Winter.

Spider lilies under the Ai Ai Bridge

It's almost winter in Japan. If my only connection to the world outside of Japan was this blog, you would probably think I'm still in Winnipeg, scraping by on coupons. I wish, guys. I wish. I've been back in Japan since mid-August, and my life since has chronicled as usual - sweating my way through Japanese summer; watching spider lilies bloom and die; embracing the golden leaves as I wait for winter to settle in.

That's still a few months away, but since insulation is not actually a thing here, it is officially winter, at least in my apartment.

I love winter. I love winter so much that I'm going home to Canada for Christmas so I can put on my parka and snowshoe behind my grandparents' retirement home... and other reasons. Anyways. Hidaka isn't exactly the marshmallow world that I crave when it's cold, but Japan does winter in its own way. And even though no one at work could provide me with a single example for "symbols of winter in Japan," I can probably think of a few on my own. Here we go:

1. The kotatsu: the kotatsu is a blanket-covered table with a heater underneath, and is probably the coziest invention known to man. Cozier than the Snuggie, even. Just turn on the heater, bundle up under the attached blanket and you forget that it's on average 10 degrees colder in your house than outside. The kotatsu is very beneficial for feelings of: comfort, warmth, lethargy; but surprisingly detrimental to anything related to work ethic and motivation.

2. The ofuro: commonly known as "my bathtub." I've never been much of a bath-taker. The age-old "it's like soaking in your own filth" has had a major effect on me. But the Japanese have solved this problem by developing a strict bathing system where you shower beforehand, give yourself a thorough scrubbing, then hop in, squeaky clean. I've just discovered the timer on my tub so it's nice and hot when I wake up, and I'm telling you, this has revolutionized my morning regime.

3. The turtleneck: I'm not going to hide it anymore - I have embraced the turtleneck. The omnipresence of the turtleneck caught me off guard at first, but as a fashion-function essential for Japanese women, it was only a matter of time before I gave in to peer pressure. After intense observation, I discovered there is typically a 20:1 turtleneck-to-no-turtleneck ratio in my staff room. As the 1, I eventually caved and bought myself a red and white striped number last winter, despite being told not to, and being the butt of every turtleneck joke since.

4. The English Board - Admittedly not a symbol of winter in Japan, but this is my one opportunity at school for cultural exchange through artistic expression. I've just released my "Winter 2012" edition, where I share what winter is like in Winnipeg. Some would say my posters are idealized; an arguably inaccurate representation of the harsh realities of Winnipeg winter. But my students are probably more interested in cuddly polar bears (not actually a thing) and downhill skiing than cross-country skiing and frostbite. You have to have lived there to appreciate those.

My citronella scented Christmas tree

5. CHRISTMAS CHEER! I love Christmas. I mean loooooooove. Sure, Christmas is different in Japan. I can't find Christmas lights anywhere, and my tree is actually a short plant that smells of citronella. Whatever. I've made my pomander and my holiday-music-only policy is officially in effect until late January (which I think is reasonable), so so what if there's is no snow anywhere south of Hokkaido, and it's freezing everywhere outside my kotatsu, and the turtleneck I'm wearing is socially unacceptable in my social circle. My tree is up, Dean Martin is playing and my gingerbread house is ready to be built. Happy Holidays!

WINNIPEG, WITH COUPONS

MANITOBAN PRAIRIES

NEW MARKET, ONTARIO 

On August 4th, I set out for Winnipeg. Still filthy from Fuji Rock, and with a trail of Okinawan sand dragging on my tail, I embarked on the 22 hour journey from Naha to Winnipeg. As I approached home, I caught a glimpse of Manitoba in her finest hour. Dusk was rolling in and the fields were on fire. It. Was. Spectacular.

Welcome to Winnipeg, capital city of Friendly Manitoba. I spent 2 weeks in Canada for my summer holidays, reuniting and reconnecting. For 3 of those days, I discovered Winnipeg through the eyes of a part-time golf club employee, full-time student and devoted couponer. Friends, prepare yourselves as I walk you through Jessie Rew's Coupon Tour of Winnipeg.

