Macaques, Angkor Wat, and bar trivia

We were up and out of the hostel by 8. We met Noah and had a quick breakfast together. Augie went with banana pancakes, while I went with an awesome fruit plate. Theng was waiting for us, and we went right back to Angkor. On our way back in, we saw some macaques waiting patiently to sucker tourists out of food. We happily obliged them, and they let us take their picture.

One of our first stops in the morning was Preah Khan. After that was Neak Pean, a temple atop an artificial island surrounded by a moat. The coolest part of that was the huge millipede I found when I ventured off to pee behind a building.

For lunch, we stopped at a grouping of restaurants. We were accompanied by a little merchant girl who kept at us with her impressive English. Tired of just saying "no thank you," Noah decided to get creative. The girl had a cute stuffed animal attached to her belt loop; Noah asked her how much that would cost. Her eyes bulged for a beat, but she quickly recovered: "One hundred dollars." Noah played right along, agreeing. She didn't like this at all, and left us alone.

Meanwhile, I ordered chicken green curry with rice. I think it ran me $3, and it was amazing.

After lunch, we continued on to Ta Som, East Mebon, and Pre Rup. Ta Som was interesting, but I got tired of walking with the group, and decided to wander around on my own at each place. Armed with the Indiana Jones theme on endless loop in my head, I clambered around temples, imagining what the builders and original inhabitants thought about them.

I've since learned that East Mebon dates from the 10th century, making it about 200 years older than most of the other temples. Pre Rup was made even more interesting by the thunderstorm that blew in while we were there. We took cover in a central chamber, but that only kept us partly dry--the ceiling was open. It was a great chance to huddle next to other tourists. I counted Spanish and Japanese being spoken!

Having come perilously close to being sick of temples, we decided to finish with Angkor Wat itself and be done with it. The thunderstorm had moved on, leaving a steady drizzle in its wake. We decided to try waiting it out in a cafe across from the temple moat, and paid entirely too much for a ham sandwich and coffee.

On our way to the bathroom before heading to the temple, we were marauded by a particularly persistent group of ten-year-olds. Realizing this was probably our last chance to mess with them, we each struck up conversation with one. Mine went this way:

Girl: "Hey mister, where you from?"
Me: "Cambodia."
Girl: "I don think so!"
Me: "Where are you from?"
Girl: "Cambodia!"
Me: "I don't think so. You're from Vietnam."
Girl: (looking like I just hit her) "No! I'm from America!"
Me: "Okay. Who's the president?"
Girl: (without missing a beat) "Obama. Who's the president of Cambodia?"
Me: "...I don't know."

I think we were the funnest group of tourists they'd had all day. Mine stuck with me:

Girl: "Buy a bracelet!"
Me: "No."
Girl: "Buy one for your wife!"
Me: "I don't have a wife."
Girl: "Buy one for your girlfriend!"
Me: "I don't have a girlfriend."
Girl: "You know why you don't have a girlfriend?"
Me: "Why?"
Girl: "Because you don't buy my bracelet!"

When it became apparent that I wasn't buying any of her wares, she asked me to buy her some ice cream. I said maybe, after we came back from the temple.

Angkor Wat proper is surrounded by an outer moat 190 meters wide, which is outside a 30-meter-wide apron of ground, which is outside a 1024-by-802-meter, 4.5-meter-high wall. We took some pictures on our trek across the moat, and I kept mistakenly thinking we'd finally reached the temple.

The wall encloses a massive plot of land, split down the middle by the causeway entering from the moat. We made our way down, marveling at the openness and the crowds before finally reaching the temple entrance.

The temple itself was nothing less than amazing. The outer walls of the temple are a gallery of bas reliefs depicting many Hindu stories, including the Churning of the Ocean of Milk and several epic battles, including the Battle of Kurukshetra. We dutifully walked along all four walls in the prescribed order, able to appreciate them only as works of art. I felt as though I'd wasted a wonderful opportunity to learn about Hinduism, but there wasn't much I could do about it there.

The central temple was off limits to tourists, as it was being restored by some German outfit. Mildly disappointed, but still satisfied, we made our way out. I was only slightly surprised to see the same girl come running up to me asking for that ice cream. We headed to where we'd seen it, only to find out that it'd left for the day. She wasn't terribly happy.

We headed back to Siem Reap, thanked Theng for his services, tipped him, and said goodbye. We just made it to the day market as it was closing up; I bought a silk hammock for $3. The four of us headed to dinner. As we were ordering, Rachel and Carol--two ALTs from Sasebo--walked up. I'd known they were in southeast Asia for Golden Week, but we hadn't been able to line our plans up. They joined the table, and we had an awesome dinner.

Afterwards, we headed to the Funky Munky for bar trivia. It was exactly the style of trivia I miss--teams huddle together, write their answers down, and turn them in to the emcee. We finished in the middle of the pack, but we didn't really care about the points anyway. No, really. The group broke up afterward, and we three went back to the hostel at about midnight.

Baphuon and Ta Prohm

After finishing at Bayon, Theng drove us over to the Baphuon, Phimeanakas, and the Royal Palace. The Baphuon has a causeway raised about five feet off the ground, and we saw what appeared to be a wedding ceremony taking place. It was starting to get cloudy, which made us a little worried for her dress.

The temple at Baphuon was originally built to honor the Hindu god Shiva, but it was converted to a Buddhist temple in the 15th century. As part of the rededication, a statue of the reclining Buddha was built onto the temple. It was being restored, so we had to walk around wooden decking. As we looked at it, it started pouring down rain. We cowered under a roof with a few workers and enjoyed an apple and some Oreos.

After the storm, we found Theng and headed west of Angkor Thom. He took us to the Terrace of the Elephants. We walked around some more before stopping at a group of restaurants for lunch. They had a nice menu, featuring all kinds of rice and noodle dishes, but we went for fried rice for about $2 each.

Finishing lunch, we met back up with Theng. He drove us to Ta Prohm next. This was easily our favorite of the day. The temple ruins have been left mostly untouched, with many trees growing atop eight-foot walls and piles of rubble. We did a little impromptu exploring, taking a few somewhat-hidden passages through walls. Feeling particularly adventuresome, I started scrambling up a wall, only to be called back by a nearby guide. A bit later, I saw the NO CLIMBING sign.

After Ta Prohm, we went to Banteay Kdei, a temple to the southeast. By this point, we'd just about had our fill of awesome temples for the day. That's why I don't remember the name of the small temple we stopped at after Banteay Kdei. I didn't even take pictures of the lake we stopped at. The children who swarmed us at that stop (as they did at every stop; I've stopped mentioning them because they sort of fade into the background) were among the most creative of the day, carrying on whole conversations with each of us. One of the boys decided to try a new approach and called me a ladyboy.

We'd planned to stop at Angkor Wat itself on our way out and wait for sunset. It'd been overcast since the thunderstorm, though, so we decided to head back to Siem Reap.

We took a quick break at the hotel, then headed to a Mexican restaurant. It was probably a lot more of a treat for Lada and me than it was for Augie, since neither of us get to eat Mexican often. Augie and I got into a fairly long conversation about free market economics. I've been reading Naomi Klein's The Shock Doctrine, and it was stimulating to discuss it with someone so strongly in favor of the idea.

