Welcome to Japun

So considering the standard of English here (the JET Programme has been going on how many years now?!), count me surprised how prevalent cheesy English-language puns are - particularly in marketing communications.

For example, there's a barbershop in my town called Cut & Bro, and my prefecture's top tier basketball team is the Happinets (yes, seriously).

Then there's this movie poster... with my favourite Japun to date.

Given that an ex-Evil Corp boss stomped on every one of my attempts to slip puns into my work, it delights me to see things like this.

Life in Japan may be tough - making incredible demands of the individual in terms of commitments in every aspect of their life - but in advertising the Japanese certainly seem to embrace a little bit of lightheartedness. Ridiculous mascots, puntastic calls to action - here the Japanese routinely and unashamedly embrace their silly side.

Or at least I hope they recognise the groan-triggering wordplay, and are in on the joke...

So much funkier than "you wouldn't steal a car..."

I owe you all a blog post about my first ever cinema visit in Japan, when I got to FINALLY watch Guardians of the Galaxy. So, yeah, on that note I owe you all a film review as well...

In the meantime though, if you've never seen it before - I only experienced it for the first time last Tuesday - here is Japan's answer to the West's "You wouldn't steal a car..." anti-piracy ad.

As you can see, it enlivens a very stale message by injecting a hefty dose of Daft Punk-style funkiness, as well as all the expected Japanese WTF-ness.


For the record, you can watch the other 2 commercials in the series here. And, on the topic of Daft Punk, make sure you check out this clever tribute to the music act as well.

Hang this fear of making mistakes

Probably the greatest barrier in terms of getting Japanese students communicating in English is the fear of mistakes.

No matter how much you encourage them to simply try, no matter how much their textbooks preach about taking a chance and having marvelous adventures as a result, the truth is that the Japanese education system - and probably the society as a whole - does not leave much room for experimentation or error.

You see, you don't get to go back at any point.

There is a set process. You're born. You go to school. You go to university (unless you immediately start training and working after high school). You get a job - probably the same one you will have for the rest of your life. You get married. You have children. It's all rigidly laid out for you.

Welcome to the Shire, Bilbo Baggins.

There's no deciding in your thirties that you want to jump career tracks and promptly return to college. There's no changing professions in your mid-twenties. Or, at least, I have seen no evidence of this yet.

Life in Japan is high stakes. Particularly in the first few decades of your existence. If you screw up at an inappropriate time, you could stumble off your perfectly paved life path and wander lost forever in the brush - the shameful fuck-up of your family.

As a result, I look around the classroom and I swear the kids use their erasers more than their pencils. They're just so wary of making a mistake.

This was taken to the next level in one of my classrooms yesterday.

We were reviewing vocabulary from their last lesson with a game of Hangman. For the record, I did feel a tad perverse playing this game with Japanese high schoolers the day before exams started, but the teacher rebuffed my attempts to soften the exercise by drawing another less morbid figure.

As it was, the students really got into the game. They were actually *gasp* voluntarily participating. They really didn't want the poor little stick figure man to die.

And that's where the problem surfaced. The high schoolers became paralysed just selecting a letter of the alphabet. The game ground to a halt because they were petrified about pointing at a chalk mark on the board in case it added another part to the picture. There were no serious consequences at all, but they couldn't risk the failure. They just sat there and went completely quiet.

 It was all very eye-opening, a little bit sad, and I think a pretty powerful anecdote about learning mindsets in Japan.

A change in tactic

So here I am, just a week short of my 2 month anniversary in Japan. My personal Facebook page has been very active during this period; this blog... not so much.

The problem is, the longer you leave between posts, the longer the post becomes in your head, and in turn, the prospect of typing it out becomes exponentially more daunting. Plus I'm still in the process of settling in, developing a daily schedule (whoever said JETs have loads of free time is a liar!) and trying to enjoy outdoor and social opportunities before my area's notoriously grueling five-month winter settles in and I go into forced hibernation. More time for writing then, I suppose.

"All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy."
"All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy."
"All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy."
"All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy."
"All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy."

REDRUM. REDRUM...

Anyway, this has all led to a change in blogging strategy.

