Spring: Boing, Boing, Boing

Hello all,

Spring is sneaking back into our lives here in Kyoto. It's a little like being able to stretch hugely after being crammed into a tiny car, or into a crowded train seat.

In our house, the first signs of Spring are the slow removal of the wrappings of Winter. We are peeling off the adhesive sponge tape that absorbed liters and liters of winter window condensation. We are unhooking and rolling up the "insulated curtains" (aka: glorified shower curtains that were supposed to insulate our windows). We've folded up the styrofoam sheets that blocked the coldest windows and peeled the bubble wrap from other windows.

We are even starting to leave doors between rooms open again (during the winter we kept rooms sealed as tightly as possible in order to maximize the efforts of our electric heaters).

As we slide into Spring, I'm starting to inch back into various types of teaching. On Monday nights I tutor a young businesswoman in English for 2 hours in a local coffee shop. On Tuesday mornings I tote myself to a nearby Austrian bakery and cafe to tutor several Japanese women who will be going to Europe in the Fall and who speak virtually no English.

And without a doubt, tiptoeing back into my former life as an English teacher is great fun. But what brings the biggest smile to my face is that starting this coming Wednesday, I'll be the After School Science Club teacher at Kyoto International School.

I've gotta admit, I've been missing the munchkins something fierce. So even an hour a week back with the kiddos is better than nothing.

Spring is one of the most beautiful times in Japan, and in Kyoto in particular. The quintessential sign of Spring in Japan is, of course, the cherry blossoms or "sakura", beneath which people flock to spread out their plastic tarps and have "ohanami" or flower viewing parties, which involve tasty food and plenty of liquid refreshment. Sakura are not taken lightly either. Newspapers, websites and TV news programs track the blooming of the Sakura as Spring moves through each island and city. Everything--from beer cans to mochi to the decorations hanging in department stores--is festooned with the iconic sprays of pink and white cherry blossoms.

As for me, I'm just glad to feel the sun on my face again.

Here's hoping that your Spring is filled with warm sun, new adventures and endless possibilities...

Until next time.

Too Much is Better than Too Little

Hello there everyone.

This week I have been exploring--both intentionally and unintentionally--the notion that "too much is better than too little". An interesting concept to consider here in Japan, which many non-Japan-living folks often consider to be a place that celebrates the beauty of simplicity and minimalism. And to a certain extent, in certain contexts, this is true. Many forms of traditional Japanese art and culture celebrate what isn't there as much as they celebrate what is there. But even here, or perhaps especially here, fine attention to detail takes interesting forms.

For example:

Do It Right, Or Not At All

Ironically enough I seem to be living in a land that follows my father's most favorite saying: "Do a job right, or don't do it at all". He applied this equally to washing dishes, doing homework or fixing a bike. If you're going to do something, stick to it until it is well and truly finished.

The Japanese approach to medical and dental matters certainly are excellent examples of this.

For the past year or so, Patrick has been plagued by a horrific ingrown toenail. In typical teenager fashion, he ignored it, hid it, camouflaged it and generally pretended it didn't exist until about 2 months ago when he finally had to show it to me. Off to the doctor went Bob and Patrick. Now, back in the USA, dealing with this would probably have been the matter of one doctor's appointment, where they would do the trimming, cutting and bandaging, supply us with various medicines, creams and goo, and then send us on our way.

But here in Japan, Patrick has been summoned back to the doctor once a week for two months. Each visit lasts 15 minutes tops. They unwrap his toe, check it out, perhaps provide new goop or creams, and then re-bandage it and send him on his way.

Incredible.

Take also, for example, the newly scraped and cleaned teeth and gums that Bob and I can now show off. Both of us have been summoned back to the dentist several times for them to check up on their handiwork. Each time they clean our teeth and supply us with various oddly shaped toothbrushes.

My teeth have never, ever been so clean.

