Fish are jumpin' but the living isn't so easy!

A large plop heralded the carp's enviable re-entry into the cool depths of the Fuji River the other day, as I and Mairi observed it; while waiting for another air conditioned car to pass, in order that I might proceed towards the air-conditioned play room which presents one of the few viable alternatives round here to my own air-conditioned living room.

Summer is definitely here. Average 33 degrees in the day with God knows what percentage humidity, and last night I actually thought it was cool because it was only 24 degrees in the middle of the night! You are lucky if it gets past 24 in the middle of the day in Scotland unless it is a freak heat wave. I shall enter my 15th year of residence in Japan tomorrow. Jeez , how old am I anyway? However 14 full years of experience does not make it any easier for me to put up with summers here. I'm melting, and this year I can't even do it quietly on the couch. " Let's go park , Mummy!" " Let's go pool, Mummy!" Will more than two hours a day of dvd watching really turn her into a serial killer?

One of M's Japanese Music class CDs has a song on it called "青い夏" (Aoi Natsu) "Blue Summer". When I first heard this I thought: that's weird, blue is not a colour I would associate with summer. I always thought blue was a cold depressing colour. Think "turning blue with cold", "Blue Christmas" etc. When asked, the other Mums said, well what colour is summer for you then? Not sure really, but yellow or red maybe?? I feel my cultural identity has been eroded somewhat over time, so what would you other native English speaking people say was the definitive summer colour?

Anyway, the Japanese people I have asked have all said "Yes, it's blue!" And their arguments of blue seas and big blue skies with fluffy clouds are all quite convincing. You'd think having been here all this time I would have stumbled upon that deep one myself. Perhaps it's just that it's too damn hot to go outside so I never see those things.

Since Summer has arrived this year though, I've decided that if I had to put a colour on a Japanese summer it would definitely be green. From the first day I stepped off the plane in Miyazaki (and it was 36 degrees that day too) the lush bright greenness of the countryside in Summer has always struck me. The UK has green too, but it's almost psychedelic here. The image brought forth by the evergreens on the mountains of Kyushu and the natural foliage of the mountains here on Honshu is of an enchanted broccoli forest (not my quote, it's the name of a cookbook I have but a great image I think!). Then there is the pale green of the ever regular bamboo grove, and the rich green of the neat rows of tea plants. Frogs, lizards and grasshoppers laze around in shades of olive and khaki and almost lime green. And the chartreuse colour of the rice fields in the sunlight is a constant, rippling in what little wind we get.

Green. Definitely green summer.

But then there does seem to be some colour blindness here with respect to blue and green. Traffic lights, aojiru ( a yukky - pardon the value judgement- vegetable juice whose name translates as "Blue Juice" , and ao nori (seaweed), aomushi ( caterpillar) are a few examples of things which are called "blue" but are most definitely green. The traffic light one may be up for argument, as it is not the same shade as a British one, but I have heard Japanese kids saying " why do we say blue when it's green Mum?".

SO maybe it's a linguistic perceptual thing. Maybe we do actually agree on the colour of summer. Maybe we are just using different words. I like that. Yes, I like a happy ending. Let it be so.

Or maybe it's just that we see what we want to see. In Japan it's so damn hot that the coolness implied by all the blues and greens is what they look forward to. In Scotland it's so damn dreich all the time that we think of the sun and its warmth with longing, so that's what we associate with Summer. Who knows?

All this green and water and the rhythmic sing song of the cicadas, gives such an impression of cool that I want to sue whoever is responsible for it all for breach of the False Descriptions Act. Because it's certainly not cool here. Or if He (or She??!) could just let some rain come this way so I can have some respite, that would do too!

I think I could even drink that crap gout beer now!

湯布院 Yufuin Gourmet

We went to the MIL's holiday home in Yufuin last weekend. Yufuin is a surprisingly sophisticated little town situated in the sulphurous mountains of Kyushu. The surrounding landscapes are so reminiscent of the Highlands of Scotland that I would only be mildly surprised if a kilted teuchter hopped over a volcanic boulder and showed us the contents of his sporran as we approach the sleepy little town. Perhaps that's why I like it so much, although my nostalgia is misplaced as I come from nowhere near the Highlands, really.

