Reflection (from return flight)

6/8/09

On the plane coming to Japan, I wrote five major goals in my journal:

"1) Enhance my faith and fire for Jewish practice.
2) Sharpen my teaching ability and touch and better the knowledge of those I teach.
3) Walk with the highest of morals, sincerity and kindness.
4) Embrace Japanese culture through the study of an art.
5) Better posture, eating habits, driving speed and awareness."

As I look now, through His Help and experiences with people and places of a wide range of character, I see that they were nearly all accomplished.

I sit now, confident that I am stronger than I have ever been. There were many trials, mistakes and setbacks (My body is now feeling the effects of this. May He heal it quickly.), but there were also moments of grace and glory.

Through it all, I look at my self and see that I have changed in character, heart and habit.

The Japanese taught me grace and humility and the Israelis emboldened my will. Where my heart used to seek the edge and the exploration of the external, now I desire to settle and explore within. Also, habits of eating, cleanliness and prayer have changed for the better.

As I look ahead, much is to change. I seek to pioneer a new world, and will undoubtedly be faced with my hardest challenges to date.

I will complete this testament with the concluding words of the Adon Olam prayer: "the Lord is with me, I shall not fear."

Thursday and Friday Teaching

Thursdays: Sobu and Yokodai. Fridays: Kaneriya and Yoshii

This Friday afternoon I completed my last class. It was the culmination of a whirlwind week. I said final "goodbyes" to students, prepared the new teacher, packed up and moved out. I sit now, relieved and ready for some rest.

Here, I would like to recount both the character of my Thursday and Friday classes.

The average Thursday began with high-energy Sobu assembly classes in the morning. After, I would have some time at the office to rest and prepare lessons and then head north to Yokodai. There I taught four classes above a dentist office near Yokodai station.

The classes had a wide range of personalities. Some were enthusiastic, some were highly intelligent, some were disinterested and some were sweet and gentle. The quality of the classes' learning would go in cycles. As the year went on, some would be joyful and progress rapidly for months at a time and then have a phase of indifference. I believe such was my own fault. My teaching act and style would grow stale over time, and I was constantly forced to create new ways to draw interest.

In the end, it kept the job very exciting and greatly enhanced my teaching ability and understanding of the nature of children.

Here I would like to speak of Kurumi, Ryo, Saki and Shunichi: four students that I will not soon forget.

Kurumi and Ryo were girls in the third or fourth grade. They were very sweet, good natured and retained much of the lessons. They would giggle at the jokes, sing the songs, and focus on learning.

Saki was a couple years older than Kurumi and Ryo. She was also very sweet and worked hard. Sadly, she was grouped with a disinterested girl that sucked a lot of the life out of the class. Even so, Saki overcame her influence and learned a great deal. She was a great pleasure throughout the year, and left me two sweet and well-decorated letters.

Shunichi was a tall Junior High School student with big hair. At times he felt like a big second grader. He was such a joy to have in class. His natural English ability was weak compared to others of his age, but he always tried hard. If we were alone in the class we would go through the songbook, singing everything from "Rudolph" to "Yellow Submarine." He worked very hard on his Speech Contest performance; making up for his level by learning emotional gestures and tones. In the end, he took the gold medal home. I was very proud of him. On his final day, he left me the following letter:

On Friday mornings I would head to Kaneriya Kindergarten for one lesson. Such was one of the happiest places I have ever been. The students would run to greet me and scream, "Hello," and the administrative staff would gladly sit me down and give me fruits and drinks. They put me in their staff yearbook picture and treated me as one of there own. On my last day, they rounded up the bulk of my students during their recess for a final "goodbye" and handed my a nice parting gift.
Friday afternoons, I had two classes in Yoshii. They were held in a small and well-decorated basement of a very kind woman named Mrs. Nakamura. Although we spoke little of the same language, Mrs Nakamura and I built a close relationship over the year. She served me drinks, introduced me to her sons and invited me to a fantastic Taiko drumming performance in Tokyo.

The first class was composed of as many as eight kindergarten students. At the beginning of the year, they were very difficult to control, but in time became my most interested class. They laughed hard whenever I changed the pitch of my voice and would fight to hold my hand during action lessons. They were a lot of fun and I cared for them as my very own children.

