all of that, but coming to Japan changed even more. Meeting precious youth, learning their stories, feeling their pain. Realizing that my heart for children is the same no matter where I am, no matter what these darlings look like or act like - I still love them dearly. Seeing loneliness, heartache, and despair on a daily basis. Hopelessness. Helplessness. The feelings of people, of humans, who just want something meaningful -  want to be loved and appreciated. Want to know they can reveal who they are as humans, without fear of shame or rejection. People who feel the same feelings I have felt, even though we've grown up across an ocean, we connect over those very basic emotions and events that make us human.

I'm not Japanese. I didn't grow up in Japan, like my husband. Japan is part of who he is. Yet, my life here, though short, has influenced me in ways that every other place I've ever lived has. Parts of Japanese society have found their way into my psyche, causing me to look at things much more than simply my own Western lens, one in which I've always known. My most significant life events thus far have happened in Japan - becoming engaged and married. I've met wonderful people and made friends who mean as much to me as anyone in the States. Though I'm a foreigner, and though I often live in a bubble - in between the two - I feel that Japan is now part of me. It's part of who I am. If I ever were to leave, that would stay with me forever. I can't erase the changes. I've allowed myself to be open to Japan, allowing it to speak to me, listening to the voices of people - voices that aren't always audible or said, but voices I hear just the same. This is Japan, and this is my home. Just like Seattle, Bellingham and Montana before it. Places that are part of who I am and who I've become.

Sometimes, it's hard. It's hard to let go of the past - of those relationships that were once so dear. But so many fall away. This stage I'm in, I'm adjusting to Japan. My mind knows it's a place we'll be, at least for a little while. So I'm letting go of before. I'm letting go of the ties that bind me so closely to the U.S. - the ties that won't let me move much farther. The connections will always be there, they will always be a part of me and who I am. I know and realize more and more that being American is such a part of me, but I also realize more and more how I don't really belong, truly, to any one nationality. I know I'm American, but I know my identity is found in much more than that. In Japan I'm a foreigner, and that and being American go hand in hand here. So, a bubble - but to me that's a good place to be. I'm neither here nor there, but I'm in the place I need to be, in the moment I need to be in. Hanging on to the past has me tethered.

Not anymore. 

Cutting ropes is the only way to go forward, to live the life I'm meant to live, to change and become who I'm meant to be. Though I'm slowly becoming part of Japan, I also sense myself slowly becoming less a part of the U.S. I'm not who I was when I got on that plane almost two years ago, in fact, I'm surprised to remember her. Even from a year ago, I am different. Marriage has had a hand in that too. So much of who I am and was has been weeded out, changed, and adjusted - but for the better, or just differently. It wasn't surprising; I already knew it would happen.  I knew, as I strapped in and watched the Seattle skyline shrink and disappear, that I had left myself behind.


*all photos taken with my iPhone

thai-inspired salmon chowder

Writing. Write, write, write. Study. Study Japanese. The two things I focus on most of the day each day - the two things I need to focus on. So, things like cleaning, organizing, laundry, and gasp, even cooking and gardening get put on hold. Of course I still cook (although not as much as I was during the winter) and try to make sure my new container plants survive, but cleaning has fallen a bit by the wayside. I'm definitely more thankful than ever for a husband who helps out with so much around the house, even though he works all day too.

This makes me feel sorry for Japanese housewives though. Wives with a full-time job are still expected to do the cooking and cleaning for their families. Japanese women are generally surprised that David does so much around the house, whether it's he or I that tells them. Though I like a lot about Japan and the culture, there are some things that don't sit well with me, and the lack of egalitarian marriages is one of them. I'm grateful that I, as a foreigner, am not restricted to such cultural traditions. However, if my spouse was Japanese, chances are that he would expect me to take on the bulk of house maintenance and cooking, even though I'm not Japanese. This isn't always true, but in general, it's how men in Japan are raised, and expectations they are taught.

I'm also grateful that my husband is a good cook, and that he likes (or at least seems to sometimes) chopping up veggies. And willingly cuts up the raw chicken that I don't particularly enjoy touching. Then I often execute the cooking process and ensure the final product is something I'm satisfied with (and usually if I am satisfied with it, David loves it). Sometimes I will do everything and sometimes David does everything, but the majority of the time we both help get dinner finished so we can eat at a reasonable time. Plus, it makes our evening time fun when we do things together.