After finishing dinner, we headed to the night market again. I bought an alarm clock for $4, then joined Augie and Lada at the Lunar Bar. None of us want to deal with sketchy long-fingernailed bikers and obnoxious border patrol officials, so we did some brainstorming about our trip back to Bangkok. We got back to the hotel and to bed by 11ish.

Angkor Wat, day one

I woke up at 7 this morning without an alarm, and was ready to go at 8. Stepping outside the hostel into the gorgeous heat and humidity, we were immediately greeted by the several tuktuk drivers lining the street. We picked one, and had him drive us to the ATM for Augie. He offered to drive us somewhere else. Rather than turn him down directly, we said we wanted breakfast first, figuring he'd take the hint.

We ducked into a restaurant appropriately named "Why Not?" Bacon, eggs, and hashbrowns ran me $3. There was a white guy seated next to us, eating by himself, so we invited him to join us. His name is Noah, and he's a Canadian teaching English in Korea.

After saying goodbye to Noah, we headed out of the restaurant... and found the same tuktuk driver cheerfully waving at us. He'd waited the half-hour it took us to eat. His name is Theng, and he offered to drive us anywhere for the day for $15. We agreed and set off for Angkor.

Angkor is the name of the region that served as the seat of the Khmer empire, the second-largest empire in Southeast Asian history. The Khmer reigned for about four hundred years, from the ninth to the thirteenth centuries. The region contains the ruins of many temples, palaces, and other structures. (Angkor Wat is the most famous surviving temple complex in the area; we're going there tomorrow.)

The ride to the entrance to the complex took about fifteen minutes. Three-day passes cost us $40 each. From there, Theng proposed a route for us to take. Joey, Mike, and several others had told me not to even try doing everything in one day, but it wasn't until I saw the map that I understood why: there are easily twenty points of interest spread across the region. Theng's plan would take two days; we agreed to it and headed in.

We decided to save Angkor Wat itself for tomorrow, so we drove right past it as we entered the complex. Bypassing it, we made our way north. Stopping for pictures at the southern gate to Angkor Thom, we were waylaid by the first of many hawkers.

As we stopped, we were greeted with several chants of "Sir?" except without the "r" pronounced, so it came out sounding more like "Suh?" This group had booths set up, selling everything from Lonely Planet books and Angkor guidebooks to hats and bracelets. We had no desire to buy a guidebook, and Augie politely told them no.

Being good and persistent salespeople, though, they didn't take no for an answer. I decided to try a different tack, and declined in Japanese. The lady didn't miss a beat, and replied in Japanese as she brandished guidebooks in Japanese. I thought of Tsushima High's library, and caved.

We moved on, already sweating from the gorgeous heat and humidity. There were huge cottonball clouds drifting overhead, and the tuk-tuk provided a very nice breeze. Out first stop was at the Bayon. We ran into a Brazilian guy who we'd met earlier at the border. We also saw some tourists riding elephants around the city ruins.

There's way too much to say about way too many temples to mention, so I'll just say each was amazing. I understand that restoration has been necessary for all the structures, which were in varying degrees of disrepair. Much like Prambanan and Borobudur, the walls use no mortar of any kind. Beautiful carvings and sculptures adorned every structure we visited.

Siem Reap

The cab from Poipet to Siem Reap took about two hours and cost US$45. To pass the time, we played Go Fish and took naps. Lada spoke to Narin in Thai, asking him about Cambodia. He in turn asked all about us, and taught us some bare-bones Khmer. Six through ten in Khmer are expressed as five-something: six is "five one," nine is "five four," etc.

We arrived outside Siem Reap at about 2. Narin couldn't bring his taxi any farther into town, so he dropped us off near some tuktuks. He made it clear that we were not to pay the tuktuks, that he had already taken care of it. We found a tuktuk with a driver and a guy who spoke good English, and took off for town. On the ride, the guy flat-out ignored Lada. It wasn't until she spoke up in English that he seemed to acknowledge her.

The first guest house we arrived at was pretty nice. The guy's price was US$18 per night for one bedroom. We decided to shop around some, and got back in the tuktuk. The second place was full. The third place, called Ancient Angkor, had a two-bed with AC for $18, and a two-bed as single for $15. Tired of looking more than anything, we agreed, paid, dropped off our stuff, and went for a walk.

Siem Reap has a paved main road and a whole lot of dirt side roads. There are street vendors everywhere, and stores selling bottled water, produce, and cooked goodies. Tuktuks, motorbikes, and cars zoom by everywhere you go, and there are almost as many tourists as locals running around.

We ducked in for lunch at an Indian restaurant. After gorging ourselves on curry, tandoori chicken, and naan, we stopped at a store to exchange currency, only to find out that Cambodia uses US dollars almost exclusively. (They use their riel for denominations lower than US$1.) The exchange was about 4000 riel to one dollar, so they'd give 1000-riel notes as quarters.

Wandering back to the guest house, we chilled out in our rooms until dinnertime. We headed out at 7, taking Lonely Planet's advice and aiming for Pub Street. The name is fitting, as the road is packed with restaurants and bars, obviously the main tourist trap in town. We chose a restaurant, recommended by LP, that featured live dancers. It reminded me of Bali, but it wasn't as good, of course.

I ordered the crab sandwich. As you can tell by the picture, something got lost in translation. Augustin, meanwhile, got Amok trey, a green curry with chicken. It was awesome.

After dinner, we went to a bar across the street and talked over drinks. Augie mentioned how surprised he is at how much I've opened up and chilled out. I guess he was worried I'd wuss out on some stuff, like I did for the drag show back in Myers. Anyway, we headed back to the guest house and got to bed at about 11.

Cambodia Ho!

We dragged ourselves out of bed at 5 this morning, and got ready to go by 5:30. Lada's mom drove us to the spot where the van picked us up. The van was taking us to Aranyaprathet, at the Thai-Cambodian border.

Augie, Lada, and I had discussed this off and on before meeting up. Pretty much the only big thing on my to-do list for this trip was to visit Angkor Wat in Cambodia. Everything else was debatable for me. Fortunately, that jibed with their plans, as neither had been, and both are avid backpackers. We talked it over, Lada sorted out details with the help of her parents, and we lined it up: three hours by van to the border, cross, and take a taxi or a tuk-tuk to Siem Reap, the town closest to the Angkor complex.

The van drove us up to the Thai exit point. We were immediately swarmed by poor-looking children, hands outstretched for food or money. They didn't look like they were starving; rather, they looked like rural kids trying to score a snack or money for one. Backpacks slung across our chests, my hands shoved in my pockets, we made the short walk to the exit.

฿300 each had gotten us to the border. This is apparently a bit of a deal, because the van is part of a promotion. Although gambling is illegal in both Thailand and Cambodia, the neutral zone between the border checkpoints has been loaded up with several casinos. Included in the price of the van was lunch at the casino. The van drove us to the Thai exit point. and a tram was waiting on the other side to take us to the casino. At that point we were technically free to walk away. As fools with money from which to be parted, though, Augie and I decided to linger and play some games.

I suddenly realized how badly I missed Texas hold 'em. In the span of ten minutes I went from indifferent to frantically walking the floor in search of poker to frustration and despair at not finding any. We settled for blackjack instead. We did pretty well early, which had me all ready to introduce myself as Mr. Pappagiorgio, but soon enough, gambler's ruin evened things out.

