The year is drawing to a close and things are winding down here in Osaka. Final exams at my school are finished and the students only come in for half-days until the second semester officially ends about a week from now. It’s been an unusually warm winter thus far and though it doesn’t feel too much like Christmas is upon us, the stores are awash in lights and other decorations. I’m afraid I’ll have to miss the traditional Japanese Christmas dinner of Kentucky Fried Chicken and strawberry cake this year as I’m spending my winter vacation out of the country.

I took the Japanese Language Proficiency Test (JLPT), level 1, last week. I don’t think I passed, but fortunately from next year levels 1 and 2 will be offered twice a year, so I might try again in June. I bought the book with last year’s test in it and worked through that for practice the day before and scored a 256. To pass, you need a 280. I thought the reading section on the actual test was a little less difficult, but I’m not sure that I got a better grade on it. My biggest weakness is still kanji and vocabulary. I got a great vocabulary flashcard program for my iPhone called Japanese Flip that shows you words that you miss more often so that eventually you remember them. The program breaks the words down by JLPT level and for level 1, it has 6,000 words. Of course I already know a lot of the words, so I’ve been going through about 1,000 words a month, but I only got the program two months before the test so I still have about 4,000 to go.

Well, this will be my final entry here. I hope you’ve all enjoyed reading a little about my life in Osaka. Thanks to Paul and Hitomi for letting me post on Japancast. Sayonara!

皆さん、久しぶりですね！The first half of the second semester is over and mid-term exams start today. I’ve mostly been just teaching classes and studying for the JLPT but the early fall is not a time without its fun and interesting events.

Before the second semester begins in earnest my school has its annual culture festival, usually on the first Friday and Saturday of September. The first few days of school are only morning classes so that in the afternoon the students can continue the preparation they started over summer break (and I use the word “break” here very loosely). Each homeroom class decides at the end of the first semester what it will do for the festival and then spends most of the summer working on it. Events come in two varieties: plays and dances. Plays are performed in the gym and are usually based on a Japanese television drama or movie or a Disney cartoon. Dances are performed outside, either on the sports field or on the 円形ステージ (えんけい/round stage) and usually feature some sort of storyline and a patchwork of pieces of J-pop songs or American hip-hop tracks and tends to remind me of music played at pep rallies when I was in high school. The schedule is set up so that when the play in the gym ends, you go outside to watch a dance, and when that’s over you go back in the gym for another play, and so forth and so on. In addition to the main events, you can check out the students’ work in the 書道室 (しょどうしつ/calligraphy room) and the impromptu art gallery and for a small fee you can drink tea with the 茶道部 (さどうぶ/tea ceremony club). On Saturday, parents and friends can come and watch and the day ends with a performance by the 吹奏部 (すいそうぶ/brass band club).  After the guests are rather forcefully asked to leave, the students engage in a massive clean-up operation. Then a sort of after-festival called 後夜祭 (こうやさい) begins. There, individual students or students in groups of their own choosing perform music, skits or their own brand of Osaka-style 漫才 (まんざい/manzai) comedy.

Around the middle of September is the 岸和田檀尻祭 (きしわだだんじりまつり/Kishiwada danjiri festival). Kishiwada is a city in Osaka Prefecture close to Kansai Airport and its danjiri festival is probably the most famous in all of Japan. Danjiri are wooden floats that look like small shrines. They are constructed from wood and, maintaining a traditional lack of modern innovations such as steering, etc., the floats depend on dozens and dozens of people pulling ropes to guide them through the streets and around corners, where they literally just jerk it around by turning suddenly at a 90° angle. Though I’ve never seen it happen myself, I’ve heard that someone dies every year, either by getting run over or getting run into by the floats.  Still, despite the potential danger, it’s quite a spectacle with all the pullers and runners adorned in their colorful はっぴ (happi coats) and the guys dancing and jumping up and down on top of the swiftly moving floats.  There are 34 floats that run in the morning, afternoon and again in the evening when they are adorned with rows and rows of lanterns.

