Damaged hair. Why are women (and men) subconsciously obsessed with it? And why are they obsessed with it looking good? The anthropologist in everyone would tell you, “It’s because good looks reflect the health of the individual. Health was coveted; therefore, valuable to have in a mate.”
Health meant attractive and attractiveness meant one would be able to pass those features down to future generations in the hopes of survival. But does survival mean so much now as it did back then?
And what does all of this have to do with me? Nothing, except to soothe my insecure vanity, I finally purchased Japanese shampoo and conditioner (plus hair mask!). Yes, they’re Dove products but I double-checked and they ARE made in Japan.
Now, I have researched time and again harmful products in cosmetics in the hopes of finding a more wholesome product without having to break out my chemistry set and concoct homemade goods. The biggest culprits were substances that irritated an already dried out scalp. If you’d like to know more information on what’s lurking in your shampoo and conditioner, I believe these websites will help you:
Dove has a well-known reputation and is considered to be top-of-the-line by the Everyday Consumer. Having had a bad experience with Pantene, I have been leery since about purchasing drugstore cosmetics. I was easily sucked into believing that salon brands were what my hair needed. Well, I’m here to tell you that’s not true ANYMORE!
As for what Dove did for my hair, I’m already noticing a difference in the amount of dry flake coming off my head. Itching has greatly decreased. It’s even easier to brush whereas the “natural” products I was using from The Body Shop seemed to make the damage stand out more, thus creating a nest of tangles.
No one wants to be caught mid-stroke.
I also feel like I’m not using as much on my hair. Both the conditioner and shampoo goop on with ease and rinse off without feeling like I’m skidding on Windex-ed glass. Or chewing on cold, uncooked broccoli… whichever gives you that squeaky clean sensation.
While thesewebsitesrecommend other products for us, you can rest assured that Dove is still dependable in Japan.
Aa~h, the hustle and bustle of preparing for graduation. Another year, gone. Like every school in Japan, I sit here at my desk and watch the other teachers clean, organize, and sort out their remaining business before leaving for new beginnings. Some will retire, some will depart for a fresh school, and some will go home to start a family. While I appreciate Japan’s fight against stagnancy, I can’t help but feel a little sad. It would be a great opportunity to create a closely knitted school body. But I digress. While I have some time and am feeling particularly pensive, allow me to reflect on the closing school year.
Though my memory is foggy, I remember the start of my 2nd year at this school was rushed and intense. It was also the first time I would be entering the lion’s den that is elementary school. All too soon I was making lessons and freshening up my stash of games
and flash cards. Over time, all of the ideas I had to integrate English further into the lives of my students disintegrated. As much as I would like to believe I can still accomplish what I would like to do, I must be realistic.
The Japanese education system is changing. While a Japanese citizen might refute what I observe, I will tell you that the current system is meant to cram as much as possible into a small amount of time. Grades and scores before high school are not highly regarded and thus, students are allowed to skate by without a proper foundation. Japan lives and breathes exams. Chapter exams, semester exams, final exams, proficiency exams, entrance exams, driving tests (and yearly re-tests if you’re a foreigner), certifications, licenses…! I know some of these are necessary, but MY GOD. Can’t they just go off the good faith of a well-placed recommendation anymore?
Students in Japan are experiencing the push to learn English sooner. It’s becoming a compulsory subject starting from 5th and 6th grades. Elementary school teachers are not equipped with the required knowledge to lecture on grammar and vocabulary. Textbooks are helping though, allowing the Japanese teachers to speak in Japanese while giving the English speaking job to the ALT (i.e. me!). Still, much of the English instruction is falling to many ALTs and it’s incredibly daunting. This article and this article from Japan Times provides a good commentary on the situation.
Despite my school year having been squished with preparation, my time was not ill-spent. I made connections with my elementary school children through playing and drawing. Whenever I walked into a classroom, I would hear a bunch of voices asking and demanding me to draw this and that. I was not left in the dust, however. Many of the younger kids would draw things for me on scrap pieces of paper. I wonder if my happy befuddlement was how my dad felt whenever I’d give him artwork out of the blue.
