From Seth: Which Church father are you?

You’re St. Justin Martyr! You have a positive and hopeful attitude toward the world. You think that nature, history, and even the pagan philosophers were often guided by God in preparation for the Advent of the Christ. You find “seeds of the Word” in unexpected places. You’re patient and willing to explain the faith to unbelievers. Find out which Church Father you are at The Way of the Fathers!

If you are still kind of sick with a cough and other undisclosed gastro-intestinal disturbances, you can waste your time doing this as well! My brother in law Seth found this quiz at fathersofthechurch.com, that tells you which Church father you are. I don't believe this accurately describes me.

How many of Me?

This is a fun website I ran across. Its called Howmanyofme.com and tells you how many people have your name. You enter your first and last names and it will tell you how many people there are in the U.S.A. with that same name. I entered Tyler Beal, and there are 11 others in the U.S.A. with my name.

I also entered Noelle Holler, and discovered that there are 0 people with that name! Very interesting indeed, as I know this to be false. The system must work on algorithms and a statistical database and simply tell how many people LIKELY have the name, instead of having every phone book across America indexed.

In no particular order, here are some completely random names I entered.

• Tyler Beal - 11 people
• Noelle Holler - 0 people
  
• People with the last name Godemann - O people
  
• David Hanson - 1,536 people
• Seth Holler - 2 people
• Jonathan Dilbeck (friend from elementary school) - 4 people
• Bruce Shelly - 10 people
• Brenden Pitt - 0 people (He's in Japan right now)
• Margaret Thatcher - 33 people
• Oprah Winfrey - 0 people
• Ted Duncan - 53 people
• Evorine Beal - 0 people
• Janet Napolitano (Governor of Arizona) - 12 people
• Andrew Beal - 65 people
• Paul Brodar - 0 people
  

Some More Pictures from the Philippines

Hello again. Its been another lazy day, as I recover from an awful cold and another minor, yet supremely irritating illness. The good news is, I have some time to go through my pictures of my vacation.

This particular shot is of one of the Philippine tribes' hanging coffins. So you all don't assume that I'm traveling to all these far off places to raid tombs and steal priceless cultural artifacts for the black market underworld of stolen antiquities, I should mention that I was with a local guide and everything was cool.

The Applai tribe of the region is famous for piling these coffins into these local caves. There were hundreds of them piled atop each other just below a cliff dropping into the blackness of the previously mentioned cave.

Another similar culture in the area is known for mummifying their dearly departed, one of only nine or ten cultures in the world to have ever done so. I didn't have time to see the mummies, though. The guide told me I could take pictures of the coffins, but I couldn't touch them or open them. I can live with that.

Pictures from Farid Maames

More pictures for you to enjoy. The following come from Farid Maames, who had a camera casing and shot two wrecks we dived together. He and his partner Dalila were gracious enough to copy pictures onto my flashcard. I took the liberty of putting the pictures through photoshop. All pictures appear courtesy of Farid.

Most pictures come from the Irako Maru, a transport ship sunk by an American bombing raid during the war. The Irako Maru is slightly unusual because it is almost upright. Most ships fall to one side as they sink in the water, but the Irako is only slightly tilted.

The picture with me was taken inside the Irako Maru. While I'm not trained in underwater photography, (and skill at conventional photography seems to have eluded me as well) I noticed several unique challenges. Because the Irako Maru was so deep (34-45 meters) and the interior blocked the sunlight, one requires a very powerful flash. Also, sediment, fish, or anything stirred up in the water have a tendency to reflect off the flash, creating the bright spots on my portrait.

The picture with two divers emerging from the cargo hold comes from the Olympia Maru, another cargo ship. I'm not certain who the divers are.

Farid also managed to get several good shots of scorpion fish as well. They will be posted soon.

Some pictures (More to come soon)

Finally, I have some pictures of the wonderful places I traveled through in the Philippines. All of the pictures come from the Philippines' Mountain Province.

The misty green valley with rolling clouds is near Sagada. Rice is grown once a year in this high valley.

The terraces & town with the large mountain behind it are from Batad.

A number of famous and spectacular rice terraces in the region North of Manila together constitute a UNESCO World Heritage Site. The terraces in Banue (pictures coming soon) often get referred to as the 8th Wonder of the World. What amazes me most is that this "Wonder" almost doesn't exist in the Western conciousness. Few people know anything about this spectacular feat of engineering.

Updates on people

As I have some extra time before my flight leaves, I should do some updates on the links in my blog. So, in no particular order, here are some new and updated links and summaries for anyone interested.

• My sister Noelle's new blog, The Weight of Wings just recently went online. My sister Noelle is excited about becoming a mother, and you can view ultrasounds of my new nephew and her musings on the subject here.
  
• My close friend and all around cool guy Eric Hanson is traveling in Peru and the first among both the Beal clan and the Hanson clan to see Peru and the mysterious ruins of the ancient Inca City of Machu Picchu. The Hansons and the Beals have all spoken of traveling together to Peru for as long as I can remember. Eric Hanson is involved in a mission organization called The World Race. He is traveling through South and Central America working to spread the word about Jesus. I'm honestly kind of jealous. You can read all about his inspiring and epic journey at his blog here.
  
• My brother-in-law, Seth Holler, just moved his blog to a new location at Wordpress. You can view the new page here.
  

Sundry Observations on the Philippines

My too short vacation in the Philippines ends tomorrow. I'm actually kind of disappointed, because I'm really enjoying myself here. I really like the Philippine Islands, as well as the Filipinos (and Filipinas). There are some annoying things, and some things that bother me about the place, but in general, I really like the laid back lifestyle and attitude of everyone. They seem to be an extremely flexible and unassuming people. A bunch of nice folks just keepin' it real.

One thing I didn't particularly care for was the food. Now I didn't absolutely hate it, but I wasn't impressed with it, the way I was in Korea or Italy (or even Japan where I live now). Most Filipino food consists of rice with some sort of dish (meat, pork, fish, etc.) that is eaten with it. These dishes were usually fairly salty or fairly sweet, some of which had some excellent and very unique flavors. The problem was the meat dishes were always full of bones! It's like they just hacked the animal up before cooking it! The diner is left with the painstaking task of either removing the bones (often constituting a significant portion of the dish) or trying to swallow marrow, tendons, and ligaments. At first I thought maybe it was simply the budget places I was frequenting, and I began opting for more upscale establishments, but the same problem emerged.

I met a Peace Corps volunteer when I was leaving the island of Busuanga, who said he's heard from numerous expats in the Philippines that Filipino food is the one thing standing in the way of the Philippines developing a lucrative tourist industry. While the Filipinos seem eager to welcome more tourists (and the money that comes with them), I actually hope that this doesn't happen. This is one the few places places I've been that aren't completely over-run by tourists. The only place I ever really ran into other travelers was in Busuanga Island, at the Dive Resort. Like me, they all consisted of full throttle action-jacksons, eager to descend beneath the waves and tunnel through derelict shipwrecks. Here's hoping that the Philippines does not become the next Bahamas.

Diving the Wrecks of Coron

30 minutes ago, I just finished the last of four dives out of Coron, in the Philippines. Outside of Coron, eleven sunken Japanese cargo freighters carrying war materials lurk beneath the warm, tropical waters. Coron is known as one of the most accessible areas in the world for diving in sunken ships. Few places on Earth hold so many large ships in the same area at reasonably accessible depths.

Before driving the Japanese out of the Philippines, a United States Navy Carrier task force launched a raid after learning the location of the supply convoy. Curtis SB2C Helldiver bombers from Aircraft carriers launched the raid from 550 km away, a record distance for launching naval air attacks at the time.

And now today, scuba divers from around the globe converge on the otherwise obscure island of Busuanga to go into the different wrecks. During the past two days, I had the opportunity to dive in three different ships. The Akitsushima, formerly a seaplane tender and the largest of the wrecks at 118 meters (389 feet), sports a giant crane. As it sank, it fell to its port side, so the crane now lies across the surface. We entered through a giant hole where the hull split. After that, we swam across the now upright bow of the ship, through a control tower and were able to view two big anti-aircraft gun emplacements. The guns had already been salvaged. Lying36 meters underwater (119 feet), this was my deepest dive to date.

