Mr. Darden. I don't come to school on Wednesdays anymore...

I begin today's blog post with an anecdote from my not-so-distant past. Based on the title alone, many of you already know where this is heading, but for those of you who don't, let me fill you in:

It was my first year of teaching, and I was in the hallway supervising the children as they passed from one class to the next. As I was thinking the thinks that a first year educator thinks, one of the Spanish teachers approached me. To protect the innocent, her name has been changed. For grins, let's just call her  Dernabette Derano. Yeah. That has a nice ring to it. Anyway, Ms. Derano looked angry, and she was heading my direction. My first though was Oh no! I've done something wrong!

"Mister Dar-Den!" Her voice rang out in a high-pitched tone.

"Um... Yes, Ms. Derano?"

"I don't come to school on Wednesdays anymore." She was clearly fishing for a listening ear, a captive audience, if you will.

I'll bite, I thought. "Why?"

Without missing a beat, and in direct earshot of everyone in the hall, she responded "Because the Panda Day Schedule is f***ed!" She turned around, stormed away, and we both went back to our respective duty posts, as if nothing happened.

This little slice of life has become somewhat of an inside joke between myself, a few close friends, and a handful of colleagues from my former position at Pershing Middle School; however, it also sums up the main idea of this blog post. Something was bothering Ms. Derano that day, and she just felt like she needed to get it off her chest. The Panda Day schedule didn't affect me one way or the other, but in her little world, it clearly meant a lot, and I think that's the point. Something has been bothering me recently, and I'd like to share. I hope this doesn't turn into a pity party, or an airing of my hot mess of a life online, but if it does, apologies in advance.

January 27th marked the end of my first six months here in Japan, and I can proudly say that I am glad I made the decision to come. That being said, the road hasn't been 100% footloose and fancy free. For the past month or so, I have been rubbing my ashy elbows with Seasonal Affective Disorder. Overall, my demeanor has been genki, but there are times when I get sad. For those of you who read my blog, please indulge me in my rant. Humor me as a "captive audience." Be the first-year-of-teaching Jimmy Darden to my Ms. Reda... I mean, Derano.

In case you didn't know, I have lived in Houston most of my life- with the exception of about a year, give or take, in Michigan, and the four years I spent at university in Lubbock. Needless to say, I have little to no experience with severe winter weather. It rarely gets below the freezing point in Houston, and snow is a once-every-few-years-or-so miracle. In regards to Nagano Japan...

...that's just not the case.

The winters here are nothing like they are back at home. On a typical day, the temperature gets up to about 40 degrees Fahrenheit. The nightly average is about 20 degrees, but it can get even lower if Mother Nature feels like showing off. Combine that with a home that's built for earthquakes and summer highs, without winter insulation or central heating, and you get the perfect storm of a Texas boy who seems like he hasn't got a prayer.

I sometimes feel like this monkey.

There are mornings when I wake up and sit in bed for thirty minutes or so, just thinking about how bloody cold it is. I inevitably have to go to work and teach the future of Japan, but that snooze button gets so much more use in the winter. There have even been a few times when I have shown up to work within seconds of being tardy. That's never a fun feeling...

"You're late!"

On top of the cold weather comes the snow. According to many of my fellow Nagano JETs, my town doesn't get very much snow, and compared to the other regions in the ken, they would be correct. However, many Nagano JETs come from the American Midwest. For them, snow is something that is a common occurrence. For me, not so much. I am still learning how to deal with walking, biking, and even driving in these treacherous conditions.

Regular snow day...

...Mother Nature showin' her ass.

On a side note, I finally made the decision to get a motor vehicle. I was getting annoyed with walking/biking to the grocery store in the dead middle of winter, and I grew tired of being at the mercy of someone else driving me around whenever us expats get together. I'm completely grateful of their kindness, but it's so much more comforting knowing that you can come and go as you please, without having to always go when and where another driver takes you.