The same weekend is when my city’s citizen’s festival is held every year. In addition to food stalls and the usual fair fare, the main attraction at this festival is a big stage with loud speakers. There are lots of acts throughout the day, the overwhelming majority of which are little kids dancing. It sounds cute enough but when you take a closer look it’s actually a little disturbing to my Western eyes. Recently, a hip-hop dance school has opened up in my area and most of the performers are students from this school. The age range is elementary to junior high and the music, for the most part, is very sexually explicit rap and hip-hop, as are many of the dance maneuvers.  Every time I ask a Japanese person if they think what they’re watching is in appropriate, the act surprised by my question and tell me that it’s really cute. I’m not sure they’d think it was so cute and innocent if they understood the lyrics or where some of the dance routines came from. I don’t consider myself all that conservative, but if it were my daughter, she wouldn’t be out there dancing like that in those close at that young of an age. Oddly enough, there are few to no high school age girls, for whom the whole thing would be a great deal more appropriate.  This year marked the first time 外人 (がいじん/foreigners) performed at the festival. A couple of my friends signed up and played a short, 3 song acoustic set of songs from America, Britain and New Zealand. Just like in our English classes though, they failed to get much audience participation in the sing-along finale to “Hey Jude.” But for me, it was the highlight of the event.

The same weekend (it was a very eventful weekend!) we also went to the annual フィエスタ・メヒカナ (Mexican festival) at the Umeda Sky Building.  There, Osaka’s Mexican community gathers to play music, dance and cook Mexican food in the outdoor space between the two towers that make up the sides of the Sky Building. It’s always a lot of fun and usually by the end of the night nearly everyone on stage and off is dancing to traditional Mexican music.

This Monday was 体育の日(たいいくのひ/Sports Day). Until this year, this 3-day weekend was when the インターナショナル・ビール・サミット (International Beer Summit) was held at the Sky Building. Usually, like the Mexican festival, there would be a stage with music and dancing, a bunch of food venders, and of course lots of different kinds of beer from all over the world. This year, however, they moved it to Kobe, put it inside a building with a mere 150-person capacity and started charging ¥2,000 for admission. And because space was so limited, you had to sign up in advance to go. Needless to say, we didn’t attend though I’m hoping this year was a fluke and that next year, they’ll bring it back to Osaka and do it right again.

It’s summer vacation and to escape the sweltering Osaka heat I went to Hokkaido for a few days with a couple of friends. Sapporo was a really cool town, both literally and figuratively. We enjoyed the annual beer festival in 大通公園 (おおどおりこうえん/Odori Park) and ate lots of good food like ジンギスカン (Genghis Khan). Traveling outside of Sapporo was somewhat difficult as trains and buses run far less frequently than they do in the city and much of our itinerary was dictated by the public transportation schedule. Were I to go to Hokkaido again I think I’d probably sign up for a tour package if going with a friend who can rent and drive a car were not an option.