The second class was composed of four super-intelligent and lovely 1st-2nd grade girls [Mana, Hina, Chihiro and Yuna] and an intelligent class clown boy named Taisei. The girls would pick wild flowers and hand them to me at the beginning of the class, and sit attentively and absorb for the entire 40 minutes. They soared through the textbooks and learned and retained more than any other class.
In the end, I let go. I felt like I had completed my task and am now ready to move on. I received many letters and statements of appreciation from students and parents, and feel that nearly all were satisfied. Although, I was not in the best health or mindset for teaching in the final week, the Lord gave the strength to finish strong.

The sun has set on the Japanese teaching experience. May the coming rise arrive with His glory and inspiration.

Japanese Mikvot

Over the past few months I have become accustomed to going to public baths, or sento, and/or hot springs, or onsen, about twice a week.
The sento’s indoor facilities include multiple skin-scorching baths with water spouts to massage the limbs and saunas. The experience includes the removal of all clothes in a locker room, crouching under a low showerhead to wash the body with soap and then submerging.

It is an ancient Jewish custom to purify by complete submersion in a body of water at least the size of a large outdoor hot tub. Today, it is a daily ritual for many to submerge in a well-heated mikvah before the morning prayers.

My most interesting mikvah experiences have come with Rabbi Binyomin. He tries to go almost every day and knows some of the most fascinating sento in Tokyo. One time he took me to a festival-themed sento. Once we entered, we were given festival robes and belts of nice traditional fabric and design. Then we took off our clothes, put on the robes and walked into a large room with food and game stands, large bright displays and hundreds of people walking around in nothing but the robes. From there we went into the locker room, undressed and entered a large bathing area with indoor/outdoor, clear and salt water baths and saunas. We spent some time and left. I was told that that Japanese will take there families there for a day trip. I imagine such a place can only be found in Japan.
Also, Japan has much underground volcanic activity. Such brings many hot springs, or onsen, to the surface. The Japanese have a particular affinity for bathing in them and have built indoor and outdoor facilities throughout Japan. (Wild monkeys also enjoy them and are often spotted bathing in the mountain pools.)

A personal high onsen experience came at a recent trip to Shikine Island. There, salty steaming waters arose from the beachfront. I read that its pools are believed to have healing effects on the skin and have been documented as having one of the best 100 views in Japan. I entered, stomached the heat and the salty sting on my flesh wounds, submerged and refreshed.

Binyomin describes the experience as being “born again.” The lifestyle in Japan occasionally wears down the body and/or spirit, and the mikveh has personally been a great resource of sustenance and renewal. May it continue to be so.

Wednesday Teaching: Takatori and Nokendai

Teaching on Wednesday begins on the floor of the office cafeteria with a playroom class. For the breadth of the year, this encompassed three 2-3 year old students, their mothers and two toddlers. The students would sit and learn, while the mothers would spend half the class time keeping them focused and the other half chasing down the toddlers, who would walk around and find trouble. To keep there attention, the classes have been filled with singing, puppeteering and storybooks.

Through the year they have grown in many ways. One student, Yuna, kept silent and always clung to her mother. I challenged her every week to speak and detach. I didn't give her the weekly cookie until she responded "yes, please" and I made every effort to pull her away from her mother. After months of little improvement, she broke through. Now she holds my hand and is one of the loudest participants in the class.

Soon after, I drive a short distance north to Nokendai for two classes. The classroom, which is housed in a ballet studio, gives plenty of room for running and physical games. Such lightens the mood and is a great learning enhancer.

The first class is composed of five young elementary school-aged student. We play "throw, catch, bounce, roll" with a ball, race with "on your mark, get set, go," and tag while singing the "walking, walking." Such has not only made the class more enjoyable for all, but has built a close relationship between me and the students.

One of students name is Haruka. Her mother is intensely focused on her education. For the Speech Contest, I gave her private lessons and could tell that she was well practiced at home. On the day of the contest, she arrived with sharp garments and a bow in her hair, stood for a flawless performance and took home the first prize.

The second class was composed of as many as nine older elementary school-aged students, but will dwindle down to two in May. (This is because of soccer practice, extra studies and other activities of the full schedule that the Japanese assign for their children.) For the most part, they were all good-natured and well-prepared and progressed smoothly throughout the year.