A couple months ago, when winter was still hugging us tightly and refusing to let go, we decided to make salmon chowder one day. I made it a month or so before that and it turned out well. However, this particular day we were lacking many of the ingredients for regular chowder, such as milk and potatoes. Rather than have David go to the store, I decided to use the coconut milk we had in the cupboard and the sweet potatoes sitting on the table. As I sauteed onions and pulled out ingredients, I let creativity take over. Sweet potatoes and coconut milk, why not go in a Thai direction? I began to add various ingredients that I used for pad thai and curry dishes, mixing, seasoning and tasting as I went. Then it all came together; I knew it was ready, and yummy. Upon the first bite, David almost fell over, claiming he was in food heaven.

I did a quick internet search to see if I could find any similar recipes, but to no avail. Had I really created something unique and new? As one who adores food blogs and cooking recipes from them, I never thought I would come up with something I couldn't find anywhere else. I am happy to cook what others have perfected (while sometimes adapting). Yet, this Thai-inspired salmon chowder came together for me rather nicely, and I had a few chances to improve it before sharing it with you. Oh, and one of the great things about this chowder is that you can make it as spicy as you want it to be, while adjusting seasonings to your particular taste (much like traditional pad thai, with fish sauce, sugar, etc). If you try it, let me know how it turns out!

Thai-inspired Salmon Chowder

Ingredients:

1 tbsp oil (I used peanut oil - I'm sure a neutral oil would work well also)
1 onion, chopped
2-3 cloves garlic, minced (more if small, less if large)
1 large sweet potato (or 2 small/medium ones), chopped into 1 inch or smaller cubes
2 cups chicken stock
1 tsp garam masala
1/2 tsp paprika
2 tsp dried basil
1 tbsp curry powder (I used regular curry powder, but feel free to try red or yellow curry paste, adjusting to your spice preferences)
1 - 1 1/2 tsp fish sauce

1 carrot (I used a fat Japanese carrot, so you may need to use more than one carrot)
1 cup coconut milk
1 1/2 tbsp creamy unsweetened peanut butter (omit sugar if you use sweetened peanut butter)
1 tsp dried or fresh basil
1/2 tbsp curry powder
1/4 - 1/2 tsp dried chopped chilis or chili powder (put in more to add heat)
1 tbsp sugar or maple syrup
1 - 1 1/2 lb salmon fillet, cut into one inch cubes (make sure it's skinless and boneless too)
1 1/2 tbsp lime juice

Heat a pot over medium/low heat and saute onions until translucent. Add garlic and cook until fragrant. Add potatoes and saute briefly, (but don't brown). Mix in chicken stock, garam masala, paprika, basil, curry powder and fish sauce. Cover and let simmer on low heat until potatoes are soft

Mash potatoes (use a potato masher or a fork) (they don't have to be completely mashed, just enough to give the broth a thick consistency). Add carrots and simmer on low heat until fork tender (covered).

Mix in coconut milk, peanut butter, basil, chilis, curry powder until peanut butter dissolves. Taste and adjust to your preference accordingly. Add in salmon and simmer on low (don't boil) 5-7 minutes, until salmon is cooked through. Mix in lime juice. Adjust any last seasonings, garnish with fresh basil if you'd like, and enjoy.

Makes about 4 servings.

Challenging #17

Oh Spring, have you sprung? The buds I captured on camera just weeks ago are now blooming along our street - a mix of purple and white with soft petals. Though the temperature took a brief dip, the weather warmed up this weekend and allowed the sun to show its face. Since we are tired of being inside, David and I decided to go for a hike on Saturday. I spent the week looking up places to hike on the internet, and found a mess of them in Fujieda (the city next to ours on the east side). My natural inclination when choosing hikes is to find the longest and most strenuous, the ones I actually consider challenging. None of those walk-around-the-park types. However, David convinced me that I needed to take it easy since I am so out of shape from sitting around since last Fall. He was right, I knew, even though I still wanted to choose the 14k (8.6 miles) that traverses 5 mountains or something.

So instead, I looked at #16, 17, 20 and 10. They were all under 5k (3.1 miles) and appeared to be large loops that took under 3 hours to complete. I figured they'd be super easy, even for me, the out of shape one. David looked at them, gave his consent and I decided upon #17, a 3.5k course. This colorful, childish/cutesy looking map indicated some exciting stuff, waterfalls, a bridge, a "cat" rock, and even a tunnel. Whoa, tunnel? It all sounded very "Alice in Wonderland" or some such thing.

We set off Saturday morning armed with enough snacks to sustain us for a 6k hike rather than our short one. Though the sun was peeking out here and there, the wind decided it would rather be its beastly self instead of its happy, carefree, light breezy self. Though, at times I was thankful for the wind during our hike.

The bus dropped us off on the side of the freeway. We walked back a bit as I had to go to the bathroom (go figure). Then set forth, only to meet a slight incline on a cutesy path. "Hills already?" I asked, through deep breaths. David says nothing in reply, but rather is admiring the scenery. He says something only when I keep stopping to take pictures, saying the hike will take us double the time with me stopping all the time.