Back here in Osaka, I’ve been indulging in one of the best things about Japanese summers: 花火大会 (はなびたいかい/fireworks festivals).  First up, at the end of July were the fireworks marking the end of the month-long 天神祭 (てんじんまつり/Tenjin Matsuri).  Then, a week later were the PL fireworks. PL stands for “Perfect Liberty” and is the name of the Buddhist sect that hosts the display.  The largest in the world, 120,000 fireworks are launched in one hour.  The next day, I went to the fireworks at メリケンパーク (Meriken Park) in Kobe. Then, this weekend I went to the display along the Yodogawa River, just north of Umeda. There were also fireworks in Kyoto and Wakayama the day after, but I decided four festivals were plenty.  My favorite by far was festival in Kobe. There is a lot of flat, open area to sit with an unobstructed view of the sky. And because the fireworks are launched from two sides of the water along the harbor, the display is a bit more interesting than those launched from a single site. Also, in addition to the wide variety in fireworks (including shapes like hearts and stars!) a large speaker plays relaxing music.  This all stands in sharp contrast to my experience at the PL fireworks. After walking up and down the street to find a good place, we had to sit on the street because the proper seating area was full. The entire time we watched the fireworks, police officers with bullhorns shouted instructions at those going home, even though the display had just begun. Despite the fact that spectators spilled out onto the right lane of the road, the cops continually reminded the crowds to walk on the left lane, and to do so slowly. Another recorded female voice broadcast from light poles saying essentially the same thing. It made relaxing and enjoying the fireworks all but impossible to do.  Aside from the fireworks themselves (which are far more amazing than anything I’ve ever seen in the States), my favorite part of going to festivals is the food. Dozens of food stalls line the streets all selling freshly grilled specialties. I always get the 焼きそば (yakisoba).  While the festivals are a lot of fun, the trade-off is dealing with the large crowds.  Arriving, it’s usually not so bad, but when the finale has concluded and everyone starts heading to the train station, you can be in for a long wait.  As you approach the station, the dense queue of people slows to a crawl and when you do finally make it onto the train, there’s barely enough room to breathe. Still, living in Japan requires you to adapt to such things and once you accept the reality of it all, it’s not so bad.

I’ve also been busy lately helping the three new Assistant Language Teachers (ALTs) who just moved into my building get settled in.  This year has proven to be a bit problematic for new foreigners in Japan.  First of all, it seems that the Japanese Diet passed a law that requires all foreigners to have lived in Japan for six months before they can open a bank account.  Bank accounts are pretty vital to living here, especially since your paycheck is nearly always direct-deposited into your account.  And since we as ALTs come to Japan at the invitation of the Japanese government, it seems contradictory to deny us something so basic.  Also, SoftBank, the mobile phone carrier most patronized by foreigners in Japan, has started requiring credit cards in order to purchase a phone.  Apparently last year some 15,000 foreigners left Japan without paying their final cell phone bill, so it’s understandable that the company wishes to ensure that they won’t lose money, but it still smacks of discrimination.  Luckily, with the help of local board of education officials our new people have their phones and bank accounts now, but it definitely was not the warmest of welcomes.

August is a significant month for those studying Japanese. From August 1st, you can submit your application to take the Japanese Language Proficiency Test, which is held worldwide on the first Sunday in December.  There are actually four tests, one for each level, with four being the easiest and one the most advanced. I took level two two years ago and while I barely passed due to my less-than-adequate reading skills at the time, in the intervening time I feel I’ve improved significantly and though I’m not sure I’m quite at level one proficiency I’m going to give it my best shot this year.  Also, starting next year, the test for levels one and two will be given twice a year, in both July and December. So, should I fail this year, I won’t have to wait as long to re-take it.  Now, I should really get back to studying

The 梅雨(つゆう/rainy season) began a few weeks ago. Usually, this time of year it rains every morning.  The heavy downpour brings relief from the heat, but after it gives way to the oppressive mid-afternoon sunshine, the fallen rain rises from the ground and the air becomes stagnant and sticky.  The rainy season this year, however, has been relatively dry. It has rained far less frequently and when it has rained it has done so heavily only once. The worst part about the weather at present is the static humidity in the air. I open the doors and windows in my classroom and turn on the wall-mounted oscillating fans, but without any sort of breeze coming through, my poor students sit, sweat and suffer.

On a related note, I learned today that the 国際交流室 (こくさいこうりゅうしつ/international room) just got a pair of クーラー (coolers; air conditioners). I was a little confused and upset since my classroom, in which I teach 16 classes per week, lacks air conditioning, while the international room is barely used at all. In fact, it is used only by the PTA during their meetings around the time of the culture festival and graduation, and as a type of teachers’ lounge by the student teachers during their three week stint in late May and early June. When I asked the vice-principle why the international room had been given priority over my classroom, he told me that the PTA had paid for it.