*   *   *

THE COUPON TOUR OF WINNIPEG

We set out bright and early. Months of breathless anticipation had preceded this cloudy Tuesday morning, and it was finally happening. Parking at the Inn at the Forks, we took in the grey skies and fresh morning air as we crossed the the Esplanade Riel footbridge to the Salisbury House.

We had arrived.

Stop #1: The Salisbury House, 2-for-1 two-egg breakfast.

At 9 am, Jessie and I had the entire restaurant to ourselves. We took our eggs and bacon with a cup of coffee and a window seat, watching the Red River float away from underneath us.

(Fact: After the footbridge's completion in 2003, the restaurant remained unoccupied – its fate an endless point of curiosity for locals. Which Michelin Star restaurant would fill this empty space? Months went by without a tenant, and eventually greasy spoon diner and Winnipeg institution Salisbury House swooped in, pleasing pretty much nobody. But years later, the Sals is still serving two-egg breakfasts, Nips and Wafer Pie to loyal customers.)

Stop #2: Saint Boniface Museum, 2-for-1 admission.

Full of coffee, butter and bacon, we continued down the bridge into Saint Boniface, Winnipeg's French quarter. Strolling through the Saint Boniface Cathedral and Cemetery, we made our way to the convent-turned-museum to learn about Francophone and Métis history. Jackpot – we got the student discount.

Stop #3: Espresso Junction in Johnson Terminal.

It was noon. We'd been couponing for almost 2 hours and we were exhausted. Time for 2-for-1 beverages! Heading back over the footbridge to The Forks Market, we sat by the window, soaking in the prairie sunshine over a cup of coffee.

Stop #4: Mini donuts at The Forks, buy-1-get-1-50%-off.

Forget, for a moment, that literally no one ever has needed an entire bag of mini donuts to themselves. These are hot, cinnamon-sugar donuts straight out of the deep fryer – not to mention my childhood. You can't go to The Forks without getting mini donuts – everybody knows that.

Stop #5: Human Bean at the Millennium Library, 2-for-1 beverages.

Out of their two locations that I am aware of, this is arguably their least scenic. But the coupon was explicit in its limitations, so we paid a visit to the Millennium Library for a few coffees for the road.

Stop #6: The Winnipeg Art Gallery, 2-for-1 admission.
Their current exhibition, Fairies Tales, Monsters and the Genetic Imagination freaked me right out, and I think that was the point. Although I wasn't prepared for such deep questions of human identity, morality and reproduction, there are some great instillations on display right now.

Stop #7: The Assiniboine Park Steam Train, 2-for-1 admission, and the conductor will probably let you keep the coupon.

Unfazed by the reality that we would be the only ones on the train sans toddler, we headed to the Assiniboine Park to take in all of the sights and sounds of the park from the comfort of a steam train. At 2 km/h, it's safe to say we missed nothing.

And that, my friends, is how you coupon tour. I rediscovered Winnipeg this week. Glen Murray's words are resonating with me more than ever these days. Winnipeg, you're not so bad. I actually really like you.

Living. Working. Laughing.

I went to the shop today to pick up some essentials. With nothing in my fridge but some kale and a door full of sauce, I was in dire need of some provisions for the weekend. Just the essentials, I told myself. I've been feeling guilty about a recent walnut-cheese spree at the local dairy and I'm trying to set some personal limits.

Kato Bokujo Dairy

When I saw it, I tried to stop myself. Look away. Walk away. But it stared at me from its perch on the 1,050円 shelf, coaxing me in that  frosty blue glass.

3 words: Chilled. Riesling. Twist-cap. If that's not a sign from God, I don't know what is. I couldn't say no, partially out of gluttony, but really because I'd just acquired the soundtrack for Staying Home And Being Emotional,
commonly known as The Entire CocoRosie Discography. This is best enjoyed with a glass of wine.