I should take a moment to reminisce on what I can remember. All of them start with One day…
I was at the drug store vending machine buying bottles of Coca-Cola for some thirsty JHS kids when a young boy ran up to me to say hello. I recognized him as one of mine.
When I was in the dollar store looking at yarn, a little girl called out to me. We had a small conversation in English and Japanese. It’s funny, though. If I’m seen outside of the classroom still in work clothes, my identity is still confusing to most folks.
I was riding my bike home late one evening and a JHS girl noticed me and said, “Let’s ride home together!”
Another female student, this one having already graduated and entered high school, saw me walking to the 7-11 and said, “Hey, Ashley! I have a part-time job here at this restaurant. Please come and see me sometime!” This was in Japanese and broken English, of course.
The best memory I have from this year is when a 5th grader told her class during presentations I was her hero. How amazing is that?! I always told myself as a kind of mantra that if I could touch at least one person during my stint as a teacher (heck, during my life even), I could die happy. I truly believe that we take a little of something from the people we meet in our lives.
Good morning, everyone. It’s Friday here in Japan and the sun has just crested over the hills. The temperature is 7 degrees (C) but it feels a lot colder. What’s even more upsetting is that the school refuses to turn on the heater.
Please excuse me while I slowly wither away inside.
This is a lunch I had two weeks ago. There’s rice and milk, the regular players, but let’s introduce the others.
Stir fry – made from bean sprouts, a green vegetable (I can’t recall the name) and bacon. I had seconds, so it must have been tasty enough. Ashley Rating: 8/10
Pineapple Jell-O (パインゼリー, pah-in zeh-ree) – This is pretty easy to understand. It’s pineapple flavored Jell-O that was, unfortunately, frozen before being served. I chuckled as the students complained that it was more like pineapple sherbert. Ashley Rating: 6/10
Curry-flavored mabodofu (カレー麻婆豆腐, kah-reh mah-boh-dohfu) – Containing carrots, tofu, and various other vegetables with ground pork, this wasn’t as greasy feeling as its restaurant counterpart. With the rice, though, it tasted bland to me. Some would swear that it’s the best school lunch has to offer. Ashley Rating: 7/10
Good afternoon, everyone. I hope your day is going well. I’m making use of this blog today in order to fight the after-lunch sleep crunch. As an ALT, I do not participate in student-teacher-parent conferences and… that’s what’s going on this week before Winter Break starts. My afternoons are totally and utterly free.
Here is a lunch I ate last week.
It consists of fried fish, rice, and miso soup. But this day was a bit special due to the presence of a Japanese dessert and Goody Rice (no, Goody Rice is not a thing. It’s just my thing).
Japanese dessert: くずまんじゅう(kuzumanju); kuzu is a kind of plant that gives its roots to be dried and powered. When water is added, it creates a starch and then is used to surround a filling; in this case, matcha paste. It was a little too… プニプニ (poo-nee poo-nee, squishy) for my taste and I’m not a fan of matcha even though I can tolerate drinking green tea. Ashley Rating: 6/10.
Goody Rice: 揚げ豆腐 (agedoufu) and corn; this is usually a relatively plain tasting Goody Rice but is decent where nutrients are involved. Ashley Rating: 6/10.
Main dish: fried fish; I think cornstarch is the main boss in the batter. It wasn’t heavy like flour is. I can’t recall if there was seasoning or not. But c’mon, it’s fried fish. Fried anything is delicious! Ashley Rating: 8/10.
Miso soup: 豚汁 (tonjiru); miso soup with vegetables, pork, and tofu. A typical tonjiru contains burdock root, carrots, and daikon. When made well, it’s my favorite thing to eat in the winter. Ashley Rating: 9/10
Here is another attempt to bring you something interesting from my life in Japan: school lunch. After watching the 22-minute educational video provided by Life Where I’m From, you’ll be shocked to hear that “school lunch” is a recently added institution. Granted, after WW2, there was a lot of “recent activity” going on in the countries that participated. But, I digress.
Upon my arrival to Japan and having school lunch recommended to me brought back childhood horrors of soggy grilled cheeses, plain-bunned hot dogs, and the dreaded Special K cereal. Given a choice between an American lunch and a Japanese one, I’d pick the Japanese one in a heartbeat.
