Attack Of The (Killer?) Flu!

The flu has come. The season has arrived. And are we ready for it? Maybe.

On the one hand, Japan seems to take this stuff seriously. Every day at the office/teacher's room, I overhear phone call after phone call talking about influenza. For weeks, teachers have been asking me, "How are you feeling? You know, the flu is going around." I've heard that at some schools, teachers are even showing kids videos on how to defeat the evil flu monster, should they encounter it in their travels. And of course, there are veritable hordes of people wearing those oh-so-effective face masks.

At some of my schools, classes are running at minimum capacity. I say minimum capacity because there actually IS a minimum capacity. If more than a certain percentage of students call in sick, that entire class is told not to come to school. I'm not sure what the exact percentage is, but let's just say, for the sake of this example, that it's 40%. If more than 40% of grade 5 students call in sick, no one in grade 5 is allowed to come to school. But grades 1-4 and 6 would still have to come to school. The threshold hasn't been passed at any of my schools yet, but I know of a few other towns nearby where it has been.

This in particular is kind of interesting to me. Usually it's impossible to take kids out of a classroom. Suspensions and expulsions, for example, simply don't exist here. At least not in Elementary and Junior High School. This is because, in Japan, children have a constitutional right to be in the classroom. (Senior High School is the exception because mandatory education ends after Junior High School.) So when I say that the Japanese really seem to take the flu seriously, I mean it; they'll break the fucking constitution in the name of the flu.

On the other hand, they seem to lack many basics. For example, it's considered extremely rude to blow your nose in public. Even if you happen to have a packet of tissues on you, you'll have to find some way to excuse yourself every time your nose starts running. And when you're in the middle of teaching a class, that's pretty damn difficult. And god help you if you sneeze and have end up with a booger hanging loose.

Also, I have yet to see a single Japanese person so much as possessing hand sanitizer. But I suppose that's not too surprising given that most people's idea of washing their hands is to splash a little water on their palms and walk out the door. Actually, I exaggerate. Usually they just walk out the door.

Anyway, strange hygenic practices aside, it's certainly been somewhat interesting to be in Japan during a flu outbreak. Unfortunately for me, I have also become a victim. Today is day four and, while I'm finally starting to feel a little bit better, it's probably going to take another two or three days before I'm feeling up to scratch. Which sucks, because I was planning to go to Tokyo this weekend.

Poop.

I have noticed something interesting, though. All of my schools appear to have been forewarned as to my sickness. Allow me to illustrate with an example.

It was about two days ago. I had just finished up lunch after teaching all morning and was heading to my afternoon school. It's a pretty cool place, one of my favorites actually, but it's a twenty minute bike ride in the cold. And half way through it started to snow. While I was shivering from fever.

I suppose I should have just taken a sick day, but you should know that things are never that easy in Japan. Taking a sick day means first taking off vacation days when I call in to say that I can't go to work. Then I have to go to the hospital to get a doctor's note saying that I'm too sick to go to work. After acquiring such a note, only then am I allowed to exchange the used vacation days for sick days. Unfortunately, I was neither convinced that I possessed the Japanese skills to get the correct note nor certain that I was sick enough to be excused from work. And given that I only have five vacation days left, I didn't exactly want to give them up. So instead, I gaman'd.

I arrived at the school and, as normal, proclaimed a loud "konnichwa!" to let my presence be known. I slid open the door and, almost immediately, was asked by the head teacher if I would like some miso soup for my cold.

Remember, this was only the second day of my illness. I had barely told anyone that I was sick, and absolutely no one I'd told was connected to work. So how did she know? And clearly she did know, because she'd been waiting for me with miso soup which had clearly been prepped and cooked in advance of my arrival. I can only surmise that one of my coworkers had noticed I was sick and spread the word.

This soon proved to be the case at every other school I went to. While no one else had prepared miso soup for me, they had all clearly been forewarned. There were cough drops and cups of tea waiting for me on my desk, that sort of thing. Which is kinda creepy when the only way they could have known that I was sick is by either stalking me or being told by someone else who knew.

Life in a small town, eh?

At any rate, I hope that this time next week I'll be feeling great again. I'll let you know then (yay another blog post!).

~Jeffles

P.S. As far as I know, no one has died yet from this outbreak of flu, which has spread all throughout Japan. But I'm probably just poorly informed and lots of old and already sick people have kicked the bucket. The title is just a bit of dramatic flair. Because flair is COOL.

The Saga Continues: Part 2

Ah, relaxation. It's good, isn't it?

Consider this a follow-up post to my last post.