So here I am, sitting on my brand new sofa with my old friend Ries, contemplating my upcoming one year anniversary with Japan. I know I should have written earlier, so I've come up with some excuses as to why I have not:

A) Writer's block. I've fallen into the trap of thinking I'm not doing anything worth writing about, just living my life, working 9-5. What a way to make a living. Barely getting by, it's all taking and no giving. (That's not actually true. That was my rendition of Dolly Parton's "9-5", and if you didn't already know that, we can't be friends.)

B) I don't have a computer, thus, no vessel to type on. Hugo, my faithful Macbook, finally succumbed to my years of abuse. It's like he sensed the AKB48 I was injecting him with and lost the will to live, which I totally understand.

Spring flowers in Hidaka

But despite my lack of writing, I have been thinking a lot about life, especially as a second year approaches - a chance for me to do this all over again. At a recent meeting at my Board of Education, my supervisor asked me how things are going in Japan. Am I enjoying work? Classes? Would I want to move to a different school?

As much as I love the idea of working at the school next door, if only for the extra half hour of sleep, I can't imagine not working with my students. I don't know what has come over them, but recently they've really let their true colours show. I have an exhaustive list of students I can't pay attention to because they are hilarious — so hilarious that they jeopardise my professionalism in the work place/ anyone's ability to take me seriously.

Here are a few favourites:

1. Chronic Nose Picker: His finger is always in his nose. And I don't mean a cheeky tickle at the bottom of his nostril. I mean knuckle-deep, All. The. Time.

2. Duran Duran: One day she just showed up to school rocking the sickest 1980s mullet. It's got everything - body, layers and height.

3. Bangs: He's 11 years old and has the best bangs I've ever seen.

4. Any kid after haircut day: For some reason, a lot of kids get their hair cut on the same weekend, often using the same bowl. I literally spend the first week after hair cut day looking at the floor.

5. Front-and-center-always-wrong: I've mentioned him before. His enthusiasm, if nothing else, deserves an A. He yells at me from across the parking lot every morning, screaming "I'M FINE!" before I even get the chance to ask. He'd probably have a greater library of emotions to choose from if he paid attention in class. But he's creative when it comes to distracting himself from lessons, and I respect that. I once caught him trying to balance pens on his face. After 50 minutes of failed attempts, he left class with his face literally covered in red ink.

6. Sleeping Beauty: If his naps weren't so controlled to the exact length of class, I'd assume he was narcoleptic. But there's no way that kind of clockwork could be a disease. Diseases just aren't that convenient. I was initially really insulted my his blatant disinterest in English class — like, am I not interesting enough for you to even stay awake? But after watching him sleep through an entire band class, I realised that it's not me. It's definitely him.

7. Slanderer: His basic conversation could use some work, but man, is he impressive when it comes to defamation. Just last Saturday, his sister "went to hell," and he recently shared with me that his best friend is "a hobo."

8. Real Friendly Bastard: He doesn't speak much. He usually just sits quietly at his desk, or if we're doing an activity that requires participation, under it. He's 10 years old, and the boys in his class are pretty rowdy/ in the discovering stages of their own sexuality and somehow manage to work some kind of inappropriate gesture into every activity. He's shy. He doesn't like to draw attention to himself, and I get that. Which is why I literally had a heart attack when I noticed the red sweater he wears every day says "You're a real friendly bastard" in bold letters across the bottom.

If my words haven't expressed how funny daily life is, watch this video. It's so real.

 

HOKKAIDO .

Aomori

We said goodbye to Hidaka last Saturday and rode the long way up, catching the Shinkansen to Aomori just in time for the Hakodate-bound ferry. Last week was Golden Week, a week-long cluster of national holidays, so the Hidaka crew of ALTs (all 2 of us) decided to use the time off for an escape to Hokkaido. We spent the week catching middle-of-nowhere buses and seaside trains; drinking beer and getting lost.

Hakodate Russian Orthodox Church

Hakodate was the first stop. The city opened its ports to outsiders in 1859, and 150 years later it exists in a lingering state of identity crisis – the mysterious love-child of a Japanese-Russian affair, where the city slopes are decorated with Russian orthodox and Roman catholic churches, and cobblestone paves the way to teashops and shrines. One minute, I’m standing under a towering orange gate; the next, I’m in a boat being rowed around a star-shaped fort.