The second dive of the day would turn out to be the most spectcular. The Olympia Maru also fell onto its port side as it sank. Large, spacious, open cargo holds allowed us to swim through a section of it. Visibility was good. We swam through most of the upper deck of the ship and emerged through a gaping hole on the starboard side (presumably where a torpedo hit the ship.)

My third dive the following day took me again to 36 meters, where I entered the upper two decks of the Irako Maru. Unlike most of the wrecks in the area, the Irako Maru is unique in that it still lies upwright. Our first sight was a giant So while the upper floors just below deck were tighter and more complicated, the fact that the ship was upright made it very realistic. One could imagine people walking around on this old freighter. Obvious flights of stairs, windows, handles, pipes and other attached implements were everywhere. Unlike the other wrecks, this one really was a place you could see other people. But today, sunburned tourists float around the holes kicking up sediment and knocking their heads and air tanks on ceilings and doorways.Overall, a great dive, except for a ridiculously strong current that put a damper on things.

We returned to the Olympia Maru later that day for a second dive. This time, we penetrated deeper into the ship to view the boilers in the engine room. I saw some interesting electrical equipment above me and other rusty old machinery.

Today, I also had the pleasure of meeting Salid, a Frenchman who took some pictures for me during the dive. So I can now say I have pictures of the wrecks!

Batad, Bangaan, and the Bitternut

Today I woke up early again, this time to see the much hyped terraces in Batad. I paid a guy with a motorized tricycle to take me and my guide up to the trailhead, as there are no roads going into Batad. After forty five minutes up a windy dirt road through the jungle, he dropped us off and agreed to meet us that afternoon. We began hiking at a brisk pace and soon cleared a substantially high pass to descend in upon the valley of Batad.

We descended for half an hour, and soon emerged onto a ridgeline dropping steeply into the famous "amphitheater" that is so famous. This was the rice terraces to end them all! Truly a beautiful sight to behold. He took me along a trail high above the town, and soon the rice fields were disappearing again. This next trail took us to Bangaan, another village famous for its terraces and airy views.

It was a beautiful hike, but stiflingly hot. Needless to say, I got terribly sunburned, despite all my sunscreen. I would rank it among the best hikes I've ever taken, were it not for the sticky hot weather and the sun frying my epidermis to a crisp raisin-like consistency.

We finally arrived at Bangaan, about two hours ahead of schedule. We had hiked about 20-24 kilometers, and we were exhausted (or at least I was). We hid under the porch of somebody's house/storefront for about two hours, because he had told the driver to pick us up two hours after we actually got there.

So we had two hours to kill. He promtly pulls a packet of something out of his pocket. At this point I should mention when this "guide" first found me, the fellow looked as though he had just lost a couple of teeth to the dentist. I was thinking to myself, "Did he just get out of a barfight ten minutes ago? That would explain his missing tooth and all the blood on his lips, wouldn't it? His teeth and lips were stained bright red with something bloodlike. He was kinda freaky looking actually.

After a little while, I saw him spitting something out of his mouth, and he told me it was tobacco. It didn't look to be the color of chewing tobacco, but I saw two other people spitting it on the street later that day, and indeed, it was the same red color. I saw stains all over the street from where they were spitting it.

And now, back to this afternoon, when we are waiting for our ride. He pulls out something he calls "a bitternut." About the size of a wallnut, with the consistency of a dried coconut and the taste of chalky tonic water. It was indeed bitter. He shows me how to peel the skin off (just like a coconut) and he says to chew the greyish contents. Not wanting to be rude (and being genuinely curious), I begin chewing on it.

This is when he pulls out some other kind of leaves and a white powder he calls "lime." The lime came in a tiny plastic bag. He scoops up about a quarter teaspoon of the lime powder. After my skeptical looks and his insistence that it is both completely safe (and legal) I put the lime covered leaf in my mouth and begin chewing it with the wad of bitternut. The lime tasted like hot curry powder concentrate. My tounge was now on fire. Then he gives me a tobacco leaf and tells me to add that to the mix.

After 5 minutes of chewing on this burning gunk, several things began to happen in the following order:

1. Due to my lack of skill at chewing and spitting this concoction, I dribbled nasty reddish crud all over my favorite t-shirt, shorts, and shoes. I have a feeling it won't come out.

2. I gagged on this nonsense every 2 minutes.

3. I began to get high. Really high. Not like a little buzz, but like, well... something else completely. He kind of hinted that it would make me high, but I had no idea. I sat down after my head started spinning, and focused all my remaining mental powers on not gagging and trying not to drool masticated dreck all over myself. I failed miserably.

4. I finally started to feel sick, and before barfing all over the hot, dusty road, I spit the whole mass out, drank the last of my water, and focused on not barfing.

When we finally did get back, the guide showed me the stuff in a market in town. They were selling it everywhere, so I figure it must be legal around here. They sold a little packet of the stuff for practically nothing. I almost bought some, but then I thought better of it.

PRELIMINARY pictures

Disclaimer: This is a picture as I took it with my camera. They have not been tediously put through photoshop on my computer, and therefore may not accurately reflect my skills as a photographer. (Or rather, they will accurately reflect my complete lack o skill.) Please don't judge too harshly.

They also take an eternity to upload to Blogger, so I'm only giving you this one shot of my guide from the cave.

Sagada to Banaue

I woke up very early this morning to view the group of terraces near Sagada before catching the last jeepney to Banaue, where I am now. I didn't even have to set an alarm. The ceaseless racket from dogs, roosters, and pigs being slaughtered before sunrise saw to it that I woke up at an obscenely early hour. I'm glad I did wake up early, because the terraces were absolutely spectacular. I had to hire my own transit to the area, and drag my guide along to show me the trail, but it was worth every 'piso.'

We approached the terraces from atop a mountain ridge between two steep valleys. We descended into the bigger valley, where golf-course colored layers of rice climbed up the walls of a steep limestone canyon. The terraces themselves were constructed of grey limestone boulders, which contrasted nicely with the bright green of the rice. He led me down a steep set of stairways, through a village perched on ridgeline, and down into an amphitheater of endless plots of rice clinging to the cliffs.

After about an hour of hiking deeper into the canyon and photographing each and every plot of rice from all angles, we came finally to a limestone sided slot canyon sporting a big waterfall and a swimming hole. I had to take a quick dip. I wasn't in long, as it was kind of awkward swimming while my guide just watched me. So I got out and we began the long hike back out of the valley. We emerged at the top sunburned and drenched in sweat.

From there, I hopped into the next jeepney (what passes for public transit around here) bound for Banaue, which boasts the UNESCO world heritage/8th Wonder of the World rice terraces. Just before we departed, three very attractive local girls sat next to me on the bus. Not only did they actually sit next to me, but they were willing to talk to me and flirt with me as well! How could this be? Since when do I ever get to have the attention of not only one, but three pretty girls? Something must be unusual.

And during the course of our conversation, it quickly emerged that they were Jehovah's witnesses! Of course! I knew something wasn't right! The conversation sort of fizzled out after they tried to push their magazines, pamphlets, and DVDs off on me.

Anyways, at the next town, Bontoc, I was able to catch another jeepney to Banaue. One thing about jeepneys: they are terribly uncomfortable after the first 40 minutes on a dirt road. Naturally, the three hour journey from there left my behind in shambles.

So now, I'm here in Banaue. I spent what was left of the afternoon viewing the terraces around here. They are even steeper, but tacky development throughout the town along the highway makes it difficult to photograph the two thousand year old set of terraces. Moreover, because they harvest and plant rice twice a year in Banaue (due to its lower elevation), I missed the correct season. I should have come in late April. At the moment, Banaue rice consists of tiny little sprigs poking out of murky, muddy water. It's not the lush green bounty spilling over retaining walls like Sagada. Just so I don't sound too negative about Banaue, I should say that the terraces here really are impressive. I will have pictures available as soon as I can! Stay tuned!

Things should improve tomorrow though, when I make the three hour hike to Batad, at a higher elevation. Things should be greener and more photogenic in Batad.