After burning the rest of our chips on roulette, we gathered our stuff and headed out. The opulence of the casinos gave way abruptly to squalor, with street urchins, tuk-tuks, and seedy-looking folks all over. We knew we had to purchase a visa, for which we'd taken pictures the night before, but we mistakenly walked up to the Cambodia entry point. Sent away, we found the official Cambodian Immigration office.

Posted above the window to the office was a sign that conveyed, in clear English, that a Cambodian tourist visa for a US citizen was US$20. Before we got to the window, we were greeted by a uniformed officer who told us the price was ฿1000 (≈US$30). We'd all been warned about this; it's apparently common knowledge among travelers to Angkor via Thailand. Augie and I kind of laughed and pointed to the sign. The officer not-unkindly repeated his original price. Lada wasn't having it, and made for the window, walking briskly past the officer. The clerk closed the window in her face.

By this point, my frustration at being screwed like this was balanced by the understanding that there wasn't much we could do about it. We could make a big stink about it, get upset and hoot and holler at the guy, but in the end, we'd be handing our passports over to him. Fear of them "misplacing" my passport (or, somewhat more frankly, giving me its shredded remains) led me to cave in.

Lada, unflappable, tried a different approach, claiming we'd only brought US$20 each. This brought the price down to $20 plus ฿190, which came out to about $25. We were haggling with the government of Cambodia over an entry visa. At some point, one of the officers explained that $30 would get us the visa in three minutes; $20 would get it to us in three hours. One man's highway robbery is another man's expedited bureaucratic processing, I guess.

We paid the $25, got our visas, and crossed into Cambodia proper. Just as sketchy as the in-between section, Poipet was dirtier and dustier. One of the border patrol officers recommended his friend's taxi. We decided to hear him out. The driver, Narin, quoted us at $45. This sounded reasonable based on all we'd heard from Lonely Planet, Seat 61, and friends who'd been. We piled into his mid-90s Camry and headed out.

Not two minutes after we started, we were stopped by a skinny older man on a motorbike. The guy had a wiry beard, was missing several teeth, and one of his pinky nails was about four inches long. I might have been reading him wrong, but he scared the hell out of me.

Anyway, he said something unpleasant-sounding to Narin, who reluctantly handed over some money. We started again, only to be cut off a few minutes later by the same sketchy guy. He yelled something at Narin, who followed him to a taxi office. This was beginning to bother Augie, Lada, and me, and we sat nervously in the car while Narin went inside. He came back a few minutes later, though, and we started off.

Lada found out that he spoke fluent Thai, so she got the lowdown from him. Apparently the sketchy guy was a lackey for the taxi office, and Narin was being accused of shorting the company on their share of fares. It felt a whole lot sketchier than that, but oh well. We settled down and started the two-hour drive to Siem Reap.

Guitar Hero in Bangkok

Yesterday we decided that today we'd take it easy. That in mind, we snoozed until about 8:30, when we couldn't sleep through the sound of the rooster anymore. Breakfast was the same as yesterday, though Lada's mom was out running some errands.

We talked with Lada's dad for a while. He's a retired colonel with the army, and did intelligence field work in Cambodia and Burma. To this day, he's still afraid of someone finding him. Lada told me later that he spends a good portion of every day walking around the house and the yard, keeping an eye out. He's a very kind, soft-spoken, funny guy, so much so that I have a hard time imagining him doing some of the things I'm sure his job required of him.

He also told us about his childhood. His father wanted him to be a farmer. He wanted to study, though, so he ran away from home. He worked at a temple, performing menial tasks for the monks in exchange for room and board. The way he tells it, he walked 24 kilometers each day for school.

He decided that his children would surpass him in education. To that end, he made sure both Lada and her older sister went to university. Both of them went to universities in America, and both received doctorates.

After breakfast, we got dressed and drove to Lada's apartment. She received a full scholarship for her bachelor and doctorate work in America. In exchange, she works in the genetic engineering and biotech laboratory of a university outside Bangkok. She works on fungi, and she and Augie assure me her work is boring.

We dropped by her apartment so she and Augie could pick up some things. She also had to take care of a couple of things in the lab. Augustin and I found a clearing on campus and threw the frisbee for about twenty minutes. The last time he and I did that, we were both still at UGA. That made the experience kind of trippy.

When we got back to the car, we found that someone had parked right behind us. The parking lot was full, and the person had nowhere else to go, but it completely blocked us in. We puzzled over it for a minute, and Augustin tried to push the car forward. It moved easily; the driver had left it in neutral.

We headed back to Bangkok and went to a mall. We hit up the food court KFC for lunch. Much like Japan and Hungary, they didn't have biscuits or macaroni and cheese, but it was tasty nonetheless. After lunch, we headed to a bookstore to study up on our next adventure. Augustin and Lada found a Lonely Planet for the place and got some coffee. I left to do some wandering around, and to give them some time alone.

Roaming the mall, I saw a bunch of stores that would fit right in back home. I also saw several Japanese restaurants, which made for good pictures to show my students. Eventually I came to an arcade, my all-time favorite place to go in a mall. Whereas I used to go to the mall in Springfield for the express purpose of playingStar Wars Trilogy Arcade, recently I'm plenty amused just by watching. (Also, SWTA is pretty much gone from the world's arcades, which makes me feel old.)

Today, however, I did a doubletake when I saw a familiar logo: Guitar Hero. Somebody has (legally or otherwise) ported the first game--complete with the guitar controllers--into arcades. It's a pretty rough port: the game that loads is literally the PS2 version of the game with a command added to automatically take the player into quickplay mode.

After getting a small pile of tokens, I tried to find the least-crappy guitar controller. This was mostly a failure, and I lost because, each time I played with a different controller, a different button was nonfunctional. There was a version with buttons like Pop'n Music, but I wanted the guitar.

Anyway, I headed back to the bookstore. We made our adventure plans (more on that later), and headed to the theater. Regular seats cost $4 apiece, though they had a king option that consisted of a recliner and concession delivery. Nachos (with cheese, not salsa!) and a can of root beer set me back another $3.

The lights dimmed, and we watched the standard slew of commercials and previews. Before the feature presentation, when American theaters usually play their own promotion, there was a tribute to King Rama IX. Lada explained earlier this afternoon that standing during this tribute is mandatory. The Thai constitution contains a lèse majesté clause forbidding anyone from insulting or offending the king; failing to stand and pay respect to him counts. This is the clip we saw.

The movie was The Haunting in Connecticut, which was creepy and entertaining. The theater kept the AC at what must have been 65, which I think made everyone jumpier.

After the movie, we headed back to Lada's parents' house. Augustin and I watched Snatch on a local network. Standard profanities were bleeped, which I expected, but I also noticed that cigarettes were blurred out. Lada explained that sex, nudity, smoking, alcohol, and cursing are all censored on Thai television. Interestingly, some of Mickey's accented swearing got through.

I had mentioned that I wanted to eat Pizza Hut at some point. Lada wanted pizza, too, so we ordered Pizza Hut delivery. She ordered two larges for us to split. One large was ฿600. What arrived would barely pass as a personal pan pizza back home. It was plenty tasty, though.

We spent the rest of the evening relaxing. Augustin and Lada took a walk down the street to find something we'll use on our adventure tomorrow. I stayed behind and talked to Aom. She taught me some Kyoto dialect, and I tried to teach her a little bit of Nagasaki's.

