We just arrived on Koh Tao this morning, and as you can probably tell from the previous comment, we were in Bangkok during the tsunami, so we are all fine. Koh Tao is lovely. I am trying to decide whether or not to go scuba diving. Yar, being a chicken.
Today we leave Bangkok after a crazy week complete with Wats, deranged tuk-tuk drivers, and lots of tasty food. I am a bit sad to be moving on, but the beach will be a welcome change from roosters crowing at all hours of the day and thick, black smog. On Christmas, we went to the movies and watched from luxurious reclining chairs. I was surprized to find that they played the national anthem beforehand and we had to stand during clips of the King being cool. I can't wait 'till I have more time to write about it all.
We arrived safe and sound, though entirely knackered, on Saturday night. The ride from the airport was an overwhelming vision of billboards in Thai and Japanese, through a sprawling city that reminds me of both Tokyo and Athens, but which is also much, much dirtier. Bangkok is so dirty that when I blow my nose at night, black stuff comes out. But the streets are definitely full of odd little interesting places, enough to keep me busy for a long time. Already I've eaten a ridiculous amount of delicious food that I can't get in Japan, including wonderful fresh fruits for little money. Well, this keyboard is wearing thin on my tired nerves, more later.
I couldn't resist the temptation to post from Seoul, Korea during my 4 hour layover--there's free internet! The New Year's Party was great last night; several coworkers took me to the bus stop afterward to see me off! The bus ride was rough and I didn't get much sleep, so needless to say, I am exhausted. Just another hour to go and then a 5.5 hour flight to Bangkok. Must. Stay. Coherent.
Today I am sporting a plastic crap ring from the stationary store with CZs in it and a student asked if it was a wedding ring. Whenever I wear a ring, my students always think it is a wedding ring, no matter which finger it's on or what it's made of. Dude, if a guy proposed to me with this ring, I would totally say yes. If I were in the third grade.
So here I am, munching on delicious Fuji apples. We had a lovely Christmas class with the 3rd years today; I realized that I really have given up on teaching much and have just decided to have fun. The highlight of the class was my retarded attempt at drawing a reindeer, which ended up more like a brontosaurus with horns. I also appreciated the canned laughter they threw up in response to my bad Christmas puns.
I am so excited about Thailand! I leave tonight and I just can't wait. I'll be in a country where they don't ask so many questions, and they don't stare--I'll have real privacy again! Not to mention the spicy food, nice weather, and freedom to do whatever I want. Yay!
I've been on edge lately--it's really difficult to be simultaneously the center of attention and unable to understand most of what is going on, especially when people talk about me, right in front of me, in Japanese. I had to submit copies of my itinerary, information from my travel agent, and a detailed description of my vacation days on 3 different forms just to go on vacation. They also wanted hotel info and phone numbers, and they were appalled when I said I didn't know. I think they will be equally appalled when they see my pack instead of a five-piece luggage set; the ideal vacation for most Japanese people is a 6-day bus tour of Europe (all of it) and five-star hotels. Everytime they ask about my winter vacation, I cringe when I tell them--I know they are both jealous and feel that it's unfair that I take trips when they don't. So I think I will breathe a big sigh of relief when I am finally on the bus.
That said, I felt a bit sad as the train pulled out of the station this morning and I said goodbye to my little town and the beautiful river, if only temporarily. I know I will probably be making the same goodbyes permanently this August. I keep thinking that if I just had a different situation, I would be so much happier here. Japan itself is wonderful; my job and general living situation are not. I need to get away from Japan to really appreciate it again.
The bus to Osaka has been officially dubbed the "disco bus" because both Angela and I are going to New Year's parties before we get on, so we're likely to be well-kampai'd (toasted) and warm with sake. Like the freak that I am, I keep saying "Get on the bus!" in much the same way as James Brown would say, "Get on up!" Sadly, I am not a sex machine.