Hotel Key: Lost in Cave

Today I got up and decided to explore the wonderful area around the town of Sagada. Unless you know the area around here, hiring a local to take you around (for very reasonable prices) is the thing to do. I started by hiring a guide, who took me up to the highest mountain in the area and then along a ridge. My guide spent most of the time stopping in at every house where he knew people so that he might borrow everything he needed: a water bottle, his hat, water from another place, then a pack of cigarettes from his friend. He was a nice guy though, a fact which he repeatedly pointed out along the trail during his smoke breaks (can we say fishing for tips?). It was a nice day, but extremely hot. Needless to say, I was drenched with sweat.

The afternoon turned out to be the real adventure though. Having previously recommended that I take a tour of the local cave (under his excellent and very knowledgeable services of course), we met shortly after lunch to decend into the depths of the Earth. We met up at the prescribed time, this time with him toting a big glass bottle of liquor. At least I thought it was liquor. He later told me it was oil for the lamp. Ah, so that's what they use for light around here.

We walked a little further, stopping at one of the same houses where he picked up a coleman lantern, the kind with the glowing mesh bulbs inside. He also brought a rope along for rappeling, but I didn't see that he had a harness or anything else (and indeed he didn't). In fact, I didn't see that he had a backup source of light save for his cigarette lighter.

So after leading me down a small dirt road, he leads me into a giant gaping hole in the ground, and quickly points to a pile of boxes lined up on a ledge. Below the ledge was a 4o foot drop into the cave. He told me the boxes were "hanging coffins" and an ancient tradition of the people in the area. He said I could take pictures of them, but I couldn't open them. As we were descending, scrambling down some rocks on the other side of the cave, I noticed several coffins had fallen into the shadows below.

Weaving our way around, over, under, and through a boulder pile, we quickly found ourselves devoid of any other light source. Our only source of light was this coleman lantern which my guide held up at the base with his hand as though he were scrambling down the rocks to deliver a pizza. At this point I should note that he had convinced me to take the "adventure" entrance to the cave. People who know me, know also that it didn't take much convincing. As he disappeared in a tiny hole in the cave, pulling our lantern through, I began to wish I had brought my headlamp, which at this point was still in Japan.

Then he slipped and almost fell, catching himself with his one free hand and lofting the lantern into the air. Oh good! He didn't drop it! On one other occasion, he climbed down a 20 foot chimney I normally wouldn't do without my climbing rope. He tied the rope to a stalactite and insisted I use it, but stemmed his way down this convoluted drop with one hand holding our only source of light. While I was somewhat impressed with his skill as a climber, his common sense and knowledge of basic mountaineering and spelunking safety left a lot to be desired.

As a side note, stemming is when there are two rocks or walls close to each other, and one makes an arch of your body, pushing off the walls with your hands and feet to climb. For anyone who is interested, I could have done what he did with two hands, but not while holding a coleman lantern over my head in the dark.

We continued weaving our way through these boulders. With each airy step into the dark, I'm filled with images of this hairbrained yo-yo falling 20 feet, dropping a flaming lantern which explodes all over him, and forcing me to dig my way out with a cigarrette lighter, camera flash bulb, and the LED on my watch. I've obviously spent far too long in safety concious Japan. 3 years ago, this wouldn't have bothered me in the slightest.

Anyways, the worst move came when we were in a bottleneck for a natural river. The guide pointed to the waterline, with minerals forming several lines on the side of the cave up to a point where everything drops off into the darkness. I looked over the edge, and noticed a 50 foot dropoff and asked how we were getting down. He said we were going up and asked me to hand him the lantern after he climbed up a big, smooth beehive looking thing. He made a few bouldering moves onto it (right beside the dropoff I should add) but couldn't manage to get up. He asked if he could stand on my shoulder, and only then pulled it off. I then handed him the lantern, and he lowered a rope for me to climb up.

I shined the lantern into the enormous cathedral-like chamber below me. The volume of this cave rivaled St. Peter's Basilica in Rome. I simply cannot explain how big this cave was. He led me through an easier passageway through a tiny tunnel and around to the floor where the previous dropoff ended. We then had a long straight section of smooth, slick rocks to walk through. Only now, there was a river below us, and bats chirping and squealing in the sanctuary above us. We came across several pools, and he called one particularly large chamber the "dancefloor" Music was of course provided by the bats above us. This place was huge.

We kept going, and finally came to another tributary and down into several lower chambers. The only similar place I've ever been was Havasu Creek, in the punchbowls just before its crystal clear waters dumped into the Colorado River. Only there was nothing above us but expansive blackness and the distant sound of bats and waterfalls echoing across the walls.

Most of the punchbowls were only about waist deep, and one could see to the bottom of them. Smooth slick rocks greeted my feet beneath the water. When the punchbowls would end, there would simply be a wall below which would be beehive shaped forms with water silently trickling over in all directions. Only occassionaly would one hear the sound of water spilling like it would in a stream or a creak.

He took me down through a couple of smaller chambers where the water came up to my arms. I held my camera aloft while he held our light source. I figured it was marginally safer here, because if he dropped it, there was no risk of fire now.

At some point during this whole ordeal, I lost the hotel key that was in my pocket. It had a large wooden handle, and must have simply floated out of my pocket.

He took me back out another entrance, and on the walk back, I took pictures of the beautful rice terraces, shocked and amazed that these were not the supreme mother of all rice terraces in Banaue, but simply minor ones in Sagada. I'm definitely in for a treat tomorrow.

But right now, I'm watching a bunch of people eat dinner in a tiny eatery with an internet connection. I guess I had better go back to my hotel and face the music about losing my key.

Manila to Baguio

Yesterday, I slept in more than I should have before waking up and trudging my way through Manila to find the correct bus terminal to go North to Baguio, where I am now. Overall, Manila was about what I expected to find, only hotter. A grimy, crowded, and chaotic city choking to death in stifling heat, jaywalking pedestrians, and motor vehicle emissions. Open air markets sell cheap brand name knock-offs, pirated DVDs, cheap junk, and all sorts of food I haven't tried yet. They don't even have to cook the food, because it is so hot in Manila, the food is already warm. It's a lot like a cross between Bangkok and Mexico, only hotter.

I went back to the airport to book a flight to the island of Busuanga, and then weaved my way through two bus terminals to find the bus to Baguio. Did I mention that its hot in Manila?

I arrived in Baguio last night at around 8:30. At night time, Baguio is pleasantly cool. Baguio was originally built during the American conquest and occupation of the Philippines as an R&R retreat for the invading US Army. There is a place called Camp John Hay built in the hills near the town, with a golf course and other recreational activities. They built it here to get out of Manila's stifling heat. They should have gone further up into the hills as its still kind of hot here during the day. But it is pleasant at night, and not quite as terribly hot as Manila. There is also a beautiful park called Burnham Park here. Note the American name.

In about an hour, I'll be boarding a bus and heading off to a place called Sagada, a place higher up in the mountains. Known for great hiking and unique tribal cultures. It will also be within distance of the famous Banaue Rice terraces. Here's hoping I can get back before Friday morning, when my flight leaves for Busuanga.

Also, I should tell you about the Jeepneys, which are basically US army jeep frames extended at the end to hold 20 people. You just get on a jeepney, pay the fee, and they go along a prescribed route with the destinations painted on the side. They can be a bit confusing at first, but are quite convenient for getting around. They are also painted in all sorts of bright, psychedelic colors and chrome emblazoned around the vehicle. I have never seen such gaudy public transportation. I will have pictures soon.

Job Hunting, a party, and going to Manila

On Friday, after frantically sending off 3 resumes to potential employers, I felt satisfied I could take a vacation in the Philippines without feeling like I should be spending my entire spring vacation in job hunting. I found some other opportunities in my search that looked interesting as well. So while I still can't sleep at night because of the stress, I think I should be all right.

I got back from the post office just in time to hold a party at my house for some of my favorite teachers. Mr. Sanpei and the gang from Katahira JHS all came over to my house and I invited a bunch of other people as well. He brought about four pounds of basashi (raw horse meat) for us to chow down on. Not as many people came as I hoped, but I do think people had a good time. Paula and her new husband Yuya made an appearance though. Other pals, such as Dan, Dave Popoff and Benjamin turned up as well. While it was pretty low key, a good time was had by all.