Sapporo was all about the beeru. You just CAN’T (I’m yelling) go to Sapporo without getting to know their beer. Breweries played a major role in Hokkaido’s development in the Meiji Period, when the art of brewing was first brought to Hokkaido. Sapporo Lager was born, and lo and behold, the gold they’ve been brewing for over 100 years remains an important part of Sapporo’s rich culture. I learned all of this at the Sapporo Beer Museum, which was highly educational and – judging by the Dr. Seuss-esque displays – designed for children.

The rest of the time in Sapporo was spent drifting between East and West, devouring Genghis Kahn lamb and thin-crust pizzas, unwinding in rainy outdoor onsens and getting athletic at the Winter Sports Museum. (That was more humiliating than anything else... it turns out, I'm just as feeble at computer simulated sports as the real thing. Shocking, I know.)

Otaru was the last stop. This town is a popular day-trip location from Sapporo, with its canal district and rickshaw traffic. I could go into detail about the sushi and beer and yada yada yada, but every moment in Otaru has been eclipsed by the memory of eating a giant takoyaki. I fulfilled a dream I didn't know I had and it. was. phenomenal.

I had a bet going with Greg all week to see who could go the longest sans-Facebook, so I took to Twitter to fill the social networking void in my life. Have a look at my tweets to see my pictorial updates! twitter.com/chloerew

Spring Has Sprung .

“Tomorrow, the sun will rise and everything will be shiny.”
- D. Rew

Today is April the 9th. The sunrise woke me at 5:30, blushing red and purple behind the sakura trees. Spring is here.

The stubborn winter has drifted away, and the tell-tale signs of spring are everywhere. The air is getting warmer, coaxing the sakura out of hibernation; my kotatsu lays disassembled, nothing but a poorly deconstructed pile of shambles in my closet.

People are changing, like werewolves surrendering to the full moon. My secretary is 100 pounds heavier, her voice 2 octaves deeper, and she is actually a man. My office crush is nowhere to be found and my English teacher is beyond recognition, having put down the tinted glasses, retired the neon track suits and resigned to the fact that The Bangles are no longer #1.

The 80s, it would seem, are over.

。。。。。。。。。

I went to Izu for the weekend, in Shizuoka prefecture on the other side of Tokyo. I spent the weekend with my feet in the ocean and my head in the trees, and on Monday morning, I dragged by sandy feet back to a brand new workplace. It’s the start of a new school year, and as is typical in Japanese schools, there has been a major staff turnover at my junior high school. The notion of 30-year-veteran-teachers is a novelty in Japan - a myth, perhaps. Teachers are passed between schools and BoEs, rarely staying put for more than a few years. My first day back was filled with new faces, introductions and endless bowing.

A few constants remain. My job is the same. The office feels the same - everyone is bustling around, some busy with actual work, others just pretending. The teacher across from me is fast asleep, having dozed off mid-sentence. I've obviously been thinking about this too long - the admin guy is giving me the stink eye again. But I don't mind. I'm just going to sit here, stare at out the window at the cherry blossoms and think about the beach.

Just your average afternoon chase, really.

My afternoon jog took a bit of a bizarre turn the other day.

I signed up for next Saturday's Kumagaya Sakura Marathon (or 10 ks of it, rather). I've been suffering from a serious lack of motivation the past few weeks, but on Tuesday afternoon, a combination of nice weather and fear of embarrassment motivated me out of my danchi and into my runners.

I've got a route that I like. It's 10k, more or less (probably less). It takes me down my hill, over the bridge that looks over the mountains, past the shops that never appear to be open, and straight ahead until I reach the red barn. I distract myself with my thoughts, trying not to think about fatigue and sore feet.

So I'm running along, enjoying The Drums and the scenery, and I see the head of my Board of Education driving towards me. I give him a cheerful wave, but all I get back is this awkward smile that says "Oh... heyyyy." I know that smile. It's the kind of smile you give to psycho relatives you don't want to be seen with in public.