Last night I had some odd dreams. In one dream, I was with random Hot Man TM, and there was a boy child in the basement of a large house we were staying in with a bunch of kids (totally not ours--it was some kind of school). This mysterious boy child had eaten something strange and was turning into a voracious random scary thing TM. For some reason there was a grate leading down to the basement (presumably so we could see the boy child without being bitten) and he had pulled a large chain down into his place of exile. This was apparently cause to mad run the fuck away, so we did. And you know how when you run in dreams except it seems like you're running really slow because of that brain chemical that keeps you still during sleep? I always ask people if they have the same problem. Well, I had THAT CONVERSATION with Hot Man TM as we ran SLOWLY from the ill-fated boy child and his chain. Eventually, my dad picked me up in his car and took me home.
So then I dreamt about Heather, of Dooce fame. I am still trying to figure this one out. I showed up at her house because I thought she was cool (don't get me wrong, she is very cool, but dude, I am totally not a stalker! I don't even know where you live, Heather!). It turned out she was having problems getting this teenager out of her house. The teenager was upstairs doing drugs and being a general nuisance (sorry if you don't have an upstairs, Heather, I blame all the cheese I ate last night). So I agreed to help and we got the teenager out of the bedroom she'd holed up in and then we all started talking and having fun. I think we ended up going out to eat and to a furniture store. Because that makes sense, at all.
I don't think I've told you yet about my experience searching for bras in this country. You see, I thought it would be easy to find things that fit since most Japanese women are flat, and I am flat, so it should be a big, happy, flat-for-all, right? Hah. Apparently, the ideal rack in Japan is really close together because there is no space in between the cups in the middle of the bra. No space! Aside from being completely uncomfortable, it looks ridiculous. If I wanted my breasts to salute everyone I met, I would go whole hog and get a bullet bra instead of the two-bit floozy ho bra I bought at "Aimer feel". I was reminded of all this the other night as I waited for my laundry to dry; flipping through a magazine at the laundromat, I found an ad for a breast lift, which (as far as I could tell) promised breasts closer together. We are NOT Minoans here, people! What is with the boobs in the middle of the chest?
I had a great time at Angela's last night--we had a little ladies only night including nachos, way too much bread, and Angela's tasty squash, apple, and ginger soup. Angela also made hot buttered rum and we watched Sex and the City. Who needs men when you have girlfriends and liquor? I suppose a lot of men would say the same, come to think of it.
While I was walking to the train station on Friday morning, I spotted an oldish man walking in front of a house in boxers and a white t-shirt. As if that were not repulsive enough, nevermind the cold, he paused at the small gap in between two houses, whipped it out, and started peeing. Now, I don't know why he couldn't have gone inside, WHERE IT'S WARM AND MADE OF TOILET, but I am sure glad he had his back turned to me. Why do men feel the need to be so derned offensive in this country? I can't blow my runny nose in the office, but the principal makes no bones about hacking up his lung and farting in there. Ew. Is there a rude old fucker gene in there somewhere?
Well, that's it. I am done talking about careers for a while. Next week, I am leaving for Thailand, so it's time to turn on Adventure Shana (TM). I love traveling. On Friday the 17th, Angela, Antony, Paige, and I will head over to Osaka on the overnight bus and fly out the next day to Seoul, and then Bangkok. Probable activities include going to the movies and watching from reclining chairs, lots of back massages, pineapple and coconut shakes, a trek into the countryside somewhere outside of Bangkok, scuba diving around the islands, and generally relaxaing and having lots of fun. I can't wait!
I'm not really sure what the internet situation will be like yet, but I hope to be able to post during my 3 WEEK VACATION. If I can't, I apologize in advance.
I have overcome the sense of desperate indecision that plagued me in the last week, at least a little bit. There aren't any classes this week because of finals, so yesterday was spent taking various personality tests to try and figure my head out. I reaffirmed my status as an ENTP in the Myers-Briggs Personality Type assessment, along with something like 3.4% of the population. Chewing on the various descriptions of ENTP people, I think I managed to come up with a plan! Holy career planning, Batman!
Here is the list again:
Not bad, eh? I found out that I can apply to go to school in France outside of study abroad programs, which would make going to France immediately more affordable. EduFrance has more information about it; the only difficult part is that everything would be in French, and that would be difficult to adjust to at first. I think I could make it work.
The thing that always gets me about anthropology is the specialization. I love theory, but the thought of having to choose one topic, going somewhere and recording all my conversations with people, maintaining motivation without a schedule, and analyzing two years of my life into a book about somebody else's life just makes me want to sit on the couch with a bucket of Hagen Dazs. I love anthropology, but I love it as a way of life, not as a job. Not as a science. I hate how anthropologists try to quantify everything by listing transcripts of conversations and such, when theory pretty much says that getting at another person's emic is mostly impossible.