Then yesterday morning, I woke up, threw a bunch of stuff in a bag and moseyed on down to Narita International Airport with Paula and her husband Yuya. While I was heading off to the Philippines, they were both headed to Bali for their honeymoon. They are both really cool people.

The flight was somewhat uneventful and I had to connect through Hong Kong. The travel agent never sent me the confirmation number for my e-ticket, so I had to call Cathay Pacific Airlines before I left. The flight was rather uneventful. Like most Asian airlines, they have decent service and new planes, so I watched Rocky Balboa. I am somewhat ashamed to admit that I liked it, even though I winced at times.

From Hong Kong to Manila, they upgraded me to business class for no apparent reason! Cathay Pacific went up a couple of notches in my book after doing this. Unfortunately, the flight wasn't that long, and I had a splitting headache for most of the flight. Met a nice Philippino lady who worked in Hong Kong and lived in Phoenix for a year. She had done some kind of master's program at the Thunderbird School for International Management.

I was able to learn some things from her. Apparently tons of Philippinos live and work outside the Philippines and send money home. Immigration at the airport even had special lines for Philippino foreign workers.

I'm in Manila now, and I'll post more soon. Stay tuned!

Getting a Book Published

No, I did not submit any of my manuscripts to publishers for consideration, but my grandfather, Dr. Richard Beal sure did. For as long as I can remember he's been busy editing, revising, re-writing, hiring editors, and agents, and consultants of every sort, and generally searching every corner of the publishing world for someone who would print his book! And according to my mother, all this persistence and diligence is about to pay off as somebody finally agreed to publish his book.

For those of you who don't know him, my grandfather was an entomology professor at Northern Arizona University (GO LUMBERJACKS!) and also a minister before retiring to Prescott Arizona. He currently teaches a Bible-study class for the senior folks at his church in Prescott.
Everyone knows him as a warm-hearted, cheerful old guy who loves insects.

Years ago, he wrote a book for Christian audiences about the ever-present evolution/creation debate that continues to afflict the more conservative churches in the United States. In several states, the issue of teaching evolutionary theory in classrooms has been both historically, and recently, a hot political issue for many Christian voters, who believe the theory of evolution to be anathema to a literal interpretation of the Biblical story of creation. Many conservative Christian groups and political factions are now arguing before courts and school districts to teach a theory of "intelligent design" as an alternative to the theory of evolution.

As I recall, the bug-collecting scientist in my grandfather argues against any narrow or rigid interpretation of the creation story in Genesis. He also will defend his own profession and that of most mainstream biologists from serious misconceptions about the theory of evolution.

Regardless of the subject matter, I'm sure my grandfather is thrilled. He has been writing this book and searching for a publisher since I was about ten. He's also been working on other books, including a commentary on the book of Acts, and more recently Christian themed fiction.

So Grandad, if you are reading this blog, CONGRATULATIONS!

Of A Revolution

One of the frustrating, but less apparent things about living abroad is missing out on all the new albums your favorite singers and bands release during your absence.

In this day and age, it is probably much easier to live abroad without missing your favorite things than it was even 20 years ago. There is probably very little I can't get my hands on in Japan assuming I really wanted to. The internet, free trade, and a massively interdependent global economy spawn enormous marketing campaigns to sell everything from Lindsey Lohan, to Disney Movies, shampoo, and ipods in every concievable corner of the globe. So I can travel pretty much anywhere on the planet and never escape the corporate onslaught of Pepsi, MTV, McDonald's, and the likes of Paris Hilton (as much as I might like to rid my mind of such things). Less promoted stuff, such as Navajo Tacos, and Girl Scout Cookies become quickly forgotten, and replaced by favorite things in your new environment.

Then one day, after you've almost forgotten something existed, another fellow expat will bring it to mind, or you will run across it surfing the web. This happened yesterday as I opened up the MSN.com page to see a link promoting one of my all time favorite bands performing in Madison Square Garden. O.A.R. short for "Of A Revolution" has apparently released a new album in my absence, and judging from their presence on MSN, seems to be doing quite well for themselves.

I was turned on to O.A.R. in college by my friend David Hanson as we drove around Flagstaff. A jam band from Maryland with a unique rock/reggae sound, They are legendary live performers in big college towns across the American Mid-Atlantic and Mid-West. I have selected a couple of videos from youtube that I had never heard before and a live performance of one of my all time favorite O.A.R. songs.

The sound on O.A.R.'s new music videos seems quite slick and slightly overproduced. They probably had some talented hired guns helping them put these songs together. Their new work has a very different tone compared to their earlier albums, which are much more down to earth. The song Love and Memories in the video is quite the departure from their Bob Marley inspired bar anthems about booze and poker that I remember in college. But I do like it. Their other song I found a decent video for, Right on Time, seems more like the O.A.R. I remember. But none can deny that they've adopted a more complex sound.

They appear to be quite successful now and have come a long way. Judging from everything I've heard about them, they have probably worked really hard to achieve the success they have, and I salute them. To see what they are really known for, here's a video of an older song of theirs, About Mr. Brown. Their live performances are often legendary and frequently bootlegged.

Japanese Junk Food

America has a much deserved reputation for eating very unhealthy foods. But the United States is by no means the world champion in this department, as the product I discovered the other day suggests the Japanese are competing for the title.

I assure you I did not doctor this picture. What you are looking at is indeed “chocolate covered cheetos.” The caption actually reads, “miruku chokoreto aji (milk chocolate flavor)”. I tried one, and it did indeed taste like a pork rind covered in artificial cheese powder and then dipped in chocolate. Blecch.

最近新しいジャンクフードを食べました。　アメリカでＣｈｅｅｔｏｓは人気がある。でもミルクチョコレトの味がありません。アメリカ人はその味が可笑しいと思います。　私はミルクチョコレトＣｈｅｅｔｏｓを好きじゃないです。

Skiing with the Hearing Impaired

This also happened a couple weeks ago. Be patient as I will catch up soon.

I went skiing last weekend with the one Japanese guy I know who doesn’t speak Japanese as well as I do. I met Mr. Yagisawa the October before last as a member of a sign language club I joined back then. I quit the club long ago and subsequently forgot all but a smattering of my Japanese sign language (not that I learned much to begin with). He and I used to go out to cafes from time to time and “talk” with a notepad. He was eager to learn and practice English, and I was eager to learn and practice Japanese. I would scribble to him in broken Japanese and he would write back in English. We both learned quite a bit from each other.

The opportunity to know him better was one of the reasons I actually joined the sign language club to begin with. Yagisawasan is a remarkably intelligent guy who teaches art at the local "deaf school." He's an extremely curious guy who is always interested in learning new things and is always full of questions. He's also an extremely good teacher who makes excellent use of pnemonic devices. I learned more signs from him in just 20 minutes than I did in several weeks of classes with others in his club.

Alas, I never did learn sign language very well. At my peak I could very slowly sign the Japanese kana and learned a some basic greetings, phrases, and simple vocabulary. But I never got very good.

I see him at my gym sometimes, and we both agreed to go skiing together. We met up and he drove me up the mountain to the resort. It was obvious he hadn’t skied in awhile, and I felt bad that he couldn’t keep up. I felt bad about convincing him to go down a more difficult run. He finally had to take off his skis and walk some of the distance. We still had fun. He said he usually goes snowboarding, and I figured that he would just be doing that.

Note: The picture in this post was ruthlessly stolen from the internet and comes from this website. This is not me or Mr. Yagisawa skiing.

Okinawa Food

Another post from a week ago. I'll be caught up with everything this morning.

I met my friend Kame and her friend Sachiko this week to try out some Okinawa food. Okinawa is known for its delicious and very nutritious food and is one of the few places in Japan that serves up spicy food. I had one dish made from a tomato based spicy sauce and rice that could easily be mistaken for something from Mexico. Other dishes I ate didn’t resemble Mexican food at all. Being the flake that I am, I forgot what everything was called.

Kame’s friend is going to Kyoto in order to work as someone who teaches people how to wear kimonos. For some time I have known that wearing a woman’s kimono is a complicated affair that takes some learning and practice, but I had no idea people actually taught such things as a profession. I couldn’t have guessed that one required a license to do so either! I may have misunderstood Sachiko explain the line of work she was in, but I doubt it. She evidently has to go to Kyoto to take a licensing exam. This is all assuming I was hearing things correctly and important details were not lost in translation (as it often happens).