And this isn't a new thing. 15+ years ago, when I was pregnant with Patrick in Nagoya, I had incredibly frequent doctor's appointments throughout my pregnancy, and was even hospitalized for a week just so they could monitor my blood pressure. When I was pregnant with Aya 2 years later in Walnut Creek, CA and my blood pressure once again rose, Kaiser sent me home with a portable blood pressure machine and had me call in my own readings every morning. And when the happy day finally came for Patrick to be born, the mandatory--MANDATORY--hospital stay was one full week. I was ejected from the hospital in Walnut Creek just two days after Aya was born.

(It should be pointed out that (a) by the seventh day in the hospital I was ready to poke my eyes out with ohashi/chopsticks (b) the length of post-birth hospital stays is, in my mind, a subjective matter, dependent on the health of mother and baby and (c) While the one week hospital stay in Japan was too long, the two day stay in California was just not enough...)

So is more always better? I cannot say. But when I read the news about the incredibly convoluted, disputed, reviled and in the end failing health care system back at home, I can't help but scratch my head over how different it is here. While back at home Bob and I scrimped and planned and fought repeatedly to keep Patrick and Aya's health insurance, and juggled ways to keep our own, here, thousands of miles away from my own country, I find health care worries to be non-existent.

Yeah, I may be a bit over-coddled, but it absolutely beats the alternative.

Faith In Humanity Alert of the Day

Yesterday I was on the train, coming home from yet another dentist appointment. I was perhaps 4 stops away from my destination (Kitaoji Station). It was about 5pm and the train was mildly full.

I was letting my mind wander off with itself as the train pulled into Marutamachi Station. The train wheezed to a stop, then, as trains so often do, it gave a quick ending lurch so that the doors would match up with the platform marks.

As the train had stopped, an elderly woman rose from her seat, hands full of shopping bags. She was standing and making her way to the train doors when that final lurch hit. It sent her crashing to the floor, face first. Her glasses split in two, one shattered lens scratching her badly from cheek to temple.

As the woman knelt on the floor of the train, blood dripping, the whole train car rose as one, everyone digging into their pockets and bags for packets of tissue (companies in Japan give out millions of packets of free tissue with their company logos on them. As a result, everyone always has plenty of tissue).

It was a sign of how much time I had really spent in Japan that I found myself also moving almost with out conscious thought, towards the woman, outstretched hand proffering tissue.

Immediately five or six other people were on their knees, on the floor with her. Several women of various ages were rubbing her back and encouraging her to move slowly. Two somber faced older men were methodically accepting packets of tissue from people around them, and wiping up the blood that had dripped onto the floor.

As far as I could tell, the woman had been alone on the train. But the reactions of the people around the woman were lightning fast and automatic.

Eventually the woman was able to stand up. Two of the three women with her gathered their own belongings as well as hers, while the third woman kept a tissue pressed against the injured woman's face. At the next stop, two of the women led the injured woman off the train, asking her where she needed to go, and discussing getting a taxi, perhaps to her doctor's office or to the hospital.

And after the train doors closed and the train began moving again, the elderly men were still kneeling on the floor, silently wiping up the drops of blood.

It all happened so quietly, so efficiently and quickly, that neither the other passengers on other cars nor the train conductor ever knew it had happened. It was a single train car tableau of care and sympathy.

Now, both here in Japan and back in the US, I have been witness to, and at times the recipient of, incredible acts of random kindness and help such as this. And both here in Japan and back in the US I have been witness to and at times the recipient of apathy and ignorance. Times when I or someone else needed help, and no one would step up. Sometimes it was because the person needing the help was different--different race, different skin, different clothes. Sometimes it was simply because no one stepped outside themselves long enough to stop and care.

And I wonder, in my foolish, idealistic way, how different our world would be if we could step out our front doors each day, confident in the knowledge that if we were to fall, there would always, always be a helping hand there to lift us up and wipe away our blood and tears.....

A good first step towards this? Go out your door and be that helping hand....

Meanwhile, I'm adding another packet of tissue to my purse...just in case.

Well, that's it for now folks.

Until next time...

Backwards is Forwards With Less Perspective

Hello all...

I know you've just about give up on me and this blog by now. But this is the way I roll with blogs. Life gets crazy, blog takes a rest. Life regains perspective, blog stretches, groans, shakes out the aches and moves ahead.