On the same day that the rainy season began this year, my school held its 体育祭 (たいいくさい/sports festival).  The sports festival is a series of competitions in which three teams compete.  Each team is represented by a color and consists of students from all three years.  Thus, the sports festival is a colorful event since the students wear their PE uniforms, which are a different color depending on their year, plus a 鉢巻き (はちまき/headband) which is the team color. This year the first-years are red, the second-years are blue and the third-years are green, and the three different teams were orange, pink and yellow.  The events are mostly different types of relay races.  The most amusing/tragic of these is the club relay. In this race, a representative from each of the various clubs races wearing the uniform or clutching the main object used by the club. Naturally, the 陸上 (りくじょう/track and field), soccer and baseball club racers have a huge advantage over the 剣道 (けんどう/kendo) and 吹奏楽 (すいそうがく/brass band) club representatives, since the Kendo members wear extremely heavy and restrictive uniforms and the band member has to run with his or her chosen musical instrument!  The highlight for the students, though, is the dance competition.  While it may seem odd to those of us from the West to include dancing in a sports competition, it is the single biggest event for students here and they practice for weeks choreographing, designing costumes and putting together signs and props they will use during the performance.  At the end of the day, the outcomes of the various events are tallied together and awards are announced. Inevitably, the winners – especially the third-years – cry the most.

We’ve had a very special treat the last few weeks at school: an exchange student.  My predecessor’s predecessor was from Texas and apparently helped set up a relationship between the two schools.  Last year, a group of students from this high school near Houston, Texas came for a visit and stayed with student host families for one night before continuing on their trip around Japan.  During Spring break this year, a few of our students went to San Francisco and Houston and visited their school. And now, one of their students has come to our school.  She’s been assigned a home room and given a school uniform just like the rest of the students, though she occasionally visits classes, like mine, outside of her homeroom class’s schedule or studies Japanese one-on-one with one of the Japanese English teachers.  It’s been interesting to compare and contrast her with her new cohorts and to hear perspective on the differences between the American and Japanese high school experience.  Mostly, her reaction mirrors my own when I first arrived: how much the students talk and sleep in class – something that shatters our image of studious Asian students and something we would never have come close to getting away with at our own high schools.  This is her final week and I’ll definitely miss her when she’s gone. This short exchange is being seen has a trial run for having additional, possibly longer-term exchanges, something I think would enormously benefit the American and Japanese students alike. I’ve been very happy to see how eager my kids are to try to talk to her in English, and when they see she and I talk, they seem to realize for the first time that English is a living language and not merely a school subject.

This is the last week of regular classes at my school before final exams begin next week.  After exams conclude, there will be a couple of weeks of only morning classes during which the tests will be returned and discussed, and then the first semester will come to an end with the 終業式(しゅうぎょうしき/closing ceremony).

I went to China for spring break, and since this a Japanese blog I won’t talk about my trip other than to note the new security procedures when re-entering Japan from a foreign country. In the past, as a foreign resident with a work visa and a multiple re-entry permit I was able to queue up in the line with Japanese citizens and more or less breeze through customs and immigration. However last year, citing the threat of terror, the Japanese Diet passed new legislation that requires all foreigners, visitors and residents alike, to be photographed and finger-printed upon entry into the country. Naturally, I can no longer get in the citizen line. I was a little upset when I heard the news, but found the reality to be far less incovenient than I initially expected. Japan can be astonishingly efficient in some ways and frustratingly inefficient in others. Fortunately the new procedures as implemented at Kansai International proved to be pretty easy. A nice, older gentleman directed us from the queue to the immigration officers. At each station, there is a computer monitor with an integrated webcam that the officer controls to take your picture, as you place both index fingers onto scanners on either side of the monitor and press down. The only other change is the hanging of a huge banner against the back wall that says something to the effect of “for the prevention of terrorism,” something that I think may be a bit of an overreaction on the part of the government.