Politics and other sundry business.

I've said it before and I'll say it again, I don't wish for this blog to become a bullhorn for my politics, but sometimes you have to make an exception. Here's an editorial that might interest some of you from Slate.

Sundry goings on here in Japan include:

• A suspected spider bite incapacitated me for a couple of days. This delayed my rigorous training schedule for the 10 mile race I entered last week. I couldn't run very well with a swollen leg with two big itchy dark red welts on them. The school nurse told me to see a dermatologist, but it has since cleared up. No excuses for not training now.
• I have booked a ticket to the Philippines to spend my spring break and am currently trying to figure out how to fit everything into my schedule. I aim to get an advanced scuba license, dive a couple of very deep World War 2 wrecks that require this coursework despite my confidence in diving that deep. I also intend to see the famous rice terraces in Banaue, which is one of the world's forgotten wonders. See picture.
  
• I joined my friend Chandan and his missionary friend Jeff for their weekly Bible Study meeting. It was a pretty informal affair they have on a Thursday night.
• At the request of my employer, the Koriyama City Board of Education, I have removed links to my students' blogs (and found they were dead anyways) out of privacy concerns. Apparently there was some incident somewhere in Japan (that I've never heard of) involving a teacher divulging private information about a student on the internet. So, I am no longer allowed to post anything private about my students or promote my blog among my students.
  

The Sake Factory and Ramen Alley

Yet another post that should have gone up about 3 weeks ago. Kudos to all my faithful readers. I REALLY PROMISE this time to keep up with things.

Most educated people in the world know that the Japanese make and drink a very unique and distinctive type of alcohol that is commonly referred to as Sake. In Japan, sake is also a general term for alcohol, and the smooth, usually clear rice wine is often called Nihonshu (Japanese liquor). While we were in Sapporo, Brenden, Denise and I decided to stop in at a factory that gives free tours of their facilities. It was quite fun, as they showed us where they polish and mash the rice, where they let it ferment, and the big tanks where the substance is distilled. They also showed us some big industrial thingamajig which the guy explained was the filtration system. It looked like some enormous version of a contraption I remember from the children’s board game, “Mouse Trap.” In fact the only thing that looked as though it belonged in the factory were the distillery tanks and the rice equipment. Everything else appeared amateurish.

I can now say I have been to the manufacturing facilities of four different types of alcohol.
1. A Budweiser Brewery in Florida when I was a kid and the Coors Brewery in Golden Colorado when I was older. The Coors Brewery was the most memorable because: 1. I like Coors better than Bud. 2: They give away free beer and 3. I was old enough to drink it when I went.
2. A winery in the Hunter Valley, New South Wales, Australia. It was a tiny place that was only memorable because it was in a beautiful location on a hill overlooking some mountains. They made a delicious Gewürztraminer.
3. The Nikka Whiskey Distillery in Sendai. I actually blogged about this one. They gave away lots of free samples of whiskey (which made for a lively tour bus on the way back).
4. A Sake Distillery in Hokkaido

After wandering around aimlessly through a retail arcade, we found ourselves getting rather sick of each other and we each wanted to do our own separate things. I went to an onsen (hot spring spa) to warm up and recharge before photographing the snow sculptures once more in the evening twilight. Debbie hunted different souvenir stores for a rare, special, coveted kind of candy found only in Hokkaido. She reasoned that this candy was so delicious, it would compensate for all the resentment and ill will she created with her supervisor and office staff after failing to mention she was taking the day off to see the snow festival. Brenden went to McDonalds.

As Debbie was too tired, I met Brenden for dinner that night at “Ramen Alley” which is a little passageway through some buildings filled with about forty different ramen shops. As Hokkaido is famous for its unique ramen, (every other town in Japan professes to be famous for its ramen) we decided we had to have the local variety. This is the first time I’ve eaten ramen with crab though. It was mighty delicious.

Ghengis Kahn in Sapporo

Almost two weeks ago, and I still have not updated in any decent amount of time. No doubt all my readers have abandoned me. Who can blame them really? Anyways, the following comes from my trip to Sapporo that I have failed to update on:

While Sapporo is most famous for its Snow Festival, it legendary for the Sapporo Brewing Company that bears the city’s name. As Sapporo is my favorite draft beer, I grew quite excited at the opportunity to have it really fresh on tap. Going to the Sapporo Beer Garden and eating heaps of baby sheep and assorted vegetables grilled in front of you with an endless supply of Sapporo Draft Beer right inside the brewery is one of Sapporo’s simple pleasures. Like many Meiji Era buildings in and around Sapporo, the large, red-bricked Brewery betrays a Western/European influence from the 19th century. Brenden and Denise (who have both been to Germany) tell me the building replicates the atmosphere numerous places in Do-i-tsu (as it is called in Japanese)

Escorted through an enormous restaurant with over 100 tables, we put on our paper bibs and began feasting on Genghis Khan, which is piles of cabbage, onions, pumpkins, seafood, and endless heaps of raw lamb brought out to your table for you to fry on a griddle at your own pace. In Japanese, the words are tabehodai (all you can eat) and nomihodai (all you can drink). The servers allot you two hours in which to finish all you can. We all noticed that the first plate of lamb they brought out was the largest, and the next plates had subsequently fewer slices on them. By the time the fourth plate came around, there was only a laughable pittance of lamb on the plate and we all joked about eating more plates until they brought out a plate with one single slice of lamb. We never achieved this goal though, because at that point, we were all so completely bloated that we won’t be requiring any sort of nutritional sustenance until sometime in early March.

Brenden and Denise’s friend Debbie showed up with her friends in the middle of our meal. Some faithful readers may recall her coming down with Brenden to watch the Fire Festival in Sukagawa. Unfortunately, we didn’t get to spend any time with them.

During the remainder of the evening, we went to Susukino, which is an entertainment district reminiscent of Tokyo (only extremely cold). Dozens of beautiful ice sculptures filled the central avenue. And while they didn’t constitute the main Snow Festival attractions (the enormous snow sculptures in another part of town hold that title) they were fun to look at and run around in. There were plenty of commercial tie-ins, as Baileys and several vodka companies were out promoting their products in buildings constructed entirely of ice.

Brenden: The Human Bowling Ball

While in Sapporo, my friends Brenden, Denise and I decided to visit the Winter Sports museum, which presents a history of skiing and Olympic Winter Sports in Japan. It was good fun. After the 1972 Winter Olympics in Sapporo, the Japanese decided to convert the one time Olympic Ski Jump into a museum for winter sports.

Despite lacking somewhat in large, impressive things to stare at, (I have come to expect museums to have exclusive artifacts, paintings, and other knickknacks.) it was a very cool museum. They did have lots of different activities for you to do, including a speed skating simulator, a cross country ski simulator, a device that simulates the way figure skaters use centrifugal forces to spin around really fast. I almost fell off the last one while my face turned bright red.

They also had a super-duper high tech virtual-reality ski-jump simulator. Considering I had to make a reservation 2 hours ahead of time, it was definitely disappointing. The fact that I could only jump 114 meters may have played a part as well.

The real highlight of the trip was that they let people go tubing down the old ski jump from halfway up! What a great idea! I think Brenden, myself, Denise, and some Russian guy we met were the only people older than twelve to go on the jump. Brenden and I did it twice. You hike halfway up the ski jump, two guys control the traffic, and you cruise down real fast on a rubber donut before crashing into enormous safety pads held in place by other staff members.
For those of you who know my friend Brenden, you know that he has a somewhat substantial physique. Standing six feet and five inches tall, he towers over most everything in Japan (including most doorways and telephone poles). But Brenden is more than just tall. He will also be the first to tell you that he’s a big guy. And he is a big guy. He's the guy who shops at "Big & Tall" retail outlets.

Consequently, upon rumbling down the mountain, he plowed right through the padded barriers and knocked down all the staff members and innocent bystanders before smashing into a vending machine. The large pads that children crashed against as the waves break against a rocky shore were swept aside like bowling pins. Nothing emerged intact.