And in a certain senese, life has picked up a bit of craziness. Such as...

Going Back to Ye Olde Stompin' Grounds

Last week we returned to Nagoya for a vist. For the most part this wasn't totally a vacation. I took the Shinkansen down to Nagoya on Friday, two days ahead of Bob and the kids, in order to offer my dubiously helpful services to my dear friend Sue, who is about 4 weeks away from doing our move in reverse. We moved from the U.S. to Japan; she is moving from Japan to the U.S. To Chicago to be specific. And just as with us, her husband had to leave months ahead in order to start his job. And just as with us, it has been left to her (and her two teenage daughters), to do the packing/sorting/selling/storing/screaming/ranting (I could go on).

It was wonderful to be able to spend time with her minus the inevitable multitasking/split focus that motherhood brings. I had the luxury of focusing on her and only her. Truth be told, it was as much a gift to me as it was (hopefully) a help to her.

After the hours spent sorting through boxes and papers and piles, sifting through cupboards and mementos, Sue, one of her daughters, and I fit in some fun: dinner on Friday at one of our old favorite 100 yen sushi restaurants, and a surprise trip to one of our favorite sento which Sue sprang on me Saturday night. (Sento: public bath. This one was quite posh, with an excellent restaurant, TV rooms with giant massage chairs, and a lovely array of pools of hot water in which to soak ourselves).

On Sunday evening, Bob, Patrick and Aya showed up on Sue's doorstep, as planned. Sue, her two daughters, and all of us scooted just around the corner from Sue's house to a tiny izakaya called "Murasaki". (Izakaya: think of a combo tapas bar+casual neighborhood bar+family restaurant). We ordered heaps of semi-healthy food, sipping on sodas (for me and the kids) and beer (for Sue and Bob). It took the kids only a short time to relax back in to their friendship that now spans 7 years.

After eating our fill (and after a brief, humorous scuffle between Sue and I to pay the bill) we collected our things from Sue's house, distributed warm hugs and made our way down the street to the train station, which would tote us towards downtown Nagoya and our hotel.

Sue stayed in her doorway, waving, watching us walk down the street, until we turned the corner. It was a sentimental sight for me, as this was what my grandmother used to do every summer when we visited her from Kwaj. When it was our last night of our visit with her, after the hugs and kisses were done, she would stand in her doorway and watch us pile into our rental car and drive down the street. Every year the last sight I had of her was her tiny form, shivering slightly in the breeze, backlit against the porch light.

We had a quiet, tired train ride to Chikusa Station, where we opted to take a taxi the rest of the way--with four of us plus my luggage, traveling, short distances by taxi are often cheaper than train fare. We arrived at a tidy business hotel not far from the main part of downtown Nagoya. We had two rooms--one for Aya and I, one for Patrick and Bob (One of the side-effects of having teenagers--they can no longer be tucked to sleep on pillows and folded blankets on the floor. On the other hand, they can now carry luggage and be sent on solo errands when needed. A fair trade-off I feel)

On Saturday Bob left early to go visit the elementary school where he had done his research. The kids and I slept in a little later, then walked downtown. We visited the import store, Meidi-Ya, where Aya selected a bin of caramel popcorn and Patrick opted for two Snicker's bars. We went to the bookstore Maruzen, where we toted ourselves to the 3rd floor "Foreign Books" section. Aya and I opted for a book and a magazine each, while Patrick chose to save his brownie points (and share of the money) to continue his quest to buy a leather jacket. After more exploring we returned to the hotel and waited for Bob to return. For dinner we went to a downtown izakaya, and spent a few hours there nibbling on misokatsu on skewers, massive sticks of grilled and breaded chicken katsu, kinoko mushrooms in butter sauce, deep fried mochi balls, and of course, french fries.

