Futatsui Actually in TOP Form

I should have known something was odd when Kocho invited me to drink over the weekend on a Tuesday.  That’s just not school principal style.  We’ve had many a few beers together over the past 2-some years, and it almost always conspires the same way.  Thursday afternoon, he asks to drink.  Friday night– seven o’ clock, same place, for the same amount of time.  You see, even though he’s sixty, Kocho still has a bed time, and still lives with his mom.  They go shopping together on Sundays.  Honestly.

 

But, inviting me out to drink early, and first thing in the morning was breaking the pattern.  I should have suspected something, but I didn’t.  I expected the usual show-up and talk to Kocho for a couple hours to practice Japanese and get a free dinner arrangement.  Instead I show up at the place and find Kocho isn’t even at the counter.  The bartender just looks at me and points to the heavnes with a grim expression on his face.

 

I found out, fortunately, a few moments later, that Kocho sensei was still alive.  Unfortunately, however, his room upstairs was filled with drunk old men and kiritampo.

“Tsunaito uii teachi yuu Chai-neez karucha!” he explained.  So I got to spend a cold night with a blizzard going on outside having beer and Akita-stew while a bunch of old dudes with a thick dialect tried to teach me mah-jong.  I can confirm that it’s better than hung-over shogi.  Kocho didn’t even go home at his bed time, either.  It makes me wonder if he got grounded.

 

The next day I awoke in my home to find that half of Siberia got dumped in my driveway overnight.  Being cold and tired, I decided to protest against the elements by refusing to shovel my drive and huddle close to my heater instead.  Noon came, but the elements didn’t give in.  So I went outside, and in the American Spirit shoveled just enough to get my car out on the street, went and got lunch.  There was a Thanksgiving dinner party out of town that night, so I didn’t bother with buying dinner or extra sustenance.

 

I got back from lunch to discover my neighbor kid, in all his genius, had built a rather deformed snowman with a misshapen head smack in the middle of my driveway.  He had put a stick in the snowman’s side to serve as an arm and apparently had tried to arrange the twig-fingers to make a ‘Peace’ sign.  Unfortunately one of the fingers had fallen off and so the snowman was delivering an entirely different message altogether.  A few hours later the same kid came banging on my door to pick a snowball fight, which turned into a snowball circle of distrust after his brother joined in (Alliances form and break so quickly you never really know whose side you’re on) but culminated with the one who made Frosty the Flip-You-Off Snowman shouting, “You’re totally eating dinner with us tonight!” when the 5 O’Clock B-52 Warning Siren went off.  Dinner that night was Kimchee Nabe, homemade and wonderful.  And getting to drive to Aikawa for another dinner of Kiritampo, Kimchee Nabe, and Pumpkin Pie to finish of the weekend made it all the better.

 

The remainder of the weekend was spent mostly in recovery or at the table tennis table.  I’ll have a tournament in December that I’m looking forward to.  This time around I’m on a team with a couple of my Jr. High kids.  JLPT is in just a few days so I’m fulfilling the collegiate-inspired tradition of last minute grammar cramming and studying like mad.  But, at least the JLPT gives me a few days out of Akita, in a city environment to enjoy. 

 

Dear Akita….

Siberia called… they want their winter back.  Honestly.  Like Kocho-sensei to a bottle of sake, winter let loose a blast of cold air, ice, and snow on my humble homeland– relentless, unstoppable– and much like any sake binge, left everyone with a headache and painful memories.  Two weeks too early, this winter.  But, on the upside, this is the worst it gets in Akita, all at once.  Kind of like going on the tallest roller coaster in the park first– after you’re done, nothing gets to you.

Nevertheless, Monday was a wreck.  Because winter set in two weeks early, most people (myself included) hadn’t changed to their winter tires yet, and the roads were a sheet of ice.  It took me an hour to get to a school that is 15 minutes away on a normal day, with plenty of sliding, teeth-clinching, white-knuckled terror… all provided while cruising at a top speed of 20km/hr (i.e. slow).  Oh well, after today’s tire change– bring it on winter!

How I Got Kidnapped by the Lutheran Church

And you thought Jehovah’s Witnesses were aggressive.  The plan for Saturday night started out so simple– go play table tennis for two hours, then drive to Noshiro to watch a movie with the ALT crew.  I suppose God just had different plans (and lousy timing for being so darned omniscient).