The last three to remain are named Yuuki, Seira and Yuri. I mention their names here because I have grown quite fond of them. I imagine that one day in the distance I will read this, there faces will come to my mind and I will smile.

Sakura

3/29/09-4/05/09

The sakura, or cherry blossoms, bloom annually for about one week. The tree holds a high mystique in Japan because of the exuberant beauty and transience of its flowers. The people keep an ear close to daily sakura blooming forecasts and have an old tradition of picnicking and drinking with family and friends under its blooming flowers.

My personal viewing has spanned many lands and times of day. The local street of Takatori Yama is lines on both sides with inward bending sakura that form a tunnel. Driving up and down the street on a sunny day felt like floating through the clouds. At night, I ran up and down the street, with neck back, gazing at the flowers glowing through the dusky street lamps.

On Shabbat I hiked out to the Imperial Palace. On the northern side there was a moat below two hillsides, both rife with downward leaning sakura. The whole area was flooded with people, picnicking or hiking through. Similar to the redness of momigi (maples), the whiteness of sakura is an unearthly site that brings on the feeling that one is in a lucid dream or vibrantly animated movie.

On Sunday I went to a park in Tsurumi, just south of Tokyo. It housed a set of lakes and hills of leaning sakura. There, I came across an open are, with a variety of colors of sakura and hundreds of people. There was a slow drum beat and a large circle of slow dancing and the singing. Such amidst the soft tones of picnicking families created an ethereal atmosphere.

On my way out I stopped to pray. Facing Jerusalem and an open view of a sakura-edged lake, I stood for a long moment of peace and gratitude. I thought of all the blessings of the "season" in Japan and how I have been moved to change for the better.

Thank G-d, the land and spirit of the culture has been fertile soil, the wide breadth of great people that I have met have planted an abundance of well-timed seeds, and the Blessed Holy One brought the rain. May all remain so, and the days finish in health and strength.

Japanese Baseball

3/29/09
This past Sunday I took a train up to Saitama to see a preseason baseball game at the Seibu Dome. The Seibu Lions were hosting the Tokyo Yakult Swallows.

I was taken by Brad and Jordan: two brothers who are taking their last semester of law school together at Temple University in Tokyo. Brad is soft spoken with a strong athletic frame and Jordan is a big teddy bear of a man, who has no fear to say or do the outrageous at any moment. They invited me at the Chabad House and we took the train north together.

We took four sets of trains and arrived at the shining silver dome after noon. As we approached, we could hear the roar of the crowd, the beating of drums and loud unified cheers. Upon entering, I was engulfed in the sweet fruits of the values of Japanese culture.

(These values, which do not always taste sweet, but have a beautiful appearance, are unity, harmony, professionalism and attention to detail. To keep a unified and harmonious society, Japanese are very polite, wary of the opinions of others and stray from speaking of controversial issues that may lead to argument [i.e. politics]. Such is one strong internal mechanism that keeps the society peaceful and efficient. Also professionalism and attention to detail are very important. For example, I have seen a parking attendant team, dressed up in sharp uniforms and communicating with walkie-talkies, flag a car into a spot with the same intensity and focus as a flight ground crew bringing down an emergency snowstorm landing of the President of the United States of America.)

The ideals of unity and harmony were on full display from the moment we walked in. The team’s colors of sky blue and white could be seen throughout the dome, from the bathroom walls, to the clothing and faces of the fans. Also, the “bleacher” section was filled with loud and inspirited fans, who had a large array of megaphone-led unified chants, songs, dances and carried large flags and banners. At one point, the entire section took out blue umbrellas and danced and chanted in a nearly professionally choreographed manner. They would cheer loudly as the pitches were delivered and explode with joy on good outcomes. They were always positive, never booing the other team or disrespecting their players. It gave the feeling that the fans were actually a part of the wholeness of the team: the body was on the field, but the spirit was in the stands.

Professionalism and attention to detail could be seen on the field. The players displayed great technical skills and perfect form even while practicing between innings. They all seemed to know exactly how to act in each situation and I did not see one mental mistake throughout the game.