Of course, driving only benefits me when I need to run errands or attend to social matters. Contractually, I'm not allowed to drive in to work, so walking it is. That old, and somewhat annoying "parentism" of having to walk to school uphill in X feet of snow blah blah blah... holds true to an extent. When you're snuggled up inside with your boo, or in my case, video games, the snow is a remarkable sight to behold. It's a heavenly painting of white awesomeness that makes you appreciate living in a place with four seasons. When you have to walk to work in it, it's a hellacious sea of slippery slush that sucks the fun right out of your workday before it even begins.

The road to hell is paved with good intentions. The road to my elementary school isn't paved at all.

JHS students hanging out after class.

Okay, enough with the gloom and doom of my winter woes. I thank you for putting up with my rant on what a cold and miserable little twit I can be. I promise I'm not all grumpy during the winter. "Hold on, hold on, hold on. I can't do it. I can't sing no more sad songs. One, two, three, HIT ME!" (Cue the brass stage band) For those of you who have seen Dreamgirls, enjoy that little Easter Egg. If you haven't seen Dreamgirls, you're missing out. 

Jimmy want a piece of yo' choc-o-late cake!

With all of this snow and Japan's mountainous terrain,  winter sports are sort of a big deal here. I've gotten swept up into the craze of snowboarding, and I try to go as often as possible. As of now, I've been out seven times, but I want to make that number twelve before the end of winter. When I go snowboarding, I can magically awaken and spring out of bed without a problem. The cold doesn't bother me, and it's fun to use nature for recreational purposes. It kind of reminds me of back home. The summers are unbearably hot. Most of the time, Texans battle the heat by staying indoors, but it's also nice to do an activity in the heat to take your mind off the heat. The snow resorts of Nagano are like the Gulf of Mexico and the Guadalupe River.

I can't believe this is in my backyard...

Whenever I am snowboarding, I don't feel any of the sadness that I feel on normal work days. It's a fun activity that enhances my coordination and balance, along with cardiovascular strength.  I've never been stellar at ball sports, though I do appreciate a low stakes game of volleyball or "21" from time to time. I'm not overtly strong, I'm not a particularly fast runner, and I would never describe myself as Sporty (but I am interested in other things- Spice). Snowboarding is different though. In this sport I feel what little athletic intelligence I have being put to use. I'm no scientist, but I'm willing to bet the same kinesthetic skill set I use to snowboard now, is the same set I used when I did gymnastics all those years ago. 

I'm a total beginner, but I think the dreads make me look like a BAMF... 

Resting with my board.

Snowboarding also reminds me of my all time favorite hobby: going to theme parks. While there are no roller coasters of note in Nagano-ken, snowboarding is a suitable consolation prize. You get to ride the chairlift or gondola up the mountain, and going downhill on the slick snow is like a ride in and of itself.  The coolest thing about snowboarding, though, is that it's a fun thing to do with friends.

Hanging out on the slopes with friends isn't the one-step-saves-all answer to my seasonal depression, but it is something that I don't take for granted. I still miss all my friends and family back at home, and I don't think that will ever change. While I'm here, though, I want to make the most of my overseas experience: For better and for worse. Looking inward, this is just another step along my journey into adulthood. 

Mister Dar-Den!

Blue-eyed Seoul

December was a busy month for me. Besides writing blog posts charged with toilet humor and tacky political jokes, I was participating in the Holiday Season. While I don't want to dwell on it for too long, I want to share my feelings on Christmas 2013. It was, in one word, different. This was the first Christmas away from my family, and it was quite the learning experience.

I'll be home for Christmas if only in my dreams...

While trying to keep up with the Spirit of Holiday Cheer, I decided that I would host a White Elephant Christmas/ dinner party, and for those of you who know me, you know all too well that tacos is a Jimmy Regular: They're affordable, they can go a long way, though not quite as far as spaghetti, and I've made them so many times that I don't need the recipe. Besides, it's always good to make something you're comfortable with when throwing a dinner party. The last thing a host needs is to be second guessing whether the entree is going to be a hit or a flop. To make a long story short, and to get on to the main topic of this post, the party was a hit, and I enjoyed my guests' company. It made Christmas seem a lot less lonely.

Holly, Cassandra, and Huz Aan in my industrial-looking kitchen...

