6 September

Today, we took the free shuttle bus to 日本経済大学。Okay, I admit it, I copied these kanji from a piece of paper that was given to me––but I do know how to pronounce them (ish): Nihon Keizai Daigaku. That’s the name of the university we’re staying at this year, the Japan University of Economics.

At this point, it might be best to say a bit more about the scholarship scheme I and nine other students have been awarded with. Our year will be spent learning Japanese (15 hours a week) and helping out at an elementary and senior school that is associated with the university. This is all we knew when we applied, and, until today, we knew little else. What I had realised by now, however, was that this scheme was more than any of us had even dared to imagine: our accommodation is wonderful, the staff is incredibly forgiving and polite, and we don’t have to look for jobs but can pick the ones we like from a mass of private students, discussion groups and language schools.

With all this in mind, I was determined to pay back the favour and make a genuine effort at learning Japanese as we met our teacher, Ikahara-sensei, for the first time. Teachers are not called -san––the usual suffix for Mr,Mrs,Ms or Miss––but -sensei, a more respectful name that is reserved for teachers, and that we can expect to be called by our future students, too. Teaching in Japan, I’ve been told, is a very respected profession. Ikahara-sensei passed round five text books for each of us and gave us our first homework. I’m a little bit in love with text books, and so I cannot wait to start!

As we had another hour or so to kill until our next appointment, Seb, who runs this scheme at JUE, took us on a little trip in the mini bus. We drove to the top of a mountain and had a stunning view across Futsukaichi, Dazaifu and Chikushino City, all parts of the larger Fukuoka area (pictures 1, 2 &3). This mountain, we were told, was once prepared to be the last retreat from which the invading Koreans were to be fought off. Seb will be teaching us about Japanese history once a week and I can’t wait to learn more about it!

In the afternoon, we met the teachers at Linden Hall senior school. Linden Hall is an English immersion school, which means that all subjects are taught in English. Hence, most of the staff is English speaking, with Japanese teachers coming in to teach classes like arts and music. However, it is not an international school, which means that although classes are in English, exams will be in Japanese.

The school itself is beautiful. The teaching facilities––the arts, music and science rooms––are spacious, light and offer the most incredible view over the mountains surrounding Futsukaichi. The students seem very likeable, and even the “naughty” ones just giggle in the background and look a little shy. However, because this school offers a very new teaching concept, there are currently only two years with just under 20 students in this school which could comfortably accommodate hundreds of students.

The elementary school across the road, however, shows that the English immersion concept has the potential to fill the senior school in the years to come. The staff here––also all English speaking and so, so nice!––got very excited when they heard about our various university degrees, and got even more excited when we said we liked the mocha flavoured sweets and the vinegar drink (really very nice, although it sounds horrible). We got a tour of the school––and just knew that this scheme would be one of the best things that had ever happened to us. The gardens are huge, with a kind of adventure playground in the woods, a hill that pupils (and teachers, I made sure to check) can slide down on plastic sledges, a rice paddy, pottery room and tea room. Inside the school, the facilities were just as wonderful as the senior school rooms. We were told to use anything we want from the arts room and were shown the gym, which also has a huge stage and is used for the yearly Shakespeare performance (how cute is that going to be?!).

All in all, I cannot believe my luck, really. I can absolutely understand why so many previous scholars and JETs have stayed on to continue teaching at Linden Hall. Now I hope that I’m not a completely useless teacher...

5 September: Splish splash, I was taking a bath

Today is the day: it’s ladies’ day at the onsen!

The onsen must be the most perfect and wonderful Japanese invention. It’s essentially a hot, communal bath. I’ve also been told it’s a great way to meet people, which, I must say, surprises me a little. After all, you enter the bathhouse in the emperor’s best clothes. So none.

Armed with nothing but a little basket containing toiletries and a sponge, we took a seat on the low, plastic chairs and turned on the water––which was freezing. As we were the only three in there (three girls, that is; male and female onsen-users don’t mix), we just assumed that this was all part of the onsen tradition: bloody cold shower, wonderfully warm bath. As it turned out, the water just hadn’t heated up. Only about 20% of the students in Cambridge House are girls, and during the holidays, they don’t seem to bother turning on the heat until someone actually enters the bath. We also shouldn’t have splashed around in the hot bath tub or put our heads under the water––but oh well, you can’t do everything right, and sometimes it’s also just less fun. As the first soapy bubbles appeared––a complete no-no that even I knew about, we thought it best to leave. The next ladies’ day is Wednesday, and I can honestly say I cannot wait!

Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately for you readers, there are no pictures of the onsen.

4 September: Kanji-less in Chikushino

It is now Sunday, 4 September, and the typhoon has only just decided to ease off. I ventured out into the outside world for pretty much the first time today. We walked past rice paddies and the Nitchitetsu train line into suburban Chikushino. The houses look so beautiful here! (picture 1)

We came across a temple, or possibly a shrine, potentially a Bhuddist one (picture 2 & 3). A strange buzzing noise drew our attention to some very large and very lazy looking yellowish brown bugs sitting in the trees and the roof of the temple/shrine. None of us were entirely sure whether it was okay to enter the building with shoes, so we looked, admired, and left.

On our way back to Cambridge House we came across another very interesting looking place. A tiny space surrounded by a low wall of large stones led up to a covered Buddha statute, to which someone must have offered flowers (picture 4). Next to it was another covered area, under which stone statutes were clad in very clean, white cloth (picture 5). I don’t know what this all means just yet, but I am confident I will find out soon.

As we walked down the narrow road to find our way back, we also came across two bizarre road signs (picture 6 & 7). The first one, with the little chick, looked fairly sweet, and we figured they must be selling eggs. Some of us (not me, unfortunately) were able to recognise some kanji (letters taken from the Chinese alphabet), but no one could recognise one that read “egg”, or maybe “chick”––after all, maybe they were selling baby chicks for 110 En. The other road sign appeared just as puzzling, but also fairly creepy: who could this ghostly black figure with the lolly possibly be but a paedophile, beckoning sweet little children––who only came to this place to admire the Buddha and tickle the chicks––into his (or her, let’s not confirm gender stereotypes) car? Let me break the suspense: that’s exactly what the sign means. Granted, it doesn’t specify the dangers of paedophilia, but certainly warns the chick-tickling cherubs to beware of strangers. But the chick-sign, too, is just as serious: it says that children, who feel they might be followed by a stranger, can run into this house for safety.*

After this very puzzling trip––we only came out to stare at the fish in the supermarket fridge!––we returned to Cambridge House. The rest of the day was spent exploring You Me Town, and Aeon Mall. Complete with a Japanese bookshop, restaurants and a 100 En shop, this is probably the best place for rainy afternoons. We stuffed ourselves with sushi for the first time (picture 8)––I spent around 600 En on loads of delicious fish, the equivalent of just under a fiver––and fell into bed, with the air-con turned to “high”.

*Thank you, Iona, for your illuminating facebook comments.

3 September 2011: The singing, ringing bathroom

As it turned out, bedtime wouldn’t last so long. Ah, the jetlag. Always a pleasure. When my bathroom started singing a jolly tune at 7.30 am the next morning, I thought it best to postpone sleep to tomorrow night and just get up.

I finally had time to admire my room. As you come into the room (little flat, really), you get to a little kitchen area (picture 1) with massive storage space. Through the kitchen, you get to the main room, with desk (so. much. storage. space.), fancy desk lamp and Japanese kettle (picture 2). These things are absolutely amazing. Once heated, the keep the water at 98ºC. So whenever you fancy a cup of ocha (green tea), you press a little red button, a red light shows where the water will hit the cup, and, pressing another button, you’ve got a steaming hot cup of tea in about 3.2 seconds. No idea why the English haven’t imported a couple of millions of these yet.

The main room also has a flat screen TV (yes, I hear you, why so stingy and not a 3D TV...) and a double bed (Japanese size, so more of a 1 1/2 bed) (pictures 3 & 4). Off the bedroom is a little wardrobe/dressing table area (more storage...) and a little door leads to a bathroom. Japanese bath tubs are slightly different to European ones. They’re shorter and higher, as you’re meant to sit in them and soak in the hot water, rather than lie, read and pop bubbles with your toes.

All in all a decent sized room. Rooms. Seriously, it’s huge, incredibly generous, and I feel much too undeserving of any of this. I try to do my bit by switching off the light and air-con whenever I can (in fact as you leave the room and take out the key, they all switch off automatically, but I’d like to think that requires some effort on my side) as Japan is currently trying to make a genuine effort to save energy.