Of course, on Sunday we made our way to one of my favorite Nagoya spots: the monthly antique market on the grounds of our old neighborhood temple, Osu Kannon. Patrick and Bob continued the leather jacket quest while Aya alternated between following me around as I picked my way among the antiques, and trailing after Bob and Patrick (Patrick and Aya don't quite understand my love of picking through flea markets, but they've learned to put up with it. Usually). Patrick finally chose a, inexpensive non-leather jacket in one of the many used clothing stores that line the Osu Kannon covered shopping arcade. We regrouped for lunch at some of the sidewalk food stalls to nibble on mitarashi dango, okonomiyaki and chicken karage. Then it was off to the hotel and onward to Nagoya Station where we caught the shinkansen back to Kyoto.

Needless to say, our cats were overjoyed to see us upon our return, and have spent much of this week following us from room to room, their three sets of glowing eyes staying fixed on us, just in case we decide to vanish again.

And now that we are back in Kyoto, I'm busy with a new pastime...

Teaching English...Lah Dee Dah

I have taken up my former occupation as English Teacher once again and am tutoring a business woman in English, helping her prepare for her upcoming TOEIC exam.

TOEIC stands for the "Test of English for International Communication", and is a significant (and employer-required) proof of English skills for business people. It is a lengthy and challenging test with two components: Speaking and Writing, and Listening and Reading. She is preparing for the Listening and Reading Component.

So, two nights a week, for an hour and a half each time, we meet at a quiet coffee shop and go over reading comprehension exercises. I read practice test portions aloud to her so that she can practice her listening comprehension. We analyze samples of business emails, complex advertisements and meeting agendas.

I enjoy teaching of all kinds, so I am happy to return to my English teaching . But I'd be lying if I said I didn't miss teaching Kindergarten. Teaching adults is enjoyable, but it is missing the minute-by-minute surprises, adventures, mishaps and mind-blowing leaps of learning that can only happen when teaching kids. So while my clothing is now very safe from the mishaps they so often suffered with the kindergarteners (paint/glitter glue/paper mache paste/science experiment splatters/mud/peanut butter....), my mind and heart are working at rekindling the fire I once had for a very different kind of teaching.

Give it time....

And so...off I go again. The week ahead promises to be a full one: Aya's birthday is on Thursday, tucked into my two TOEIC teaching sessions, Patrick and Aya's Japanese lesson, Aya's completion of her first research project and Patrick's PE exam. And behind it all, we have Bob, continually humming songs from Bruce Springsteen's new album. At least we have a soundtrack....

Until next time....

Musical Novocaine

Aha! Caught your attention with that one, didn't I? For this week's blog entry, I shall share with you the wonders of my Valentine's Day trip to the dentist.

Teeth can be such temperamental little things, can't they? We exert hundreds of pounds of jaw pressure upon them throughout our days, forcing them to chomp through a variety of reasonably edible matter. We attempt to care for them by harassing them with plastic-bristled scrub brushes, waxed string and various chemicals ranging from mild to searing.

And they still sometimes pester us.

Really, how dare they.

In my case it wasn't my teeth so much as my gums. And it wasn't all of my gums so much as a specific gum territory in the area of my mouth I lovingly call "Murphy's Law Alley". In that, anything that can go wrong with my teeth will definitely go wrong in that specific section. Namely, in the upper left quadrant.

Crazy canine tooth trapped in the roof of my mouth? Pull it right down into "Murphy's Law Alley". And just to make it more interesting, oh loving Honolulu oral surgeon person, pull the tooth down BACKWARDS....thereby forcing our infamous Kwaj dentist to create modern art out of my braces by stretching a variety of rubber bands all over the place in order to turn the backwards tooth forwards.

Which brings us to....

Root canal number one. Root Canal number one had to be done on crazy backwards roof of mouth tooth around 1990, when I was in the middle of my Teaching Credential program at UC Santa Cruz and had NO DENTAL INSURANCE. Mom and Dad loaned me the $900 needed to secure a root canal.... and voila. Pain gone. Tooth crowned.

Several years later (and this time I did, happily, have dental insurance), I needed a root canal on the tooth next door to the crazy backwards tooth. Of course.

And on it went. Until this week, on Valentine's Day, when I went to see the dentist to have him check a tooth whose enclosure of gums was unhappy.

And where was this unhappy tooth ala gum of mine?

Of course.