Odd, I thought. Sure, he was a little stand-offish when I first arrived, but I thought he'd warmed up to me after I learned a bit of Japanese and mastered the standard "Hello, how are you, nice weather, ne?" Apparently an afternoon job in Japan is more unconventional than I had thought.

But a few minutes up the road, I feel this frantic tapping on my shoulder. I turn around and this woman in an apron is trying to catch her breath, just gasping, "Sumimasen, sumimasen! Excuse me!" And I'm beside myself, totally confused and scouring the archives of my brain for some Japanese words that are appropriate in a "being-chased-while-jogging" scenario.

Konnichiwa? Genki desu ka? For the love of god, do I know nothing relevant in this situation??

While I'm working out how to say "Do you need medical attention," she catches her breath and starts asking me questions, just going straight for the small talk. And as she's talking, two things are running through my mind: a) This definitely explains the weird look my boss just gave me, and b) she ran an awfully long way in her apron for small talk.

Eventually I figure out that she's seen me in the neighbourhood and wants to use me for my English-speaking abilities, although the specifics are lost in translation. We walk back to her car (which was quite a walk, never mind a jog, showing her remarkable passion for English.) We exchange contact information and make some kind of English conversation date.

Yesterday evening, she had me over to her house, and I can't express how lovely the whole family is! We chatted over tea and cake, switching between Japanese, English and awkward silences. An hour later, I left with a bag of baked goods and a handful of grapefruits.

I've been going through a bit of a homesick hermit phase, but this, and the slow creep of spring, are helping ease me out of it.

Question Period/ My Life As An International Pop Sensation

In Japan, the school year starts in April, and with the year coming to an end, things are changing at school.

At my junior high, high school entrance exams are finally out of the way, meaning classes are getting a little less textbook and a lot more practical. For the last few weeks, my students and I have been doing a question-and-answer exchange. For 10 minutes a day, they write down a few questions for me to correct and answer, and hopefully teach them something about conversation along the way. The result has been a creative, bizarre, adorable glimpse into junior high curiosities often lost in translation, but thankfully not quieted by the fear of making a mistake.

Q: What Samurai do you know?

A: Excellent question. Before I moved to this fascinating country, everything I knew about Japan I learned from Hollywood. In fact, some of my favourite films and television shows growing up were centered around Japanese culture: 3 Ninjas. 3 Ninjas Knuckle Up. 3 Ninjas Kick Back. Sailor Moon. Unfortunately, none of those touched on samurai, so I'm going to have to go with Nathan Algren, as depicted by Tom Cruise in the 2003 blockbuster, The Last Samurai. Epic film, if I remember rightly.

Q: Who is love phantom for you?
A: The creativity of this one just blew me away. I don't even know how to answer. I tried approaching her in person for a bit of insight. This got me nowhere.

Q: Where are you going?
A: Right now? In life? I ask myself that question everyday.

Q: Lady Gaga is very beautiful and cool. How about you?
A: I am also very beautiful and cool. Thank you for asking.

Q: I like dog
A: Poor kid. Somehow her running out of ideas coincided with forgetting everything I've taught her about punctuation.

Q: How old do you want to marry?
A: I don't necessarily think about how I old want to get married - more like at what age will I no longer be okay with being a lonely old spinster who spends her spare time chasing cats in the parking lot and emailing pictures of them to her friends' digital picture frames despite being told to stop. I haven't narrowed down an exact number, but I'm not there yet, that's for sure.

This last one makes me laugh because of the order of the questions. He carefully planned each move, waiting for a green-light-answer before braving the next question.
- Do you like me?
 (Yes, you are a good student.)
- Do you have a boyfriend?
 (No.)
- How old do you want to marry? (Probably my late twenties or early thirties.)

- I want to marry in my late twenties, too!!!!
The uncharacteristic excitement he showed by the end of this is so cute, I just don't have the heart to tell him that by the time he's in his late twenties, I will be a 40 year old aforementioned psycho spinster, or remind him that I'm his teacher.