The park came up first, and we wandered through it, checking out the man-made waterfalls. Wandered towards the woods and walked for a bit when we realized we missed our turn somewhere behind us. When we found our turn, and started up this rock embankment, I almost cursed our decision to turn around. This path was straight up the mountain. So we climbed, me stopping every few seconds to take pictures (and get my breath, I was dying). David disappeared out of my sight eventually, as he kept going. Though, the higher we climbed, the more came into view, and I remembered why I love the hikes that go up a mountain and back down. Those make me feel like I got somewhere, that I accomplished something, and that for a brief moment in time, I could survey the world around me and feel a sense of peace. I had missed climbing mountains.

We climbed higher, and passed the cat rock. It looked nothing like a cat. We have no idea why it is called cat rock. Looking out off the left of our trail, tea fields appeared on the sides of mountain peaks. The tea farmers must be brave souls, or billy goats.

Not long after, we reached the top. The elderly folks' hiking clubs were stopped for lunch, taking up space all over the summit. I tried to angle in between them to get a good view for a picture, but alas, they blocked all the good spots, and ironically, none were facing the view, they were all turned in towards the woods (or in the woods).

Now, by this time I was quite tired, though invigorated over the fact we had just climbed a mountain without intent. Nonetheless, our trail was beckoning, and thus we continued down the mountain. (Rather, trying to keep from falling down the mountain. Have the Japanese ever heard of switchbacks? (Please know I'm exaggerating there.))  We passed a woman wearing UGG boots, dragging a small child up the mountain. Our subsequent comments included something like "crazy," "why those shoes?" and "I'd never take a child on something like this."

The next bit was quite boring and not even worth writing about. Part of it involved concrete and the freeway and a giant overpass.

Soon enough, we were almost to the tunnel. We walked along the Old Tokaido road through what seemed to be a ghost town, and reached - The Meiji Tunnel!

A bit of info: The Old Tokaido Road was part of the original route (in the Edo period) connecting Kyoto and Edo (modern day Tokyo). This route was (and still is) the most traveled route in Japan.

After walking through the tunnel, our hike was essentially over, as the freeway was just in view. So, after another bathroom break, and some soft cream, we met the bus to head home. A fantastic hike, I mused. Though, later that night and the next day, my body revolted against me for putting it through so much trauma and stress. It was only then, that David pointed out the course was an advanced course. Or maybe he mentioned it when we were hiking. In any case, I didn't even bother to notice the kanji written above the title, the ones that clearly state (in small lettering) "advanced course" (in Japanese).


Of course. You see, I really can't get away from the most strenuous and difficult hikes, even if they are short. They find their way to me.

Spring is the Season of Change

Thailand, Malaysia, Vietnam, Saipan... as of late, suddenly beach vacations are pervading my thoughts and inspiring me to spend hours looking up hotels, flight information, and the best beaches in Southeast Asia. The idea of summer, vacations, beach trips and just going outside has expired my patience with winter. This and the fact that spring is slowly nudging its way in, with temps in the 60's last week, and budding cherry blossoms. Well, warm temps and more rain than usual... Can't say the rain is what I want, but the few warm, sunny days were a blessing. Now that March has arrived, I suppose the weather must make way for spring?
Spring is important to me more than ever this year, as it symbolizes the fact I am finally starting to feel like a human being again. David and I went for a nice walk along the Oi River (Big River) a week ago. I also wanted donuts from Mister Donut, which is near the river. The bike ride there miraculously felt normal, even the part where we were riding along a main road that is more like a highway, as the shoulder suddenly disappears and I am almost hit by the back end of a "semi" (who am I kidding, can they really be called semis here? They're tiny.).  Or, as we walked our bikes down a concrete embankment to the river, my bike felt heavy and I was using all my weight to hold it back from rolling down, yelling, "it's so heavy! AHH! Oh, it almost fell! AHH! Oh, I almost fell! Why is this so heavy? OW! I hurt my leg!"

David rolls his eyes and says "of course you did."

Me: "Why was that so hard? Why is it so heavy??"

David: "Did you use the brakes?"

I start laughing hysterically, how stupid of me not to use my brakes. I've used them plenty of times before walking my bike down a hill... So, perhaps my head isn't quite back to normal yet. Or it's just been that long since I've done anything aside sit at home and make food.

The next day, I was beside myself with excitement to go watch David's basketball tourney in the next city over. I mapped out the route, taking the train and bus. I'm going outside! I'm going out into the world! This is the happiest day of my life! Weee!!! Er, yes, well it sounded something like that.