Murphy's Law Alley.

So they tilted me back in the magic chair. A state-of-the-art digital portrait of my teeth hovered above me on an elevated computer screen. Shiny magic dental machines surrounded me. Soft classical music played.

The hygienist draped a soft cloth over the upper portion of my face (a common thing here among various dentists and doctors--drape anything that isn't necessary to the task. ).

They explained in Japanese what they were going to do--namely, poke my upper jaw full of novocaine and then scrape the living daylights out of the tooth beneath the gums in question.

And so they smeared their targeted gum spot with a bitter numbing creme and poked the alarming novocaine needle into my mouth.

Not that I felt it. I was numb, after all.

But I could hear it.

The novocaine needle played When You Wish Upon A Star in series of high, tinny computerized notes. I was warned about this by Bob when he had gone in several weeks earlier for a similar issue (they love scraping gums here it seems).

But it was rather off-putting to have a novocaine needle buried in my mouth, only to have Disney music echoing through my skull. And I got to hear the song three times. One time for each poke of novocaine.

After the novocaine took hold, it was simply a matter of enduring various unpleasant, but painless sensations of scraping, pressing, pushing, shoving and grinding...all for the sake of one unfortunate tooth and it's enveloping gums.

I admit I was happy that my issue was restricted to just one tooth. Honestly, how many renditions of When You Wish Upon A Star would I have had to endure if I had needed this done on more teeth? Eww.

I am happy to report that there was no pain after the musical novocaine wore off, and my gums are on the road to recovery. I am back to harassing my teeth and gums with tiny plastic scrub brushes and waxed strings.

All is well.

And now I sense my true mission is done here....

Because the next time you hear Disney music, you're gonna think of...

yeah, my teeth.

Which, you have to admit, is just a little amusing.

Until next time....

Closed Doors, Open Windows

Hello everyone,

As promised, I am back, albeit not as frequently as I always, ALWAYS plan to be.

And, as discussed in previous postings, it is still uncooperatively cold here. Beautiful, but cold.

As for updates, since I last checked in....

A "No" By Any Other Name is Still "No"

The results of my job quest for this year have come back, with, unsurprisingly, no job. The school I interviewed with is going to keep my application open, just in case a miracle happens. But, as with so many schools back at home in California, it is just too early for them to make a commitment to me when they have no clue what their finances/enrollment will look like in the Fall.

Fair enough.

And while I desperately miss teaching my tots, the truth of the matter is that having me work full time would have thrown a giant wrench into our delicate little balancing act. Namely: if I teach full time then I can't be home to home school the teens. And even if I am teaching full time we wouldn't be able to afford international school tuition for two teens, much less one.

I considered cloning myself (one Christina to home school, one Christina to work). But that wouldn't have worked anyway. Since I didn't get the job, there would simply be two of me hanging around the house. And honestly, who needs TWO of me?! I certainly don't....

Cake: The Key to Success

Way back in December Bob and I went to a lovely little Viennese pastry shop up the street called "Mausi". We went into the teeny store, festooned as it was in bright European decor and photos. And we ordered our Christmas Cake from the Japanese owner. After a few seconds of speaking to the owner in Japanese, she started talking to us in fluent English.

Rather blew our socks off.

Well, that little December cake was so scrumptious, so decadent, that we ordered Patrick's birthday cake from the same place.

When I went in the shop a few days ago to pick up the cake, the owner asked me about both kids, and about our home schooling (I couldn't figure out for the life of me how she remembered everything that she remembered.).

And then she said that some of her Japanese clients (remember this folks: fancy pastry shops have 'clients'. Regular bakeries have 'customers'), often asked her about learning English. And since she also remembered I was a teacher, she asked me if she could have my contact information so she could refer me. Turns out she not only makes a mean cake, but also networks people wanting to learn various languages. She said she also hooks up German clients with Japanese folks wanting to learn German. Talk about multi-tasking!

So La la la. Fate closed the Kindergarten door for now, but it kindly re-opened the English Teaching window. The world works in mysterious ways....

