I’m sitting here typing with a space
heater at my feet and a cup of chamomile tea cooling faster than I can drink it.
It’s the middle of winter here in Matsue, which means long, gray, wet, rainy
days occasionally disrupted by a blast of sunlight or a slick carpet of
treacherous, slushy snow. The rare moments of sunlight are like little
blessings, raising my spirits for a short time – until it rains or hails again.
I often consider hibernation, seeking the comfort of my futon and thick, comfy
duvets. The winters here are not as cold as in Nova Scotia, but home heating
systems are practically nonexistent, so people seek the comfort of the
kotatsu (a low table with a built-in heater, draped in a thick blanket),
heated carpets and electric blankets and all manner of heating devices. Small
wonder the fire department stays busy.
Nabe
parties are extremely popular in winter, and Seiji has had a few at Kaya since
I’ve been here. Nabe is a kind of stew made in a glazed ceramic pot – a
do-nabe) with dashi (traditional seaweed and bonito flake stock),
miso, pork and fish, Chinese cabbage, carrots, onions, spinach,
mushrooms, tofu or fried tofu, suiton (a kind of dumpling made with tofu
and flour) and whatever else you want to put in it. It’s originally Korean, and
kimchee is often added if a touch of spice and heat is desired. The
ingredients are mix-and-match; Seiji’s made vegan nabe a couple of times
with Jennifer and Cleve in mind, and it’s really good. Nabe is warm,
filling and nutritious, and also very social. The usual way to serve nabe
is on a single burner in the centre of the dining table, so people can serve
themselves, and the ingredients and hot water are replenished as needed. It’s a
beloved family meal, too.
I’ve bought myself a do-nabe, and I made nabe
twice last week. The first was really good – I used abura-age (fried tofu) in
it, which was really tasty – and the second was OK. Maybe next time I’ll add
some kimchee to spice it up.
Last night I had an impromptu dinner
party. At first I had intended a small ‘girls’ night’, with just Yumi and Taeko,
and maybe my next-door neighbour Junko. But then Yumi invited another foreign
teacher, Julia – one of Martin’s PEPPY Kids co-workers living in Yonago – and
Julia asked if she could bring her husband, Bill. So Yumi asked if Martin could
come, and I invited Seiji, who’s been feeling a little left out lately. I
suggested that Seiji invite Yukiko and Kei, and Junko brought Aki. It turned out
that Taeko and Bill couldn’t make it, but that still meant eight people crowded
around my little kotatsu. Julia had never experienced a kotatsu before and fell
in love with it, snuggling under the blankets. She actually spent a few of her
teen years living in the Annapolis Valley and her husband grew up in Truro, so
we hummed a few bars of “It’s a Small World After All.” I think she had a little
difficulty during the party, because she has been here for five months, but in
that time she and Bill have been pretty insular, so she knows almost no
Japanese. Yumi is fluent in English, Seiji’s English is good, and Yukiko and
Junko speak some English, but Aki and Kei speak only a little.
Everyone brought something to eat or
drink; wine, beer, sandwiches, sun-dried tomato and cream cheese spread, Brie
and crackers, chips, et cetera. I bought garlic bread from the bakery in SATY,
made a semi-Caesar salad (the dressing was store-bought Japanese dressing, not
our delicious family Caesar salad dressing, and following an old family
tradition, I burned the croutons) and cooked puttanesca pasta. With
the vegetarians in mind, I skipped the anchovies, but put in lots of garlic,
capers and olives, with fresh grated Parmesan on the side. Making enough pasta
for eight people in my wok was a challenge, and Seiji had to help me drain it.
Yukiko wasn’t drinking this evening.
Seiji told me before Christmas that she might be pregnant, but last year she had
a miscarriage – a frighteningly common occurrence in Japan – so she and Kei have
been very quiet about it.
I hope for more evenings like last night
soon. It was nice to see everyone, after feeling kind of worn down by the
weather and shut in. This winter has been so bleak compared to last winter. The
mad sense of constant life that I felt in spring and summer – the birds
twittering as if their throats would burst, the lake, rivers and canals thick
with jumping fish and hunting herons, the slow, dignified turtles drifting in
the moat, the mysterious mammal I saw near the fishing boat docks and still
can’t identify – has faded with the cold, although the hawks, or kites, are in
abundance, wheeling and crying in the sky. I listen to them and dream of spring,
which is a beautiful, magical time here.
My poor sparrows suffered in November. I
remember taking a break during a dim November twilight, with the west painted in
opalescent pinks and grays and a hint of thick blue-gray storm clouds to the
south. The birds were twittering like crazy in the trees. The trees in front of
the station where they had set up homes were rapidly losing their leaves, and I
was beginning to wonder where they would go. Then, a few days later, the workmen
of Matsue moved in to lop the limbs off half the trees, leaving leprous, scabby
trunks and naked branches stabbing sharply up into the sky. Then they hung
poison for the birds on the branches – long, small metal canisters helpfully
labelled “Bird Killer” in red, English letters. I haven’t heard a sparrow since.