Although our tickets were in another location, Brad and Jordan could not stay far from the effusive buzz of the “bleacher” section. There they made quick friends with the fans, learned the cheers and dances, waved blue flags and acted as wildly as possible. At one point, Jordan picked up a fan on his back, shook him and roared.

The Lions won the game 9-6. After the game we stayed for a pep rally of drumming, flag waving and cheers and headed home. On the way, Brad and I spoke about favorite prayers and I offered him to put on my Teffilin. He agreed and, just as the sun was setting, he and his brother strapped on the holy black boxes, faced Jerusalem and had moments of peace. Soon after we parted, in gratitude.

Tuesday Teaching: Kamio-oka

On Tuesdays, I travel north again to an urban suburb of Yokohama named Kamio-oka. The classroom is located in the city center, near major train and subway stations, sprawling commercial areas and a river.

The commute usually entails a 40 minute drive in tight traffic. I try to make the best of it by singing Shabbat melodies and listening to Eagle 810 (the military’s radio station).

Upon arrival, I carry my bag of props up a flight of stairs to a small room. The room sits above a small art gallery, run by a cheerful　little woman with large glasses.　　When I pass, she bows low and smiles, saying few words.

The first class is comprised of four playful students of early elementary school age. When I arrive, they are usually hiding behind the door or in the side room. They wait for me to find them, laugh very loud and then the class begins. In this class, the stamp competition became particularly close and heated. The boys combined for one team and the girls for the other. Going into the final day, the score was Boys 269 – Girls 266. The lesson was filled with stamp opportunities, and stayed intensely close. The deciding factor was a game of team tic-tac-toe for two stamps. It came down to the final question, and the girls won. After counting all the stamps, the final score was Girls 291 – Boys 289. The girls let out a great cry, I gave them their reward (pictured above) and handed the boys a second-place prize. They all left in high spirits, unaware that they had just been pushed to personal highs in learning.

The next class contains two mild and disciplined older elementary school aged students. It is easy to get them to passively repeat phrases, but penetrating the English into their minds takes effort. I try to add in more games and movement to make it interesting and occasionally I will lighten the mood and get some smiles. The fruits of the effort have been much progression and enjoyment from all parties.

After they leave, I have a 50 minute break to explore Kamio-oka. I usually walk through the thin streets, tasting the distinct flavor of Japanese urban life. Squeezed together within a few acres of land, there are flower and vegetable stands, large department stores, “pleasure” shops, pachinko (slot machine) parlors and high and low class restaurants. I pass flocks of neatly-dressed and homogeneous Japanese, walking fast with heads down, all nice and orderly. After, I recite the evening prayers and prepare for the incoming students.

The third class is composed of junior high and high school students. Two have spent time studying English in America

and all are very advanced. They have studied English in school and their vocabulary and grammar is strong. Because of this my lessons focus less on the words themselves, but on conversation.

Many are naturally shy and need to be pushed to use their knowledge when they speak. We read and repeat textbook sentences together to get good pronunciation and word flow. In addition to this, we have practiced Star Wars dialogues to encourage loud and emotional conversation. This has brought much enjoyment and has advanced their bravery and speaking ability a great deal.

After, I give the boys a “youth-style” handshake, pack up and take the long road back.

The semester ended this week. Some old students will be leaving and new students will be coming. I have become close to many, and it will be sad to see them go. However, I am confident that each has advanced their English and grown in ways they had not expected.

Of the Ascent

The winter brought a great fire that moved my heart and its desires for the future. Its impact brought great inspiration to accelerate my religious practice.

A twist in fate brought an early leaving date from the Matsuzaki Home and a soon-coming move back to the Matty's Dorm. I decided to take the opportunity to begin a stricter observance of the kosher eating laws.

(This means to not only forgo eating pig or shellfish, but all that is produced without the strict observance of a Rabbi specialist. Because of this, I will be getting most of my food from the Chabad Houses in Tokyo. In order to kosher cooking and eating utensils, they must be purchased anew, immersed in a body of water [at least the size of a large hot tub], and blessed.)

On the night after Purim, I set out on the task of koshering newly purchased cooking and eating utensils. I packed the large front basket of my bike with a glass, bowl, spoon, chopstick set, knife, cutting board, a pan and its cover and three plastic containers and headed to Zushi Beach.