At 8am, I went downstairs to have my first Japanese breakfast. I got a tray with hashi (chopsticks) and loaded it with a bowl of rice (of course), miso soup (of course), pickle and a plate with slices of omelette and salad, as well as mocha (green tea made from powder). After a little post-breakfast kip (okay, three hours of unconsciousness) Seb met us in the living room area. We were told about the wonders of Cambridge House: there’s a baiten (little shop) on the ground floor, as well as an onsen (indoor bath house), billiard rooms, three karaoke rooms (I am still desperately hoping I will be spared the embarrassment), an entrance hall that is so thoroughly polished that it looks like a swimming pool, shoe lockers (walk up to the locker in slippers; open the lock; put your slippers inside; walk across the entrance hall in socks; put your street shoes on at the step, making sure not to step onto the lower floor with your socks; look around to see if anyone looks really offended; think twice whether you really want to go out for some toilet paper, or whether you want to give that “bidet” button a go instead).

Later in the afternoon, we are introduced to the Cambridge House staff. We all line up in front of them and each say our name, followed by a bow. None of us really knows how to bow just yet, and, practising in front of the mirror, mine still looks more like my head is bobbing on my shoulders like one of those Dachshund figure you sometimes find at the back of cars. The staff also takes a picture of us in front of a large welcome sign. At least I think that’s what it says.

For lunch, we brave the outside world for the first time. It’s been raining for days, but it’s hot. We reach Hottomotto, a take-away place, and are soaked in drizzly rain. After some ten minutes of pointing at vegetarian-looking dishes, I give up and buy the soup. Back at Cambridge House, I feel very, very pleased with myself, having purchased and devoured my first bit of food.

2 & 3 September 2011: London, Seoul, Fukuoka

I have spent the last month or so repeatedly saying my good-byes to people in the UK and Germany, and on the 2 September 2011 it was finally time to leave. Until Thursday afternoon, when I arrived at Heathrow, Terminal 4––with overweight luggage and overly pessimistic thoughts––I hadn’t met many of the other ten students I was going to live, learn and look like a lemon with for a year. As it turned out about 25 minutes and 5 seconds later, they were all incredibly lovely. A first group photo was taken as we were waiting to board the first plane to Seoul Incheon airport, South Korea. Step 1 of the bonding process was pretty much done. For those of you who I’m leaving behind, I hope you will find this blog a little bit interesting, and excuse me if I get all too boring and repetitive. I’m writing this as a note to myself, really, to remember the wonderful experiences I (hope I) will make in Japan from September 2011 to July 2012.

The first part of our journey, a twelve hour flight with Korean Air, was fairly uneventful. The omnivores amongst us were served bibimbap for dinner (Korean dish of some meat and vegetables which you mix with rice and some pickle substance, stir it, and enjoy) and a hybrid of rice pudding and porridge with green tea flavouring for breakfast.

At 2pm Korean/Japanese time (6am UK time, but by this point we were determined to ignore the 8 hour time difference and live, sleep and eat according to Japanese time) we landed at Incheon airport, which, we all decided, must be the most wonderful airport in the world. Not only do they have free internet, but they also have cultural exchange places. We went to one of these to try on traditional Korean clothes (picture 1). Apparently, I had chosen the dress of an “entertainer” (I sincerely hope that this was not a euphemism for something else), whereas the others had chosen more wisely––the dress of a princess and some other, more reputable looking professions. We had the first pictures taken of us by strangers, and I also made sure to practice the shoes on, shoes off routine at the step that led to the little platform on which we were standing.

The connecting flight to Fukuoka was slightly less pleasant. Not because the Korean Air staff was any less polite than on the last plane, but because the landing was a bit of a nightmare. I had been warned that there was a typhoon coming our way, but I wasn’t aware that we were actually in the midst of it all. Hence, the landing was very shaky, and when we realised we were on safe ground even the quiet Japanese lady sitting next to me smiled at me and joined into our relieved clapping (I never clap, honestly, but this was heartfelt).

At the airport, I also had my first encounter with a full-on Japanese loo: one button promises to “spray”, another offers a “bidet”, and another shows a little musical note and, when pressed, ensures that any noises you may make are well concealed by a flushing noise. I have to admit, I chickened out of using any buttons, but I will make sure you pamper my cheeks soon.

At the airport, we were met by Seb, who runs this scheme. We all piled on what looked like a school bus. At Cambridge House（ケンブリツジハウス), our new home, we were welcomed by a number of very polite staff, who had already lined up some slippers for us. Cambridge House is one of the halls of residence for the students of the Japan University of Economics (JUE) and is located in Chikushino-shi (I’m still not entirely sure where the university is, or where Fukuoka is in relation to Chikushino-shi). We had some sandwiches, which had been lovingly prepared for us (picture 2), some chilled “straight tea”, and, briefly admiring the size and gadgets in our room, fell into bed.