(As I’m writing this, I’m having the funny feeling I’ve talked to you about school lunch before… or at least mentioned it. Anyway!)
Let’s take a minute to exercise your brain and calm your nerves before you freak out and say, “OHMYGOD I am NOT eating THAT!” What do you see? Something white, something kind of brown, and green vegetables and carrots in a broth. Basically, a starch, a protein, vitamins, and minerals.
In the upper, left-hand corner, there’s plain rice. Next to it is a local milk. Below that are potstickers or gyoza (餃子). They look a tad stiff, don’t they? Poor things. They were deep fried before being served. The filling is a simple pork and veg mixture. Next, there is a salad of stirfried bean sprouts with some bacon for flavor. Last, there’s the soup. Green leafy vegetables, carrots and onions make up the bulk of it while quail eggs add a hit of protein.
A lot of my cooking at home resembles this structure.
As I was eating my food, I realized that I could do a segment on the things I buy and try out. Unfortunately, the items I’m going to share with you today have already been ingested and are now succumbing to my acid. Wait… that doesn’t sound right. Let’s try that again!
Unfortunately, the items I’m going to share with you today have already been impounded and are currently going through processing.
7-11 is a thing here and it is quite different than my American counterpart. Two words: NO. SLURPEES. Despite not offering the snacks and hot foods I grew up eating, Japanese 7-11s are dope in their own way. The main reason is the above. If I could live off fried chicken and rice balls for the rest of my life, I would but I’d hate to see what my body’d look like after 10 years.
First up to bat is this “cream soda jelly.” Yes, Jell-O is called jelly here. Which is easier for you to say? Honestly, my mind gets stuck on the #ujelly schtick…
Topped with a cocktail cherry (sorry, it’s not a maraschino), whipped cream, and lemon mousse, it’s actually pretty tasty. I was transported back to my childhood. Story time! Furr’s was a buffet or cafeteria-style restaurant my family would take me to every once in a while. It has since been closed for many, many years. But I distinctly remember their green (lime-flavored, maybe) Jell-O with whipped cream. I think it became one of those must-haves a child always looks forward to.
VERDICT: 7/10. The dessert here was extremely pleasant. The Jell-O wasn’t overpoweringly flavored. The whipped cream was light. The lemon mousse was en point. It’s probably one of the few Western things Japan is doing better than their competitors. The only downer was that cocktail cherry.
Up next, we have the humble rice ball. Why it’s called a “ball,” I have no idea because in Japanese, it’s called おにぎり (onigiri, oh-nee-ghee-ree). The number of things you can wrap rice around is just about endless, but let’s talk about this particular one: tuna mayonnaise. The mayonnaise in Japan is not Best Foods. Whatever their egg to oil to whatever ratio is, it’s tasty cold or warm.
The rice is fresh and springy; not cold and hard. The tuna is your typical, flaked variety. The mayo is mild and I swear it’s seasoned with something. VERDICT: 8/10.
Last, but not least is the fried chicken (called 唐揚げ [karage, kara-age]). Made from thigh meat, the chicken is marinated in some kind of soy sauce, sake, ginger, and garlic combination or simply dipped in seasoned flour and fried until golden brown. Instead of nachos or a hot dog, you can buy these babies for about $1.50 each. Their crispy, juicy deliciousness will not leave you disappointed. Just don’t let it get soggy. VERDICT: 9/10 (Maybe I have low expectations, but wait until you try it.)
Honorable mention: Popcorn is popcorn. I’ve yet to eat bad popcorn that I didn’t make myself.
I hope you’ve enjoyed reading my account of konbini food. Stay tuned for the next episode!
Disclaimer: Any advice given or situations are from my own experiences. Please take what I say with a grain of salt when comparing it to your own situation.
When you type into Google “teaching in Japan” or “ALT jobs in Japan,” it may not cross your mind that you’ll be lonely. You can only think of all that fresh, juicy anime you’ll be able to get your hands on, or the delicious foods you can finally try that’ll knock the socks off an instant noodle cup. Japan! Temples, beaches, cute boys, adorable women, fashion, music! YEAH! You find a company you like and click that “Apply” button.