After Christmas, I was off to Seoul, South Korea. Denny-sama, a former JET who is a close family friend of my friend Emily, offered to put me up for a few days and show me a good time in Seoul. He's an educator at a local university, and has been living in Seoul for quite some time. I went into the vacation knowing I would have a good time, but I didn't realize just how much of an adventure it would be:

My journey started on December 28th, bright and early. The goal was to get from my house in the highlands of Nagano to the busy metropolis of Osaka. I had a flight out of KIX at 6PM, and needed to be at the airport by 4. I had no train tickets to get there, just a bunch of yen, and the hope that I wouldn't be stuck in a standing room only train car for the duration of my trek to the airport.  I caught a cab from my house to 塩尻駅, and hopped on an express train headed for Nagoya. This first leg set the tone of my entire journey to Seoul. It was quiet. It was snowy. It was serene. 

After the two hour express train ride to Nagoya, I then hopped on a Shinkansen (Japanese bullet train) from Nagoya to Osaka. The Shink covered the distance in less than an hour, putting me in downtown Osaka at about 10AM. Seeing as it would take about 45 minutes from downtown to the airport, that gave me roughly four hours to burn before I had to be anywhere. I decided that it would be interesting to do some urban exploration.

Above: Exploring the新世界 ward in Osaka

At about two, I decided that it was time to start moseying towards the train station to get to the airport. Now, if there's one thing I like more than a city with a good rail transit system, it's a city with a good rail transit system that links directly to one or more of its airports without me having to fork over money for a taxi. With this being Japan and all, I wasn't disappointed. It was painless hopping on a train from the heart of downtown to Kanku, the nickname for Kansai International Airport.

The airport is on a man-made island in the middle of Osaka Bay.
I thought that was pretty interesting. 

Airport security was overwhelmingly easy- I didn't have to remove my hoodie, beanie, metal "seatbelt" belt, or shoes! I felt like I was living in "Pre 9-11 America." It made me happy that getting through security was such a breeze, but it made me sad at the same time. I began to reflect on the harsh reality of where we are as a country and the tough, but necessary measures that must be taken to board an airplane.

On  a lighter note, the realness of air travel back home kicked in. Its form: budget airlines. In The States we have Spirit. Japan has Peach. Based out of Kansai International, Peach Airlines is the first Japanese budget airline to do international travel. Trust me, you get what you pay for. I flew Spirit last summer when I went to Disney World, and the experience I had with Peach was about the same: cramped seats with bare minimum cabin service. Even the terminal and jetway, or lack thereof, were indicative of the low fares. I have to admit, though: It was pretty cool walking to the plane on the tarmac. I felt like I was straight out of the 1950s.

It's blurry because I wasn't supposed to be taking pictures...

When I arrived at Incheon, my host for the week was waiting for me outside of customs. He seemed ready and eager to receive guests, and I immediately felt the "Southern Hospitality;" It was nice being with a fellow Texan. Mr. Denny took me to his apartment where I'd be staying: right in the heart of downtown. His apartment was only a few blocks away from the U.S. Embassy and the President of South Korea's house. Needless to say, if things get rough, he'd be able to make it to the U.S. Embassy within five minutes on foot. If things got really rough, you know, like in the form of an invasion from an unnamed country to the north, well...

View from Denny-sama's apartment at night.

While I was there, I had a chance to get a private tour of Gwanghwamun. This is Seoul's biggest palace square, and it backs up against the president's house. I don't have much to compare it to from home, but I would imagine that if we had an emperor or a king instead of a president, the white house would look something like this.

Main entrance: recently refurbished

Inside the palace walls

Colorful throne room

Me with my lunar new year animal

...She's' slipping. 

