In spite of my screaming need to get packing to return to the States (as it is now less than a week before departure, I have been getting distracted by random tasks and events. If this were anywhere else but Japan, I think I would put my work first, but since classes are over now, I also want to celebrate the summer holiday.
Well, I was hoping my coursework would end with farming practice, but as it turns out I had to summarize all of my notes and turn them into the professor.
I translated my notes from Japanese to English, but there are times when the translation is really sketchy. So once I get done with those I will be done (or will I?!)
The last day of class ended early, with cleaning up the remnants of corn stalks and kabocha (pumpkin vines). We also fertilized the rice paddies. I have decided that rice paddies will never be a strong suit for me, whether it's planting them by hand or machine, and apparently even fertilizing has its tasking moments.
As we donned our knee high, toed-boots, I rather regretted not wearing tabi socks (toed socks) that day, and then I also began to regret not wearing work clothes that day, or any day of farming class for that matter. I realized that in spite of myself and my efforts to assimilate to Japanese culture, I really couldn't muster up the willpower in most cases to be Japanese. In this case, it means bringing a change of long-sleeves shirts and pants and shoes to each farming class (in addition to water bottles, hats, towels, sunscreen, gloves, etc.) Japanese people are really prepared, but I felt pretty accomplished just by remembering to bring a hat! I think my happiness would increase exponentially based on increases in preparedness.
一口メモ：Japanese people really, really like sunscreen, but almost never wear sunglasses. I think I'm the opposite.
Moving on to the fertilizing extravaganza; As we entered the net-covered rice paddy at our respective spots, buckets of fertilizer in hand, I felt sorely in need of an explanation. Working at BARC, I was used to following fairly strict protocol for scattering any type of chemicals on plants, but here in the non-scientific realm, it pretty much went without saying; just throw it!
Moving was the more difficult task. Once I realized that I could manage to move without squashing the rice plants by letting them slide under me as I shuffled my way through the rows of muck, it became much simpler. Still, I was slowed by having to liberate my feet every now and then, and occaisonally dodge vibrant, green and rather large spiders.
After that our class shared a harvest of the farm's own grapes (buffalo and muscat) and asian pears, of which I got to take two home. My sensei told us never to forget him; indeed, amidst all of his antics I can't say I will. Earlier that day, for instance, I had realized that the last day of class was actually the day before I leave. Having received permission to turn my notes in early, I asked sensei what we would be doing the next week. To which, I was asked why I should even care since I was leaving and wouldn't be attending anyway. He then proceeded to dismiss class that day saying it would be the last one. So class ended as a reflection of my understanding of what was going on most of the semester, but I still think it was definitely worth it. I've always wanted to do hands-on vegetable and fruit cultivation as a course, and Sensei's occaisonal chastising and English explanations made the class all the more interesting.
The next day, after shipping some goods to my previous host families (a baseball bobble head and rice krispies treats) I met my good friend whose house I had spent the night at the previous week for yet another homestay! I wonder if it is selfish to accumulate host families.
This time, she invited me to Kamogawa Sea World. I had visited Kamogawa over golden week during WWOOFing, but hadn't made it to the end adjacent to the Pacific Ocean, where the sea creatures reside. I spent the night at her house so we could wake up early and get a head start on the day. Yet around 4:30 I was already lying in my futon awake, listening to the sun rise. Indeed, as the brilliant sunlight crept over surrounding forests, a steady hum of birds or frogs or some form of day-heralding creatures grew louder. Oh, the land of the rising sun.
My friend's parents drove us about an hour away to the park; that in itself was a stunning experience. Driving in and out of the rain we were able to witness some rainbows. Yet, these were not nearly as expansive as the rainbows I remember in the States. It seems Japanese ingenuity has even crafted compact rainbows! Perhaps there is even a treasure at the end (but only if you're ambitious and can capture all 7 colors; then you are considered worthy of the title of Treasure-master).
After arriving to the park, we were given an agenda from which to select two activities. We chose to take a photo touching a dolphin and taking a photo with a killer whale (the representative sea animal of sea world). It was a little disappointing, as I had hoped there would be more petting of the actual dolphin, but it felt nice and soft and warm. That is what I said in Japanese-English when I was surprise interviewed by my friend's father. (Amanda, in case you are reading: I may have found the Japanese equivalent of your family).
We also watched performances by dolphins, killer whales, sea lions and beluga whales (white dolphins). First was the dolphin show. Dolphins tails are pretty muscular, and allow them to briefly propel themselves above water as if they are walking. I wonder if there is some behavioral or genetic merit to this. Either way, I felt rather lazy sitting in the comfortable shade while these dolphins spun around and flipped and flung themselves above water into the sultry air. Next was the killer whales. This was probably the only show in which the audience faced a threat of being splashed. Getting splashed is more of an American novelty; Japanese people are like cats who sit and spectate in the shade with arm covers to prevent sunburn, while Americans are like dogs trying to get in on the action as much as possible. That could just be my over-generalized consensus, but somehow splashing really seemed out of place. Just as excessive yelling or cheering would. Next we watched sea lions perform. I think this was my favorite, due to the story-telling aspect of the perfomance, with a "family" of four sea lions acting out an amusing narration of exercise training for soccer. The beluga whales were also interesting; they use echolocation to tell plastic apart from metal, detect light and other sounds. They also spoke some Japanese, or something that sounded like Japanese (ohayou=oaaaaaa).
It was an incredibly enjoyable experience, and my friend's family always took pains to make sure I was happy/well-fed/entertained/getting acquainted with Japanese culture. In between perfomances, we stopped for a snack of "octupus crackers." We watched as bits of octopus were thrown on a griddle, ladled with batter, and then squeezed under high pressure. Seeing these animals thrown on the griddle was one thing, hearing the high-pitched scream of ingredients melded together under high pressure was also another thing. A thing which will probably lead me to revert to a low-meat diet when I return to the U.S. I turned away in hopes of distracting myself with the Pacific Ocean, only to hear the "chef" make a remark which I felt might be necessary to document later on (in case I decide to start a food blog someday). Alas, all he said was "the thinner it is the crispier it is." And with that, it was wrapped up and I was offered a bite. Not that I dislike the taste of octopus or kalamari. It was quite good. But I felt a little morally off afterwards.
So do I honor morality or Japanese hospitality? Considering that my friend's mother shuttled us to the station and back, my friend's father took off work to take us to Seaworld, my friend herself took time out of her crazy busy schedule to spend time with me before I leave, in addition to transportation to the park, park and meal fare, and various presents that I received unknowingly. ("Melody, stick your hand in this container and grab a sheet of paper...you chose killer whale! Here's a beach ball with a killer whale inside!") In addition to that I received a plastic folder with an adorable winking sea lion on it and a key chain with the various park animals on it. On the drive back I felt stupefied trying to imagine how a Japanese person would properly return the favor, or how I as a future hostess would accommodate my friends in America.
Okay, so a few octopus lives might have been spared...
Adorable contraband
But perhaps the key is to just accept and not worry about being over-indulged. To express gratitude on the spot rather than through generosity competitions. To have reliable friends around the world instead of networking acquaintances. To meet people outside of our culture who we can relate with on new levels.
Correct me if I'm wrong, but I'm hoping that the value of interaction cannot be measured in terms of gift exchange, personal achievement or even advanced communication skills. Perhaps the latter even makes for a nice excuse to blame misunderstandings on, even if they aren't linguistically-related.
But leaving a bag of gift shop candy behind inconspicuously couldn't hurt either.
In other news, my July expenditures have been the lowest since I spent a month WWOOFing!
Tomorrow: Off to see the embassy!
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