Apart from the beautiful scenery, you can find some of the most beautiful (and expensive) Japanese Inns and Onsen (hot spring) baths to be found, with numerous examples of the simple aesthetic style I thought was "typical" Japanese, before I came here and discovered most of Japan had shunned it for mimicry of Western design. What a waste! Anyway, it's there in Yufuin. There is also a miriad of galleries with exhibits on old Japanese arts and crafts, modern art and a few authentic Western artists are well represented too. A great variety of cuisine is on offer too, considering the size and location of the town. All in all, you'll have gathered Yufuin gets the thumbs up from me. I heartily recommend a visit to anyone who is in the vicinity.

Anyway, we went there last weekend, and the inlaws treated us to a meal in the best restaurant I've found so far, but let's just say I'm glad it was their treat! Artegio DIning is part of the very posh Sanso Murata Inn and attached to its art gallery.

Now those of you who know her, will know that my mother likes to know what everyone is having for their dinner. Preferably before she orders her own meal, although the knowledge seems to have no bearing on what she actually orders, but whatever. After will also do. SO this post is for you

Mum. The clarity of the photography is as usual directly proportionate to the amount of wine consumed, but this is what we had for our dinner:

There were lots of courses

Topped off with the house speciality: Basil creme brulee !Sounds weird but it's Yumm!

Mairi had the spaghetti!

Dedicated Followers of Fashion

My two year old, this two year old:

has started giving me fashion advice.

I should be used to it by now really. I have never been exactly hailed as a sartorial trend setter, or let's face it any other kind. My sister, this sister:

but who can look like this:

a self proclaimed style guru, has been giving me advice for years, both wanted and unwanted!

My mother, this mother:

Check out those trousers!

who was once stopped at customs and made to empty her hand luggage, which resulted in 6 handbags to match the 6 pairs of shoes in her case ( and we were away for 2 weeks!), and who is the living reason why Marks and Spencers make so many dfferent colours in the same T-shirt, has made it her study to point out every flaw in my attire for as long as I can remember.

My mother-in-law even handed me a large amount of cash once when I went home for a visit " to buy some smart clothes with".

Granted, when Mairi objected to my style, I was wearing this T-shirt:

arm wasn't long enough for the whole effect

which may not be Armani, and had been the only thing left in the wardrobe after 5 days of rainy season laundry stopping downpours, but it does commemorate the World Cup during which Mairi was conceived! Pointing this out received no hint of nostalgic tolerance from her though. And when it comes to the point where your baby, who can't really say many things clearly yet, exclaims " Mummy I don' lke it! Take it off! Take it off!", it may be about time for me to ask the MIL for another handout!

Socially Unskilled?

Kokusai Jackie, the meek and subservient

I've been a gaijin now for 14 years, with all that entails. I doubt my experiences have been unique, and sometimes I can be Kokusai Jackie, the culturally aware, and smiling through even the most personally intrusive "cultural" experiences, and at other times, depending on mood or recent situations, I am more likely to scowl or worse, say exactly what I think!
For the past 5 years or so, I have been in a kind of false reality. SInce I married Yasu I have been kind of living on the edge of Japanese society. I was lucky enough be able to give up work, and due to the way the wheel of fortune turned this time around, found myself spending my time in a mainly international society. Most of the friends I socialise with are in some way involved with things non-Japanese, either by being so themselves, or by marriage, or by virtue of some close relative living in far off climes. This usually affords a certain degree of what I will for sake of argument call open-mindedness by necessity, although I concede that that is a value judgement, and perhaps our mutual care for each others' point of view can go too far to the opposite extreme. Even when I worked at Hijyama, I was only part time, so no-one really expected much from me except to turn up and teach my wards without incurring complaints from the parents.Very different from my times in Miyazaki. Then the Wee-chan was born and that in its own way cut me off from a lot off social pursuits, and narrowed my environment to socialising with those in similar child rearing situations.
Recently, since Mairi has required more stimulation than can be offered by my home and myself alone, Mother and Child have debuted into society at large. For me, it is culture shock all over again, although not all the shocks have differences in national heritage at their root.
I am learning that social skills are like language skills: they need to be used to maintain proficiency. Once upon a hundred years ago, I used to be fluent in German. Now if a German appeared in front of me I would run a mile, very fast, and given my present state of fitness, that should tell you how bad my German is. I'm finding that similarly, my lack of dealings with the organised side of Japanese society in recent times, has left me with tolerance issues with things I used to be accustomed to.