All went well and I made it to the school, where the tourney was, in one piece. After watching David's first game (they won!), and freezing in the gym while it was so warm and sunny outside, I ran downstairs to use the bathroom. As I walked towards it, and almost into it, I realized it was a boy's bathroom. Alas! I have to go so bad! A man saw me and starting explaining something about the bathroom being outside and gave me directions, except that I was in shock about this whole ordeal that I didn't understand most of what he said. So, I went outside and walked around the building. No girl's bathroom.

Back upstairs to the gym and asked David about the bathroom. He said he didn't think it was in the building. Of course. So I go back downstairs and outside. I walked around the school, checking different buildings to see if they are locked or not. I found some old abandoned building that looked like the baseball team used it as a locker room or something. No one was there, so I walked in, down the creaky hallway and found a bathroom. Hooray! Finally I can go! 

No, it was too soon, as I noticed the urinals on the right side. I glanced over my shoulder. No boys around. I'm sure it's fine. Not like I haven't done this before. However, none of the stalls had toilet paper. UGH! Why!? I have to go!

So, walked back outside and did another loop. Walked back into the gym building and see my husband coming down the stairs. Phew, he can help me! I told David that I could not find the stupid bathroom anywhere. He, though was about to start his game and I believe was going to use the bathroom himself, ran back upstairs (what chivalry!) and asked where the ladies bathroom was. While he was gone, I was sort or staring off and around the building, as I do when I have nothing to do. A white and black sign caught my attention. It had the kanji for "women's bathroom" on it. Right in front of me, about five feet away, was a map for how to get there. How had I missed this map before? Then David appears and I laughed, pointing at the sign. "ha hahahaha! There's a map!" I said.

David smiled and then proceeded to point out the bathroom to me with a brief explanation. I head outside, once again, in search of my destination. It's been about 25 minutes now of me searching for the bathroom.

The women's bathroom is located in some "grounds building" between the baseball fields. At the time, the baseball team was playing in both fields. I walked along a dusty, dirt path, walking towards the first building, the one in which David said the bathroom was located. I passed a vending machine, but saw no bathroom, just a wall. No doors. Didn't he say the bathroom was here? 

So, I kept walking, thinking it must be the next building. Suddenly, to my right, a boy stops, takes off his hat, bows and says "konnichiwa." (hello) I reply in kind, embarrassed over the fact I'm searching for a bathroom amidst all these teenage boys. As I continued walking, a building in front of me looked very similar to a bathroom. That must be it! The closer I got, however, I saw urinals inside. My desperate line of thinking led me to believe that perhaps it was just turned into a women's bathroom from a men's. Now that I think about it, that really doesn't make sense, especially since it was quite open and there wasn't a lot of privacy.

I wanted to cry. I wanted to pee. I wanted to escape the line of vision of the teenage boys watching me peer into their bathroom. I turned back, thinking I needed to look at that stupid map again, and also thinking I was missing David's game. As I walked back, suddenly, boy after boy on either side of me stopped, turned, took off their hats, bowing and saying "konnichiwa." One boy yelled, "hello!" I replied to all them, thinking, AHH! I'm being ambushed! I just need to pee for crying out loud! Stop looking at me! Wait, maybe I can ask them where the bathroom is? 

I'm sure you were hoping I would ask a bunch of teenage boys where the women's bathroom was. No, sorry, can't give you that satisfaction. However, as I walked faster to escape the chorus of konnichiwa-ing going on, the vending machine came into view. Almost instantly, my eyes dart to the universal symbol for "woman," in red, on a small door, almost behind the vending machine. I almost did a dance, or exclaimed my relief. I could finally pee!!!

Yes, that weekend was full of excitement, and nothing out of the ordinary for my so-called "normal" life.

On that note, a final confession. Due to the length of time it is taking me to get over this, and all that we've put my school through, who have bent over backwards to accommodate me and this illness, we decided, after meeting with my school, that it would best if I quit and let someone new come in April. We had to make this decision a couple weeks ago, so they could have time to get a new person for the start of the new school year. Though, I'm sure I'll be fine by April (hopefully), due to the fact that I still have bad days sometimes, I felt it would be too much of a risk for them, and ultimately unfair that the students have not had an ALT for months now. David and I think it was the best decision for all the concerned parties, and so, as of now, I am no longer teaching at Shimada High School. In the meantime, as I recover to 100%, I'll be working on writing, blogging and web stuff, and we'll see what kind of work opportunities come up after that.

Spring symbolizes the new, coming to life, and transformation. In Japan, much of the culture revolves around the Springtime changes, such as a new school year starting in April. So, this year, Spring represents a lot more than in many seasons past. We'll see what kind of change will come in the near (and far) future. For now, I'll enjoy Spring's beginning.