 The most interesting thing about my historical tour was the tour guide himself. His "American" name is Mark, and his Korean name is unpronounceable. He's a grad student in the field of Asian studies, and he wasn't afraid to say what was on his mind. Anytime we would pass an official tour, he would listen to what the guide was saying, in Korean of course, and would translate for Denny and me. Most of the time, Mark said the spiel was pretty accurate, but every once in a while, he would go on a long rant about why what they were saying was not true. Many people find things like this annoying, but I totally get where he was coming from. It reminds me of when I go to amusement park with a group of people, and someone says something along the lines of "This roller coaster flew off the tracks last year, and that's why it's closed." I know it's incorrect, they probably know they're just repeating some rumor they heard too, but they have no idea that there's one amongst the group, me, who can smell the bullshit from a mile away. The tough decision is to either "free park" it, or call them out on it. Whereas I usually let things like this slide, Mark was the total opposite. While he didn't interrupt the paid tour group, he was adamant about letting us know how he felt about the fabricated stories. The language was peppered with expletives too. The English ones.

Mark the tour guide and the D.G.

Of course I had a few different ethnic Korean dishes while I was there. I ate kimchi with virtually every meal, and it was amazing, but the highlight meal was when I went out with Denny-sama and his colleagues and students. It was not Asian fare, but rather food from the motherland: Texas. Seoul had an On the Border. For those of you who don't know, On the Border is a chain restaurant that serves up various Tex-Mex dishes, ranging from tacos to fajitas to chimichangas. All they friends. When I lived in Texas, I wanted nothing to do with OTB. I found their food mediocre at best, but when one lives in Asia, the Tex-Mex desert, one must learn to be a man and eat their words. Oh, I ate my words alright, and I ate the hell out of a combination plate that night too. One crispy beef taco and two cheese enchiladas with a side of rice and beans. It had that "Overly processed, loaded with preservatives, tastes just like it does 7000 miles away" feel. I couldn't have been more satisfied.

Nom nom nom...

Look at all those dirty glasses...

Wait a minute, Mr. DePrang, Which relieve?!

Visiting the loo, blowing the bathroom up, taking a leak, and even making "Koobie go 'boobie,'" are all euphemisms for this next post. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, the business of doing business is on the docket for your reading pleasure. If you're eating anything at the moment, or if you have a sensitive stomach, I suggest you stop reading here, as the conversation of the restroom can tend to get quite ripe.

To pretend that I'm special or unique writing about my experiences with the washroom in Japan would be lunacy. Every American and their お母さん living and blogging here does it, so I figured I'd create the obligatory TP (Toilet Post) as well. Is it original? No. Is it particularly clever or funny? Probably not. Will you keep reading because you're curious about my take on the matter? Hopefully.

Now, when I say I'm going to talk about the restroom here in Japan, I'm not talking about the bodily functions, so much as I'm referring to the proper porcelain pots. Like so many other aspects of life here, even the commode can be quite the experience. When you think of a standard American toilet, or for product placement's sake, an American Standard Toilet, you probably imagine something like this:

El inodoro regular.

Above we have an generic toilet that can be found in hotel lobbies and airport terminals. (Insert Larry Craig joke here) There's nothing special about it in my eyes, but it gets the job done. It's not the coolest contraption known to man, but it's sanitary and efficient. For twenty six years of my life, this was all I knew. Now try to picture what a Japanese toilet might look like. I imagine you conjured up one of two things:

1) A giant hole in the ground with a bowl filling said crater- the squatty potty or...
2) A state-of-the-art futuristic throne-bot from the "Mother Ship" that can pick up your dry cleaning for you.

If you envisioned either of those things, you'd be right... to a certain degree. Of course, Japan still has its fair share of "regular" American toilets, but it also has the "anomalies." In this country, however, the anomalies are more of the rule, as opposed to the exception.

 Many gaijin have elaborate stories about their misfortunate run-ins with the Japanese style toilets, be it getting a surprise soaking or leaving an unpleasant mess. I unfortunately don't have any tales to regale, but I do want to talk about my initial impressions. First up, the dreaded washiki benjo:

What it is: 
This is an Eastern-style toilet common all over Japan and other Asian countries. It is found in many public restrooms, including train stations and the teacher's restrooms at my school. This toilet is a bowl that resembles a cross between a bathtub, urinal, and toilet all combined. It is recessed into the floor, and is used for both numbers one and two. Usually, however, when a urinal is present, men typically avoid this toilet, as it requires squatting for usage.

Staff restroom toilet.