Now it’s time to buckle up and brace yourself for the ride.
Fast-forward to a month in. Everything is uncertain. You’re uncertain of your choice, you’re uncertain of yourself; so, you call your family and cry. You complain of the prejudice. You complain of the lack of friends. You complain about how the food isn’t what you thought it was. The strings of malicious words are non-exhaustible. Most of all, you’re lonely. Oh-so oppressively lonely.
Wait… what? “But Ashley, loneliness wasn’t on the agenda.” It never is. “How do I deal with it?” I’m still learning and searching for that answer myself. Ultimately, you have two choices: healthily or unhealthily. Do you want to save yourself from the agony your emotions will cause or tackle it head-on? As for myself, I feel it’s like walking a tightrope. Some days, I’m above my pettiness and others… well, I drown in it.
For the first 7 months of ALT-ing, I felt I was doing fairly well if I took out all the weekends I called back home sobbing. I was connecting with my school and connecting with my students. I was becoming a regular at many of the shops and even made a friend here and there. I certainly won’t knock my time in my original placement. However… but… a part of me kept listening to the niggly peanut gallery. The devil on my shoulder was getting louder. “You could have more friends. You could have more relationships. You could have more sex. All it takes is for you to log on. You’re a pretty girl. Think of all the attention you’ll be getting!” it would whisper.
Call it confidence or call it stupidity, but I listened to that voice and stepped into the world of online dating in Japan. Yeah, I know. I can already hear your scoffing and see your eye-rolling. Why couldn’t I have been stronger and found other things to put my energy towards? Well… the answer is “Loneliness will do that to you.”
Being in another country with this newfound independence creates a drug-like effect in your brain. You’re free. You’re away from the judgment of your friends and family. I mean, what they don’t know won’t hurt them, right? I can guarantee that there’s so much going on in my daily life that doesn’t end up on my social media.
Without going into detail about that messy thing, I will tell you that life alone in another country is hard. Battling internally with myself has led me to question, has led me to doubt, has led me to self-hate, lowered self-esteem, a bad body image, and has led me to this ugly, clouded room of choices that look lifesaving but are actually there to hurt me. I am literally stuck within my own mind most of the time. “Ashley, you think too much,” you say. Yup, and I’m not ashamed of my problem.
I have discussed my issues with my friends and family attempting to find some kind of answer as to why. Why do I subject myself to this nonsense? This the advice I’ve received (as best as I can remember it):
You need a pet or someone to take care of
You need to ignore what everyone else is doing
It’s normal. Don’t worry about it
You should date more
Concentrate on your hobbies
Stop being so concerned about everyone else
Let’s address each of the points mentioned, shall we?
In regards to pets, I live in a LeoPalace whom of which doesn’t allow animals in their buildings. Whether it’s because of noise or because of filth, I cannot have one on the premises. I did sneak fish into my place though but they don’t have the cuddle component one would look for in a dog, cat, or bird. As for having someone to take care of, that has backfired miserably and I want no part in it.
Ignoring people is successful to an extent but keeping that up 24/7 is exhausting and once that barrier comes down, the world barges in. When I do this, I usually end up having an emotional breakdown. I’m surprised that there are less holes in my walls.
Loneliness is normal, yes, but bone-crushing, fatigue-inducing loneliness with a side of depression is not. It is especially not normal when you’re thinking of ending it all during one of these episodes. (If you know someone who is suffering from suicidal thoughts or are suffering yourself, please do not hesitate to call a friend, a family member, your next-door neighbor, some randomly dialed number, 911 [110 for Japan], or the Suicide Hotline @ 1-800-273-8255 [or for Japan, +81-035-774-0992])
I have way too many hobbies but this has worked a bit. Lately, I’ve been trying to develop a caricature art style and it’s been fun. I’ve also invested money in coasters with the intent to design embroidered Sailor Moon themed sets to sell to the hardcore anime fan. Unfortunately, remaining interested is a struggle.
