A Beautiful Maiden Welcomes You (oh. Ehime too)

Welcome to Niihama, a land where you will walk around in a perpetual layer of your own sweat and mildew.

I went to bed last night at 8PM. That hasn’t happened since I was six years old, but it was definitely called for.

After a grueling, time consuming Tokyo orientation that was filled with information some of which was useful, but some of which was entirely pointless since every situation is oh so quite Different, they got us up at the crack of dawn and shipped us off to Haneda Airport. In business attire. In heels.

From there each member of the Ehime group was picked up by members of whatever school they’d be working for. Some JETs had hoards of Japanese people waiting for them – excitedly waving colorful banners and all but jumping up and down with glee at the thought of a new gaijin (foreigner) coming to their town.

My guy had a piece of paper with my name scrawled on it in ballpoint pen. I had a hard time seeing it as my eyes were completely distracted by the bright neon signs that were awaiting some of the others.

He piled my suitcase into the car with a weary “YOOOOOOSHHHHH” and off we went. When Japan is so very focused on proper etiquette, and outward appearance, I have a hard time understanding why, in the name of God, would you take me straight to meet the principal after an exhausting morning and plane ride. To be fair we stopped for lunch first.

During our scattered conversation in the two hour ride between Matsuyama and Niihama I had informed him of all my various gastronomical likes and dislikes, out of lack of anything else to say so we stopped at an udon shop. Feeling incredibly drained and not wanting to be particularly adventurous I skimmed the menu for something that I immediately recognized and knew would not have anything overly peculiar in it.

Then I proceeded to attempt to follow his example at viciously slurping down his noodles, as is proper in Japan. He had ordered a cold noodle dish. Obviously, it is much easier to viciously slurp down cold noodles. As my chosen dish was hot, the only thing I viciously succeeded in doing was burning and killing 60% of my taste buds on my tongue in my attempt to make a good impression. I’ll probably be thankful for this if they end up making me try something disgusting within the next couple of weeks.

The principal seemed like a nice guy. I think I did a bit of the deer in headlights upon arrival which wasn’t particularly cool. We met, bowed, and then sat down on his nice brown leather couch in his office for a quick five-minute exchange of non-sequiturs. I was attempting to use a bit of Japanese, but my vocabulary kept on failing me. I expected the man who had picked me up at the airport to jump in every so often to offer a word now and again, but he didn’t seem to be translating what I was saying back to the principal, or maybe I just wasn’t saying anything worth translating.
They were both particularly inquisitive about my Japanese middle name so that took some explaining. The principal declared that I looked quite Japanese which I suspect perhaps conveyed a bit of disappointment at not having a tall, blonde-haired Aryan looking American named Joe who loves hamburgers and coaches little league come to teach.

I was then given my hanko (name stamp) which they had prepared for me. Quite a nifty little thing – complete with ink and case. From this day forth anything I sign will bear the emblem of “NA KURIARI.”

I was also told that I owe them over 2,000 dollars. 2,000 dollars which I do not have. Will have to work on that.

Finally we went to the apartment so that I could leave my luggage and move in to my new home. I was flabbergasted at how large it was. Pictures are worth a thousand words so voila:

I did not realize how much I rely on having my bed out 24/7. Having no where to crash and lie down whenever I so feel like it is a weird feeling that I didn’t take into account.

The weather in Ehime is ghastly. I can literally feel a thin layer of my own sweat enveloping me

ALL THE TIME. Sure, one can take a shower. It’s great – you feel refreshed for all of about two minutes. By the time you dry off your body will already have produced a fresh layer of condensation all over your body and as I am paying for the water usage I refuse to take a shower every two minutes. We Americans are a sweaty bunch it seems.

As I sit here typing this there is an UNBELIEVABLY loud ruckus going on outdoors. From the fifth floor vantage point of my balcony I can see absolutely nothing out of the ordinary down below but that’s because the little hooligans are so God damn small as they are, in fact, insects. I have NEVER heard bugs this loud before. I woke up thinking a giant 30 foot praying mantis must be waiting outside for me on the balcony to berate me for slurping my noodles incorrectly. The incessant drone replaces the loud-ass Long Island Railroad that ran through my backyard back in New York. I’m not sure which I prefer yet: Waking up feeling like a homeless person sleeping in a train station vs. waking up feeling as though you are surrounded by an angry army of locusts, praying mantises and cicadas.

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Published:
8.27.06 / 5pm
Category:
what i call life, travel