1985/7 Japan

1 February 1986
8.30pm TSURUGA, North of Kyoto

Greetings to you from a rather grubby truckers café. I am waiting to board the ferry to Hokkaido for the snow festival and so far seem to be the only woman. Thanks God the Japanese are EXTREMELY shy, so despite surreptitious glances and speculative discussion, one is very rarely approached.

I have enclosed ¥5000 as I would like you to send me some Justine skin care goodies please. The current ¥ - $ exchange is about ¥195 - $1.00. (The rate has dropped from ¥213 when I first arrived in October. Good news for me.) So that is about $25.00. I don’t know the Rand/$ exchange rate or the current cost of Justine so will send you an equivalent amount next week to make sure I cover postage atc, OK. Please send me the following: Cleansing LOTION (white), TONIC, Moisture LOTION (blue), VITAMIN cream, EYE cream, and a FACE PACK if they have one. Thanx.

The most important news of the week is that I have been fired from the bakery. In typically Japanese fashion too. I was having lunch with Amanda in the canteen about ten days ago when we were joined by the personnel manager (I’ve mentioned Amanda before, I think. She is Australian, married to a Japanese teacher, speaks very good Japanese, knows the woman I met and travelled with in Turkey). As the manager sat down he started talking to Amanda and the only word I understood was VISA. But the minute he said it a whole lot of things fell into place and I understood – like any good Japanese – a whole lot more. They talk to each other in riddles and hints in this country. And nothing unpleasant is said directly. It reminds me of the North American Indians going into a forest to chop down a tree for a totem pole. Picking a tree and holding a little ceremony. Then chopping down a different tree – believing that the shock is less great for the second tree. If you point at something blue and say it is red, a Japanese won’t say NO, it isn’t, (NO is considered to be very strong and unpleasant in this context and is only used to say ‘NO, NO, it is OK’ if you thank someone), but will instead say Chigau – meaning DIFFERENT ie it is different from what you say!! ANYWAY – when I first joined the bakery I had been perfectly honest about my visa being a tourist visa and they had said they were happy to keep it a secret. The day I started work, the current trainee baker was due to go on a two-week study trip to Europe and had planned to join a different kitchen on her return. Xmas and New Year were around the corner and the bakery was therefore very short staffed. On the morning of the day the manager approached Amanda, it had been VERY quiet in the bakery and one of the bakers had told me it was like that until the spring. So basically they don’t need another pair of hands anymore. I asked the manager directly if I was going to be fired. No, no, said he, we’re going to try and sort out something with the visa. But I KNEW. Also KNEW that that had been the plan from the beginning. The visa being an easy reason for the poor sucker who would have to break the news to me. I actually felt quite good about the whole thing. They needed me, I needed them. And I had a total gas. But now perhaps it was time to go out there and earn some REAL money. So for ten days I waited calmly for the axe to fall. But yesterday when they finally sent Amanda down to tell me they couldn’t do anything about the visa and to give me one month’s notice, I had an unexpectedly emotional reaction. My head tells me it is crazy to be working for $3 per hour when I can earn $20, but I have been so happy at the hotel. Especially about the bonds I have formed with the bakers despite the language barrier. So… The bakers too were a little emotional. Mori came up to me and said the bakers were sick. What? said I. Sick, said he. Colds? said I. No, no, CRY, said he. Ah, SAD, not sick!! They have been planning a Welcome Miss Gail party for me, but now it’s going to be a Farewell Miss Gail party!!

I have found an extra three hours’ teaching. Bringing me back up to nine hours. Six with Mr Morimoto and now three in Osaka. The standard of English at the new school is very high and there are between 15 and 20 people in each class. Also ¥4000 per hour. Unfortunately I have a mad monk in the class for the whole three hours. His name is LOTUS and he became a Buddhist monk at 33. We were discussing violence in movies on my first evening and he was telling me how much he enjoyed it and what an important role it played in life / society. When he finally said it was a good idea for both adults and children to see killing as an easy solution to a problem, I said as gently and sweetly as possible (trying to keep my cool) that I was surprised to hear all this coming from him. I obviously hit a soft spot as he immediately came back with: This is an English lesson. There is no need for personal abuse!! I backed off at once, but within the next few minutes he proceeded to tell me I was a hypocrite and that I liked to whitewash things!! The next day the bakers were joking that he is probably one of those militant monks who can kill a person with two fingers. I replied that I would wear a crash helmet and an American football outfit to class in future, which made them all laugh. I LOVE it when I can make them laugh.

[There is a John Wayne movie on at the moment in the café. He sounds really strange speaking JAPANESE!]

Tomorrow is my FIRST day off since December 21. And I shall spend it rocking and rolling, heaving and weaving, bumping and grinding, shake, rattle and rolling, across the Japan Sea. I hope I won’t be too ill.

I have just boarded the ferry and been shown to my room. I am not very happy about it. I was led to believe I would be in a dormitory for women. Was in fact shown a picture of a nice comfortable looking room with chatting females. And here I am in a MIXED dorm. It would be OK if there was more of a mix, but I’m the ONLY woman. AND the only foreigner on board. I feel a little uncomfortable. So I’ve put on my snotty, unapproachable face and shall simply hope no-one drinks too much – at which point the shy Jap turns into a real pain-in-the-arse. [Jap used as an abbreviation, not a derogatory term.]

Sorry I’ve been so slack about writing lately. The only excuse I have is the number of hours I’m putting in. Eight hours every day a the bakery. Plus four evenings a week teaching. With three hours travelling in all on each of those four days. And after hours and hours of attempted communication with the Jpas, I just HAVE to go down ’pub to talk to someone who doesn’t need a dictionary to understand me. So all in all my time is rather limited.

One of the bakers last week mentioned that the temperature in Sapporo was -20°C that morning. I looked down in horror at my trackshoes thinking immediately of toes so cold they snap off. It hadn’t even occurred to me it might be THAT cold at the festival. The next morning Mori arrived with his girlfriend’s SNOW BOOTS – a loan for the duration of my time in Hokkaido!!  These people are SO GOOD to me! If anything freezes off now it will be my ears as I’ve just had my hair cut VERY VERY short. Almost as short as I used to wear it in Berario!!

That’s all Folks!
Take care
Lotsaluv
Gail

PS Good morning! I survived the night. Ended up sharing the floor with 12 Jap men, but I guess my unapproachable look conveys just that. It is pretty rough out there this morning. One moment the window is filled with sea, the next with sky. And every now and then the ship shudders as though hit in the guts by a giant fist. One traverses the passageways like the proverbial drunk.

Last week I was waiting for my train connection to Mr M’s. There was a train waiting on the other side of the platform. A young schoolboy in his black school uniform came dashing up the stairway and started to race for the doors. He was holding his schoolbag by the long strap and as he ran, the bag swung out ahead of him. On one stride the bag swung in thru’ the open doors, but before he could follow it, the doors slammed shut on the strap!! Leaving the bag inside and the boy still holding the strap outside. The look of consternation on his face was just too much for my self-control – although not too much for the Jap self-control!! As the train started to pull away, the boy walked alongside still holding the strap, but as it gathered speed, he was forced to let go and was left standing forlornly there – his hand half-raised in a farewell wave.

Thanks for the photies and essays, mom, I shall read them today.

Bye now!

PPS Could you send me that book on SA soonish?!