Augustin and I had brought gifts for Lada's parents, and we decided to give them to them tonight. Augie's mom had picked out a pretty for Lada's mom. For Lada's dad, Augie brought a full set of the 50 State Quarters with a map. Her dad was mesmerized by it. The quarters came in two rolls, and he very carefully opened each roll and took out the quarters to look at them. Augustin explained about the map and how to match each one. When Lada's dad was finished, he meticulously put each quarter back into the rolls, slid the map back into the box, and put everything back in the bag. It was precious.

For my part, I brought some local treats from Tsushima. Lada's mom was thrilled at what she saw as the beautiful packaging. She very carefully opened the wrapping, took out one of the treats, and tried it. It's sweet to the Japanese palate, but to folks used to fresh mango, it's not that impressive. The packaging tickled her, though.

We said goodnight and headed to bed sometime around 11, planning on getting up at (groan) 5.

Khaosan Road

After the massage, we left the palace and hailed a tuk-tuk. Tuk-tuks like mopeds with a small trailer attached. They're absolutely everywhere in southeast Asia. ฿40 got us to Khaosan Road.

Khaosan is a road in Bangkok that's apparently a renowned tourist stop. We got there in the late afternoon, so it was pretty quiet, but the place was covered with not-yet-opened street vendors, as well as cheap hotels, restaurants, and hawkers selling everything from clothes to DVDs to ivory to laser pointers.

We decided to relax and kill some time. A jug of beer at the Susie pub, enough for three glasses, set us back ฿150. After that, we noticed the market was starting to open up. I bought a linen shirt, something I've been after for a while, but couldn't justify the $50-$70 stores back home want for one. It cost me a whopping $5 in Khaosan.

As we walked around, we were constantly approached by hawkers and tuk-tuk drivers. Almost all the drivers said the same thing: "Hello, sah! You wan tuk-tuk?" Lada soon noticed that none of the merchants addressed her. Knowing she could speak Thai, some even refused to talk to her, going so far as to respond to her questions--asked in Thai--by answering Augustin in English.

It got even worse when we got ready to go home. Lada called her parents and found out exactly how much a fair taxi fare was from Khaosan to her house. She wouldn't go any higher than that with the drivers. She explained that most of them try to pick up passengers and charge them without using the meter. After a few drivers pulled off in a huff, we finally got one for ฿15.

Running around in Bangkok

We finished up breakfast and went with Lada's mom to the local temple. The overwhelming majority of Thailand is Buddhist, and the official religion is Theravada, the oldest surviving school of Buddhism. Lada's mother had prepared plastic baggies with food offerings for the monks. She dropped us off and we brought the offerings with us.

About twenty monks were seated in what looked like a park on a raised ring of concrete, facing inside the ring. Laypeople like us were gathered around the ring, seated on benches, against trees, or just on the ground. The monks were chanting in unison, and the supplicants would join in at times. Lada thinks they were chanting in Sanskrit.

The whole scene was very interesting to me. The gathered people didn't seem to be dressed according to any rules. The ceremony was completely open: people came and went as they pleased. Some had books from which they read along during the chanting, while others simply sat meditatively, chanting along from memory. Knowing this may sound silly, I'll say it anyway: it felt a lot more religious than every other church service I've been to. And that's without even being able to understand what they were saying.

After the chanting ended, people gave their offerings to the monks. Some offerings were cooked rice and vegetables in baggies like ours, while others were fresh fruit. The scene was rounded out, however, with bottled water and prepackaged candy.

Lada's mom drove us next to a port on the Chao Phraya river. Tickets were 13 baht each. (US$1≈฿30) The long, diesel-powered boat came puttering up to the dock pretty quickly. It seated about 40 people. As we got on, it came a cloud, and we had to pull down the plastic window flaps before we got soaked from the sideways rain.

We got off the boat about five stops downstream. There was a little market at the port, so we decided to stop for lunch. We went for some Pad Thai, a common Thai dish. It's a mixture of stir-fried rice noodles and egg, with varying mixtures of shrimp, chicken, bean sprouts, or other add-ons. This was my first time trying it, and it was amazing. Three orders of Pad Thai and three bottles of water ran us a total of ฿150.

After lunch, we headed to the Grand Palace. The complex has a dress code for visitors, so Augie and I had to rent a pair of MC Hammer pants before entering the palace grounds.

The palace was spectacular. We arrived just in time for a free guided tour, and our guide was great. His English was really good, though I enjoyed listening for his pronunciation problems. (He seemed to have trouble producing a "v" sound, just like most Indonesians I met last year.)

Besides the palace, the grounds house several temples. One of them is completely plated in gold, and is restricted to the royal family. Another houses the Emerald Buddha, a green jade statue clothed in gold. Encircling the complex is a wall displaying a mural of the Ramayana, a Sanskrit epic.

As we were nearing the end of our tour, an afternoon thunderstorm rolled in. Had it not been for my camera, I wouldn't have minded getting soaked; the shower was a refreshing change from the sweltering heat. As it was, we waited for the rain to subside somewhat, and made our way out of the complex. Along the way, we stopped at a massage parlor. Augustin wanted to get one, since Thai massage is apparently world-renowned. I didn't really care either way, so I went in for one, too.

Half an hour's massage cost ฿220. Lada couldn't justify paying this much, so she sat and waited for us. The massage was nice. I haven't gotten any kind of massage since the Rutherford Massage Club at UGA, which made this one turn me all nostalgic. The lady didn't use any oil, and she wasn't very rough, which I had been worried about. To Augie's great dismay, there was not a happy ending.

Lada's house

After dinner, we headed to Lada's parents' house, where we would be staying for a couple of days. On the way, we talked about all kinds of things related to Bangkok. Augie's visited before, and they both told me about some of the seedier tourist attractions the city has to offer.

We got to their gated community at about 10. Their two-story house has a gated driveway. We took our shoes off before going in, and went to the living room to greet her father. I was a little tired by this point, so I can't remember exactly what we talked about, but he's a very nice guy who speaks just a little English.

We said goodnight and headed upstairs. Augustin and I are sharing Lada's bedroom, while she sleeps in her sister's old room. The bedroom has an AC unit, which I wasn't expecting, but didn't complain when Augie cranked it up. We crashed without talking much more.

During the night, I woke up to the sound of heavy thunderstorms. Tsushima gets about two thunderstorms per year, a far cry from the almost-daily storms we often get in Georgia and Florida in the summer. The flash of lightning and the sound of rumbling thunder, combined with the heat and humidity, made me feel more at home in a strange bed in Bangkok than I do having lived two years in Japan.

The next morning, I woke to the sound of a rooster. While that's happened to me a couple of times, in places like Alabama and Romania, it's never happened in the middle of a city. Anyway, I ignored it and dozed until about 8:30. After taking a shower, I went downstairs with Lada and Augie and met her mom. Lada cooked us breakfast: scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast. Despite speaking only a little English, her mom carried on with us as if we were her kids, too.

Toward the end of breakfast, she served us two kinds of mango: green and orange. I soon learned that they had just been picked from trees in their yard. In Thai, mango is มะม่วง, which comes out sounding to me like [mɑː'muɑŋ] to me.

Through Lada, she explained the two types she was cutting up for us. The green one, which tasted kind of bitter and had a chalky texture, has a name that means rhinoceros, which refers to its little horn-like bump. The orange one, which they both said is the best in Thailand, sounds to me like [ok'ɾɔŋ]. Its name means "cleavage," owing to a distinctive crease at one end. That's irrespective of tones, which have always scared me.