Instead of mammoth posts chronicling the minutiae of my life as an Assistant Language Teacher (ALT) in Northern Japan, I'm going the bite-size route. This isn't to say that there won't be longer, more contemplative posts as well, but you can also look forward to more frequent random snippets.

Although this list is likely to change over time, you can expect blog categories to include:

Daily life - Random observations about the everyday in Japan from my largely illiterate outsider's perspective. Curiosities abound, like the way everyone alley docks their cars, and how the banking system remains mired in the 1980s.

Travel - Duh. This one is obvious. Places to see, things to do, how to get there and generally assessing whether it'll be up your alley.

Culture - Festivals, traditional and history-related stuff.

Firsts - Accounts of my first time experiences in Japan, from trying foods to getting my head around things like catching a bus when you can neither read nor speak the language.

Japanese approximation - The Japanese are masters at taking something from elsewhere and putting their own spin on it. They've done it with language; they do it A LOT with food still. And results vary widely from awesome to awful. I put my tastebuds on the line so you don't have to.

Engrish - You're familiar with Chinglish. Engrish will centre on some of the most amusing Japanese-to-English translations I have encountered, particularly in terms of packaging and advertising.

Cool stuff - Interesting, idiosyncratic things I've found - and probably bought - in this country of hyper-consumption.

Cosplay adventures - Taking full advantage of the natural splendour of Tohoku and other parts of Japan... not to mention the vast costume-making resources available here. My firstborn may be named Daiso at this point.

The typical Japanese phone call

Daunted by the prospect of speaking Japanese?

Fear not. Put those phrasebooks and dictionaries away because answering a phone call couldn't be easier in the Land of the Rising Sun. The following is how 98% of the calls play out in my office every single day.

"Moshi Moshi." (Alternatively "Moshi Mosh")
........
"Hai."
........
"Hai."
........
"Hai. Hai."
 ........
"Hai."
........
"Hai. Hai. Hai."
........
"Hai."
........
"Hai."


<End call.>

Konnichiwa

In medieval Japan, samurai were a powerful minority class. They were typically nobility who swore loyalty to a feudal lord, and most famously demonstrated this loyalty in battle when the ambitious warlords and their clans clashed. Think of all the minor vassal houses sworn to the principal noble families in Game of Thrones – Clegane to Lannister, Manderly to Stark, etc.

Anyway, should a samurai fail his master, or should the lord be slain, the most honourable thing a samurai could do was take his life – showing complete commitment to his commander.

A ronin, by contrast, was a samurai without a master.

This lord-less situation of a samurai could arise via multiple ways: the death or political fall of the master, loss of favour, desertion or a decision not to commit suicide/seppuku. Either way, the ronin became wandering men without lands. To survive, typically they would become sellswords or mercenaries, enlisting in other lords’ armies (if the rulers would have them) or hiring themselves out as bodyguards and enforcers. Where the samurai had other skills, as artists for example, they could attempt to offer those for hire too.

Of course, this was easier said than done. During the later Edo period, ronin were shunned. They were considered disobedient and disgraced, clearly prioritising their life too highly – above that of their overlord – when they should have rectified their shame through ritualistic suicide.

This said, the ronin were masters of their own destiny. They may have struggled to live day to day but they were no longer taking orders and deprioritising their sense of self, and self-worth.

And that ultimately is the situation in which I now find myself. After a decade of wage slavery in the advertising industry, I have walked away from that Aerys II Targaryen of a Master. Instead I am moving to Japan for minimum a year to teach English with the JET Programme, and do my bit for cultural ambassadorship.

I am a wandering man, selling my skills and rediscovering a sense of self-confidence that I have felt crushed from me, particularly in recent years. This is a time for new beginnings, where my chosen "lord" - my driving concern - is Happiness. Contentment. Fulfilment. In all areas of my life.

I don't consider this selfish; I consider it a necessity.

This blog is intended to act as an account of this personal journal, capturing my experiences, travels and brushes with Far Eastern "unusualness". So stop by here often for an update on my roamings.

Salani kahle and sayonara, South Africa.

Konnichiwa and howzit, Japan.