What's difficult about it: 
1) This toilet can be a boogabear when it comes to (un)dressing for the occasion. Much like their American counterparts, this toilet requires you to "drop trou" for its usage. Securing your knickers at the exact location is crucial to not ending up with soiled pantaloons. Also, if your pockets are loose, and you're not careful, all of the contents, including cell phones, will end up at the mercy of the bowl. To avoid the two aforementioned scenarios, it is suggested that you completely remove all bottoms and under-britches, and place them on the door hooks the first couple of times you give it a go. It takes forever, but it's a nice way to ease into using this style of toilet.
2) If you have worn out knees, a bad back, rusty ankles, or anything that would cause you to have trouble squatting, you're up a creek without a paddle. This hasn't happened to me yet, but I would imagine if you're running a 100 degree fever, and your muscles are killing you due to flu-like symptoms, you're not gonna want to go through the rigmarole of getting that low to the ground just to answer nature's call. It can be tough to keep balance at that posture too, even while holding on to the bar, therefore people suffering from vertigo should also be wary:

Obvious Arrested Development fan Easter Egg

3) Two words: DON'T MISS. I won't call any names, but I know a person who knows a person who missed the bowl, and for lack of a better word, shat on the bathroom floor of her apartment. For Pete's sake, please make sure you aim before dropping the kids off at the pool.

What's awesome about it:
1) In the words of my friend, Rol Sanders, "Your body doesn't do too much messin' around in that position." This could not have been said better. Generally speaking, when it's time to do the doo, you're in and out in a flash. The angles of all the inner hardware seems to line up divinely. It's less "grunt-n-strain" and more "hotdog down a hallway."
2) You don't have to worry about sitting down only to find the toilet seat uncomfortably warm or annoyingly damp from the previous user. Your bum and thighs make no contact with the toilet seat, as there is no toilet seat.  You don't have to worry about dealing with those pesky public restroom placebos... I mean, toilet seat covers.
3) For heavy payloads, the splash is little to nonexistent due to the shape of the bowl and lack of water. There are few things less exciting than getting that awkward splash from der' poop ker' plunk. That being said, courtesy flushes are appreciated.

In public spaces, washiki benjo are very common, but there are plenty of souped up Japanese style toilets too.

What it is:
The other style of toilet that is found all over this country resembles the American style toilet, but with a fancy seat. The seat usually has one or more of the following functions:
- heated seat
- massage seat
- powerful deodorizer
- warm bidet
- butt shower
- waterfall noises or cheerful music to block out unwanted sounds
In essence, the Japanese toilet handles everything shy of the happy ending. (Insert second Larry Craig joke here.)

My personal control panel 

What's awesome about it:
1) The butt spray, pictured above as おしり, works wonders down there. Many Americans are turned off by the idea of having their butts sprayed with water. "That's sick! Gross! Exit only!" I'll admit the sensation is a bit strange at first, but it doesn't take long to get used to. My take on it is that I'm using water to rinse, as opposed to using paper to smear. Do I hate toilet paper? No. Next to my toilet is a pretty nifty dispenser. Alls I'm sayin' is butt sprays are weird, but skid marks are shitty.
2) A heated toilet seat is as bougie and awesome as it sounds. It's so satisfying knowing that, no matter how cold the weather is, or how cold the inside of your house is, you can guarantee that the toilet seat under your bum will not feel like a stethoscope on your chest. Since the beginning of October, I've just been leaving the toilet seat heater on all day, every day. It's a religious experience every time I go two-zies in my apartment.

What's difficult about it:
During the colder months, one has a tendency to linger on the seat, even after the business meeting as been adjourned.

Final thoughts:
For some, it takes a long time to face the Asian-style squat toilets, but not for this dreaded gaijin. I enjoy using these toilets, and have grown quite fond of them. If nature calls while I'm out in public, I'll actually seek out this style. That being said, I'm also grateful that I don't have to use one in the privacy of my own home. I'm perfectly content with the command center that is Jimmy's epic toilet seat.