As I mentioned in the aforementioned post, I spent last weekend in Beppu. And you know what? It was amazing. It was everything I needed. What was it exactly that I needed? Well, let me tell you. Onsens, warmer weather, alcohol, beautiful views, and no responsibilities. And let me tell you, I got all of that.

Beppu is, in fact, known for onsen and going into an onsen is something that has always been on my list of things to do in Japan. Because many (most?) onsen do not allow people with tattoos in, though, this has proven to be a bit difficult. Thankfully, as I just said, Beppu is known for onsen. That means that much of its income relies on tourists coming to use their onsen. If they rejected people with tattoos there, they would probably be rejecting quite a few tourists who may have gone to Beppu only because of the onsen. Then those people would probably be upset and and say bad things about the city and blah blah blah... Anyway, I figured my chances of getting into an onsen were highest in Beppu. And apparently I was right - no one had any problems with me at any point.

I went to three different onsen while in Beppu. The first was one that had been recommended to us by the guy who worked at our hostel. Given that he was a resident of the city and had named the spot as his favorite in Beppu, we figured it would be pretty good. And, in my opinion, it was.

The place was right next to a couple of the Jigoku. ("Hells" - particularly hot and strange hot springs for which the city is famous. Note that you don't actually go into these Hells, they're just cool things to look at.) This meant it was placed in a fairly touristy area but, surprisingly to me, there were not actually that many people in the onsen. Maybe it was the time of day that we went or maybe it was something else, but there were only two or three other people (besides us) in the guys' side and, from what I was told, no one else in the girls' side.

There were three different baths available at this onsen. The first was an indoors bath, with glass screens to look outside. Because it was indoors, both the part of you under the water and the part of you above the water were warm. The second was an outdoor bath on the first floor. There was a greater contrast of warm/cold in this bath because, guess what, it's winter and winter air is cold. The third bath was another outdoor bath on the second floor. It was supposed to have a scenic view, but in reality was just a spot that was slightly colder above water due to a light breeze. The "scene" was, well, meh.

Anyway, something about the place really jived with me. It felt cozy: not like a bathing complex with a bunch of rooms, but like someone's personal onsen mansion. And maybe it's because it was my first one, but all my nerves and tensions were essentially wiped away by the time I finished with the place. In truth, I felt kind of like a limp noodle - a fact that I regularly brought up - due to just how relaxed my muscles had become. It was a feeling I could get used to. In total, the experience cost only ￥600. An awesome deal.

Anyway, after that we took a short break, had a beer, and rested up at the hostel. Then we headed to our second onsen, which was really a rather different place.

First, to get to this place, we had to walk through what was clearly the red light district. Between Honey Bee and Universal Babes, it was quite obvious what normally went down there. There were some playful elbow jabs, jokes, and other efforts made in the name of relieving the tension of being in such an odd place. Then, we rounded a corner and encountered a truly massive wooden building built in an old Japanese style.

I should explain something. The reason we had picked this place was because it was apparently known for doing sand baths. As you might imagine, most onsen do not have a sand bath. Even rarer is the mud bath, but that comes later.

Anyway, we purchased our tickets for sand bath & onsen and proceeded into the change area. We put on our yukata, walked by the bath that was our "onsen" and into the sand room. There, we were instructed to lay down and not move. Meanwhile, the attendants shoveled mound after mound of warm sand on top of us. I've been told that the sand was supposed to be hot, that it's supposed to make us sweat like mad. Unfortunately, the sand was not really hot and I certainly was not sweating. It just felt like someone had put a really heavy blanket around me.

I gazed at the ceiling, wiggled my toes, thought about how nice a beer would be after all this. To me left, I watched one of my fellows get buried as well by a rather serious looking attendant. Then the guy to my right, another one of my fellow onsen-goers, mentioned that he could feel his pulse in his legs and could I feel mine, too? Well damn if he wasn't right. I really could. And it was weird. Ba-dum, ba-dum. I returned my thoughts to the ceiling, trying to distract myself.

Then, before I knew it, ten minutes was up and I was instructed to go shower myself off. I did so, then climbed into the bath tub (holy crap it was hot). There was a Japanese guy in there who spoke some English, so we had the conversation that I always have when meeting a Japanese person for the first time.

"Where are you from?"

"Canada. These guys are from England, though."

"I see. So, do you like Japan?"

"I love it! Actually, we live here."

"Eeeh? Truly?"

"Yes, we're English teachers in Okayama."

"Ah, is that so... Where in Okayama?"

"A tiny town, you probably don't know it. It's called ."

"Ah, I see. No, I don't know that town."

"Where are you from?"

"Oh, I'm from ."

