So I wake up, grab a bite to eat, say my itekimasu (getting ittarashai in reply) and leave the house. Then I walk to the monorail station. When the clock strikes the minute, the scheduled train will be there. Never fails. Four stops brings me to Fudoin-Mae Station, where I walk by a big road, then turn off it to a smaller road, then start up a huge hill. After the red telephone pole are... the stairs. 137 of them, to be exact.
In Japan people change their clothes by the calendar rather than by the temperature. We no longer wear the hot weather polyester-pants-&-short-sleeve-shirt uniform. From October we must wear wool pants and blazer, long sleeve shirt, and necktie.
(Some people say that America has lost its tradition; arts that are passed down from generation to generation. I have realized that one of the arts we still have is the tying of the necktie. Dad taught me how to tie it just right, and if it did not look good, start over and try again. Japanese men, in contrast, seem to wear neckties as one would wear a noose. Something about a lopsided knot bothers me.)
So back to the winter uniform. My point was: it's hot. Especially climbing up the 137 stairs to the high school.
So I get to the school, and change my shoes at the entryway. Luckily, we were able to find some of the uniform slippers in my size: ni-juu kyuu (29) senchi (cm). Get to my homeroom class, Usui-sensei, 2C. Hiroshima Municipal Commercial High School (Shisho) is split into three main courses of study, from which junior high graduates must decide their future. My class is the business course, the other courses are secretarial and computer.
This week is pure testing (midterms, I think), and the students are stressed out. We wouldn't want them too stressed, so the whole week is also only half-days. You know how there always seems to be news about Japanese students killing themselves over test grades? Turns out, the teen suicide rate is the same as in the USA. (Interestingly, teen murder rates here are 1/100 of the US)
Two weeks ago I went to Hokkaido with my fellow 2nd graders. This shuugakouryoko (class trip) was four days long. If you look at a map you will notice that Hokkaido is a long way from Hiroshima, so we went by (Pokemon) plane. My classmates are easily excited, as well as being loud. So taxiing and takeoff were kind of like... well... maybe a cross between a haunted house and a sporting event. Anyhow, each movement caused a wave of screaming and clapping through the plane. This excitement lasted the entire trip, and climaxed at the landing (2 hrs later) in Sapporo. I guess you will never really understand until you are lucky enough to be on a plane with 200 Japanese students.
The first two days in Sapporo were mostly free time. Students had (a month in advance) grouped themselves into five person teams. My group and I wandered around the city, unchaperoned. It seemed like all we were going to do was go into convenience stores, we went into three. (On every other corner in Japan there is a convenience store. It took me a couple of weeks to notice that they are not gas stations. I had just assumed that they were.)
October 1 brought us to a jet-coaster (roller coaster) park. Shisho's second graders (class of 2001) were just about the only people in this place, which was set in the middle of nowhere. I felt strange in my necktie and blazer, but also was grateful that I am not female. You see, we were all in full uniform, which means the girls were wearing their "sailor" skirts. Not exactly modest roller coaster wear.
The first night was in a Japanese-style inn. This entails sleeping on futons on the floor, and eating Japanese meals. The second night was at the Sheraton Palace Hotel. The American room, beds, bathroom, and breakfast were the best medicine that I have yet found for homesickness (perforated toilet paper, by golly!). It was a room with a view, too. The last night on Hokkaido was another Japanese inn, in a hot-springs town. The sweet smell of sulfur drifted through the air...
The trip home was as exciting as the trip there, even though we were not in a Pokemon plane. This plane had a video monitor for each seat, which could be switched between a nose-cam (view from the cockpit) and a GPS map. A lightning-storm in Hiroshima forced us to land in a neighboring city, where we took a bus home. Atsuii desu yo! It was quite muggy back "home," when compared to the cold-wind-rain climate of Hokkaido.
"It's good to be back," I thought to myself...
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