The End of Autumn

As the leaves continue to change colors, and the temperature finally breaches the 30s, I start to realize just how much I love the fall season. It won’t be long before all of the trees, save the evergreens, lose their beautiful colors. Last weekend, the great outdoors called my name for yet another round of adventuring in “Heartful Nagano.”

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Stream in Komagane

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I just like the way this picture came out...

On Saturday morning, I met Karen at Shiojiri Station, and we took a westbound train to the town of Komagane for a day trip. The attraction that we were headed for was the famous Komagatake Ropeway. When I first came to Japan, I knew this was something that I wanted to do.

What I didn’t realize, though, is that the ropeway is not a very long ride, and it doesn’t take you from the ground all the way to the top. You must first grab a bus in the town below, and that will take you about halfway up the mountain. Begin complaining.

The bus ride was absolutely miserable, and I couldn't wait to get off. The bus was so crowded that people were sitting in the foldout chairs that occupied the aisles. I know it didn’t matter that much, but I felt as though I was trapped. I would compare the feeling to being in the third row of someone’s SUV, or worse, the back seat of a coupe. If the shit were to hit the fan, say the vehicle were to catch on fire,  and everyone were to have to evacuate, the people in the front would have an advantage. They have doors allowing for easy access in and out of the vehicle. The people in that back seat, however, would have to clamber their way over the seat in front of them before even being able to think about leaving. So, it may not be an impossible feat to pull off, but it’s still unsettling. Just the way my mind works sometimes.

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How do I get out of this clown car?

What made the bus trip worse, however, was going up the first half of the mountain. I know I love rides and all, but I have never been sicker in a moving vehicle in my entire life. The combination of the vibrant fall colors mixed with the oversized windows and frequency of back to back hairpin turns was enough to turn my brown face green. For this dreaded gaijin,  winding mountain roads are romantic in theory, but nausea-inducing in practice. I was so happy to finally get off at the ropeway terminal. End complaining.  

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Ropeway lower station

As we approached the station at the top, a mysterious fog shrouded the cable car in a blanket. We couldn’t see very far in front of us, and it reminded me of being in the movie “The Mist.” We were well over a mile and a half above the ground, so I can safely say this was the highest I’ve ever been besides riding in an airplane. If you wanna see some stats about the ropeway, click here.

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"Expiation"

I wasn’t too impressed with the views at first, because the mist was covering all but what was about 150 feet in front of us. We got a quick bite to eat at the cafe near the station, and then headed back outside for one more glance. The fog had cleared up, and it was quite a breathtaking view from above. “This is what I paid for,” I thought to myself.

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The awkward Halloween "costume" isn't going anywhere anytime soon, people. It's here. It's weird. Get used to it.

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The photo hardly does the view justice...

On Sunday, I left town again, but this time for an overnight-er. I was off the next day, Monday, and the trip had been arranged by Carolyn, a senpai JET who works up north. It was a two day guided tour through the Shin-etsu Trail, with overnight accommodations covered by her city tourism bureau. The point of trip was to increase knowledge of the area through the eyes of foreigners, and get genuine input from said foreigners about what was interesting, what could be better, and so on and so forth.

The hike was unlike anything I have done before. I’m not much into hiking, but after this trip, I can appreciate why nature buffs love this sort of thing. The trail itself is similar to the Appalachian Trail. It’s a “long trail” hike that involves skating atop the ridge of a mountain range, as opposed to choosing one big mountain to go from ground to summit to ground again.

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View of autumn leaves and mountains

Since the hike was a two day experience, we were put up in a ryokan, or Japanese inn. I can only compare this to a bed and breakfast. It was kind of like a hotel, but kind of like staying at someone’s house at the same time. We slept on the floors in comfortable futons, and were served epic meals.

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View from outside the inn

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Lobby

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Where I slept

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Dinner...

The second day of the hike brought rain and fog, so we had to finish the tour early. People were slipping and falling, I was getting mud and water in my shoes. It was freezing cold. In hindsight, I had a blast. Walking through the fog made me feel like that little kid from Limbo. Of course, there were no Aragog-sized spiders, but that didn’t stop me from letting my imagination run wild.

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Mist...

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...mist...

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...and more mist.