Winter had not fully let go, and there was a strong wind and slight chill in the air. The moon was full and peaking in and out from behind a partly overcast sky.

As I rode onward, I felt very strong. I was fulfilling a command of G-d; on a mission from the Most High.

I arrived at the beach. It was desolate. The clouds were intense and the wind was howling. Afternoon showers left the sand soft and wet and a 20 foot long, two inch deep pool between the naked sand and the shoreline.

I had no choice but to take off my shoes and socks and wade through. As I laid down the bike and made three sets of piles, the clouds parted and the moon shined in full brilliance.

Then I walked in with prayer book in hand. It was dark and difficult to stay dry, but thankfully nothing was lost or damaged. I immersed the vessels, loudly recited the blessings above the waves and wind and headed home. I did not feel cold for a moment.

Back at the house, I went straight to the shower and washed the sand off myself and that which I had just blessed.

As I dried them off, the vessels appeared to glisten. Soon after I went to sleep, with a sated heart.

Love and sacrifice feed each other.

Shodo (Part II)

As written earlier, I have been practicing calligraphy with my home stay father, or Oto-osan. He has introduced me to a style and set of techniques that have taken my ability to the next level.

The style is a mix between kai-sho (common script) and gyo-sho (cursive script) and includes four characters on one page.

This format has also introduced me to the Japanese art of the four character idiom. The following is the meanings of works of this page (top right, bottom right, top left, bottom left). “No break, No bend.” “One will, master (of) the heart.” “Taiko (Drumming), soul beating.” and “Initial will, penetrates the completion.”

Oto-osan taught me a number of techniques that have greatly increased the quality of my work. The most important is the step-by-step process of making each individual stroke. First, push the brush down from a 90 degree angle, hold for one second, then move and pause for one second at the end and lift up. (I believe such is good guidance for handling the ventures of life. First, pause for contemplation and decide the right course of action. Then move forward without looking back. At the end, take a moment to make sure everything went well and then move on.)

As we learn, Oto-osan often spouts pearls of brilliant wisdom and inspiration with his low deep voice. He has said, “write small, looks big,” “continue is power,” and “concentrate, practice, concentrate, practice.”

One night he told me, “flavorman, is a gentleman.” At the time, I nodded and laughed, but didn’t understand what he meant until after much contemplation.

I always envisioned flavor as the “bam” spice of Emeril Legasse, which is anything but what we think of as gentle. After thinking further, I understood that flavor is not dependent on extremes of hotness or sweetness.

Flavor is a refined taste that comes from harmony with and consideration of the other foods. Something stolid、dry and innovative has no flavor, but neither does an overpowering spice.

In the same way, a person could have a fiery personality, and bring loud laughter and joy, but if he or she does not consider the feelings of others, his presence can spoil the atmosphere. As making careful combinations of spices, herbs, and base foods, makes a delicious meal, the gentle nature of a flavorman takes a group of individuals and makes a family.

Thank G-d, I have had extraordinary teachers. May such fortune continue.

Monday Teaching: Sakonyama

Here is the first of what I hope to be a complete set of writings on the Japanese English teaching experience.

On Mondays, I take the tole road north to Sakonyama, a relatively rural Yokohama suburb. Driving at high speeds, without the continuous stop-start-stop driving of the normal trafficked commute, is liberating and a very enjoyable experience in itself.

The Sakonyama Class is at Ueno Kindergarten. The building neighbors a large vegetable farm and the sweet scent of burning cedar or other vegetation is often in the air as I exit the car. I usually arrive as the students are getting let out, and am engulfed in a sea of loud giggles and bubbly smiles. I pass through, recite the afternoon prayers, quickly set up the classroom and begin.

The first class has four girls. They arrive early in their Ueno Kindergarten uniforms and wait for me to set up, laughing loudly at everything I say or do. This light mood, along with their short attention span, makes them very difficult to teach and their lessons are often exhausting. To keep them interested, I have to be constantly on the move; singing, playing games and aimlessly running around. If I am not creative enough and my acts go stale, I will lose their focus and the lesson will be in vain. Exerting effort to keep their attention and to inspire them to participate and understand has taught me a lot about the nature of children.