Take the following:

Curriculum Vitae

I've been meeting new people through Mairi's various classes, park outings and the nursery. I've noticed (again) that it seems to be acceptable to interrogate me on personal details. Where are you from? Why did you come to Japan? What does your husband do? How old are you? Where and how did you meet your husband? What language do you speak at home? What do you eat every day? How much is the rent on your house? Why are you so fat? The list is endless. And all this within 10 minutes of having been introduced, if we've been introduced at all. Now that in itself doesn't always bother me (depending on the rudeness quotient of the question and my Kokusai Jackie rating of the day). I am after all the outsider and people are understandably interested. I also like to talk - as you might have noticed occasionally- and my life isn't a secret. What has started to fester recently though, is that it is completely unreciprocal. None answer questions of this nature about themselves, and that's the difference between an interview and a conversation isn't it. Out of devilment I've started to ask back. So what does your husband do and how did you meet him, then? You would be amazed how often people manage to completely ignore the question. And that's OK?


Would you like a sweetie?

Mairi goes to two music classes. both of which start at 11am and finish more or less around 12 - AKA lunchtime. On the Thursday one in particular, a ritual of handing out sweets at the end of class has developed. Whether or not this is outrageous, something to lighten up about once a week, or absolutely OK, I am prepared to enter into a discussion on. Different strokes for different folks.
One of the girls in an early class brought gum. Now these kids are all 2. Call me a Nazi, but I don't think gum is suitable for 2 year olds, even when it is not pre-lunch gum. My mother-in -law tells me all sorts of horrible stories of clogged intestines requiring surgery, which may or may not be exaggerations. I'm not uptight about sweets. My mother informs me Mairi gets too many. Maybe she does. She does not have gum. There were raised eyebrows when I said this at class, as the other 3 mothers apparently all feed their kids gum. Whatever, it's their trip to the ER if the kid chokes, not my problem. But to be fair the Mum with the Gum put it away and brought different stuff next time.
My beef is this: Last week, one of the other Mums brought out gum. I was a little annoyed, considering that I'd already said my piece, but tried to calm down, knowing you can't force people to agree with you. She offered it to Mairi, and when I reiterated my feelings politely, intsead of putting it away, she said to her kid " No, M-chan, don't give any to Mairi. You can eat it, but her Mummy says she's not allowed any." And gave her kid the gum. Right in front of Mairi.
So the little girl chomped away on her gum as Mairi watched, wondering why she couldn't have any.
Poor Mairi. And it's all my fault. "Mummy said "No" !" I don't expect anyone to conform to my philosophies on life. But I don't think it's too much to ask for the respect for them that I give others. If she couldn't let her kid do without gum for once she could have given her it with out a grand announcement. If anyone has read this far, what do you think? Am I expecting too much?

Subservient?