I've probably had this conversation a hundred times. Anyway, we talked with him a bit. Turned out he had traveled to Canada before, so that was cool. He left about five minutes later and the two other guys and I relaxed in the tub and chatted a bit. Strangely, the attendants kept poking their heads into the room, as if worried that we crazy gaijin were going to fuck everything up. I say strangely, because the attendants were all women and this was clearly the guys' section. Ah well. Nobody goes to an onsen expecting privacy. The whole point is public nudity, after all.

After a little while, we climbed out, dried off and got changed. The rest of the night was spent drinking and doing karaoke. That night alone could be an entire blog post. Suffice to say, since I only have about 10 more minutes to write this and the post is already getting quite long, it was an eventful night.

The next day we trekked out to the mud bath place. The mud bath place, we later learned from a lady who interviewed us as we exited, was quite a rarity. The word she used was "special," but you get the gist.

This place was huge. Like the other two, it was split into a male and female section. Each section had an indoor regular bath, and outdoor "falling" bath (it had a stream of water that fell into the bath from about two meters up - you were supposed to sit under it and let the falling stream massage your back), a steam room, and an outdoor and indoor mud bath. Well, I say both sections had all this, but I don't actually know if the female section also had all that. But I'm pretty sure it did.

Anyway, we wandered about from spot to spot, covering ourselves when possible, and just generally trying to get the full experience of each area. I should mention that the outdoor mud bath was mixed while all the others were separated by gender. For the outdoor bath, though, the girls had a curtained off area where they could enter the water without exposing themselves to the men. The guys, of course, had no such thing. They simply had to enter the mud bath and not care that all the girls were likely to see their package.

I thought the mud was kind of weird. Not my thing, I guess. The baths were really just regular onsen with a grey, muddy floor. The mud diluted the water so that it was all opaque, but the only thick mud was on the floor. In my opinion, it was just some slimey stuff. I rubbed a little over my tattoo, thinking myself intelligent for finding a way to cover it, then remembered that the water would wash it off as soon as I put it under water. So that didn't really make much difference.

After a while we moved to the indoor mud bath, which was pretty much the same. Amusingly, a group of older women wandered into the guy's indoor mud bath and stood about tittering when they realized they had entered the wrong bath area. After then left, we went back to the indoor onsen for a couple minutes, then decided enough was enough and exited.

All in all, I've decided that onsen are awesome. I'm planning another trip next month to explore one on Naoshima Island, which isn't too far away. I'll let you know how that goes afterwards.

Alright, I'm out of time. Hope you have a good one and I'll see you again next week. Ciao, bella.

~Jeffles

The Saga Continues

Hello! It's been a little while, but I haven't forgotten you, I promise. You probably want an explanation of some sort. Well, the truth is that I didn't particularly have anything to write about. Why? Because I was in North America! For just over three weeks, I was in the New World, and how can I post as Jeffles in Japan if I'm not in Japan?

I know, it's a poor excuse. I'll go slam my head into the wall of shame now.

Actually, that can wait until after this post. I only have about half an hour to write and a ton to say. I have been gone for a while, you know. (I should warn you, this post turned out pretty long. Beware, yo.)

First things first. I added a new link under the Other Cool People's Blogs section to the right: Hyperbole and a Half. I just discovered this blog thanks to my awesome friend Ela and you should all read it. It's seriously hilarious and I really want a pet Alot now.

On to the rest of the blog.

Something somewhat strange has happened to me, something certainly unexpected. As you may recall from my last blog post, I was not exactly keen to go back "home" for the holidays. And there was really a simple reason for that; I wasn't done with Japan yet. I'd done a lot, but there was still a lot left to be done.

Well, after I got home, I basically rolled around in bed for a while, wondering why I was waking up before the sun every morning and then reminding myself that I was on the other side of the world now, so that actually kind of made sense. To be honest, I don't remember much that happened in those first few days. Lots of eating, that much is clear. After a few days of vegging about and probably doing little other than watch crappy daytime television, I think I remembered the existence of English books. The New Year rolled around and I flew down to Florida to visit a friend for a few days before returning back North. Before I knew it, it was time to go back to Japan.

Summarized like that, it seems as if nothing happened and happened quickly. An unbiased observer might think, based on that description, that I was raging inside to go back. But as I said, a strange thing happened. As more and more time passed, I became more and more comfortable where I was. I noticed more and more things that I had missed while I was in Japan. Bookstores, for instance. And an actual variety of ethnic foods. And, of course, all the people back home that I haven't seen in a long time and won't see for an even longer time.

Some bad things stood out to me a lot more, too, but for the first time in my life, I think I actually started to feel a little homesick. By the time my little vacation was coming to an end, I was actually beginning to question what the hell I was doing. Why would I want to go back to Japan? Why would I want to leave all this behind? There are people there, good friends of mine, that I will likely not see again for years. For some reason, that bothers me now.