The Brighter Side of Life

私は札幌のスキー所へ行ったときにたいそう不平を言った。そのときにいたことが大変でした。今から一日柔に一つだけたいそう不平を言う。　

Once again, I seemed to have ruined a whole day for myself through my bad attitude, short temper, and unrealistically high expectations. I took a Friday afternoon in Sapporo to go skiing. But being as lazy as I am, I slept in and didn’t get around to skiing until about 10:00 or 10:30 in the morning. I got to the station and went to a tourist information center to find information about local ski resorts. They directed me to a Japan Railways counter that sold day-long ski packages that included transportation, rentals, and everything. As I did not have my skis with me, I thought the prices were quite reasonable. I asked them about the transit schedule, as the place I was most interested in going would require a train trip and a bus trip. They said the next train would leave in 10 minutes (which I thought was perfect) and that there were many buses from the train station. I would only have to buy one ticket for everything.

So I got on the train, which took until about 12:20. I got to the station and looked for the bus, but it was nowhere to be found. I finally asked about the schedules, and indeed there were several buses to the area every hour, but also a 2 hour break which I had arrived just in time for. I wasn’t able to get on a bus until 2:00. Needless to say, I was quite angry.

In retrospect I suppose I have only myself to blame (and a misleading saleswoman), but I was so incensed that I could hardly think straight. Perhaps I should have gotten out of bed and left earlier. Perhaps I should have double checked with the misleading saleswoman and insisted on an accurate bus schedule. Regardless of my part in the fiasco, I still felt like the woman committed a big lie of omission.

The worst part was, I let it ruin the rest of my day. I allowed little things that would normally be a minor irritation during a day of skiing turn into fully blown outrageous travesties. My goggles were clouding up, the skis didn’t suit me. But thinking back, from the point I arrived, nothing was quite so terrible that it should have ruined the rest of my day. But I allowed it to do so. Not once did I consider myself lucky enough to be able to travel and ski in a beautiful location with spectacular views of Sapporo. Nor did I consider all the other things God and everyone else blesses me with. I had a roof over my head that night courtesy of a Philippine graduate student from Couchsurfing.com. I was meeting good friends that evening to feast on Sapporo’s famous seafood (the crab was especially delicious). I could only obsess about several irritating things that are simply a part of living life and just sometimes come with a day on the slopes. When did my expectations from life get so high?

So, from this day forward, I hereby resolve to complain about only one thing every day. After I decide what that is, I will no longer complain about anything else that day. This is my new policy. Eventually I will reduce it to one thing every weekday, then once or twice a week, and finally once a week and once a month. If you hear me complaining too much, let me know!

The Sapporo Yuki Matsuri

札幌の雪祭りへ行きました。楽しかっただよ！でも札幌はすごい雪があります。寒いですね。私の大学の友達札幌で会いました。彼は岩手県の花巻市に住んでいます。

During the weekend I traveled to Japan’s Frozen Prefecture, Hokkaido, to visit Sapporo City’s world famous Snow Festival. The Snow Festival draws thousands every year from all over Japan to see enormous snow sculptures people carve on their main street. The snow sculptures definitely live up to their reputation as big and impressive. The city of Sapporo’s image as a frozen winter landscape drowning in snow is also well deserved. Both the City of Sapporo and Hokkaido Prefecture are regarded as a frontier in the way Americans regard Montana or Alaska as a frontier. Japanese only recently settled in large numbers during the 19th century. The whole island is teeming with virgin forests, bears, deer, seals, walrus, and other wildlife, and even its own population of indigenous people (the Ainu) devastated by a brutal colonization.

Sapporo hosts their “Yuki Matsuri” (Snow Festival) every year sometime in February, and people come from all over the world to see marvelous sculptures of famous buildings around the world, Japanese cartoon characters, and other frozen art of all sorts. The highlights (according to my infallible opinion) included a reproduction of a large palace in Thailand, a famous Japanese castle, and sculpture depicting the story of two Japanese sled dogs that “miraculously survived” in the Antarctic. There were also hundreds of sculptures of animals, Disney, Hello Kitty, Japanese cartoon characters most Americans have never heard of, reclining buddhas, and other assorted things to look at.

Slacking off at the Gym

From right before the snow festival. I'm almost caught up now.

最近私は怠け者です。先週は運動しなかった。今年はよくトレーニングをしたい。たくさんトレーニングのゴールがあります。私のいとこに尋ねる。私のいとこはトレーニングについて知っています。

For the last week or two, I neglected my almost daily exercises at the gym in favor of watching my friend Dan’s Battlestar Galactica DVDs. When he went to Hawaii for the winter holiday, he brought the second season’s DVD set for the Sci-Fi Channel’s program with him. So I have been busy watching Captain Apollo and Starbuck kill Cylons instead of pumping iron and working up a sweat at Peare, my local health club.

I am a little concerned now, because I am off track for one of my new year’s goals, which is to train myself and build muscles and a body I am truly proud of. And while this may seem to be a vain and worthless goal to many of you, I have discovered that this makes me feel better about myself, both physically and mentally, and gives me much more confidence than I normally have. My social confidence improves, as well as my self-esteem. I always compared myself unfavorably to friends and relatives of mine in both high school and university when it came to fitness. And while I realize now that most of my friends were far more active than I may ever be, I still have many lingering insecurities about my body image. Is this is a result of unrealistic standards in the media or a projection of deeper self esteem problems caused by school bullies and the misguided efforts of authority figures in my childhood? Or its some other combination of trendy psycho-babble buzz words from a sappy Oprah rerun that remains to be sorted out by a competent therapist in the future. Whatever my problem may be, I’m going to pump more iron until I figure it out. So despite the risk of becoming someone who admires himself in the mirror far too frequently (if I ever reach that point) I have resolved to return to the gym in the evenings with the goal of attaining a “respectable buffness” by the end of July. Yesterday, I returned with the utmost fervor and zeal.

A “respectable buffness” shall include the following attainable, yet ambitious physical goals:

1. A flat stomach with at least partially visible muscle tone. I don’t necessarily think I will achieve the “washboard” abs one sees on late night infomercials for exercise equipment, but some noticeable definition and shrinkage in the midsection. This will require an alteration in diet, a beefed up cardio regimen, and a more comprehensive set of midsection exercises (something I often neglect despite the amount of time I spend in the gym). And while I am resigned to the fact I that my ultimate ideal goal (Brad Pitt’s abs in “Fight Club”) is out of my league, a partial approximation of this cinematic standard would prove satisfactory.

2. More defined shoulders and upper arms. Since training in Japan, I have definitely improved in the shoulders through the military press. I would like to see further progress in this area, as well as biceps and triceps especially. I do not necessarily want an increase in size, but an increase in muscle tone.

3. Larger and more defined forearms. Since student teaching and coming to Japan, I have found that my forearm strength is slowly decreasing. This trend must stop. A perceptible increase in forearm size and strength is definitely in order. The daily use of my hang board is in order.

4. The ability to do 3 sets of 15 pull-ups and or chin-ups on a daily basis. This being another area in which I have slacked since my rock-climbing days, a discipline to work toward this on a daily basis should be sufficient. This could also be because my weight has increased slightly since coming to Japan. While a miniscule increase that is mostly muscle, I wonder if I am losing that critical “strength to weight ratio” that is necessary in the sport of rock climbing.

5. I wish to successfully complete the Koriyama City 10 mile run in 60 minutes or less, and complete the other local Towa Road Race Half Marathon in under 1.5 hours. My time last year for the 10 mile race was 73 minutes. I finished the Half Marathon in 1 hour and 43 minutes. As long as I start training regularly now, I think the 10 mile race goal of 60 minutes should be achievable with few problems. I have done the race before, and I think I am more experienced with both pacing during the race and good preparation. The first half of the Towa Half Marathon was uphill and I wasn’t adequately prepared for that at the time. My half marathon goal will definitely be ambitious, and I will definitely focus on my “hill-work” this coming spring. I also did the Half Marathon after an English Camp where I got no sleep. This shouldn’t be a problem this year. Training for these races should also provide most of the necessary boost to my cardio regimen necessary for objectives one, three, and seven.

