A Happy Beppu Birthday

I celebrated the turning of 24 by yet another Kyushu road trip. With the lovely Lily, witty Anna and gregarious Gabe.

We rented a car early morning on the Saturday and decided to go the scenic route to Beppu. Although avoiding the toll roads was friendly on the pocket, it did take us 9 hours to get there.

However, a car game, like pictionary but with words, amused us for 6 hours. In any case, it's always a pleasure to drive through beautiful Kyushu.

Once in Beppu, by then already 5pm, we met Megan Prosser. For anyone who remembers her from school:

She's the one in the middle

It's a coincidence to both be on JET at the same time. We met in Fukuoka for the sumo wrestling in November. Megan is one of 3 ALTs in the country working for a private school. She gets to teach her own classes and runs a drama club.

Beppu is long famous as a pleasure resort. It has the largest number of hot spring sources in Japan. After much troubled navigation we arrived at one of them. The clay onsen was fabulous.

Immerse yourself in the water and at the bottom is lovely sludgy warm clay which you rub onto your skin for its healing properties.

We met up with some of Megan's friends in an izakaya (traditional japanese restaurant/bar) for dinner. We then headed into Oita (a much larger city 20 minutes away where Megan lives) to a gaijin club. It was a small foreigner club. But there was real music. And real dancing. An open bar with a nominal fee mixed with the heat and humidity... you can only imagine...

The next day after finally rising above the hangover we went to an onsen with a steaming waterfall and waterfall massage * Bliss * before choosing the toll roads over scenic faffing.

My birthday finished up with a delicious italian-pizza-oven-pizza at a fancy restaurant above a bakery that I've been wanting to try for a long time, but never did, secretly thinking I would save it for my birthday and then forgot about it, until I remembered on the journey home.

風衣織奈 Woman Wearing Clothes of the Wind

Day One

Sent to Ioujima again at last… This must surely be the best aspect of my job.

Another 4 hour ferry. I’ve never been on so many ferries as I have in the last year. There are hundreds of islands in Kagoshima prefecture, so people use ferries like buses.

Ioujima is the second island marked on the ferry route:

Kagoshima City is near the top of the trouser legs. The lump across the bay is Sakurajima volcano, which I can see from my bedroom window.

On the ferry I got into a conversation with an old Japanese man about Katakana- a writing system only for foreign words. It serves to keep foreign things segregated (unlike in English where we absorb foreign words) and is the woe of any English teacher, as it makes pronunciation hopeless, especially since Japanese has a more limited sound base than English.

As the ferry pulled into the port, which is a reddish-brown colour (due to a high iron concentration in the sea), I was struck by the sight of another gaijin (foreigner). It was the last place in Japan I expected to see a pink face and fair hair. As is typical of foreigners who come to, or spend time in, Japan, she was initially quite shy and withdrawn. She and her companions were curious to speak to me too. It turned out that they are staying up at the Jambe school. During my first visit I’d heard there was a Jambe school on the island, but I didn’t get the chance to investigate. I wondered why someone would come all the way to Japan from France to learn a West African musical instrument. We agreed to meet up later.

The island is also famous for its peacocks.

When I got to school everyone was very rushed, and seemed to be wearing much smarter clothes than I’d remembered from before. Arima sensei informed me that an inspector was coming from the board of education. It turned out that this inspector everyone was dying to impress was the same old man from the ferry...

I was sad not to find Hiromi, who I'd made friends with last time. She had taught Japanese but left in Spring. Arima didn’t clearly express what exactly it was that had happened, but alluded to it quite directly so as to make me all the more sure and all the more curious, in the typical Japanese style of romantic, dramatic metaphors. She hadn’t passed her teaching exams because her heart was too much like the waves. And she had had to leave after what he did to her. Did he ask her to marry him? Was it something even more dramatic?

The scenic island, by afternoon, was notably atmospheric, with torrential rain and the sea thrashing against the high dark rocks. The whole island was shrouded in misty, semi-darkness. We huddled in the old classrooms with single glazed, airy windows and creaky wooden floors. At 4pm it was kind of bizarre to have the sound of Jambe wafting over to the staffroom (the children practice rigorously every afternoon).

On the first evening we had an enkai. This is a traditional dinner party put on for the VIP. Since there are no restaurants on the island, it took place at the headmaster's house. His wife spent the entire evening in the kitchen. It was a magnificent spread: sashimi, Chinese nibbles, Korean savory pancake. What I like about Japanerse food is the style of eating- many tiny dishes, so you try everything, but never eat too much.

At first I had the feeling that I was going to sit there the whole night without anyone wanting to talk to me, but I'd forgotten about the marvelous effects of beer upon shy people and my ability to speak Japanese. Towards the end of the night, the new Japanese teacher, who is also an artist, came to chat. I was surprised to be given a small gift wrapped in brown paper. It unwrapped to reveal a rectangular wooden box. Inside was an inkan he'd carved out of marble. It bore my name in ancient kanji: 風衣織奈. He said it means woman wearing clothes of the wind.