The class’ smallest student is a little doll named Reika. She wears a red hair band and bangs and purposefully makes her voice high and squeaky. Sometimes before class we play voice games together. I squeak three times, and she makes three squeaks. I make three higher and faster squeaks and she imitates, and so on.

After they leave, I have a five minute break. Then the third class’ three students enter. I greet them with “Hello, How are you?” and they respond, “I’m fine thank you and you.” When I first started two of them were quite mischievous, making witty comments and hiding in the cubby holes. To counter this and redirect their talents, I created a behavior modification system (adapted from that which I used at Windsor Academy). If they do good, they get a stamp, if they misbehave, a stamp gets X-ed out. At the end of the semester the winner gets a “big candy.” This has created a healthy competition and a lively atmosphere.

The third class has four well-motivated and intelligent students. The crown is a young boy named Ho-ota. Ho-ota is super interested and excited about learning English. He runs into the classroom, greets me with a loud “Hello” and often leaves with a jumping high five and loud laughter. He wears an array of interesting and character portraying t-shirts. One says, “Perfection: kid running at full speed” and another says “Beetle (collecting) Champion.” He is a pleasure to have in the classroom and I greatly admire his spirit.

The fourth class is the most precocious of the week. It consists of two best friends that understand what I teach so fast that sometimes it’s difficult to fill the 40 minutes of class time. They are so high, that it is difficult to see where to push them upward to. Such is a puzzle that I have yet to complete, but I will continue to put in effort and hope a creative solution will arise.

After they leave, I clean up and head to the car. This moment brings one of two distinct feelings: exhaustion or glory.


Exhaustion has come when I was not fully prepared, had too little sleep and/or did not teach to my full ability.

Glory comes with a soothing internal fire. This feeling means that I fought with all my heart and that everyone involved learned and grew.

Thank G-d, there has been much glory.

Sankeien Park with Sekino Family

There is a well known Japanese proverb that states "ichi-go ichi-eh" or "One meeting, One face-to-face." It teaches that each encounter, whether it be a breakfast with one’s father or a one-time conversation with a stranger, carries great significance. Out of the entire expanse of history and the vast lands of the earth, each moment of meeting has been orchestrated for a purpose. It is unprecedented and unrepeatable. Because of this, the proverb teaches that one should face their conversant with full attention of mind and heart and make the most out of the encounter.

With this in mind, I spent a wondrous day with Sekino-san and Yumiko-san: two immensely loving and caring people who have treated me as their own son.

It started at Oppama station, where they picked me up and drove north to Yokohama. I sat in the backseat and we quickly got into our old conversation groove. We spoke of Japanese thinking, trees, birds and much more, learning and laughing all the way.

We arrived at Sankeien Park under cloudy skies. Such was opportune, for when the heavens are gray, the earth’s colors are more vibrant.

Sankeien Park is a large piece of property, donated by a wealthy silk merchant family in the 20th century. It has many ponds, old houses from around Japan, a bonsai exhibit and about 100 ume, or plum blossom trees.

Soon after passing the gate, we headed to a large pond and watched visitors feed its coi, or carp, and water fowl. A large pack of tufted ducks, with their yellow eyes, bluish beaks and thin black ponytails, would all swim together in the same direction. During feeding, they would paddle to the food, grab it and dive under to enjoy a private snack somewhere unbeknown to me.

After, we strolled to a bonsai tree exhibit. There were trees of various breeds, ages and sizes. Sekino-san said that some were 200-300 years old. I heard that molding and taking care of a bonsai requires a lot of work, and I hope to learn and write more of the process in the future.

Then we headed around the large pond, alongside the multitudes of blooming ume. We stopped in a small hut, where they were serving scorching hot tea next to a warming fire. Over the fire, in the center of the hut, hung a large boiling pot. The volunteers would add and take from the pot to make the tea. Such was a very nice courtesy and window into the past.

Soon after we arrived at a small museum. Inside were dozens of seasonal scroll paintings. Most portrayed the ume, next to a poem or other writing or alongside a bird. Many Japanese have the custom of making a special space in their house for the scroll painting, changing the design with the turning of the month or season. They are very fond of the seasons of nature, and changing the scroll painting is a way of bringing this feeling inside the home.