I also had a
kind of ‘pet’, in the absence of more conventional animals. My spider, whom I
nicknamed “Seven-legged Sam” (no relation to my best friend Sam, the name was
mostly used for alliterative effect), built his web in September or early
October outside my window, to the right of my balcony. Seven-Legged Sam was a
very large, colourful whore-spider, or joro-kumo, with, as you might
gather, only seven legs (he was missing one of his forelegs). He was a
singularly ambitious do-it-yourselfer, and built the arachnid equivalent of a
mansion spanning about four feet. The fall was beautiful and mild. Looking out
in the mornings, I waited for the day when he would be gone, but even in
December he stubbornly hung on, though rough winter winds shredded the edges of
his once spacious abode. He was still there when I went home for Christmas, but
when I returned in January he and his web were gone, to my regret. Perhaps I
tend to empathize and anthropomorphize a tad too
much…
I have now
been here a year and two months, and I’m trying to make decisions about the
future. I came to Japan with many goals, and I’ve achieved or partially achieved
many of them. Here are a few, and their present
status:
1) Pay off
old debts – Doing well on this front. I’ve paid off one of my outstanding debts
completely, the other will be paid off this year, and the last is under control.
Getting out from under this weight of debt, and learning how to manage my money,
is really important to me.
2) Finish my play – this goal has kind of stalled right now. I’ve had
little time or inspiration to give it. I jot down notes occasionally when an
idea or a likely turn of phrase strikes, but I need time to piece the crazy
quilt together. Meanwhile, Elizabeth and Mary have to wait,
impatiently.
3) Become a better person – granted, this is a very vague goal. But I
think I have changed somewhat in my one year and counting in Japan. I’m
certainly bolder in ways – I can’t be stopped from singing at karaoke, I went
all out for my costume at Halloween, and my classes have forced me to a level of
extroversion that I never reached before. But am I a better person? Jury’s
out.
4) Get in good shape – I started out well last year, with frequent
jogging and lots of bicycling day trips around Matsue. But until this morning, I
hadn’t been jogging in many months, or taken a ride around Matsue just for
pleasure in nearly as long. Luckily, I’ve been pretty dedicated to my aikido
classes and had some extra practices too. But I’ve eaten and drunk a lot this
winter, so I need to find the time for exercise this
year.
5) Make a plan for the future – This is the hardest one. I kind of
thought that if I loved teaching, I could come home, get a degree in Education
and teach. And I like teaching, although I don’t care much for some of the
accompanying bullshit. But I also miss theatre, and acting, and film, and the
creativity and magic that is a part of that – although of course there’s plenty
of bullshit there too; how would things grow if we didn’t fertilize them
regularly? Here’s my list of top choices:
a. Teach another six months to a year with AEON. This will allow me to
completely finish paying my debts AND put some money in the bank for the
future.
b. Stay in Japan and teach with another company. By next November I
think I will have learned all that I can with AEON, and be ready for a different
challenge. I probably would have to teach, because other jobs require a high
level of Japanese.
c.
Come back to Halifax and pick up where I left
off. This is not deeply inspiring, because I was feeling frustrated in my
career, poor and down on myself when I was in Halifax. That’s why I ended up in
Japan. But I could probably get a part-time job teaching English to
international students at one of the
universities.
d. Become a writer. Requires discipline, which I frequently lack.
Also, not famously rewarding financially. But deeply
appealing.
e. Get an Education degree and teach.
Hmmm.
f. Get a Master’s degree. Preferably in Drama. From somewhere in
Canada, or maybe England. But England’s
expensive…
g. Move to Toronto. Hmmm.
h.
Scrap it all and grow vegetables on the North
Mountain. Sometimes very appealing. Except I can’t grow things very
well.
So I have
lots to think about. Meanwhile, the old Japanese New Year has been and gone. We
celebrated Setsubun on February 3rd, so by the old calendars it is
officially spring in Japan. There was a special Setsubun Nihonglish at Kaya on
February 1st. Seiji has decorated Kaya with the results of our New
Year’s Nihonglish, where everyone wrote Japanese calligraphy to celebrate and
make wishes for 2008. It was crowded in Kaya like I haven’t seen it in a long
time, with many Japanese and gaijin. They had come mostly for the
mame-muki(?), or bean-throwing. It’s a custom in Japanese homes on
Setsubun for the man of the house to put on a demon mask, and for the other
members of the household to throw dried soybeans at him and chase him around,
yelling “Oni ga soto, fuku wa uchi! (Demons out, good luck in!)” Seiji had tried
to persude Bud to put on the mask, but Bud wouldn’t do it, so Yuzo gamely
stepped up to the plate. Seiji explained the idea to everyone, and we armed
ourselves with soybeans. Then, with a shout, the demon ran in and was hit from
all directions with a rattling shower of soybeans. The demon leaped on a chair,
making many threatening gestures, before finally shielding itself and running
away again. By this time, everyone was very excited and, without a demon to aim
for, began pelting each other soybeans. Jennifer and Cat in particular went at
it with gusto. (Seiji said later it was a nightmare to clean up, and I’m still
finding soybeans in my bag.)
Seiji had
also made futomaki, or long, uncut rolls of sushi. The tradition is to
face in a direction dictated each year by the Chinese calendar (this year it was
southeast), and eat the futomaki without speaking. My students tell me
it’s often hard to do this without laughing. Another tradition is for single
people to eat one soybean for every year of age, and then one more. This is to
give you luck for the coming year.
As I write
the day has become increasingly bright and sunny. So perhaps it won’t rain today
after all. Fingers crossed. Talk to you soon!
Sarah