By the time everyone started the leave, I overheard the Japanese old man inspector, by now very drunk, talking about me to Arima... Arima explained he had been delighted by me. The episode reminded me of distant fictional characters. I’d overstepped the mark on the ferry by challenging the Japanese language, but the old authoritarian chuckled to himself thoroughly bemused…

Day 2

I had a very fulfilling time teaching. The tiny kids are just….adorable (sorry, no other word for it). The classes are small and the kids are bright and lively.

The first time I came here my visit was characterized by an unsettled feeling. At Gujumaru Guest House I had a cold shower because I didn’t know how to turn the hot water on. I couldn’t speak Japanese. I had to fumble to find my futon and sheets in the cupboard and I didn’t know what time dinner was. This time I discussed with the lady what time was good for dinner and marched up to school and changed my shoes to indoor shoes and put them neatly on the rack. I wondered if people back home really walked with dirty shoes into buildings, and how strange this seemed. In ‘The Secret Garden’ when Mary Lennox first arrives at the house she is frightened and unsure of everything and disgruntled. But over time she finds the garden and the hidden treasures of Misselthwaite Manor. I have to prepare for reverse culture shock.

At the guesthouse I like getting a very typical Japanese reception. Since foreigners rarely come here, nothing has been westernized to their taste (but a little to the Japanese taste). For instance, most toilets in Japan are now western style x 1000: high-tech, with a warmed seat in winter and many buttons (which I’ve never been brave enough or curious enough to test out). Then there’s the Japanese love of mayonnaise. Ever been outraged that your sushi was covered in mayo? It’s the way they like it. I digress. I’m used to most Japanese fare now that I’m rarely surprised, and generally know what the squiggly, mushy things on the plate are. But the lady gave me clear jelly cubes that tasted faintly as though they were fermenting, and- from what I could understand- was some distant relative of tofu. Before coming to Japan, I thought only pandas ate bamboo. But I’ve eaten a lot of it here. Then there are the things I thought I’d never get used to, like raw octopus tentacles and squid sashimi. Octopus is quite alright if soaked in lime juice. In one dish you eat the pork and the bone, which has turned to jelly.

Jambe

After supper I walked up a windy island slope to the adult jambe class with two teachers from school. The story is this: the jambe teacher is from Ioujima. He went to Tokyo and felt ashamed of being from such a small place. He since spent time in West Africa, before eventually returning to Ioujima, realising that, after all, it is quite a wonderful island, and decided to give something back to the community. Now in the evenings it’s a significant feature of everyone’s lives. In the summer some people come from all over Japan to learn at the jambe school on this island of only 100 inhabitants. He doesn't ask for monetary remuneration. Amelie, the French girl, said she learns jambe in exchange for helping with the ferry exports and imports and doing some farming. Ah the life! The feeling of freedom. Definitely the way to learn Japanese rather than attending classes twice a week and spending the rest of the time sitting at a desk at work and occasionally moving. Anyway, she's been living in Japan for five years in various places and will stay here for 6 months.

Day 3

Again, more fun teaching. On the last evening Arima took me for a drive to the various beauty spots of the island.

Ioujima is ranked class A for volcanic activity. The volcano is constantly erupting, emitting massive amounts of sulphur dioxide (sometimes damaging the agriculture). And due to sulphur, the sea around the island is yellow, which is why the island is called 'Sulphur Island' (Ioujima).

First stop was a soak in the iconic natural hot spring, situated in the volcanic rock by the sea with a magnificent view and surroundings.

Then a group of artists from Tokyo arrived, unclothed and had their picture taken drinking cans of beer in the striking setting.

The English teacher on the island, Arima, was moved here by the prefecture government (they like to mix things up a bit). Although he loves the island, it’s a bit of sentence for him. Three years minimum. No privacy. Nothing to do. Only jambe. This less of a metaphor than you may think. In the past the island was used to rid society of criminals. Some of the teachers run 25km around the island several times a week. Although, training for marathons and triathlons and decathlons is quite common in Japan. At first I thought 3 days is fantastic…. but 3 years! But it’s magic here. Maybe I will come back to the Jambe school one day. Clamber over the rocks to find seaweed and shrimp for dinner.

Day 4

Goodbyes at the school were sad, so let’s not dwell on that. There’s always an assemblage of locals at the port every day when the ferry comes and goes.

On the ferry, I was just taking my shoes off to lie down on the sleeping carpet when someone from the school rushed onboard and beckoned me. At first I thought the ship was sinking, so frantically was he trying to pull me away and I noticed the cabin had emptied. He told me to leave my bag. When we got to the balcony I was handed rainbow coloured ribbon. The ribbons had been knotted in several places and stretched all the way to some girls standing on the land. As the ferry pulled away, the ribbons made a pattern in the wind. Everyone was waiving. Even the village policeman was waiving. I was full of emotion. What would happen when the ribbons broke and they fell into the water?

My eyes welled with tears. Everyone on board ran up on deck. We watched the island get smaller and smaller, with it's ring of yellow sulphur. In the water some dolphins leapt above the sea waves.

As we settled down to sleep, one of the Tokyo artists gave me some postcards of his work.

There's definitely something to be said for island life.