Being concerned about everyone is in my DNA. For some reason, I’m always extending help to someone in some way. My heart is too big to not to. The downside to this is that I end up not taking care of myself. When I become worried over what everyone else is doing and thinking, it sends me into a funk that takes days to shake out of. I plummet right back into the Negativity Room. When I’m there, I don’t believe anything anyone says. I hear them but I don’t listen
I truly believe that rooms absorb our feelings. Being trapped in my apartment during the day or in times of rest when I’m not sleeping leads to ugly thoughts. I turn into this… awful, disgusting, vicious, spiteful, bitter woman. It becomes hard for me to relate to anyone or anything. I shut off. So, what do I do? I get out. I ride my bike to nowhere in particular. I take pictures of things I find interesting and share them on Instagram. I give my surroundings stories and characters. I let these small moments fuel my artsy-fartsy side and before I know it, I’ve emerged from the gloom renewed.
Loneliness is tough and it should be taken seriously. Most of all, my advice to you is to analyze why you feel lonely. Finding the reasons while help you in punching the emotion in the face. You and I are smart. We are valuable to someone even if that someone is ourselves. We can overcome this.
Once upon a time, there was a sporadic blogger who disappeared. She was found a year later, quietly rotting away from overwork and self-imposed stress. If you listen closely, you can hear the tapping from the keys on her laptop and the frantic clicking of her mouse. She now serves as a living reminder to the young and carefree to not be so serious about life.
Really, though, where has the time gone?! I suppose the stars have fallen from my eyes after almost two years of living in Japan. The adjustment time has ended. The urge to visit the places I saw in anime and other kinds of pop-culture has vanished and has been replaced with a desire to explore locally. As a challenge to myself, I will attempt to detail my weekend adventures instead of trying to remember everything I do on actual vacations. Mom, Dad! I’m sorry I’m such a failure!
First, I have to say thanks to Niantic for bringing out PokémonGo. When I first moved here, I thought my area was a PokéStop desert – nothing to be seen or gotten. The oasis was an hour’s bus ride away if I wanted any action. So, having had a falling out with running, I decided to put my worn-out shoes back on and start walking. Luckily for me, my town has proven to be decently laden with Stops.
Dunno, but Grandma has these.
After passing through the local shrine a couple of times and seeing a sign for “Hosoe Park – Welcome! Let’s walk together!” I got curious about what was actually up there in the woods. As a side note, I’m terrified of closed in spaces because I have no idea what will jump out and get me. The desert is much kinder and kills you faster.
Walking up the damn mountain was a bitch. After 5 minutes, I was huffing and puffing my way through dense foliage, rugged concrete paths, and glory-seeking spider threads. A glimmer of white finally greeted my vision and… wait! Is that a place to rest?! Do I spy a water fountain?! I’m SAVED! (‘cause, y’know, I’m a dummy like that and don’t hydrate). Oh… no. It’s just an observation deck with sour water.
As I continued trekking, I realized I’d come across a municipal hotel. No, joke, that’s what 国民宿舎奥浜名湖 translates to. Japanese lesson, go!
I remembered an acquaintance told me there was a restaurant up here (coupled with seeing signs – am I psychic?!), I braved the front doors. As I walked in, unsure if the place was open to public patronage or not, I was greeted warmly and allowed to look around. Of course, in traditional Japanese capitalist fashion, a small shop dedicated to the local foods and souvenirs drew me deeper into the depths of a broke life. In case it wasn’t mention before, Hosoe is famous for tangerines (i.e. mikan), eel, and miso products. As it is March, there were also seasonal treats available. Anyway!
I spotted a book titled “The Town’s Princess Road.” In Japanese, it’s 姫様道の町 (himesama dou no machi). Hosoe’s top festival is the Princess Road Festival and this book details important locations within the town that are relevant to the history of the area. Naturally, I had to have a copy despite the need to translate it.
This leads me to my next discovery: The Dual-Weight Saint. Thank you again, PokémonGo, because this place was listed as a gym. My original goal was to get to it and put a Pokémon in. (Tangent: the one I placed there stayed there for 2 days. No one battled it out.) But instead, I found a small shrine with a bunch of red-dressed monk statues commonly called Jizo* there. One in particular was singled out and protected with a bunch of origami cranes. Coincidently, the book I had purchased told the story of this place. Fast forward two days and here you go!