Lada's parents are both retired from the military. Her father worked in special forces, and her mother worked as a nurse. They live in a two-story house in a gated community. The neighborhood isn't wealthy-looking, but I get the feeling they're very comfortable.

We finished breakfast and went next door to Lada's uncle's house. Lying on a wicker sofa on the porch was Lada's grandmother. She looks very, very old, but cheerfully if quietly greeted us. We sat down with Lada's uncle and talked for a while. He's retired from teaching English, which explains how easily and happily he talked to us. He talked to us about working in a province in northeastern Thailand famous for gemstones, and listening to the Voice of America broadcasts from D.C.

Saying goodbye, we headed back to Lada's house and sat down to talk some more. Lada's cousin, Aom, joined us. Though she doesn't speak much English, she just got back from studying in Kyoto for a year. I was delighted, and we started talking in Japanese. It was kind of strange: Aom and I would say something in Japanese, and then either she would tell Lada and her mother in Thai, or I would tell Lada in English who would then tell her mother in Thai. Poor Augie was off to the side, only grasping 1/3 of what was going on.

Cabbages & Condoms

Augustin and Lada met me at the airport. It's more than a little trippy seeing them: this is only the second time I've traveled in Asia with friends from back home. Augie had arrived the day before and was jetlagged pretty badly. We caught up on random things as we headed to Lada's car. The heat and humidity of Bangkok felt amazing to me, having come from still-chilly Japan that morning.

Lada drove us into Bangkok. Augie commented that he still hasn't gotten used to the roads, and it took me a minute to realize what he meant: Thai folks drive on the left side of the road. That is, of course, the opposite of America, but it's the same as Japan, so I hadn't noticed.

It was coming up on dinnertime, so Lada took us to a restaurant she'd heard of called "Cabbages & Condoms." I didn't believe her until we pulled up to the place. Sure enough, that's the restaurant's name. We walked past a gallery of various condom-related posters and works of art, including two mannequins decked out in condom apparel. On our way to the table, we noticed most of the floral arrangements were composed of condoms.

The food itself was great: various types of curry with rice. Lada also ordered a condom salad. It gets the name from having a type of noodle that's slick and chewy, which I suppose is how one would describe chewing latex. Augie and I discussed economics and culture over dessert, and I was surprised to discover how badly I've missed having someone to talk to about deep stuff.

In preparation for meeting her parents, I asked Lada for a crash course in Thai etiquette. The biggest thing she taught me was the wai. When greeting someone in Thailand, it's customary to clasp your hands as if praying, lower your head so that your index fingers are touching the tip of your nose, and bow slightly.

The total for all three of us came to about $15. On our way out, there was a stand set up. On a sign was written an apology for not having after-dinner mints. Instead, it offered condoms.

Golden Week: Leaving Japan

Literally right after ensoku, I left Tsushima for Fukuoka. Yonekura-sensei gave Joe and me a ride to the airport. Joe, Joey, and Mike are heading for Bali, where I know for a fact they'll have a mind-blowingly good time. The three of them were planning on staying at their regular hostel, and they booked me a room, too. It was about $20 per person for a four-person room, with a clean communal bathroom. The whole thing was great, and it makes me feel dumb for having spent triple that each night I've stayed at the Comfort Hotel in Hakata.

After dropping off our stuff, we headed over to El Borracho, our favorite/the only Mexican restaurant in Fukuoka. We feasted on an awesome dinner of sincronizadas and margaritas. Anticipating the tiring travel day ahead of us, Joe, Mike, and I got back to the hostel by around 1. Not surprisingly, Joey went out to party.

We all got up and out by 7:30. Check-in at the airport was uneventful, and I hung out with the guys at their gate until their boarding time. Joey broke out his football and we started tossing it around. Not long after, we were approached by someone from their airline. We expected them to ask us to stop horsing around, but instead he asked Joey to deflate it before takeoff to prevent explosion. Odd.

My flights were kind of screwy: first was Fukuoka to Hong Kong, though we stopped in Taipei to refuel. In Hong Kong, I had 40 minutes to disembark, go through a ridiculously crowded security line, and take the skyway to my gate. Thankfully, Cathay Pacific (my airline) had people along the way keeping an eye out for us. I made it just fine.

The flight from Hong Kong to Bangkok was awesome. Cathay Pacific (or at least this particular plane) is pretty swanky. The TV screens had a ton of movies and TV shows on demand. The flight arrived in Bangkok right on time, and I didn't have to fill out a visa application. Hooray for America!

Ensoku

Today was Tsushima High's school picnic, called ensoku. The English teachers like to use the term "excursion," but for me that connotes a trek through perilous terrain, so I hesitate to use that word. Anyway, last year I missed it because of my Indonesia trip. (Though it had been clearly indicated on the school calendar, handouts had been given out, and it had been mentioned during the morning meeting several times, I wasn't paying attention.) After I decided not to stay a third year, I made sure that my travel plans wouldn't make me miss this year's.

The... excursion consists of a two-hour hike from the school to a park, followed by a picnic and general revelry. Most of that hike is off the road, through hilly forest. The weather forecast had us worried: 20% chance of rain may not sound like a big deal, but having a 1 in 5 chance of being caught in a downpour one hour away from shelter was cause for concern.

This morning, despite the cloudy conditions and light drizzle, everyone gathered on the school field. All the kids were in their full P.E. uniforms: t-shirts and polyester two-piece track suits. It was kind of chilly, but I went ahead and wore a t-shirt and shorts. Not surprisingly, this got a big reaction from all the kids, with everyone asking me the classic "aren't you cold?"

After some announcements, everyone divided by grade level and homeroom, and we set out. I'm attached to the first-years, and the third-years get to lead the pack, so we chilled out for a while. Takahira-sensei invited me to walk with his homeroom, the 1-3s.

The beginning of the walk was exactly the way I go from my apartment to the school. From there, we crossed the street and headed up a road I haven't used much. It gets pretty steep pretty fast, and Takahira was huffing and puffing before too long. I've been good about going to the gym over the past few months, so it didn't bother me as much.

Along the way, I talked with the students. The boys jankenned to see who would ask me a question. I pretended to be offended when I learned that the loser had to ask me something. I also talked to Yoshihara and Hamasuna, both of whom were not enjoying the exertion. I learned that Yoshihara had been in art and guitar clubs, while Hamasuna had been in the biology club.

The road we used gets pretty narrow and curvy, which is dangerous enough without 600 pedestrians marching along one side, so we got off the road quickly. From there we took a trail more or less paralelling the road. The path led us through beautiful cedar forest. It's still too early in the season for birds, much less bugs, so the forest was almost silent. At one point, a student behind our group broke out a bar or two of the theme to Mononoke Hime, which got a laugh from everyone.

We finally arrived at the park. Though the drizzle had stopped, it was humid and cloudy enough to feel like the rain could come back at any minute. For all that, it was a reasonably pretty day.

The second- and third-years headed into the park, while the first-years lagged behind. The upperclassmen needed a few minutes to prepare for the freshmen's arrival. We marched the rest of the way into the park amid polite applause.

Next, Tomomatsu-sensei and the student council gave some introductory remarks. That done, they explained the first activity: double dutch. Each homeroom class had a long rope. One student took each end and began swinging it. The other students would jump into the rope. After the first three students, everyone else began shouting out how many people they had going at once. The top 3 teams got candy.