Now it’s April and the sakura (桜) trees have burst open with cherry blossoms, signaling the start of a new school and work year in Japan. The official first day of school was Tuesday. In the morning the second and third years came for the 始業式 (しぎょうしき/opening ceremony). Along with the usual speech by the principle, there was an onstage introduction of all the new teachers and staff. Every year, some of the teachers and administrative staff are shuffled around between the prefectural high schools. This year we got new math, science, social studies and English teachers, along with a new school nurse and groundskeeper. The 入学式 (にゅうがくしき/entrance ceremony) for 新入生 (しんにゅうせい/incoming first years) was held at 2pm. As the band plays and parents and siblings watch, the homeroom teachers lead their new classes into the gym, seating them just like the graduation ceremony, with half the class on the right, half on the left of the procession pathway. Following the national anthem, the principle gives another speech, and then introduces the homeroom teachers. The new students also sing the school’s alma mater for the first time. At the conclusion, the homeroom teachers lead the students out the way they came in and take them to their new homerooms. The parents stay for a while longer and receive general information on the school. The next day there’s yet another ceremony in which the second and third years “meet” the new first years. First the third years are seated on the gym floor, each class in single file, followed by the second years and finally the first years. A space is left between first years on the left side and the second and third years on the right . This is so the students have plenty of room to bow to each other at the beginning of the ceremony. First, the entire student body bows to the principle, then the two groups of students face each other and bow. Finally, they move together and close the gap, in essence becoming a single group. The speeches in this ceremony are given by a few of the former teachers and staff, who have either just been transferred to different schools or have retired. They talk about their time at the school, and inevitably someone gets choked up and wipes away a few tears. Mostly, the students seem bored by the affair.

Like last year, I’m teaching all of the first and second years (seven classes of ~40 students each), as well as the third year oral communication class which meets twice a week, giving me 16 classes per week. Unlike last year, where I went to the homeroom classes for their writing lessons, this year I’m having the students come to the language laboratory (LL) for my classes. Most English classes meet three times a week, and I’m in only one of those. I had my first class today and it went decently well. At the beginning of the school year the new students are extremely shy, especially in English class. Hopefully with time they’ll open up a bit and will more readily try to speak.

I live in a suburb of Osaka about a ten minute train ride from the city. It’s mostly a bedroom community with a few factories, the largest of which is Sanyo. To put it diplomatically, there’s really not much to this town. So imagine my surprise when I learned there is a sumo practice facility here. The Osaka sumo tournament starts in a few days and so every year around this time, we suddenly start to see a lot of sumo wrestlers near the station coming and going. I had the special treat yesterday of visiting this practice facility, which it turns out is about a ten minute walk from my apartment, and on the very same road!

A teacher at my friend’s school invited us to meet him at 8am. We walked to a shipping company and then entered a room on the side of the main office building. Inside was a dirt floor and on one side, a small raised area with tatami mats for people to sit. And of course there were sumo wrestlers, about twenty of them, taking turns fighting. They all looked pretty tired, and the air was warm and damp from all the sweat. We sat and watched the practice until it ended at 10:45am. Afterwards I asked one of the sumo wrestlers what time they had started. 「五時半」(ごじはん/5:30) he replied.

Among those watching the practice was the president of the company. Afterwards, he invited us up to his office, served us drinks and chatted us up about various things. At noon, he led us up to the next floor and we ate ちゃんこ鍋 (chanko nabe), the traditional sumo food, for lunch. The waiters for our meal were the sumo wrestlers themselves! It was a pretty surreal experience. By this time they had bathed and changed clothes. In public they’re required to wear traditional Japanese clothes, but here most of them were wearing (very large) T-shirts and shorts. Some even wore glasses, which I’d never seen before.

