It is Tuesday afternoon over here and I am at the Kencho; thus, I will write a bit in here. Unless, of course, I get interupted and asked to do something. But that just about never happens. Only reason I am mentioning this is due to the fact that I have just spent a couple hours this morning putting together my travel log, which is how I get paid back the money I spend to travel to the schools I teach at. It wouldn't be hard if it wasn't for one thing. It's all in Japanese, meaning it's all in Kanji and Hiragana. I am supposed to somehow read this (names of schools, names of train stations, etc.) and write in the appropriate facts: I traveled to this school by bike, this school by train, this school by bus and train, etc. Keeping the facts straight is quite easy but trying to convey this in another language is not. All this plus the fact that I had to change a few things around on the original template: this trip now costs this much instead of that much, the Minobu line has changed its schedule and now I must catch this train which happens to be an express train and thus costs more, etc. Anyway, I think I got it all worked out and it should be easy to do after this first time. We'll see.

Anyway, I wanted to tell you about yesterday. It was quite an interesting day for the sole reason that it seemed as if I had a sign on me that said, "I am friendly. Come talk to me and have interesting experience."
First, I had stayed the night (Sunday) at Amy's due to the fact that Minobusan high school is down past her and staying the night at her temple cuts about a half hour off my trip on Monday morning. So I left and was walking to the train station when I noticed a young man (maybe 20 or so) walking the same direction as me and about 50 meters ahead of me. No big deal, right? Well, I noticed that he was waving to some of the cars that moved past us and that he was greeting some of the store owners of the shops along the road. This was nice enough, but then I noticed something strange about him, something not quite right. So I catch up to him and he turns to me and says something. And that's when I realized that this guy has some kind of mental problem. He was nice, but something was wrong. So no big deal. Well, I kept my pace up and he speeds up with me. At this point I am beginning to wonder. So now I am walking down the street with a mentally challenged Japanese guy. I wasn't sure what to do. I mean, it would have been strange no matter who this person was, but I can't talk to him (the language barrier) and I'm not one to know how to act with those types of people. But after about five minutes together he got side-tracked by someone in a truck he seemed to know and I was gone. Interesting way to start the day, I thought.
So I ride down to Minobu and get off the train. I am waiting for the school bus when this young guy (maybe mid to late 20s) comes up to me and says, "Excuse me. Are you here on business?"
His question kind of caught me off guard but I has seen him coming and was ready to talk. "Well," I said, "I teach at Minobusan high school."
"Oh," he seemed impressed, "what do you teach?"
I wanted to say, "Chemistry." C'mon, I'm a white guy in your country. What do you think I teach?
But I told him, "English."
At this he seemed surprised which rather threw me for a loop. Did this guy get out much? Hadn't he heard of the thousands of us white people who come to his country under the guise of "English teacher"?
He went on, "Oh, and may I ask, how will you get to your school?"
At this moment I looked over his shoulder at the school bus approaching "That guy," and I pointed.
We then exchanged "Nice to meet you"s and I got on the bus. Really, he was a nice guy, I just wondered about his line of questioning.
So school went well and before long I was back on the train headed home to Kofu. "Home....Kofu, Japan" That's still strange to hear sometimes. Anyway, I had ridden about three stops in my 21 stop ride when three boys (about 10 years old each) get on the train. They walked past me to get a seat and as they did I heard one of them say in his Japanese accent, "American." Yup, that's me. They looked and I waved to which one of the boys bowed his head. Seemed like nice boys, but this was a mere precursor as to what was to happen next. But. Before I get into that I want to skip ahead to later last night.
Amy and I met at a station for our Monday evening Japanese lessons. We grabbed some dinner and then had a few minutes to kill before our lesson, so we were headed to a department store (books) when an old guy on a bike pulled up along side of me and started talking. "Are you American?"
"Yes."
"Do you believe in god?"
"Uh oh," I thought, "here we go." And then I chickened out. Rather than stick to the previous oath I'd made to myself of answering these kinds of questions with a truthful, "I'm an atheist," I said, "Oh, I don't know." You see, that's what I am. And back in America I got sick of people trying to convert me to their religion so I started answering truthfully. This usually threw them off and the questioning would be over (except for the time two young mormon guys came to my door and I nearly converted them, they were highly interested in my way of thinking for some reason). But last night I just wasn't sure about the situation and the language barrier so I just answered a non-commital "I don't know."
Well, in all fairness he didn't try to convert me, he just told me his philosophy in about two minutes (he used circular reasoning) and off Amy and I went. Nice guy. I just wasn't prepared to discuss god and/or religion with someone who might not understand what it is I am saying.
Ok, now, back to the train...
About two stops after the 10 year old boys had boarded the train we pulled up to another stop and I looked out the window. And what did I see but about 30 little red coats preparing to get into the very car I was in. They were probably 5 and 6 year olds, all dressed in identical red jackets and little blue hats. I had my two bags on the seats around me as no one ever sits around me, but here, I had a different feeling, like I needed to both make room for and protect my belongings from this onslaught of little people.
Immediately I was surrounded by one little boy and four of his girlfriends. They looked at me and I looked at them. Then I said, "Hello" and gave a little wave as the doors closed, and what is normally a nice, quiet ride turned into a nursery school on train tracks.
They poked and prodded me. They tried talking to me. They stared at me. It was mayhem. I was like a big furry beast to them. It was best when they tried talking to me. I would tell them, "Nihonjo wakaremasen" (I don't understand the Japanese language) and they would then try talking slower and louder to me. Sound familiar? I didn't know what was being said but they seemed genuinely ammused, "Look at the man with hair on his face!" "He can't even speak." "Hey, hairy man, are you from America?" "Ha ha, he doesn't even know where he's from." "Look at his eyes. What color is that?" "What a freaky looking guy!" "He sure smiles alot though." "HA! That's a sure sign of an idiot!"
And on and on it went. I tried speaking English to them and they tried speaking Japanese to me. It was hopeless. Once in a while we'd connect on something but those moments were fleeting. They were fun and full of energy but after ten minutes of this, I was ready to be back to reading with only the sound of the train in my ears.
One of the girls kept touching my face and attempting to push up my nose (pig-style). "When are you getting off the train?" I asked.
"Look," they said, "the big, hairy man is speaking babble!" And they all laughed. "Say something else!"
"Are you going (all the way) to Kofu?" I sure as hell hoped not.
But it was no use. I couldn't get them to tell me when this experience would end. So I played with them, made faces at them, allowed one girl to sit on my knee while the rest stared at and/or talked to and/or poked me. Finally, forty-five minutes after they had boarded the train, the six ladies in charge of this lot gathered them up into the front of the car and at the next stop they got off. One of the ladies did manage a "Sumimasen" (excuse me/us) while giving me the "poor you" look, to which I said "Daijoubu" (it's/i'm ok). And truth is, it was great. Those kids were cute and fun and I hope they remember this as a the time they met that great, hairy American guy who although not too bright was at least a friendly sort.
So that was my day. "I am friendly. Come talk to me and have interesting experience."