6. Increased flexibility. During high school as I trained daily in Taekwondo, I attained an exceptional flexibility, especially in my legs. This is slowly disappearing as I frequently neglect this aspect of fitness. While my flexibility is still impressive for someone my age, I think that it should be better. I hereby put forth my objective: do the splits by the end of July. I will hereby resolve to stretch at my house daily after school.

7. A more defined back: A noticeable increase in visible muscle-tone would be nice. I do not wish to add muscle, only make the muscle I have stronger and more visible.

8. I will try to be more active on the weekends. As this year’s ski season is turning out to be a bust, I find myself spending less time than I thought doing physical activities. I must resolve to spend more time outside, and resist the natural impulse to be lazy and stay in my house. I am always happier when I do something physically active, even if motivating my self to do such things is often challenging.

Other challenges are appearing with my fitness and lifestyle lately. Since acquiring a Japanese driver’s license, I am spending more time driving (especially during bad weather) instead of riding my bicycle. To make matters more difficult, my main schools during the last two years fell within biking distance of my home, and gave me an extra 10-20 minutes of light aerobic activity. As my employer requires me to go to two much more distant schools in an all-expenses-paid taxi service, I spend much more time sitting on my big fat お尻 than I would prefer. I have tried to replace some of this activity by spending more time with the athletic clubs at school and joining PE classes when I have the time. Unfortunately, I am finding myself much busier than I was last year and lack the necessary free time at school.

Sampling Monja for the first time

木曜日はもんじゃを食べました。私の友達知っているレストランへ行きました。カメさんは郡山市駅前に働いているからたくさん面白いレストラン知っています。そしてもんじゃとおこのみやきのレストランを案内しました。日本の料理の中でチーズは珍しいですね。レストラン行った前に全の日本の料理を食べると思いました。
ちょっと油っこいですね。　
私の友達カメさんは大阪に行きました。カメさんの写真を見ました。

Just when you think you’ve seen and done it all in a country, you find something new that you aren’t familiar with. On Thursday night with my friend Kame, I tried Monjya for the first time. For those who don’t know, monjya is made from fried mochi, which is a heavy paste that is often translated as “rice cake.” But the chunks of mochi are only the beginning, as other minced vegetables, meats, and sauces are thrown in before the mix is poured and flattened on the table’s large griddle and sprinkled with cheese.

Cheese is what makes monja unusual, as it is virtually absent from almost every other Japanese food. Cheese is definitely here in Japan, but it isn’t present in most of their foods, and I think most Japanese people wouldn’t know what to do with it if their lives depended on it. The schools sometimes serve up cheese based dishes for lunch, and their lack of endearing flavors betrays the Japanese incompetence with cheese. The Japanese should stick with raw fish, consumer electronics, and stylish cartoons, not delve into making foods with cheese.

The most entertaining part about eating monja however, is getting it from the fryplate into your mouth. You use a tiny spatula (about the size of a dessert spoon) to cut and scoop pieces off the cake of frying monja into your mouth. It requires a deft process of cutting, flipping upside down and pressing it into the pan to make the monja flake stick to your tiny spatula. If you don’t do it exactly right, you will never get the monja off the plate, or it will fall into your lap and get greasy cheese all over yourself. I embarrassed myself throughout the evening.

But I still had a fun time catching up with my friend Kame. She works in a retail store by the station as an assistant manager. She showed me some pictures after just finishing a trip to a forested peninsula off the coast of Kansai. Looked like fun.

The English Language is Crazy

Another very late post. If it makes you feel better, this one is from only 2 weeks ago.

英語は難しいですね。英語を教えるときにたくさん問題がありました.

Nothing terribly out of the ordinary happened today, but I would like to relate to all my readers something that still happens relatively frequently. Whenever I complain too much about how difficult Japanese is, I am always reminded by my students and the lessons I teach that English is just as nutty, if not crazier than my mother tongue.

This morning at Katahira Junior High, I was teaching my class of 1st year students (equivalent to American 7th graders) and I had written up a worksheet for them. Our primary objective was to teach students the past tense for simple verbs. We required the students to turn walk into walked, play into played, and perform the same task with other easy verbs they know. Irregular verbs are planned for next week.

My previous lessons on subject/verb agreement apparently proved to be a little too effective, as all the students were filling in the sentences on their worksheets with the likes of this:

He walks to the store everyday. > He walksed to the store yesterday.

Misaki plays tennis after school >> Misaki playsed tennis yesterday.

Careful readers should immediately recognize the problem, as subject verb agreement in the present tense requires one to write or say: I play; He plays; They play. But in the past tense, the subject makes no difference and the verb is the same.

I was a little embarrassed at my failure to anticipate this outcome, as I have taught this lesson the previous two years. To my own credit though, I have never seen this particular anomaly such a pervasive mistake among all the students in one class. The co-operating teacher I was working with is going through a difficult pregnancy. So she was sitting down and leaving me with a much bigger role in explaining grammatical points to the kids than I am typically accustomed to. As a native speaker to whom such nuances come quite naturally, I simply don’t anticipate all these little asinine snafus. Next week they throw irregular verbs into the mix. Oh boy, what fun!!

English Camp Happened Awhile Ago

I wrote this awhile ago on a USB chip when I had some free time at school, and have only now gotten around to publishing it. This probably happened over 3 weeks ago. To all my faithful readers, I apologize about the delays, as I have been super busy.

My city puts on an “English Camp” for the most motivated and advanced English
students in the city. English teachers select one to three students from each school depending on the size, and send them after school to a place with us foreigners to do various English games and educational activities. So far, we have done different games, sports, trivia events, relay races, and other sorts of educational and not-so-educational activities for the kids to give them a chance to learn new English and practice the English they know.

Unfortunately, they typically select the most academically advanced students, and not the best English speakers. They don’t seem to understand that the most successful speakers in camp are students with outgoing personalities (something rarely observed), and talkative students with better verbal skills who are naturally inclined to speak more regardless of the language. Most of the exercises are based on speaking and listening, and yet the Japanese teachers fill the camp with bashful bookworms who can probably write and spell better than most of us native speakers, but are simply too shy to say much of anything in English.

This isn’t always the case and it is changing somewhat. I must concede that the students at camp definitely seem more motivated to learn and try speaking than their peers who don’t come to the camp. But I still constantly meet kids at the camp, try to have a simple conversation, and wonder why anyone chose them. On the occasions where they involved me in the decision on who to send to the camp, they always try to select students who do well on tests, and not always the ones who will succeed. I tried to explain all of this, but I was still constantly at odds with my Japanese colleagues on the subject of which kid to send to English Camp.

Once they get to the camp, we do a number of activities, some of which are good, and some of which leave a little to be desired. We have so far done a murder mystery, where groups of students must go around to different places to gather clues. I ALWAYS play the dead body in this one. We also do a scavenger hunt, types of English relay races, another group game we made called “Welcome to the Jungle,” and introductory classes on amusing aspects of our different cultures. I taught the kids how to play “Casino Craps in Las Vegas” and have previously done American Football. Our city’s Indian National Lydia teaches “Bollywood Dancing” Joelle Kuiper from New Zealand teaches a Maori dance called “Haka.” Other people teach other stuff from other places including cooking and games. I just pulled out the chips and salsa for 5 minutes after the craps game.

They bring in several teachers, and our bosses from the Board of Education, but after the activities are finished, there is little to no supervision. Overall, it is about what you would expect from an overnight retreat with 50 unsupervised 8th graders. They stay up all hours talking and running around where they aren’t supposed to. To be honest, I am always surprised at how well they behave (by American standards anyway), but they still manage to break and bend the rules.

During my first year working in Koriyama, I actually enjoyed doing the camps, but as time wore on, they became less and less appealing. We previously did about 5 camps a year, and due to budgetary changes, last week was the last overnight camp I believe we will do. Here are some pictures from a previous English camp from last year when I enjoyed things more. This is our (unfortunately retired) Scotsman Jolan Martinez with my student Chiemi. Chiemi is now finishing her third year of Junior High at Katahira-chu (she is roughly equivalent to an American 9th grader) and will be headed to high school sometime this April. Chiemi is actually a pretty good speaker when she wants to be.