After that, we broke for lunch. Most people had bought normal bentō lunches, but I had planned something different. Knowing the bentos from this place aren't very good, and that I would want something more appetizing than pickled vegetables and oden, I brought my own lunch: a sandwich and chips. This week when I went shopping for today's lunch, though, I bought some extra. I made five peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and cut each into quarters. I made my rounds, offering them to teachers and students alike. They were a pretty big hit.

The clearing everyone occupied for lunch was at the top of a hill. I noticed birds overhead, but that didn't surprise me; kites are common in Tsushima. What did surprise me was seeing the kites start dive-bombing the picnickers, trying to snatch their food. This got shrieks from the girls and laughs from the boys. Thankfully, nobody got hurt or even hit, though the kites kept it up for a good fifteen minutes.

After lunch, the three new teachers--Ms. Yonekura, Mr. Tomino, and Mr. Kusano--performed for everyone. They danced to Chocolate Disco, a J-pop song by Perfume. Everyone found this highly amusing, especially because of the cute little ribbons they wore.

Once this was done, everyone was free to play around. Students had brought soccer balls and volleyballs. I brought my baseball glove and three frisbees. The first-year students had heard me talk about frisbee in my introduction, so several of them ran up to borrow one. I ended up throwing the frisbee with several teachers and students, and then tossing the baseball around toward the end.

We ended the day by breaking into groups and scouring the park for trash. Once this was done, everyone was free to go home, which meant that most of the students headed back to school for club activities. Matsushita gave eight of us a ride in his van, including Nanami, a second-year who had sprained her ankle the week before. As we rode down the hill, he tried to get her to make fun of the students as we passed them.

First-year welcome party

Having had both the faculty-wide, departmental, and apartmental welcome parties, the last party was tonight. This one was for all the freshman teachers. We got together at Haccho, which is termed a Chinese restaurant for reasons I can't figure out. After drawing lots, I found my seat between Ontsuka and Oishi. Ontsuka is a grammar teacher, and is the head of the first-year teachers this year.

Oishi is a math teacher, and is one of the more intimidating teachers at my schools. He practices karate, often in the afternoons in a practice room adjoining my English classroom. Most of the students are scared of him. For my first two years, he was a third-year teacher, meaning he handled the highest-level math classes. This year, however, he's a first-year teacher, which I find highly amusing. It's just about impossible to teach the first-years without having a sense of humor; even the harsh P.E. coaches laugh at times.

This marked the first time I'd talked to Oishi outside school. He's rather gruff, but has a good sense of humor. (He also laughs just like Dr. Hibbert, which makes it impossible for me not to like him.) He gave the toast, and he began by talking about Wii Fit. One of the things the game does is tell your age based on your fitness level. He was proud to announce that, according to Wii Fit, he's 26. (He's much closer to 60.)

After the toast, we tore into the food. While not entirely Japanese--sashimi surrounded by chicken wings, fried shrimp, and salad--the food wasn't what I would call Chinese. I talked with Oishi and Ontsuka about things I can't quite recall. It's fuzzy in part because Kimino-sensei decided to toast Oishi's youth.

The toast was supposed to be each person downing a beer in his honor. As Yakabe prepared to down his pint, Oishi stopped him and insisted Yakabe drink from a bowl filled with beer. Nobody seemed to have a problem with this, so I played along. Each person, in turn, guzzled a bowlful of beer. It finally came to me, and though I made a few pauses, I managed it.

Kimino later explained the significance of drinking that way. At some point in Japanese history, sharing a communal bowl for drinking was considered a strong display of trust. Passing a bowl among the group showed one wasn't afraid of being poisoned by the other members. At least, that's what I gathered from her explanation. I could be way off.

Anyway, I sat down next to Yoshihara, the art teacher, and we talked about Kamito-sensei. She's apparently struggling at the new school. There are lots of problem students, and she's a third-year teacher for the first time in her career. We moved on to talking about her art class.
Yuki, one of my English Club girls, is taking art class with her this year. One day last week, I found her poring over a label for a plastic bottle. It was a project for art class: designing a label for a drink product. Yuki's product was a play on a Japanese story analogous to Snow White: a witch gives a woman a poisoned apple. Inspired by this, Yuki was advertising juice made from that apple.

Yoshihara got a kick out of my noticing this. She explained that that was Yuki's second idea. Her first had been to sell a product that was straight-up poison. (She has a weird sense of humor.) Yoshihara had to talk her out of that, and they settled on the poison-apple juice.

As we were talking, I noticed that Kimino was still sitting seiza-style. Although we all assume that position during toasts and other official procedural things, almost everyone relaxes afterwards. Girls wearing skirts can't sit cross-legged, but they find positions more comfortable than seiza. Kimino, however, seemed just fine. I asked her about it, and she explained that as a child she wasn't allowed to eat dinner unless she sat seiza-style.

Shigematsu arrived late. She's one of my favorite teachers, though she's not an English teacher, which means I've never taught a class with her. This year she's the homeroom teacher for the multicultural class, and they're already proving troublesome. She stays at school until about 8 every night, either doing paperwork or talking on the phone with parents. Despite this, tonight she was moving and talking with the same elegance and grace she always has.

I declined the second party, especially once I found out the guys were heading toward a ramen shop. I started walking with the ladies, assuming they were heading home. Kimino, Maeda, Yoshihara, and Hamasuna instead made a beeline for Kazeneya for some ice cream. I went along, and had fun trying to keep up with their gossipy Japanese. I ended up getting home by around 11.

Freshman orientation

The first-year students go through a lengthy orientation. I don't just mean the ceremony with lots of speeches. That was more for the parents' benefit than the students'. Every day since then, the freshmen have done at least one thing that has nothing to do with academic pursuits and everything to do with group bonding.

For example, last week all the freshmen were gathered in the gym. While the second- and third-years were going on with class as usual, the newbies learned and practiced the school song. Nagao-sensei, the music teacher, stood at the front of the gym and addressed the group. They all had the lyrics in their orientation packets, and he gave a lengthy speech the content of which I couldn't entirely understand, but the gist of which sounded like "all students must learn this song." It didn't take me long to think of Lean On Me, and Morgan Freeman requiring the kids to sing "Fair Eastside" on demand.

Nagao played a recorded version of the song a few times for them to listen, then had the students sing along with that. He ended by having them sing without accompaniment. Though they still needed to look at the lyrics--it's hard to memorize a song from scratch in 45 minutes, and I'm told the lyrics are hard to understand even for native Japanese--they made a lot of progress by the end.

Another example is homeroom activities. Next to the school's soft tennis courts is the seminar house, which is used for things like extra classes in the summer. Each of the freshman homeroom classes has been spending a full day in the seminar house. I'm told they introduce themselves, listen to music, have low-intensity classes, and generally just spend time with each other.

The seminar house contains a full kitchen. In the afternoon, the homeroom class using the seminar house has cooked curry and rice. Given the raw materials, the students have prepared the curry, the rice, and the place settings for all forty of their classmates, plus their homeroom teacher, plus a few extra. After finishing, they work together to clean up the place, from washing dishes to scrubbing the pots to breaking down the tables.