And of course, life is always exciting at the elementary schools. With varying levels of English/interpretations of my job description, Wednesdays and Fridays at the sho-gakko continue to get more bizzare. At my Wednesday school, I've been asked to teach the year 6 class "When You Wish Upon a Star." I agreed, partly because I knew I didn't have a choice, and partly because I thought I'd be lipsynching to a cd (wrong.)

One week, I'm a "guest speaker" in music class, giving a performance my kocho-sensei insists brought him to tears, the next week I'm blindly led into the multimedia room to give a concert with a microphone and a sound system. I always said that earning three quarters of my graduating credits in choir and vocal jazz would pay off one day, and here we are, world. 6 years later and I'm still reaping the benefits of my Mennonite education.

Thankfully, they did let me take a break from singing this week to do my signature holiday construction paper craft. Behold, Ms. Kuroee's Valentine's Day finger puppet. She'll look great next to my Jack-o-Lantern mask and Santa hat.

With all of the week's excitement, I enjoy a relaxing day at my Friday elementary school, where no one speaks English and everyone's too afraid to test my Japanese to ask me to do anything. This leaves me guessing a lot, but I'm never short on ideas for educational posters.



Happy Valentine's Day everyone.

Shrimps and Barbies.

A trifecta of sandy beaches in Sydney and bush walks in the Blue Mountains. Surfing in Byron Bay and Wagga Wagga Zoo break ins. Alley way roof-top beers and Fitzroy hipster-watching in Melbourne. What was supposed to be a simple 2 week holiday in Australia turned into a whirlwind tour of the East coast, my itchy feet showing blatant disregard for the holiday I planned to keep low-key by literally planning nothing at all. But my open schedule was too easy to fill up - too tempting to pack with Jetstar flights, train rides and road trips. My "low-key" trip didn't stand a chance. Here are but a few highlights from my 2 weeks in Australia.


1. Parking myself on Coogee beach with a pear cider in hand within an hour of landing at Sydney Kingsford Smith Airport.

2. Bush walks in the Blue Mountains with Johnny, catching up on the important things in life (ie: Hidaka, and the cricket) since we last saw each other in Japan.

3. Spotting a roo and her joey in the Blue Mountains.

4. Home-cooked meals and summer fruit salad from Johnny's southern mama.

5. Meat pies and cricket at the Sydney Cricket Ground for the Australia vs. India test match. Not knowing what was going on only added to the experience.

6. Byron Bay. Coconut sunblock, surfers and sun-kissed, Ray-Ban wearing beach bums selling strawberries on the beach. This place was paradise, and if my dying wish comes true and there's a 2012 remake of Point Break, it will be entirely cast by the people of Byron Bay.

7. Byron Bay's Backpacker Holiday Village. Like Koh Phangan's Coral Bungalows, with less vodka Red Bull buckets, but comparable numbers of Australians. This place reminded me of the joys of traveling alone, where all I had to do was sit next to a group of strangers, tell them I was all by my lonesome, and I was instantly in on a bucks weekend, sharing a bucket of goon cocktail over discussions of why the husband-to-be was wearing 8 pairs of underwear.

8. Bay Leaf Cafe, Byron Bay. If Winnipeg's Fresh Café and the Falafel Place had a baby, this would be it. Everyone here had piercings, tattoos, and unruly hair, and nothing could be heard of the chaotic yelling. I felt right at home.

9. Byron Bay's surfers. If I didn't have a job to go back home for, I could have stayed in Byron for the rest of my life — if only for the smoking hot surfers. At the risk of being too specific, my surf instructor, for example. Straight from the coast of California, with his sea-salt, sun-bleached hair and a vocabulary learned entirely from Surf Ninjas. We shared a high five and it was beautiful.

10. Melbourne. It's hard not to love a city where you spend your first night in Chinatown, at a BYO dumpling restaurant and drinking beers on a back-alley roof that I suspect doubles as someone's laundromat. Melbourne has everything I need in a city. Terraces at Federation Square, hipsters in Fitzroy. Street art, train stations, cafés, babes. It's no wonder I always like the locals so much. It's official. I'm going to have to rewrite my 5 year plan and move to Melbourne.