The Dual-Weight Saint Once upon a time, an old devout woman by the name of Okinu was wandering around the backwoods of Kiga when suddenly, she came upon a stone under a bush of clover in bloom. It looked like the saint, Jizo! “This… this is a saint!” she said, as she placed the figure under a nearby tree. “This must be fate, make no mistake.” After that, Okinu brought flowers and water for it every day. It became a ritual for her, when one day, she decided to move the stone to a better place. Upon trying to lift it, she discovered she couldn’t! Suddenly, the rain began to fall and she hurried to get it out of the way. It was light! She could move it! Quickly, she placed it under a pine tree. It dawned on her that the stone had its heavy days and its light days. The story became widely known by the townsfolk and they visited with their wishes. If the stone was heavy and they couldn’t move it, their wish wouldn’t be granted. If the stone was light, however, they could rejoice! Their wish would come true. It was from then on, it was called the “Dual-Weight Saint.”
I didn’t try to move it.
**According to Wikipedia, Jizo is a Buddhist deity. His original name is Ksitigarbha. He guides people through the 6 Realms of Existence. More information was found in The Japan Times article “A guide to Jizo, guardian of travelers and the weak.” Because Jizo is a protector of those who travel, he is often found at boundaries, physical or spiritual. Dressing and caring for this saint allows the soul to accrue karma for the afterlife.
(Translation: Hello, everyone! How are you doing? I’m sorry I took such a long vacation. Many things came up after travelling and I became extremely busy. I had to prepare for graduation and review my English classes.
Recently, I moved from Gotemba to Hamamatsu’s northern ward. Compared to Gotemba, there isn’t really anything here. At least Gotemba had a McDonald’s. The closest one to here is about 40 minutes by bus (that I know of). It’s a good thing I don’t really like McDonald’s.)
I’m sure you were wondering whether something happened to me, but I promise you I’m very much alive. During the last few months, I have been travelling. All places are listed below and will be addressed in their own posts (if I ever get around to doing them):
Thinking now, I’m overwhelmed with the amount of writing I need to accomplish in the coming days. Thank goodness for the pictures I take or else I’d have trouble remembering the places I’ve seen and the food I’ve eaten.
Backtracking, my turmoil began back in November when I planned what I thought was a harmless visit back home. It was my little secret, cloistered away in the depths of my heart. It was days before I could wipe the smile off my face; days before I could stop daydreaming of my parents’ reactions to my popping in unexpectedly. In the meantime, I was blissfully ignorant of the fact that Fate has its own agenda and I was helpless to stop it. Cue the last ALT meeting.
Surrounded by that tacky, office building interior with chairs that were too high, my trainer ominously beckons me over in that subtle Japanese way. “How would you like to move to Hamamatsu?” he asks.
“…what?” I blinked once, twice. What did I do wrong? What aren’t my teachers telling me? So many what-ifs flew around in my head. I was suddenly nervous.
“Yeah, we can’t keep you in Gotemba anymore,” he explained.
I handled the news quite well and, like a seasoned businesswoman, I asked, “Will the company pay for my moving expenses and will I have to come up with another apartment deposit?” Naturally, all my fears were laid to rest. Plus, the moving date wasn’t until the end of the school year.
I had nothing to worry about (or so I thought).
Reality came crashing down over my head when my credit card bill showed up. That meant time wasn’t waiting for anyone; including me. My secret was abruptly brought to light and it was imperative I tell someone in order to avoid any possible late fees. Who could I call? Who in my family wouldn’t bat an eyelash to help me…? Ah! Grandma!
How terrible of a granddaughter am I to rely on an old lady for financial assistance? Cynicism aside, she agreed and I was on the fast track to giving myself a heart attack. Without the absolute knowledge of my moving date or even where the hell I would be going, I was uncertain of whether I should start packing earlier or later. Even then, shoving things into boxes was double-duty. Not only did I have to make sure I was ready for my trip (without forgetting anything), I had to make positive I had my other things set up for the move (without forgetting anything).