After lunch, we returned to the president’s office where he was entertaining two visiting sumo wrestlers, both Mongolian and both very highly ranked. He showed me the 番付 (ばんづけ/sumo ranking list) for the upcoming tournament and pointed out their names. The higher the rank, the higher the position on the paper. Theirs were at the top of the page, but they are in the lowest rank of the top division: 前頭 (まえがしら). Still, very impressive.

It was an unexpectedly fun day. Japan is always full of surprises and you never know what interesting thing might be just down the road!

The school year is winding down. This week was final exams for the first and second years and today was graduation for the third years. The high school graduation ceremony in Japan is similar to the Western ceremony, but with a few uniquely Japanese twists.

For all of the formal school ceremonies, like 始業式 (しぎょうしき/opening ceremony), 終業式 (しゅうぎょうしき/closing ceremony) and 卒業式 (そつぎょうしき/graduation), the teachers all wear formal attire. For the women this means nice dresses and for the men business suits with white neckties. The principle wears a long-tail suit jacket that makes him look like he’s going horse riding when he’s finished.

The graduation ceremony begins with the procession of graduating students into the gym. Led by their homeroom teacher, first 一組 (いちくみ/class one) files down the center and once they reach the front, they split into two lines with half of the class sitting in the first row of seats on the right while the other half takes the seats on the left. This is followed by 二組、三組、etc. This year’s 三年生 (さんねんせい/third year) class was a bit smaller, so we only had six homeroom classes (usually it’s seven). Seated behind the soon-to-be graduates are a small contingent of first and second years and behind them are family and friends. Seated to the left of the third years are the teachers, and to the right are members of the PTA, principles of local junior high schools, as well as a few representatives from the board of education.

Next comes the 国歌 (こっか/national anthem), called 君が代 (きみがよ/ “May Your Reign Last Forever”). The singing of the national anthem is somewhat controversial among many teachers in Japan. This is because the song is viewed as a relic of Japan’s wartime past and the song’s lyrics praise the Emperor. Many teachers simply choose to remain seated and silent instead. At my school this doesn’t seem to have any significant repercussions, but many teachers have been punished throughout Japan for refusing to participate.

In American graduation ceremonies, students wear caps and gowns and walk onto stage when their name is called to receive their diploma from the principle. In Japan, the students wear their regular 制服 (せいふく/school uniforms), while their names are called by their homeroom teacher, in Japanese alphabetical order (あ、さ、か、) and they stand up from their seat and say 「はい」. They remain standing until all the names in their class have been called, then they sit and the next homeroom teacher stands and calls the name for the his/her class. The diploma is ceremonially bestowed upon one 代表者 (だいひょうしゃ/representative) from each class. The representative is elected by the class, and they alone go on stage and receive the bundled stack of diplomas for their class from the principle. As they walk to the stage, they stop and turn to the right and bow to the members of the PTA, etc. and then turn to the left and bow to the Vice Principle, the teacher acting as the master of ceremonies and the rest of the teachers, before walking up the stairs to the stage. They then bow to the principle, who reads the diploma for that student, congratulates them and hands them the diplomas. They bow again and the student descends the stairs, stopping once again and bowing to the left and the right before placing the stack of diplomas on a table set up in front of the stage. This is repeated for all the classes.

There is a commencement address of sorts, but rather than a special guest speaker, the speech is delivered by the principle. Other speeches are given by a representative of the first and second years. The last two years that student was the president of the student council. The final speech is from a representative of the graduating class. In America, this would be the student with the highest grade point average, but in Japan the valedictorian is not specially recognized.

The ceremony concludes the way it began, with the students filing out class by class. The teachers line up on both sides of the procession at the end of the gym to say goodbye. By this point about half of the girls’ faces are red and streaked with tears, the sight of which usually induces a few of the teachers to cry as well. The students return to their homerooms and a kind of secondary ceremony takes place in the gym in which members of the PTA formally thank the homeroom teachers and the principle for their service. When this is complete, the homeroom teachers retrieve the diplomas from the table at the front and return to their respective classes one last time to pass out the diplomas and say farewell.