Ka-Ka-Ka-Kanji

I am taking it upon myself to try to learn the third Japanese mode of reading and writing: Kanji. Yes, those intricate Chinese-based pictographs that so confuse and botch up our phonetically-wired Western minds.

Today I dutifully wrote and translated the Kanji learned by the typical Japanese first grader.

First Graders learn 80 kanji.

In the next few days I'll tackle Second Grade Kanji. There are only 159 of those.

Third Grade-149

Fourth Grade-199

Fifth Grade-184

Sixth Grade-179

And, if by then I've not been reduced to a quivering puddle of confusion and dismay on the floor, I can tackle the 785 Kanji learned in Junior High School.

Which would fill my brain with a grand total of 1735 extra bits of information that I did not have before. I am sure this is a character-building activity.

By the end of it all, I probably STILL won't be able to read books in Japanese (and nothing irks me more than walking into a bookstore here in Japan and know, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that I'll NEVER EVER BE ABLE TO READ ANY OF THE BOOKS. For a book-lover such as myself, this is a torturous horrible realization.)

I could be embarking on a journey of madness, but that's okay. What is life without challenges? And believe me friends, this is going to be one interesting challenge.

Well, I'm off for now, to defrost some chicken for dinner, to check on teenage online lessons and to feed the cats their favorite canned mush.

Until next time....

Same Path, New Bumps

Hello everyone..

Okay, we might as well reach an agreement now that my blog might be updated weekly. Or it might be updated every two weeks. I can basically promise you that while I WILL update my blog, WHEN is a matter of some dispute.

Such is life.

The Best Laid Plans

I don't think it would be too much of an exaggeration to say that there has been a carrot dangling in front of us ever since we arrived in Kyoto: the happy necessity to return to California in the spring for mandatory state tests for the kids. This might have been the first time in the history of the world when teenagers actually looked forward to taking standardized tests. Of course, it wasn't the tests they were looking forward to: it was the accompanying visits with friends and family.

However, after weeks of sifting through Japanese and U.S. based internet travel sites and talking with friends and travel agents aplenty, Bob and I had to admit defeat.

There are no affordable airplane tickets anywhere on earth that will enable us to fly from Kyoto to California and back.

None.

You see, there is a mandatory $500 (50,000yen, which actually comes out to more than $500 U.S. dollars, but saying '$500' is less painful) "gas surcharge". Bob and I were surprised to find out that the TICKET price actually only entitles us to sit on the "spacious" airplane seats and eat the "excellent" food (okay, okay, we are also pitching in to pay all the cabin attendants, baggage handlers and security x-ray technicians/voyeurs.) The TICKET price evidently has nothing to do with the fuel the plane uses. Huh.

So a $400 round trip ticket actually would have cost us about $1000. Which would have brought the grand total of our visit home to around $5000 to $6000, once we tally in the plane fares, rental cars, various food costs for missed goodies and things we wanted to stock up on.

I don't know about you, but I don't have $6000 just laying around, unspent and wasting away from nonuse. If I had $6000 laying around like that, I probably wouldn't have to go to 5 different stores to stock our refrigerator as I scamper around Kyoto, finding the lowest prices for milk, rice, bread, meat and fresh vegetables.

So, to be blunt, no trip home. Patrick is stoically disappointed. Aya is most obviously disappointed and isn't even bothering to be stoic about it. I'm silently disappointed (Mothers aren't allowed to have tantrums. Bad precedent). Bob is disappointed (there was a brief, tantalizing window there where it looked like Bob would've been able to join us), but is being sufficiently distracted with work and the promise of a new Bruce Springsteen CD.

Now we are setting our sights at a shorter, more local and infinitely more affordable trip. Patrick is firm. "Okinawa. It's warm there and I'm really cold right now." Bob says "Seoul. We haven't been there yet." Aya says "California".

Sigh. To be continued....

Heart Breaking Lessons for Us All

This week was a sad one for Bob, and fraught with lessons for all of us, I think.

Bob went to work last Monday to administer his final exams. One of his students finished before everyone else and asked to leave early, as she wasn't feeling well.

She went to another class. Submitted a final paper to yet another.