Fast forward to Oh Shit Day and I was on a plane back to the desert. I thought I would be more excited to see home, eat Mexican food, and sleep under my glow-in-the-dark-star-dotted ceiling, but I wasn’t. I easily slipped back into the routine I was once a part of. My father even got some breakfast!
After a week of hanging out and being a fatty, I revved up my engines and went back to Japan. With the time difference, it was March 29th by the time I landed on the soil I’m quickly coming to call “home.” The rest of the week went something like this:
29th: sleep in apartment
30th: load up the moving truck, change addresses with the appropriate authorities, stay in hotel in Mishima
31st: be homeless, register with the proper companies, and bum it out with a friend
1st: attempt to locate the new apartment via Google Maps, get lost, have a breakdown
The day I got lost was the day I had never felt more foreign. Stuck in the middle of an area I knew nothing about, while it rained, with no knowledge on how to say, “I’m lost” was the most depressive state I’ve ever been in. I kid you not when I tell you my phone almost ended up in the gutter. Fear. Worry. Hunger. Hopelessness. It was all there in this ugly, knotted up thing lodged between my ribs.
Aside from a few odds and ends, I’m pretty much moved in and comfortable. There are other ALT newbies in the same apartment complex and I’ve been about as rude as I can be. So far, my only conversation with the lot of them has consisted of, “Hello. My name’s Ashley. Nice to meet you.” This love-hate relationship I have with people is going to see me as an unmarried spinster with plants and dogs clogging up my house in the future, watch.
I’m only sorry that I’ll be moving again after this school year.
My new home is situated in Hamamatsu’s northern ward, quietly nestled in a field of rice paddies, surrounded by trees. The Miyakado River separates my apartment from my school and already, I’m enjoying having water close by. As the sun sets, I can see and listen to the fish jumping from the water. What’s incredible is that the waterfront is lined with cherry trees. This spring, I’ll have my chance to witness the epitome of Japanese culture every day I leave my apartment.
While my particular spot is famous for its oranges, Hamamatsu itself is famous for its gyoza, eel (うなぎ, unagi), music industry, and manufacturing. It was highly recommended to me to visit the unagi pie factory. They’re these crispy wafer-like cookies that are absolutely delicious. They’re often purchased as souvenirs.
Established along the Tokaido highway, Hamamatsu flourished with the constant flow of people coming and going. If you want to know more about the things that came out of this area, please visit the city’s website.
Recently, a drama was filmed here about a woman called Naotora Ii. Her original name was never recorded or never found, but she’s famous nonetheless. Born during the Warring States era and promised to her cousin Kamenojo (later named Naochika) in her youth, she was the only child in her family and unsuspecting of what life would give her.
As the political atmosphere heated up, Naochika was spirited away to protect his status as a potential heir. Because Naotora was left out of the loop, she thought he was dead and proceeded to be a nun. Over the course of 10 years, Naochika grew into a man of means, married, and had a male child: Naomasa.
This child was much beloved by all until his father was accused of rebellion and his family executed. Before the government could take Naomasa as a hostage of war, Naotora came out of seclusion, was declared lord of her clan and raised the boy. She sees him succeed as heir to the Ii clan before dawning her robes of religion.
The temple in which Naotora spent the majority of her childhood is about 20 minutes from here by car. It’s called Ryotanji. Every weekend, I can see the tourists gather at the Cultural Museum to get a gander at the historical artifacts… and buy some oranges. I’m sure they make their way up the hill at some point.
Overall, this is a town built for the quiet life and I’ll relish it (and the mosquitoes) until it’s time for me to start the next chapter in my life.
It’s the day after Valentine’s Day here in Japan and it’s just as insane as it is back home. The only difference is that it’s the girls that declare their love for the boys rather than everyone braving their confessions. The men have their chance on March 14th, on White Day.
Never have I see so many advertisements impressing upon the public their ability to win over your love interest. Cakes, chocolates, cookies and bread could be found in all manners of bakeries and you would always be able to spot a home-making kit in just about any kind of store. I feel that Japan is more capitalist than America is sometimes. In my case, I drew a picture using the language of flowers since I enjoy the subtlety only a bloom can offer.