The teachers receive a very special 弁当 (べんとう/box lunch) on special occasions like graduation. The contents aren’t too different from the usual fare, but there is more food and more variety in the special bentos. The major difference is the normal, white rice is replaced with 赤飯 (せきはん), a stickier variety of rice that’s boiled with red azuki beans, and there is always a large, boiled, completely intact shrimp.

Once they have their diplomas, the school day/year is officially over, but many students remain for a while to say goodbye to their friends and teachers and take lots of pictures. Any teacher roaming the halls will be pretty quickly swamped by students asking to pose for pictures. Later in the afternoon the new 卒業生 (そつぎょうせい/graduates) hold a 卒業祭 (そつぎょうさい/graduation party) performing various songs, dances, etc.

This week was Valentine’s Day. As you may or may not know, Valentine’s Day is done a little bit differently here in Japan. Back home, boys and girls give each other cards, flowers, chocolate, etc., but here, Valentine’s is the day that girls give chocolate to the guy(s) they’re interested in. If a guy wishes to reciprocate, he can do so one month later on White Day. I received chocolate from some of my students as well as my fellow English teachers, so I was pretty happy. Girls give two types of chocolate on Valentine’s day, and I got both kinds. While the set my teachers gave me was purchased at a department store, my students gave me chocolate they made themselves at home, and it was surprisingly good! Female office workers also tend to give their male bosses chocolate on Valentine’s Day – whether they like them or not – out of a feeling of obligation. Hence this is know is 義理チョコ(ぎりちょこ), or obligation chocolate.

The weather has been bizarre of late. In my three years living in Osaka, I’ve never seen it snow. But over the past week, it has snowed many times. It’s the same almost every day. It’s very sunny in the morning, and then shortly before noon, a violent flurry of snowflakes falls down for an hour or so, then the sun comes back out.

It’s the middle of winter now, and the temperatures span from about -2°C to 5°C every day. I’ve always preferred summer to winter because I hate being cold, but Japanese winter is particularly unbearable for me. The problem is that buildings are designed to be cool in summer, but not warm in winter; there’s no insulation. This is fine in summer because you can open up all your doors and windows and you usually get enough of a cross breeze to cool things down. But in winter, the heat tends to bleed out of the room pretty quickly. Also, when you factor in the lack of central heating, it makes things even worse. In my English office, for example, we have a gas stove that sits in the middle of the room to provide warmth (with a kettle full of water on top to add some humidity to the air). For the most part, when I’m in the office or in a classroom, it’s warm. But when I step out into the hallway, it’s like I’m walking outside. I can instantly see my breath! Part of the problem lies in the lack of insulation, but another part of it is that teachers and students alike seem to see no reason for closing doors to the outside. What little heat we have simply flies out of the building. Surely they don’t live this way at home. But at school, they think nothing of closing doors behind them. I’ve made it my personal mission to walk around after the bell has rung when I don’t have class and close all the open doors (and the occasional window!). I can’t wait for spring!

Last week there was a gubernatorial election here in Osaka. There were three major candidates: Toru Hashimoto, backed by the ruling Liberal-Democratic Party (自民党/じみんとう) and its coalition partner, the New Komeito Party (公明党/こうめいとう); Sadatoshi Kumagai, backed by the opposition Democratic Party of Japan (民主党/みんしゅとう); and Shoji Umeda of the Japan Communist Party (共産党/きょうさんとう).

The winner by a landslide was Hashimoto, a lawyer better known for his celebrity status as a TV commentator than his legal practice. At 38, he is young, handsome and famous and he easily won the support of young and women voters. He has no prior political experience.