I was invited to join the 1-1 class for lunch today. Having been secretly hoping this would happen, I was thrilled: I never got the chance to do this last year. After my fourth-period class, I hussled over to the seminar house to find everyone seated and waiting, presumably for me. I sheepishly darted over to my seat amid giggles from the students. The homeroom teacher, Yakabe, was joined by the head first-year teacher, Ontsuka, my supervisor, Kanemoto, and the vice principal, Kusano. Nobody seemed the least bit upset with me: they hadn't been waiting long.

The curry and rice was delicious. I talked a good bit with Shiho, the girl sitting next to me, and thanked my lucky stars that I'd been invited to join the group with the best English ability. Just as I almost cleared my plate, one of the students hopped up and offered to get me more. He was on his way to get seconds for himself, so I accepted. I think I had thirds, too.

After we finished, the students divided up, with roughly half each taking the kitchen or the tables. Cleanup took about twenty minutes, during which Kanemoto showed me around the seminar house. He explained that last year's freshmen had slumber parties in the seminar house, using the large tatami rooms upstairs. Sure enough, the place is equipped with enough bathroom and shower facilities for a large group of people, and even has bedding for everyone.

After cleanup, we played games, and they invited me to join. First, Yakabe had everyone order themselves by birthdays, from January 1 to December 31, without speaking. This was, of course, brilliant, with lots of frantic gestures and suppressed giggles. Using that order, he broke us into six-person teams for the next game. I was teamed with five girls.

For this game, two people were given the task of drawing something. The other four people had to go outside the room, look at a picture, come back to their team, and describe the picture. The people drawing would then recreate the picture based on the description. After ten minutes, each group presented their picture, and we voted on the best. I drew, and, thanks to some awesome descriptions containing bits of English, ours was voted the best. We played again, with two new people drawing. It was a lot of fun.

We next arranged ourselves by date of birth--from 1st to 31st, irrespective of month--without speaking, and used that to make different teams. I was teamed with boys this time, and we played a board game with dice. Each space contained a question or conversation topic, and according to Yakabe's instructions, we had to speak for at least twenty seconds. It wasn't nearly as much fun as the drawing game, but it was a good bonding experience.

By the time we headed back to school for sixth period, everyone was talking to me. I had learned about half their names, and was chomping at the bit to learn the other half. Man, I love these kids.

More tennis

I've been keeping up with tennis pretty well. Yagi can't go on account of badminton, and sometimes Kim goes, but usually it's me going solo. That's just as well, though, because none of them seem to be taking it as seriously as I am. I've learned that Nishigami's family comes to practice, too: his wife, middle school-aged son, and elementary-school-aged daughter all play. The wife is a solid enough player and the seven-year-old daughter could probably beat me in a game. The son plays for his junior high school, and is apparently the third-best for his age in Kyūshū. Despite this, they're all extremely nice.

Today, Mr. Nishigami and his son were gone, so the Mrs. and the daughter (everyone calls her Hi-chan, short for Hikaru or Hikari) helped me out. Fujiwara and Totoki, two of the regular guys, helped me practice my forehand, and explained the basics of the backhand, serve, and volley to me. I'm not good by any stretch of the imagination, but I'm progressing. I really like how everyone helps each other out, as opposed to having one designated leader and a clump of students.

Kita welcome party

After talking to Mom and Dad this morning, I got ready for tennis. Nobody was there by 2, though, so I gave up. I called Naomi, the new English teacher who's fresh off the boat from Canada. We drove out to Green Park in Kechi and threw the baseball, softball, and frisbee at the beach.

That evening, Kita Sho had its welcome party for the new teachers. I was shocked as the teachers began arriving: almost half of the faculty was new. The principal and the tea lady had retired, which I'd known about, but the first-, second-, and third-grade teachers had all transferred. Tanaka, the vice principal, was still there, thank goodness.

Dinner was nice. I learned that the new tea lady, who can't be any older than me, is the daughter of Tsushima High's endearingly surly math teacher, who is likely the oldest teacher at the school. She couldn't be more different from him: she spent the evening bouncing around and talking to everyone, though she spent decidedly more time flirting with the principal and vice principal.

After the meal, Umeno and Araki gave a "test" to the new teachers, as part of their initiation to Tsushima. After a few Tsushima- and Kita Sho-related questions, they gave a few in English. For this, they asked me to ask one question. They wanted me to make something up, but to be sure to ask it at native speed. Araki warned everyone to listen carefully, and imitated how I would sound by trilling his tongue. Seizing the moment, I gave the question by trilling my tongue. This went over pretty well, and my real question was easily handled: who is the president?

We headed to Pleasure for karaoke afterwards, and fifteen of us crammed into one room. I spoke at length with Tanaka, and found out that his son is 21, which explains even further why we get along so well. He told Umeno and others about when he picked me up for my first day at Kita Sho. I spoke very little Japanese at the time, and he spoke very little English, so we mostly grunted, laughed, and played charades to communicate.

The new P.E. teacher, an older guy from Kuta Sho, shocked me by busting out some very impressive English. He sang a Ray Charles song before asking me to sing LINK Georgia.

First first-year lessons

Having attended the entrance ceremony and spent the better part of two weeks in awe of how tiny and cute the new freshmen are, I've finally started teaching them. As with the previous two groups, I used the first lesson to introduce myself. When I use the projector and screen, I'm usually at the mercy of the weather: the classroom we use has crummy drapes, so sunlight streams in easily. This is great on frigid winter days, but not when I'm trying to show pictures. We got a new projector recently, with a stronger bulb, but that's still not enough to overcome full-on sunny days.

Sniffing around, I heard about the audio-visual room. Usually only used by the brass band for after-school practice, it has beautiful thick black drapes, a screen, and a full complement of VCRs, DVD players, and a fancy-pants projector bolted to the ceiling. I found out who was in charge of the room, and made all the necessary arrangements.

It worked brilliantly. The drapes made the room pitch black (as drapes tend to do), rendering all my pictures completely visible. I built my introduction around Google Earth, which remains the single most successful element of my classes. The students go nuts the first time they see it. I'm not even using it to the fullest extent of its capabilities: I just use zoom and the occasional downloaded 3D model. The students, however, are simply mesmermized by it.

I've noticed that my lessons go much more smoothly than when I started. I have to pause less often for help from the teacher, either because I've learned how slowly to speak or I've learned how to detect confusion on their faces in time to slow down. They all get a kick out of my ability to speak Japanese, so much so that I kind of wish I'd kept it a secret a little bit longer. Some classes literally collectively gasp when I unthinkingly slip into Japanese--even if it's something simple, and even if I make a mistake.

This year's Tsushima High freshmen are on the whole smarter than last year's. However, last year seemed to have more standout personalities, most of whom were in one of my classes with Satomi-sensei. (The girls outnumbered the boys 2:1 in that class, and they totally knew it: the boys sort of huddled in a corner while the girls giggled their way through class.) I can't decide which I like better, and I've learned a valuable lesson about the difference in students from one year to the next.

Toyotama High has helped me learn that lesson very well. Last year's freshmen were, on the whole, bad. Yoshida-sensei warned me of this going in. It wasn't just in English, either: this was the group that included the boys who threw things at a teacher, and at least three of the students couldn't write in Japanese, much less English. There were a few bright kids, like Sayaka and Koji, and most of them were harmless, but on the whole, their ability level was abysmal.