But I suppose this story, like all stories in my recent life, starts with table tennis.  Actually, it starts with me being bored at table tennis.  When I first joined this group two years ago, there were ten people and four tables, meaning pretty much everyone was on a table, and there was always opportunity to play, especially since one of the people was a mute otaku who kind of just sat all fetal in a corner and didn’t do anything.  Now, two years later, we have 20 people, and four tables.  Even if I get there 20 minutes early and practice, it’s hard to get in enough time at the table and get stuff done.  So, something has to be done.

That’s where my odd Japanese friend comes in.  I’ve known the guy for two years and now that he’s a coach for a school in the next town, I asked if I could sometimes join their private practice sessions sometimes.  He agreed, but apparently the gym is hidden somewhere off in the depths of Takanosu, a mazelike labyrinth of one-way streets and dead-ends.

So, Saturday night he asks if I would like directions, and if I had a few minutes after practice he’s show me where it was.  I figured, great– he’ll draw me a crude illustration on a napkin or something, and I’ll be on my way.  Alas, no.  Typical to Japanese genorosity overkill, we got to drive TO Takanosu in his car, and he drove me back to the practice area late that night, even though he lives in Takanosu.  An incredibly kind act that would ensure I would know the way to that gym, but it must have been a pain for him, or at least his gas bill.

It was once we were there that he decided to take me to the Takanosu Christian Church for my first time in two years.  Of course, I suppose I could have told him I didn’t want to go at the time, but the combination of his generous gesture and the fear that the car might be struck by lightning for trying to avoid God can play pretty heavily on one’s conscience.

So there I find myself, on a Saturday night, in a church shaped like a melon.

In fairness, though, the pastors were a sweet old couple who had lived in Japan for a long time and were native English speakers.  It was a relief, in a sense, to sit down to a nice civil conversation over tea, which is a rarity here.  Still, there are other ways to spend a Saturday night.  That’s what God created Sunday morning for (or did He forget?)

Checkmate

You would think that after two years over here I’d be content with my routine as it is– and would be willing simply to sit back and play table tennis until I get out of my quaint back-water placement in July.  Alas, that’s just not the case.  I would propose that we add one more day to the week so that I could fit all of this stuff in– preferrably a vacation day between Saturday and Sunday.

Monday– Taiko
Tuesday– Table Tennis
Wednesday– Swimming
Thursday– Table Tennis OR Swimming
Friday– Weekend Festivities
Saturday– Table Tennis…

and now, Shogi.  After a couple years of chess club in junior high, picking up shogi is like coming back to an old friend.  It’s been great to excercise my brain a bit more, too– as my schedule is a bit one-sided.  The amazing thing is, I can beat kids who have been playing this game for years– and I can do it while suffering from a lack of sleep and… shall we say… fatigue caused by the weekend festivities of Friday night.

Ironically, I have more free time at work than I do in… well… my free time.

Also– I received another bumper crop of pumpkins, unexpectedly last week.  Just when I thought my venture of bringing Jack O’ Lanterns to north Akita was at a close, I run into my table tennis coach/blueberry farmer at the marathon, telling me I had “one or two” more to go and pick up.

In Futatsui math, “one or two” apparently equals 16.  If you add in the rotting ones I couldn’t take, it’s more like 30.  Sadly, Futatsui may be better at math than at English.

Anyway, this amazing crop of pumpkins allowed me to make three Jack O’ Lanterns for the front of my house, give three away to Noshiro ALTs, give one to my table tennis coach to share with his grandkids, give one to a local woman to carve with her kids, and secretly drop off five in the middle of the night… one at each of my junior high schools.

And yet, I still have a bunch of left over pumkins… slowly rotting, until a time comes when I can throw them away.

My Halloween costume for this year was supposed to be Kim Jong Il.  Yet, despite coming up with the idea well in advance, tracking down a proper Kim Jong-outfit and Kim Jong-sunglasses, Japan is apparently lacking in Kim Jong-wigs.  So I got the closest thing.  This year, I went as Kim Jong-Perm.  I suppose there’s a first time for everything.