Japanese politics differ from what I’m used to in America. First and foremost, while often a favorite topic in casual conversation in the English-speaking world, politics borders on the taboo in Japan. It’s not so much the topic itself, but the inherently controversial nature of the subject that leads most Japanese to refrain from discussing politics. Stating strong opinions and doing anything that might disrupt the harmony of the group is frowned upon and debating politics tends to lead to both. Every time I’ve asked my Japanese friends questions of a political nature, I’ve usually received a short, polite response, often summarily followed by a change of topic.

In keeping with this don’t-rock-the-boat attitude, campaigns are accordingly free of discord. Whereas candidates in America, for example, hold rallies where they deliver policy speeches, pay for television commercials to advertise their stances, and engage in adversarial debates, Japanese candidates rarely directly express themselves. Instead, they put up posters which feature their picture, name and party affiliation. Speeches contain little or no policy proposals. Most interestingly of all, they ride around neighborhoods or circle train stations in vans, often accompanied by young, beautiful women, who join the candidate in waving to bystanders. All the while, a loudspeaker on top of the van repeatedly announces the candidate’s name and politely requests the support of all in auditory range. These vans usually start up around 8am on Saturday and Sunday mornings, and they are extremely loud. On the weekdays, candidates are usually found standing in entranceways to major stations, wearing white gloves and beauty-pageant style sashes that display their names. They wave to commuters while speaking (or having someone speak for them) through a megaphone. Most people, in a hurry to get to school or work, simply ignore them. Some candidates running for higher offices do attract large crowds eager to meet them. It is only in this setting that you will actually see Japanese shaking hands.

Today is 成人の日(seijin no hi), or Coming-of-Age Day here in Japan. It is a day commemorating everyone turning 20 this year (and by ‘this year’, they mean the current school year which started last April and runs through this March). I’ll be 30 this year and most of my friends are about the same age, so unfortunately I don’t personally know anyone who participated in the ceremony at city hall this morning, but in years past I have seen all the young women dressed to the nines in kimono, with elaborate hairstyles. In fact, many Japanese girls prepare for the ceremony by visiting beauty salons very early in the morning, with some salons opening at 5 or 6 am to accommodate the demand.

Yesterday I went to Nara to see 若草山焼き(Wakakusa Yama-yaki). Wakakusa Yama is a set of three very large hills in Nara, and every year, the day before Coming-of-Age Day, they set the mountain ablaze in a religious festival of renewal for the new year. Starting at 17:50, there is a fireworks display which lasts ten minutes. When the fireworks begin, people light their torches from the bonfire and start walking up to the middle of the hill. When the fireworks end, the people set their torches to the ground and the cold, dry grass begins to slowly burn. More information (in Japanese, of course) and pictures at the Nara Prefectural web site: http://www.pref.nara.jp/narakoen/

My friends and I arrived in Nara a few hours before the event, so we walked around to various places. One of my friends had a friend visiting from overseas, so they went to see the famous 東大寺大仏 (Todai-ji Daibutsu), the Great Buddha statue at Todai-ji Temple. Having been to see it myself on more than a few occasions, I opted to go with my other friends to 奈良町 (Nara-machi), which I had not been to before. Nara-machi is the city’s old merchant district and reminded me of Kyoto’s Gion, though on a much smaller scale. The stores and homes are very old, and walking down the streets of the area feel like taking a trip into the past. We visited the 春鹿 (Harushika: spring deer) sake brewery. For a mere ¥400 we were able to sample five of the different varieties of sake produced there. Sake sampling is called きき酒 (kikizake) in Japanese, and the term can even apply to wine tasting, since sake refers not only to 日本酒 (nihonshu), but to all alcoholic drinks. I enjoyed all five samples and after those, they served us a sweet sparkling sake, too. When we left, we were given a bag to carry home the glass sake cups we had drank from. At the bottom of the glass is the image of a deer, for which Nara is famous. For more on Nara-machi (again, in Japanese), see this site: http://www.naramachi.jp/