After, Sekino-san took me out to eat in Yokohama Chinatown for lunch. He bought me roasted chestnuts to give to the Matsusaki family and dropped me off at the train station on the way home.

A meeting and relationship of very high quality. Thanks to the Great Orchestrator.

Of Winter

The cold of winter in the Miura Peninsula comes in waves：three cool days, four cold days and then two mild days. Although the temperature barely dips below freezing, bitter cold comes occasionally. This is because the houses and office buildings do not have central heating and are not insulated as in America. The Japanese have small gas or oil heaters, used only at certain times and in certain rooms. Thankfully it has not broken my spirit, but getting out of the shower, or out of bed in the middle of the night can chill down to the bone.

This said, there are many inspiring points of winter time on the Miura Peninsula.

The season started with the New Year’s celebration. In Japan, such is a 4-10 day event, where families get together from all over the country to enjoy traditional activities and seasonal foods.

New Year ’s Day at the Matsusaki house began with the annual hike to Hiro-o Mountain to see the sun rise on the new year. The house was decorated with New Years’ colors (red and white) and crafts (bamboo, pine and berry creations) and special New Years’ foods (soba noodles, sweet black beans, rice cakes and much much more) were served. Family came from out-of-town and played with tops, flew kites and drew shodo characters (Each individual chose a character that represented their resolution for the coming year. For example, Oka-asan wrote “continue” and I wrote “return”).

Winter is the local area's driest season. This brings many fair and deep blue skies, which unveil views of Fujisan, the sunset and the stars.

The cold and snow of the mountains brings many birds down to the coast. Many new breeds, colors and sounds have graced the skies and trees.
Also, the air is often crisp. I have greatly enjoyed the feeling of walking home from the car at the end of a well fought day; bundled up, with the scent of winter in my nose, its fresh air in my lungs and its slight breeze on my face.

As with the other seasons, winter has its special flowers. The most prized blooming is the ume, or plum blossom, but the Japanese always like to fill their street sides and personal gardens with flowers. A popular seasonal potted plant is an import from the Mediterranean known as shikuramen. It is a strong flower that comes in many different colors and blooms vertical petals that appear as flames.

Thank G-d, winter has brought much blessing and joy. May safe, healthy and fruitful days continue in the coming spring.

Zushi

I moved into Zushi town in mid-December and it has quickly become one of the most fascinating places that I have ever lived.

Before painting its picture, it is important to note that Zushi has a “town feel.” Compared to the streets of Tokyo and Yokohama and Yokosuka suburbs, the people are friendly. Many shops are local and each house and garden has a distinct character. There are few street lamps outside the town center and the nights are dark and quiet. I live near a set of school grounds, and I often see children walking and families supporting their children’s sporting events on the weekends.

Zushi town’s main draw is its beach. Within an hour southwest of Tokyo, scores of youths travel down on hot summer days. The waves are small, but the waters glow sky blue just after sunset. The sand is brown and the waves wash up many colors of shells, stones and seaweeds onto the shore. Windy days attract windsurfers and surfers, even in the winter. The beach itself faces west and offers brilliant views of the setting sun and Fujisan. In fact, this past Sunday about 100 people watched it set with red radiant clouds and a full seven color rainbow.

Just a short climb from the beach is Hiro-o Yama Park. Sitting atop a tall coastal hill, the park has postcard views of Fujisan behind the green cliffs and blue crashing waters of Sagami bay. It has a small animal park with birds, turtles and Japanese macaque monkeys (of which I will write more of in the future).

The bustling town area is centered around two train lines. Surrounding are small surf shops, groceries, flower shops, antique shops and a large variety of small businesses. Also, there are noodle and sushi shops as well as Italian, Thai and French restaurants and bakeries. Nearby is Zushi Plaza, which houses a library, town meeting center for government, recreation and hobby groups and an indoor swimming pool.

I live a mile inland from the beach, amidst thickly forested hillsides. I have traveled a few times to a forested area named Nagoye. This past week I went up into its bamboo forest. I climbed a steep hillside, using bamboo stumps and shoots as my ladder, and sat for some time amidst the wondrous vegetation. The wind would blow strong, loudly rustling its leaves and bending the tall, skinny and hallow poles back and forth. It felt like the massive steel-hard trunks could snap and fall at any moment, but its roots held strong and I was safe.