This year is drastically different. One of the two groups of freshmen is awful, with nobody saying a thing during class. The six boys in the class keep mostly to themselves, and only a couple of the girls say anything. The other group, meanwhile, is almost the exact opposite. I've never seen a group of students more irrepressibly enthusiastic. I don't think it's a coincidence that only two of the 23 students are boys; it's almost as if the girls have consciously united and resolved to study hard. This is one of the groups that gasped in unison when I spoke to them in Japanese for the first time.

I absolutely love my kids. Even the bad classes aren't awful; if nothing else, they make me appreciate the good ones that much more. I'm well aware that I have precious few weeks with them, and I'm certain this is a large part of why I'm having so much fun with them.

Knowing everybody

JETs enter and leave Japan on a different schedule from normal teachers. Whereas rank-and-file Japanese are transferred at the end of the academic year, we're inserted between the first and second terms. I didn't like it at first, but I've come to understand their reasoning: schools have enough to worry about with getting the new teachers and new students oriented. Having to show the ropes to a foreigner--who likely knows nothing about the Japanese school system, and in most cases speaks almost no Japanese--would be overwhelming.

The greatest benefit to having come here one-third the way through a school year is that I've gotten to see three completely different groups of students. Tsushima High offers three courses for its students: college/university-track, commercial-track, and a multicultural program. They divide the students into numbered groups, with the college-bound students classified as groups 1 through 4, the multicultural program 5, and the job-bound students as 6 and 7. (Beginning last year, however, we only had enough freshmen to fill one commercial group; there's no longer any 7th group.)

I help with the oral communications class for the freshmen in the college-bound program. That's groups 1-1 through 1-4. I teach the multicultural class in their second year: the 2-5s. I also teach the commercial students--the 3-6s and 3-7s--in their third year. That means that, in any given year, students from all three programs get to play with the ALT. With this being the third academic year I've been here, I am teaching or have taught nearly everyone at school: 16 of 19 groups, or about 570 of 670 students. That means 85% of the school is currently attending or has at some point attended my class.

Suffice it to say, I'm thrilled about this. Every chance I get, I take the long way to the classroom, picking a route that takes me past the third- or second-year classrooms. The hallway fills with hellos. It's strange seeing the third-years, taller and more grown-up versions of the kids I taught a year and a half ago. I wince a little when I go down the second-year hallway, not only because I so recently was teaching them every week, but also because they're the group with whom I have the strongest bond. I taught them for a full academic year, after all. They entered school halfway into my first year, when I'd gotten some semblance of a bead on things, and I'm proud of how many of their names I learned. Aaron and Evelyn were right: calling a student by name is the surest way to make them brighten up.

Toyotama High is even better. With only two groups of students per grade year, it's not hard at all to keep up with them. Since my first year, I've taught both the first- and second-years, which means everyone was familiar with me last year. This year's seniors, however, know me the best of any of my classes at either school. I've seen them twice a week, three weeks a month, without fail for the better part of my time in Japan. No more, though: according to Iwase, a lot of the students are aiming for college, so they need to study a lot harder than last year's seniors. That means I won't get to teach an optional class like last year's writing or the previous year's oral communications.

Tennis

Today I played tennis for the first time in years. Last weekend I had seen Yagi, Kim, and Kimino heading out, and they had invited me to join. I didn't get many details, but my impressions of high school club activities (practice every day until 6, spend weeks learning every small part of every movement) made me wary. They planned to start going on Saturdays and Sundays. I made sure it was okay if I went only occasionally, and they laughed. I should have realized who I was talking to: high school teachers hardly ever get Saturdays off, so they won't be able to go every weekend, either.

I bought a racket at Osada (the closest we have to a Wal-Mart), got my two-liter bottle of water ready, and set off with Yagi at around 5. She was late on account of badminton practice, of which she is the new coach and which she had forgotten about. Practice was at the tennis courts in Izuhara General Park, a place in Kuta I'd never heard of.

The first thing I noticed was that the court surface was sandy turf, not paved. The second thing I noticed was that, though there were about eight people there, nobody was lined up for the kind of formal drills I'd expected. Four were playing doubles, and the other four were just hitting back and forth to each other, practicing.

Yagi introduced me to the teacher, Nishigami. He looks like he's in his mid-30s (which, based on my experience with apparent age among Japanese people, means he's probably ten years older), and he's very nice. Though he's apparently the main teacher, I quickly discovered there wasn't any structure to speak of. He gave advice to people along the way, but so did several others. Everyone seemed to be helping each other out.

Anyway, Yagi and I met Ms. Noguchi and started hitting the ball around. Ugh. I knew how to make contact, but that was about it. I played with Mom, Dad, and Heather one summer about nine years ago, and never got far beyond slapping the ball over the net. Trying a full forehand was, to put it lightly, awful.

After watching for a few minutes, Nishigami came in and gave us each some advice. He explained basic forehand technique--turning your wrist as you hit it gives spin, but that's tricky, so lay off that for now; rotate your body with your arm; keep the face of the racket perpendicular to the ground as you make contact. He was careful not to blow my mind with too much tutelage in one session, and I made some decent improvements just from what he told me.

I introduced myself to a few of the other players, but didn't stand a chance of remembering all their names the first time around. I contented myself by learning Nishigami and Esaki, a funny guy who studies Korean.

Afterwards, the three of us went to dinner with Kim. We ate at Otako, a tonkatsu restaurant I'd been to with Aaron and Evelyn last year. In most restaurants in Izuhara, you feel like you're eating in someone's living room. I'm pretty sure this place is the lady's living room. It's run by a sweet old lady (I think I heard she's in her 80s), and the food is cooked by Esaki, who might be her son. We got a table and ordered bite-sized katsu and chijimi. It was delicious.

Seated near us was a pair of guys enjoying their after-work dinner and beers. The drunker (and, thus, less inhibited) of the two began talking to me. He asked the basic questions: where I'm from, where I work, how old I am. When he asked my name, I responded as I always do in Japan: first with the English pronunciation, and then the Japanese pronunciation, which makes the as sound like Spanish, removes stress from the syllables, and turns the m into a slight moo. He promptly called me "Adamo," which got the girls rolling. I laughingly and politely corrected him, but he got it wrong again. His friend, having been trying to restrain him since his first question, finally succeeded, and the two paid and left.

New English Club

This afternoon, the freshmen joined club activities. Each club went to a designated area--the sports clubs went to their gyms, courts, and dōjō, of course; other groups simply used classrooms--and waited for the new fish. This was the first time we'd met since before the entrance ceremony, so I was ecstatic to see the girls again. I was even happier when everyone showed up: Akane, Yuka, Azumi, Aya, Nozomi, and Yuki (the six who normally make it), plus Shino, Mikoto, Yuki, Miyuki, and Nanami (the five who don't). Not content to sit and wait for people to come in, I stood out in the hall and talked to everyone who passed by. I tried my best to get them to join, even if they weren't freshmen, and even if they were already wearing a basketball uniform or carrying a trombone.

Slowly, we picked up new students. First were two girls who came together, followed by two who came separately. I was shocked to see a boy walk in. A boy! In the English Club! There hasn't been a boy in the English Club since I've been here, and at least for the year before I got here. I was stoked.

Once it became clear that nobody else was roaming the halls, everyone introduced themselves. The new recruits include Natsumi and Yuu (the two who came in together), Misuzu, Tomomi, and Koji. Despite the first-year and new-recruit shyness, all of them were chatty. Yuka and Akane, two of the newly-christened third-years, were much more relaxed and talkative than they had been all last year.