Last Friday night we went to Sara’s house to celebrate her birthday. We had delicious nabe (hot soup that you dump whatever you feel like cooking into) and fondue. It was delicious and the perfect hot meal to warm up with on a cool November evening. We all had a great time, and I wouldn’t have minded staying later, but we had to leave early because I had to be at work early on Saturday morning for cultural festival preparation. Even though we’ve been to Sara’s house dozens of times before that night and have parked in the same lot, we’ve never had a problem. However, last Friday night when we went to leave, we noticed a note on both our windshield and driver’s side door. Although we couldn’t read the kanji, we knew what it said: don’t park here. We’ve gotten these notices once or twice before. Ian and I have nicknamed them “shame stickers” since the first one we got had some kind of tape that was ridiculously strong and lasted for several weeks despite us trying to scrub it off and it being rainy season. They aren’t tickets but rather notes to let us know that we’re being a nuisance and shouldn’t park there again. We were confused as to why we even got the notice because we weren’t parked in the front row and tried to park farther back to allow the residents to have the better spots. However, I guess we got someone’s spot. Sorry to whoever it was! 
Last Saturday I was at work all day. There weren’t any classes, but I had to come because the kids were preparing for the cultural festival on Sunday. I pretty much sat at my desk all day, but I do indeed have a story from that day! I went to refill my water bottle at the kitchen sink, and I noticed that the stove was on and someone was boiling eggs. I didn’t think anything about it and returned to my desk. About ten minutes later the fire alarm went off, and the few teachers who were in the teacher’s room immediately jumped up. I then knew that it was no false alarm. All of the teachers sniffed the air for the source of the alarm going off, and there was just a hint of burnt something in the air…. When they found the eggs, the water had been completely boiled out of the pot, and it was scalded. 
My vice principal got on the intercom to let everyone know that it was a false alarm. It turns out that the office lady had been boiling eggs and completely forgot about them. She had to go around to everyone and apologize for the incident. She even came to me—me, as in the lowest person on the totem pole at the school—and apologized for disrupting my day. I told her that it was fine and that it didn’t affect me.
Saturday night Ian and I had to go to school for the final singing practice for “We Are the World.” As we strolled up to the gym, one girl saw us together and immediately ran out of the band room to run up to us and talk to Ian. Behind her was the rest of the dozen students also in the band room. Whenever Ian’s with me, he totally steals the spotlight. They wanted to ask him questions, tell him that he’s handsome, and giggle at the sight of us together. Ian says that he feels awkward receiving that much attention from JHS girls, but I think deep down it makes him feel like a boss. 
After singing practice, we went by the supermarket to pick up some dinner since both of us felt lazy and unwilling to make dinner. Ian had read an article about a new soda from Pepsi that was just introduced only in Japan. (Sorry, USA. You’ll never see this drink.) It is being marketed as a “healthy” soda. The reason it is considered to be “healthy” is because not only is it a diet drink, but it has fiber in it—I’m assuming to help the flow of bowel movements. (My question is if you’re going to make a “healthy” soda, why not add calcium and vitamin D to it so that I can get my daily intake of calcium without having to choke down a glass of milk? Plus calcium and vitamin D would reverse the effects of sugary teeth-rotting soda.) Ian saw it at the drink counter and decided that yes, he wanted to have a “healthy” soda with his dinner. I tried a sip of it, and for those of you out there looking for a solution to that extra holiday weight, don’t get too excited. It still tasted like a diet drink, and neither one of us noticed a change in our bowel movements. I’m not exactly sure how Pepsi was trying to manufacture soda as being “healthy” by just adding fiber to it, but only in Japan would something like that work!
Sunday was the cultural festival. Whereas last year everything was new and different, this year it just seemed to be a repetition of things. The cultural dances and chants were just so-so and definitely lost the appeal that they had last year. One thing that was a bit awkward was the play. It started off so innocently…..a couple of school kids on a school trip to Okinawa. There was even a little public service announcement in there about not bullying or making fun of people from different cultures. (I was so proud of Japan for saying this!) However, as the kids were touring different sights, the play took a different turn and flashed back to 1945. 
For those of you who don’t know, WWII was NOT very friendly to Okinawa. Some of the bloodiest fighting of the Pacific Theater was held on the Okinawan islands. Basically ALL of Okinawa had to be rebuilt. Ian summed up the battles of Okinawa very concisely: The Americans would go in with flame throwers, and the Japanese would run at them with grenades. In one scene of the play, I watched two kids die from a bomb as they chased their ball through a field. In another scene a mother and her two children were running to take shelter in a cave. The mom died and told her kids to keep going and never give up. There were lots of people taking shelter in the cave, many of them dying or helping the wounded, and at the end three American soldiers entered the cave with guns in hand. (By this point in the play, I was hoping that no one happened to notice the two foreigners in the audience.) There was no massive massacre, and neither Ian nor I really understood the play’s end. Ian and I both watched in horror at the play. Both of us were feeling just a little too……. American to be watching the play……. It was awkward to say the least….
When we walked home for lunch that afternoon, we were greeted by a huge sack of sweet potatoes in our foyer. One of my adult students said that she had a lot and promised to drop some off over the weekend. I took off my shoes and went to the kitchen to make lunch when I heard a knock at the door. It was my student! Our conversation was something like the following:
Her: I dropped the sweet potatoes off for you.
Me: Yes! Thank you very much! I appreciate it!
Her: Do you want to meet my husband?
Me: Um….sure!
It turns out that they had been waiting in the parking lot for who knows how long! They were just waiting for us to get home!! (It wasn’t creepy but rather neighborly how they waited until we got home. 
) I apologized and told her that I was at the JHS cultural festival. She said that she understood. I did get to meet her husband, though, and that was nice.
That afternoon we had to preform “We Are the World” with the other teachers. While it sure seemed like we were on the stage for a while, it was really only less than six minutes. Ian was able to set up his camera and record the whole thing. Don’t worry….it will eventually be posted to facebook! He has to go through and edit it because the first seven minutes of the video is just everyone getting on stage and assembling. It was a really weird feeling to be on stage with the lights out, the spotlight shining on me, and not being able to see one single person in the audience. Weird. When Ian and I stepped forward to solo our part, we got several “WOOOOOOOOOOOO’s!!!!” from the crowd. I’m guessing that the majority of that came from the JHS girls. They do indeed love to see us together!
Finally to wrap up this blog, I wanted to discuss one last thing. Since the decision has been made and we are coming home in August, I have been thinking more and more about going home. For example, I have a folder that holds all of my English board stuff in it. Each month I pull the things off of the board and put them back into the folder if I can reuse them. This week I went through the months that I’ll never hang back up—August, September, and October and threw away everything about them. I had been saving them just in case we decided to stay for a third year so that I wouldn’t have to reprint Labor Day, Halloween, etc pictures, but now that the decision is final, I can toss them. It seemed so strange to just throw away something that I’ve spent so much time on. It seemed like the first big step to going home. I’ve been thinking about what it will be like to see my family at the airport, what I’ll tell friends and family when I first see them, what it will feel like to get off the Lone Oak exit on I-24 and know that I’m home….finally home. How weird will it be to know that I won’t have to use Japanese in my daily life? How much different will it be to drive my car on the right side of the road? I don’t feel like I’ll truly understand how much I’ve changed or how amazing this experience is until I get home and have time to step back and look at all of it. I might even second guess and ask myself why I didn’t stay one more year.
8.5 months. That’s how much time I have left in Japan. I’m going to try my hardest to enjoy each and every day here, and when that time is up, I’m going to come home and enjoy each and every day at home. At least…..that’s the plan for now.
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