Above the bamboo forest, is a set of tiered rice and vegetable fields. An old man and woman farm the property with a group of young field hands. The old man is skinny and wears a big green brimmed cap that could have been taken from a farmer in the cornhusks of Nebraska. The woman is bent and wears a head rag. She has yelled at me to leave the property a couple of times, but her husband cools her down and smiles.

The big attraction of the area is its old white ume, or plum blossoms. I have become close to the ume: watching its white flowers against the deep blue sky, its petals glow translucent against the sun or mejiro hop from branch to branch.
Thus is the extent of my knowledge of Zushi town. I hope to stay for the Spring and write of the changes.

Afternoon with Oto-osan

1/25/09

On a sunny afternoon, Oto-osan and I set out on a bicycle trip around Zushi town.

First we headed for lunch at a small ramen shop. The shop was housed in a thin yellow duplex, with floors as large as 2-3 bedrooms back-to-back. The ramen shop area was just large enough to fit a stove, room to stand and cook, a table and four chairs, tightly. Japanese style: no space wasted.

Oto-osan and I waited outside for 40 minutes, before entering. (Later, Oka-asan laughed loud and said that he was crazy for waiting so long for a simple ramen shop, but I didn’t mind. I was with Oto-osan and there was peace.)

As we entered, we were greeted by an old thin man with glasses, a small white cap and a wide smile and his daughter: a roundish woman with glasses, long tied-back hair and an expressionless face. Oto-osan told me that they slept (with possibly other members of the family) on the second floor and used the ramen kitchen to cook their own food. They cooked up some tasty ramen and we ate.

Next we rode onto Nagoye bamboo forest. Such is the place where Oto-osan volunteers once or twice a week.
He told me that the entire forest (about the size of two Olympic sized swimming pools) was in fact one tree, with all roots connected underground. One shoot takes only three months to grow to a full size of almost 50 feet. Preservation work (cutting down old shoots to give room and nutrition for new shoots to grow) greatly extends the life of a forest. For example, there is a forest in Kamakura that has been preserved for over 500 years.

Oto-osan showed me the bamboo club’s workshop, where they take cut-down shoots to make fences and various crafts. He gave me a bamboo cup and we headed out of the forest and up a hill to a sunlit tiered garden.

Once inside the garden, we saw an old blooming plum blossom, or ume, aglow in distant sunlight.
Ume blooms small white, yellow or pink flowers in the winter. As where cherry blossoms, or sakura, are in bloom for one week, ume flowers for one month. Its sweet-smelling flowers attract many kinds of birds and insects.

We asked a gardener for permission and headed over to the relatively large and sprawling ume. We stood in admiration for sometime, when mejiro (a small, roundish and light green jacketed bird with white circles around its eyes and a grey breast) flew to the other side of the tree.

Oto-osan told me that when he was in 4th grade, he caught mejiro with a net and kept it in a bamboo basket for one year. He fed it rice and flowers and let it go with its health.

We sat and watched the green and white contrast glow in the sun, as mejiro jumped from branch to branch, flower to flower, coming closer and closer to Oto-osan and me. It came as close as seven feet, feeding for some time, and then we decided to walk off. When we had walked 20 feet from the tree, mejiro, flew away.

We got back on the bikes and rode into town. First, we stopped at Zushi Plaza, where there was a shodo exhibit. Local calligraphers were displaying there work to the public and congregating.　　
Oto-osan showed two of my recent works to the group. They were surprised that a gaijin, or foreigner, could write with balance. A calligraphy teacher with radiant brownish eyes and some English conversation ability asked for the work. He said he wanted to inspire his students, displaying how one can rise many levels in six months. By the grace of G-d. May it continue.

We stayed for some time until I realized that it was getting late. The sun was just about to set at Zushi beach!

Oto-osan lead us there. He rode at a frantic pace. I could hardly keep up. We went down a main street, along a river and through some thin side streets and arrived at the beach. I was anxious, but we arrived just in time. The sky was clear and the sun set lined an orange glow just above the horizon.

After, we headed home. Oka-asan, Kaori-san and Asahi were waiting for dinner.