The red rose for love and devotion. Valerian for readiness. White clover requesting him to think of me. Violets for loyalty, devotion, and faithfulness. Lastly, the morning glory for affection. I eventually colored it, much to my dismay. Despite what I think, he took my gesture to heart and appreciated my effort to turn his head. Unfortunately, due to reasons outside of my control, I was turned down. I quickly added this experience to my list of “Firsts in Japan.”
Since then, I’ve been going through this stupidly self-inflicted cycle of anger and depression. Anytime I remember something he told me, I get bummed out. As usual, I’m trying to blame everything on myself when that’s not the case.
A second “first” was my visit to a Japanese dentist. I had no idea what to expect. How much will it cost me? What tools do they use? Do they use a different method of fixing cavities? Do they even use Novocain to numb the teeth? The Japanese could definitely compete with the British stereotype in regards to gnarly teeth.
Don’t judge a book by its cover, folks!
The clinic I went to was near my main school and, despite my limited Japanese, I understood everything that was said, was very comfortable letting strangers root around in my mouth and was impressed by the efficiency. An astonishing 6 cavities were found in my mouth. I blame stress and my penchant for sugary things. Needless to say, I’m now on the fast track to fixing them. No offense to my dentist back at home, but… Japanese dentists do a better job with cosmetics. Unfortunately, I can’t say that the amount of time I wait has changed. My 5 o’clock appointments might as well be called 6 o’clock appointments.
For anyone wanting to move to another country, check out what kind of health insurance system they have. Japan has two programs, a public and a private. I’m enlisted with the public one: National Health Insurance (NHI) and thank goodness for that. My first cavity cost me about $20 to fix. Last night’s lie-in was around $9. So cheap! Going to an all-Japanese staffed establishment really tests my language ability. I feel slightly guilty for abandoning what Spanish I learned back in college.
The third “first” was experiencing a yeast infection and discovering what medication was available and what wasn’t. My preliminary action was to see if I could get Monistat here. The only option was a vaginal testing kit through Amazon Japan. For any woman who has faced the fires of hell in the itching department down there will understand me when I say that that wouldn’t cut it. Back to Google I go and exploring the forums on GaijinPot and other ex-patriot sites. I kept seeing a few medications mentioned several times: Feminina (フェミニーナ), Torikomishin K (トリコマイシン), and Empecid (エンぺシド).
Everyone that suggested them found them as reliable substitutes for the trip the Lady Doctor. Coincidently, there’s a drug store next to the dental clinic. I stopped in to question one of the employees and they flat out said they didn’t sell the medications; that I had to go see a doctor for a prescription. My friend in the city even told me via pharmacist she went out of her way to talk to said that the Torikomishin was now illegal. Feminina is only used externally and… I didn’t ask about Empecid. Behold! my first glimpse into Japan’s strict drug laws. I could feel me and my vagina beginning to panic. Without Monistat, what would we do? I didn’t even want to begin to dwell on what a complicated infection would be like. Luckily, I remembered searching for home remedies at one point and decided to dive back into the realm of alternative medicine.
The top choice was plain yogurt with live probiotics. The second choice was douching with apple cider vinegar (this has many other uses, if you’re interested in looking them up). The third was using boric acid tablets but wasn’t recommended if you had a complicated case. Pondering my options, I thought I’d give the probiotics a go. I happened to have some supplements I brought with me from America and well… you can connect the dots, I’m sure. With positive reinforcement from my mom, it’s now the 3rd day and my symptoms are subsiding. I can now sit without squirming.
As a precaution against further upsets, I caved and used my credit card to get some Monistat sent my way through the original Amazon. One online pharmacy wanted to charge me around $100 to ship a 7-day supply on the suppositories! Outrageous! I could hear the ATM crying from my apartment. $12 and some change later, my savior is now on its way.
As a rule of thumb, if there’s any medicine you particularly like back home, make sure you bring enough for one month as that’s the only amount Customs will allow you through with.
In other news, I got on the wrong train last night, not paying attention. That was a “first.”