I still can't shake the feeling that there is something more prestigious about Anthro than fashion design or web design; and I guess that's because I never pictured myself as an artist and because artists are supposed to be space cadets. The truth is that I need something that is constantly changing and allows me to create new things every day. I enjoy theory so much because it's all in my head--I don't have to go anywhere or do anything, I can just analyze and organize, and that's what I do best. Unfortunately, that kind of anthropology is considered invalid without the research credentials, so I am relegated to armchair anthropologist. I honestly think I would be happy organizing people's closets and offices, but I don't think that job exists.
Really, it bothers me that I can't bring myself to pursue a career in anthropology. I am disturbed because of my fear--it simply seems like too much work. What is wrong with me that I am not highly motivated? Why do I shrink away from anything involving motivation?
Oh, faithful ginger snaps,
how I love thee.
Purchased at the dollar store,
you never went stale,
but alas, you are gone.
Fair Hostess, Little Debbie,
grant me an amen-
from the hyaku-en;
I am tired of rice cakes.
I spent the evening in tonight with Sex and the City and homemade veggie soup. The weekend was much more exciting--went to my supervisor's wedding on Saturday night, and went caroling with other JETs on Sunday afternoon. I've been having a lot of culture shock lately, so it's been hard to know what to write about here. I've been kind of cranky at the office, and I know my coworkers can tell. But I'm just out of patience for my unfulfilling job. My supervisor explained that it's common for children's parents to both work outside of the home now, and that this is leading to a lot of "key kids"--kids with house keys on chains around their necks. Children in elementary school are given keys so that they can get into the house after school, where they spend the afternoon alone until a parent comes home from work. Some elementary-aged kids spend whole days alone. Because babysitters are too expensive, the parents buy video game consoles and turn them loose. My supervisor was trying to explain that this is why so many children lack motivation and direction in my classes. When he was through, I couldn't stop myself. I almost flipped out. I certainly had a rant. In America, it's illegal to leave a child home alone under the age of 12. My mother juggled all kinds of scheduling conflicts to make sure I was supervised at all times until I hit that age, and even then, she still made sure I had someone looking out for me. I can't imagine what would possess someone to leave a 5 year old at home with instant ramen and a Nintendo for several hours. No wonder they sleep in class and ignore me when I tell them to be quiet. Rather than alleviating my frustration, as I think he had hoped, this knowledge has made me even more irritated with the lack of responsibility here. The absence of central heating doesn't help.
I was pleased to see that Sarcenet.org has moved to the #1 spot in the Google search for "crackwhore musketeers" and has been clicked on twice during a search for "girl with oomph of Japan" and once for each of "gargravar", "sex japan pic", "bunga bunga game Japan", and "dinosaur look my ass". I feel sorry for the sex searchers, since there really isn't any sex on my site. But I definitely have oomph of Japan. Awww yeah.
On a scarier note, as I stepped off the train, a group of male students was standing on the platform and they all said "Ooooh, Shana, sexy!" When I got to my car, I immediately checked in the mirror for anything indecent, but I couldn't find anything. I am suspicious. Grr.
I am eternally grateful to a different friend James, who emailed me Chopin recordings in the quest to find a song I have loved for the last 12 years or so. I have replayed the only fragment I could remember of said song over and over in my head since my ex-cousin played it for me so long ago. (No, not continuously--I am not THAT crazy.) When filesharing became all the rage, I downloaded every Chopin song I could get my hands on, desperately searching for the match. What's funny is that it's not the song I thought it was; heaven forbid, I had the wrong name! No wonder I couldn't find it! But James, HOLY BLEEDING SAINT THAT HE IS, happened to also send a few other songs for my perusal and it turned out to be one of them. EAT THAT, ANTI-FILESHARING BASTARDS! THIS IS FATE! I've been reunited with a long-lost favorite and you know what I'm gonna do? I'm gonna GO OUT AND BUY A CD OF IT! PUT THAT IN YOUR FASCIST PIPE AND SMOKE IT!