That probably sounded a little cold. Maybe it is. Maybe I'm just a cold mofo with emotions like steel.

No, that's not right. I've just been traveling for a long time. Flying and moving house across the continent (and continents) on my own since I was thirteen and with the rest of my nuclear family even before that. Something you learn when you're moving all the time is that people lose touch with you. It's totally natural. And even if you do stay in some semblance of touch, the number of times you talk to each other will almost necessarily become smaller and smaller until you talk maybe once or twice a year. Why? Because people have lives. People have things to do and, if you're not around, then eventually you will be reduced to a minimal or non-existent part of their life. And they will be the same to you.

That sounds really bad, but it's not, really. Imagine spending the rest of your life pining after the things you've left behind. Now imagine being able to move on and live your life, unburdened by what you left behind. I think it's pretty clear which is the healthier alternative. And this is why, after about the age of eleven, I stopped bothering with homesickness.

Yet here I am, feeling the closest to homesick that I can remember feeling in a long, long time. It's fucking weird and I'm not sure I like it. But I also know that I don't want to lose what I've had there and I'm almost certain that I will. I think I like that even less. And given how little I even wanted to return home just a few weeks ago, that's really, really strange.

Still, as I said, it's healthier not to be pining, so I've developed a plan of action. I will, every single weekend, see the sights, be social, and enjoy the good things here. What matters is where I direct my focus and my focus should be forward. A backwards focus leads to that aforementioned pining, which is totally uncool. Do you think Blade has a backwards focus? Nuh-uh. No way. That dude is way too cool to pine.

So tomorrow I'm going to Beppu for the weekend, which is this cool little town on the eastern shore of the southernmost of the four main islands of Japan. That was a complicated description. Just click on the link, you'll see what I'm talking about. Anyway, it's famous for onsen (hot springs) and that's something I've been wanting to do since before I came to Japan, so I'm gonna bloody do it and I'm gonna bloody enjoy it.

As for the saga of the heater, there have been continued developments. Basically, my heater has continued to not really work. It goes on for about five to fifteen minutes, then shuts off and flashes lights at me. I've been told that when those lights flash in that particular combination and rhythm, that indicates that the seventh layer of Hell has been penetrated and-- wait, no, that's something completely different. It just means that it's shutting off for safety reasons. The question, then, is what reason and how can it be fixed.

So after a couple months of putting up with that nonsense, I asked the office to do something about it. They sent over a guy last night who basically took the lid off, banged the crap out of the regulator box outside with his wrench, put the lid back on, and called it fixed. Apparently not enough gas was getting through the pipes, so he had to force the pipes back into place so that the gas could flow properly. Thus the bang-bang-bang of the wrench on the pipes. Though at the time it looked more like a caveman toying with a bomb in the only way a caveman could: with violence.

Anyway, much to my surprise, it seemed to be working. I stood around for about an hour and the heater was still running. Hurray! I quickly scrambled to facebook and declared my victory. But alas, I was premature. After running for about two hours, the damn heater stopped again. I promptly curled into an angry, grumbly, little ball and went to sleep.

In the morning I tried it again. At first it was back to its normal five or ten minutes of working and then stopping. After a couple tries, it stayed on for another two hours of glory. But this time I was wary. I knew better. I eyed the machine and let it run, thinking it might stop on its own. But it didn't. It just kept going. I wondered if maybe it really was fixed and just happened to need a little time. So I did a stupid thing then and tried to change the temperature. It was actually getting hot in my room and I wanted to turn the thing down. Apparently "down" means "off," though, because the bloody thing stopped working altogether. It is now back to going on and then off again every five or so minutes and I am back to rage.

Seriously. I am not made for cold weather. Whoever decided I should be Canadian made a grave error.

The next step in this saga is to go retrieve a large kerosene space heater from another foreigner living in town. I have approximately an hour and a half to accomplish this before I go to class and then to sleep and then to class again and then to Beppu. In other words, I have an hour and a half to accomplish this. The office has given up on my heater. It's fifteen years old and a piece of shit and they know it. The best they can now offer is a consolation prize of a heater that is probably going to be even more of a pain in the ass.

Why is that? Because the thing about kerosene heaters is that you can't just run them. You can't leave them on while you're sleeping and you can't leave them on while you're out. And every hour or so, you have to air out the room, thus letting all the cold air back in. This is because kerosene is toxic and will KILL YOU if you don't. Also, I get to go through the fun of finding out where I can buy kerosene, how much I need to buy, and what kind I need to buy, all in Japanese. Yay! I love winter!

I'll let you know how the rest of this saga unfolds.

~Jeffles (of the rage)