Moi? This is a good one. You often hear that Japanese women are meek and subservient and attend to every whim of their lord and master. Personally my experience has been that they are very strong and very clever in general. Japanese men may well bark and bluster pompously, but it is the wives who rule the household, and take care of the finances, making most of the educational decisions for their kids. Clever, because they understand the difference between the appearance of subservience and actual subservience. As long as they bring the tea on demand and say the right polite phrases at the right times, everyone's face is saved, hubby can think he's the boss, or at least convince his friends he is, and Oku-san can pretty much do what she likes. And that's just the old fashioned households. Further gross generalisations aside, I have certainly never thought of myself as even having given the appearance of subservience, meek though I may be. I got a good laugh the other day at Mairi's nursery then, when the head teacher asked me if my husband would mind if I taught a couple of classes for her in the summer break. I answered that my husband probably doesn't even know what I do every day, even though I do tell him, far les mind, so it would probably be fine. No doubt thus confirming a few more stereoypes about gaijin women, not the least of which my inability to even pretend polite subservience. Yasu laughed his head off when I told him - which was a relief really!

SO there you are; rant over. I feel better now. Newly refound intolerance admitted, I am wise enough to know that most people don't really care about these things, so biting of the bullet is all that's required. To continue the language skills analogy, effective communication requires effort on the part of the speaker and the listener. Similarly I suppose everyone, including me, is responsible for the success of a social interaction. I may well have been out of social circles for a bit too long. But my conclusion is over the years unchanged, and to put it in intellectual terms, as I once did during a prefectural teacher training lecture on cross cultural perceptions I was for some reason asked to deliver :

You get arseholes in every country!

Desperate Plea

If anyone out there loves me, please send me a bottle of Branston Pickle. You know the stuff without the lumpy carrotty bits in it that's all mushed up in a squeezy bottle. Well actually the lumpy stuff would do too. I'm havng a cheese sandwich and it's a travesty.

Remains of the Day

This is what we drank last night.

I now feel like Jeremiah and his mates have been raining on my head.

Why? Lot's of whys. Why do I still occasionally forget that I haven't been a socially functioning adult for almost 3 years now? Why is the reality of the sad person who can't take the pace at odds with the 20 year old who is raring to go who still lives on in my mind? Why does it always seem like a good idea at the time? Why did I pass out myself while trying to get the 2 year old to go to bed, leaving my guest sitting in the living room with my pissed husband doing God knows what, and no idea where he was supposed to sleep? Why did I not drink more water at 2am when I woke up in my clothes? Why does your 2 year old not just know that 6:30am is not the time you want to get up after consuming this amount of wine? Why does she jump on top of you shouting "Wake up Mummy!" anyway? And why, despite the ray of hope presented by this being a nursery day for the two year-old, does the hangover not offically kick in until 12:54pm, precisely 6 minutes before you pick up the 2 year old from nursery?

And why do I have the feeling this won't be the last time I ask these whys?

It was good though!

There is a need for grease at times like this which my new darling, my deep fat fryer, can thankfully fulfill. Off to make some chips!

Jeremiah was a bullfrog....

None of these little fellas is Jeremiah

they are just the ones who happened to be lurking around poolside in my car port 5 minutes ago, but he is out there somewhere.

When I got in the car with M to go and pick Yasu up from work the other night, I heard a veritable mooing coming from somewhere in the rice fields and got a bit of a fright. A neighbour happened to be coming out of her house at the same time and to my panicked "What is that?", she laughed and said "it's a bull frog!" And do you know, that was the first time I realised that bull frogs were so called because they sound like bulls. I always just thought it was because they were huge! Am I alone in this ? And therefore stupid? I was brought up in the countryside and played with frogs when I was wee, but there were never such mooing frogs in Townhill, so I guess you don't know till you meet one. I knew there were bull frogs here, as not only have I seen their tadpoles, great ugly things the size of small rabbits, but I also nearly splattered a puppy-sized one over Route 184 the other night by mistake. But I didn't know they mooed.

The rainy season certainly brings the frogs out in all sizes here. I told my friend's daughter that it doesn't rain water here it rains frogs, and that really isn't far from the truth, but I hope Jeremiah and his friends don't start raining down on us or there will be a few sore heads in the neighbourhood. I shall moo my hellos if I go out at night now to keep him on side.

Bullfrogs eh. You live and learn!

This poor wee soul had just given up trying to get a grip on something under my eaves to escape the torrential rains on Friday

It didn't moo though!