Then she went back to her dorm room and suddenly died.

She was 24 years old.

It wasn't until Friday her friends and dorm mates became seriously concerned since they hadn't seen her all that week.

They got the help of the dorm official and found her when they managed to get her door open.

We will likely never know all the facts. However the evidence points to the fact that she was diabetic, and had told NO ONE about her condition. Whether she wasn't taking her medication correctly or not eating correctly we don't know.

By now her parents have already come from Australia to collect her body. Her teachers and friends are left reeling.

Herein lay the lessons, not only for foreign students studying abroad, but for all of us.

--Take care of your health. Take your medicines. Eat what you need to eat. Whether you are in a foreign country or in a far-flung place in your own country, no one can take better care of you than you.

--If you have a medical condition, TELL SOMEONE. Put aside the discomfort and embarrassment. Find at least one person you can trust to tell. Tell them what to do in an emergency. Write it down so they can keep it handy. It might just save your life.

--This one is for everyone else out there. Those of you who sense something is wrong with someone you know, those of you who want to reach out but don't. My advice? DO. Reach out, even if it doesn't work at first. Regret is a heavy weight to drag around through life. And I promise you, this girl's friends are in a world of regret right now.

Cold Weather Revenge: Bubble Wrap and Shower Curtains

By now many of you have read our email and Facebook updates about our war with the freezing Kyoto temperatures. We spent a few weeks searching high and low for this wacky stuff called "insulation", to, oddly enough, stuff into our attic crawl space to keep the heat from flying out our roof. We have now discovered that insulation is not available to regular folks here in Japan, and it is unclear if it is available to home contractors either. And faced with the choice of either no insulation or spending probably $4000 to have some mailed to us from California, we selected the less expensive of the two evils. No insulation.

So we ramped up our battle and with the help of friends, embraced the tried and true Japanese methods to fight the chill (which, I might add, really isn't that much colder than Northern California during cold winters. I mean, it's not Hawaii, but it's not Duluth either. And we've been to Duluth in the dead of winter. Look in the dictionary under the heading "cold". There is a picture of Duluth. And possibly Antarctica and Alaska, but I've never gone to those places).

After multiple trips to home stores, we have done the following:

1. We have lined many of our windows with bubble wrap. The bubbles in this wrap are about a centimeter (half inch) in diameter. The theory here is that the bubble wrap seals out some of the cold coming through the window glass. It took a great deal of self-restraint not to cathartically pop the bubbles as we prepared to adhere it to the windows. The result? The room is just as cold, but the windows look trippy.

2. Sponge tape. The side-effect of having a frigid house is that the act of 4 people and 3 cats breathing creates unbelievable amounts of condensation that not only drips, but POURS down all the windows. The result is sopping window sills, puddles on the floor and a constant battle against mold. Enter in the SPONGE TAPE. This is, obviously, strips of sponge that have a tape backing. Peel off the paper strip, stick the sponge to all the edges of the window. It is pretty effective, except I keep wondering how often I'm going to have to either replace it, or wring it out.

3. Just yesterday Bob went out and bought the latest weapon in our cold battle arsenal: shower curtains. Of course, they aren't called shower curtains here. But that's what they are. Plastic sheets with holes in the top for hooks. You hang these behind your actual curtains. They supposedly do what the bubble wrap does: block the chill coming through the window glass. So far we don't feel a significant difference in the temperature, but the act of hanging up the plastic sheets did invigorate us a bit for awhile. I suppose only time will tell.

4. We are also engaged in a delicate balancing act involving our heated table (the kotatsu), our gas heater, various electric space heaters and our electric blankets. Up until a few weeks ago we were blindly turning on several heaters at a time: one in the living room for the kids, one in the kitchen for me. Sometimes the kotatsu was on as well. Insane! The outcome of all this wasteful heating was a total combined gas and electric bill of $300. When we got the bills in the mail I thought I'd have to utilize my CPR skills on Bob, who paled and looked at me incredulously before dashing pell mell into each room to slap off the various heating devices.