The Beginning of the End

２００６年七月からアメリカへ帰るかもしれない。それから悲しいですね。まだ準備してないんですね。まだアメリカへ行きたくないです。日本の食べ物と飲み物を淋しがります。私の友達と日本の文化を淋しがります。２年前からたくさん友達います。日本語を忘れるかもしれない。いろいろを淋しがります。でも今アメリカの仕事のために捜します。アメリカで私は社会科の先生です。今心配ですね。


I am facing an uncertain future for the first time in three years. Due to city budgetary considerations and the expiration of my visa, it appears unlikely I will have a position in Koriyama after July. So I began a preliminary job search back in my home country. I am finding this very difficult at the moment because after 2 1/2 years of living in Japan, I now feel my home and my life belong in Koriyama City.

When I finally do leave Japan, whether it is this year or the next, I will probably miss Japan much more than I ever missed the USA when I left 3 years ago. Departing the United States two years ago, I didn’t give much thought to everything I would miss. Leaving behind the dizzying array of everything permeating my environment and my own self that I concomitantly referred to as ‘America’ was new to me, and without precedent. I was woefully terrible at predicting what things and people would be sorely missed and everything that would be gladly forgotten. With the situation now reversed and the experience of hindsight, I now know precisely what I am walking away from this coming July, and I know exactly the place I will be returning to.

Moreover, I left the United States always knowing that I would return someday in the future, or at least always had the option of returning. While I was initially ignorant of how many people and things I would miss upon leaving the USA (and there was much that was sorely missed), the knowledge that I could return if I desired always assuaged my cravings for all things American. I always knew I would someday come back, so I stopped worrying about the lack of Mexican food, Arizona sunshine, or Christmas trees. Everything is still there waiting for me when I return. I currently have no idea whether I can or will ever return to Japan on terms that would be appealing to me. I am uncertain how much will be lost forever.

But the vast array of exotic customs, sights, sounds, smells, amusing idiosyncrasies, language, food, drink, products, services, textures, styles, people, and architecture that are now as familiar to me as a 4th of July BBQ will disappear forever after 15 hours over the Pacific Ocean. I may be able to go to a Japanese restaurant in an American city, but I will always know how many foods are lacking from their menus or whether the rice tastes right. And no matter how authentic the Japanese restaurant in America may be, I will never again eat another school lunch, dishing up healthy bland slop with the students and listening to them complain about it. I will never again go to a harvest festival and buy overpriced greasy morsels of salty pork on a stick. I may never again ride the bullet train, sleep in a capsule hotel, and drive a car smaller than a riding lawnmower on the left side of the road.　And what restaurant in the United States serves up 4 different cuts of raw horsemeat?

When I was initially struggling to make sense of the culture and my place in this country, a former teacher told me, “When you were back home you had 24 years to meet friends, build a career, and find a place in the community. You have family connections. You don’t have that here, and you have to actively make a life for yourself.” After taking this advice to heart, I now have a wide circle of friends and co-workers that care about me. People everywhere know me by my name and greet me on the street. I finally built a real life for myself that I am proud of, and now I must abandon 95 percent of it forever.

But at the same time, I wonder how much I am seeing Japan through rose-colored glasses. Other advice I received as I “adjusted” to life in Japan was not to compare Japan to my own country. People told me to, “Find and focus on the positive.” But in this effort to adapt to my surroundings, have I so thoroughly twisted and distorted the perception of my environment that I no longer recognize its glaring flaws?

I don’t look forward to the extended period of adjustment on the approaching horizon, and I don’t think I am ready to return to my own country just yet. Please keep me in your thoughts and pray that God would show me what to do next.

More Korea Trip Pictures

私の冬休みの写真です。勧告と日本に行きました。

Here I have more pictures of my trip to Korea and southern Japan. I apologize for the lateness with these posts, as I have been extremely busy here lately. There is always something that I have to be doing around here.

English Camps

My city puts on an “English Camp” for the most motivated and advanced English students in the city. English teachers select one to three students from each school depending on the size, and send them after school to a place with us foreigners to do various English games and educational activities. So far, we have done different games, sports, trivia events, relay races, and other sorts of educational and not-so-educational activities for the kids to give them a chance to learn new English and practice the English they know.

Unfortunately, they typically select the most academically advanced students, and not the best English speakers. They don’t seem to understand that the most successful speakers in camp are students with outgoing personalities (something rarely observed), and talkative students with better verbal skills who are naturally inclined to speak more regardless of the language. Most of the exercises are based on speaking and listening, and yet the Japanese teachers fill the camp with bashful bookworms who can probably write and spell better than most of us native speakers, but are simply too shy to say much of anything in English.

This isn’t always the case and it is changing somewhat. I must concede that the students at camp definitely seem more motivated to learn and try speaking than their peers who don’t come to the camp. But I still constantly meet kids at the camp, try to have a simple conversation, and wonder why anyone chose them. On the occasions where they involved me in the decision on who to send to the camp, they always try to select students who do well on tests, and not always the ones who will succeed. I tried to explain all of this, but I was still constantly at odds with my Japanese colleagues on the subject of which kid to send to English Camp.

Once they get to the camp, we do a number of activities, some of which are good, and some of which leave a little to be desired. We have so far done a murder mystery, where groups of students must go around to different places to gather clues. I ALWAYS play the dead body in this one. We also do a scavenger hunt, types of English relay races, another group game we made called “Welcome to the Jungle,” and introductory classes on amusing aspects of our different cultures. I taught the kids how to play “Casino Craps in Las Vegas” and have previously done American Football. Our city’s Indian National Lydia teaches “Bollywood Dancing” Joelle Kuiper from New Zealand teaches a Maori dance called “Haka.” Other people teach other stuff from other places including cooking and games. I just pulled out the chips and salsa for 5 minutes after the craps game.

They bring in several teachers, and our bosses from the Board of Education, but after the activities are finished, there is little to no supervision. Overall, it is about what you would expect from an overnight retreat with 50 unsupervised 8th graders. They stay up all hours talking and running around where they aren’t supposed to. To be honest, I am always surprised at how well they behave (by American standards anyway), but they still manage to break and bend the rules.
During my first year working in Koriyama, I actually enjoyed doing the camps, but as time wore on, they became less and less appealing. We previously did about 5 camps a year, and due to budgetary changes, last week was the last overnight camp I believe we will do. Here are some pictures from a previous English camp from last year when I enjoyed things more. This is our (unfortunately retired) Scotsman Jolan Martinez with my student Chiemi. Chiemi is now finishing her third year of Junior High at Katahira-chu (she is roughly equivalent to an American 9th grader) and will be headed to high school sometime this April. Chiemi is actually a pretty good speaker when she wants to be.

The Crazy English Language

英語は難しいですね。英語を教えるときにたくさん問題がありました。

Nothing terribly out of the ordinary happened today, but I would like to relate to all my readers something that still happens relatively frequently. Whenever I complain too much about how difficult Japanese is, I am always reminded by my students and the lessons I teach that English is just as nutty, if not crazier than my mother tongue.

This morning at Katahira Junior High, I was teaching my class of 1st year students (equivalent to American 7th graders) and I had written up a worksheet with a game for them. Our primary objective was to teach students the past tense for simple verbs. We required the students to turn walk into walked, play into played, and perform the same task with other easy verbs they know. Irregular verbs are planned for next week.

My previous lessons on subject/verb agreement apparently proved to be a little too effective, as all the students were filling in the sentences on their worksheets with the likes of this:

He walks to the store everyday. >> He walksed to the store yesterday.

Misaki plays tennis after school. >> Misaki playsed tennis yesterday.

Careful readers should immediately recognize the problem, as subject verb agreement in the present tense requires one to write: I play; He plays; They play. But in the past tense, the subject makes no difference.

I was a little embarrassed at my failure to anticipate this outcome, as I have taught this lesson the previous two years. To my own credit though, I have never seen this particular anomaly such a pervasive mistake among all the students in one class. The co-operating teacher I was working with is going through a difficult pregnancy. So she was sitting down and leaving me with a much bigger role in explaining grammatical points to the kids than I am typically accustomed to. As a native speaker to whom such nuances come quite naturally, I simply don’t anticipate all these little snafus.

Next week they throw irregular verbs into the mix. Oh boy, what fun!!