Now we are careful to pay close attention to how many heating devices are on at a time, and try to heat as few rooms as possible. Sometimes Bob or I, or both of us, will shake our heads in disbelief at the fact that keeps slithering through our heads: that the house would be infinitely warmer, and the use of heaters infinitely less, if this house were INSULATED.

Which brings us right back to the beginning of my tale, doesn't it?

Well, that's it for now. I hope the week ahead is warm and well insulated for you all.

Until next time....

New Year, New Weirdness

Hello and welcome to 2012!

Yes, I know I missed posting last week. I have no good excuses, except the business involved with jump starting a new year. Here in Kyoto everything is getting increasingly chilly. February is reportedly the month when the cold weather really hits....and as we creep closer to the end of January, I'm starting to believe the reports. We turn on the electric blankets on the beds and steam rises as the bed warms up. Water from the faucet is as cold as--or colder than--water kept in the fridge. And when we do turn on the electric wall air conditioner/heater units (which we rarely do since it costs and arm and a leg to run them), they have to sit and hum for a while, warming themselves up before actually stepping up to the task of warming us up. Not to mention the freeze-dried clothes hanging on the clothesline.....

But we've actually done more than just huddle around the heaters. No, really! Well, okay, we've done a LOT of huddling around heaters. But in between heater visits, we've been plugging away...

New Year's Day and All's CLOSED

So as I 've said before, the turning of the New Year is a family time here. A time for traditions and coming together. It is a time when people plan ahead for special foods and trips to special temples.

And really, people must plan ahead because from December 31st to roughly January 4th or 5th, a good portion of Japan is closed. As with the United States, holidays for bigger department stores and convenience stores mean an opportunity to get more sales, so these places stay open. However everything else closes up. Small neighborhood shops, neighborhood grocery stores, smaller restaurants. And since we live in a neighborhood made up of nothing but small shops, tiny restaurants and small neighborhood grocery stores, it meant that everything around us was shut up tight.

Luckily, we were able to acquire the all important milk, bread and onigiri (rice balls--Aya's passion), from the nearby convenience store. And I had planned ahead (drawing on my previous habitations in Japan), and had stocked up on most other food's we'd need.

But there is something solemn and peaceful about walking down a street, storefront after storefront bearing signs announcing they are closed for the New Year holiday. There is something very healthy about accepting that the people who work in stores and restaurants also deserve time away from chasing the almighty yen, to walk with their own families on a cold winter night to hear the temple bells ring in the new year.

Some people would call all these closed shops inconvenient. I call it the right thing to do.

Gearing Up to Fill Up 2012

Our first 6 months back in Japan have been a time of getting up to speed, as it were. Getting the kids really transitioned from their lives in California to their lives here, getting all of us used to the ins and outs of the virtual school program. Getting our Japanese skills back on the road to functionality.

But now we are heading into the next 6 months. For Patrick, this means keeping a tight grip on deadlines, starting Japanese lessons and beginning his guitar lessons. For Aya, this means staying on top of homework, fostering new friendships, digging into Japanese lessons and starting piano lessons. For me, it means keeping up on my Patrick and Aya's slowly growing lives and looking into possible teaching work for next year.

High on Patrick and Aya's motivation horizon is our upcoming trip back to California so that they can take the Star Tests in conjunction with their school program, which is run through the Elk Grove School District. And they feel that taking these tests is a very small price to pay for the chance to see family and friends again.

And yes, I have added this return trip to my arsenal of motivational tools for them. You know me...all about logical consequences. If you can't finish it, we can't go. Harsh? A bit, yeah. But logical. Absolutely Logical. They haven't been able to come up with a counter argument either, which is refreshing.

Me: You know, if we can't get a jump on these assignments you're going to end up doing them

on Grandma's computer instead of visiting with your friends.

P or A: No way.

Me: Way.

P or A: Grumble, grumble. GRUMBLE.

(Note: "Grumble" indicates "Darn it. She's right. But I can't ADMIT that she's right. I'm Trapped!")

And so off I go, conscience clear, blog updated, ready to begin another week filled with icy rooms, homework deadlines and frozen clotheslines.

Until next time....