I failed, in the end. I got 65%, where 70% is the requirement. Oh well, I guess I have to study seriously for December, eh.

So I got a job at a big multinational company. It’s just a part time job and it’s only until September (at the latest), but it pays and it’s not just once a week like my other job as an English teacher.

It was interesting seeing how big of a pain in the ass the Japanese employment process is. I figured as much, but you had to see it to believe it. Though my case was a little different, since I was actually being employed through a recruitment agency, which means I actually get paid from the RA, and the RA gets paid by the company based on my hours. So I had two separate interviews, and I was told that I had to wear a suit to them. So I bought a suit.

Thank $deity for mama-san. I have no fucking clue what a suit is supposed to look like and she took the time to go with me and the girlfriend to the store to pick stuff out for me. To not make this story more long-winded than it has to, I had to learn how to tie a necktie, and I had to do it on the day of the interview. It “looked” okay to me. And noone snickered at me behind my back, so I suppose I managed to get it right. The actual interview(s) took several hours each.

The first one was like a test day where I got a bunch of quizzes (like, this piece of paper… with symbols on it… and I had to say how many of a specific symbol were on each line… that paper could have come from space, it looked so stinking weird). I also got a kanji quiz, math quiz, and I can’t remember what else. The second interview was mostly consisting of me being told, for hours, the various rules I had to follow, and reminders of the various laws in place to support said rules. I applied several weeks ago in fact, but it took them over 2 weeks to figure out whether they actually wanted me or not. They had someone else from some other RA for awhile there, they claimed, but ultimately they must have seen the glory of my answers in that weird-symbol-quiz-sheet.

When I joined last Monday, I was actually doing full time because I still had summer vacation but as of today, I only work 3.5 hour in the mornings. So anyway, they have rules about clothing. A shirt with a collar and “not jeans”, which translates to pants you could wear with a suit without having eyebrows raised at you. So I went out on a shopping spree again and got two more pairs of pants, and five (yes five, as in MonTueWedThurFri-five) shirts with collars. I actually kind of like the style, at least when it’s not too formal. “With collar” as the only requirement gives you a good bit of freedom after all. I also bought shoes. Shoes that you could wear with said pants, which you could, as stated earlier, wear with a suit without being eyebrow-raised-at. Conclusively, I do look rather formal when I walk out that door. And noone would be surprised if I said I was going to work.

Which I am, actually.

But yes. Something’s been bugging me every day that I’ve walked out that door. This sudden jolt in my chest and the sudden, quite obscure sentence in my head “WAIT! WHERE’S MY HAT!?”.

… the fuck? Why do I need a hat? So I look down at my collared shirt and my would-fit-a-suit-pants and my would-fit-said-pants-shoes and I think “hm. No. I don’t need a hat with these clothes.”

Initially I thought maybe I mixed them up with my girlfriend’s uniform that she wears at her café (they have this uber-silly hat. Luckily she’s still cute even when she wears it), and maybe that somehow nestled its way into my brain. But then it struck me.

The last time I wore “clothes based on a rule” on an everyday basis was when I did military service back in 2001. And it so happens that the cap is a very important part that gets all the newbies yelled at frequently by the officers. Don’t wear it indoors. Don’t not wear it outdoors. That about sums it up but for people unused to wearing things on the head, it is a hassle. Or was for me and my group anyway.

So yeah. I’m being haunted by in-the-bones instincts to wear my cap cause I’m outdoors 8 years after I did military service, simply because I’m wearing clothes with a rule on them. The brain’s a wonderfully buggy thing isn’t it…?

A friend threw this youtube video at me. It’s totally awesome.

I’m from Sweden. I’m on the same latitude as the northern tip of North Africa. And I’m freezing cold.

Why, you might wonder? Well, the houses here aren’t built for cold. Sure, people will be freezing a lot during the wintry parts of the year, but they won’t die. And besides, they have kotatsu to keep them warm. And air conditioners, although I adamantly refuse to use mine, because it uses a fuckload of electricity and it’s a waste of nature because the warm air will simply leave through any of the many holes or gaps in the apartment.

Thus I freeze. In fact, I’ve caught a cold. My nose has turned into a gooey-stuff-factory and my throat is telling me there’s a bird’s nest in there somewhere and if I wouldn’t terribly mind, it’d like to throw it out posthaste. Tickly sensation. Annoying.

Swedish winters* are admittedly cold, but indoors it’s always warm. If Swedish houses were built like Kyoto houses, there’d be casualties, so we don’t have that luxury, really. Or, the construction companies don’t, rather.

* “Swedish [x]” is a bad thing to toss around especially when it comes to weather. A northern-Swede sees “Swedish typical weather” quite differently from a southern-Swede does. I’m from the south part of the middle, basically.

“The origins of both the activity of barbecue cooking and the word itself are somewhat obscure. Most etymologists believe that barbecue derives ultimately from the word barbacoa found in the language of the Taíno people of the Caribbean. The word translates as sacred fire pit and is also spelled barbacoa.^[2] The word describes a grill for cooking meat, consisting of a wooden platform resting on sticks.” (from Wikipedia; [full article link])

My girlfriend’s work mates decided to have a barbecue last Sunday (two days ago, that is), and people were invited to bring their significant others’ with them. My girlfriend doesn’t like being with a lot of people and we rarely do “big group stuff”, so this was a bit of a rare occasion.

I had a lovely time. We went to Biwako, the biggest (freshwater) lake in Japan, where we set up a grill and cooked insane amounts of various meats and vegetables, drank beer (or coke/Japanese tea for those who drove or who don’t drink alcohol) and swam. I actually love swimming, but I rarely do it in Sweden — the water’s way too cold most of the year for my liking.

I was the only non-Japanese there, but that wasn’t a big problem. Everyone was super-nice and really relaxed and cool, so I felt right at home. We all kept eating as the group of people who were handling the grilling kept switching in and out at their leisure, and once I started to feel full, they were still pouring a bunch of meat and stuff onto the grills. I want to take a moment to relate to another story that happened right before the summer vacation, around early August if I recall…

School had arranged a barbecue. Actually, it was by the very same lake (Biwako), but on a different spot (lake’s big, and there seem to be camps riddled around the whole thing of various kind). Everyone paid 1500 yen each which in all honesty is dirt-cheap. We ended up being 40 of us going. There were two grills. And one guy had the bright idea that he was gonna bring his own meat and grill it there. And not share. Which resulted in everyone. Everyone. Standing around the grills waiting. Waiting. Waiting. After I got 3 slices of meat I simply gave up on “food” and went elsewhere.

Back to this Sunday, we all paid 3000 yen each. But comparing to the school barbecue, I truly realized what a lousy deal that had been. Never, ever doing anything with the school again, if it involves me paying money. By god, never.

Anyway, early on we were all just sort of drinking beer and chilling while waiting for the grill to heat up. I went to the bathroom at some point and when I came back, my girlfriend suggested I go wash my feet in the lake since I was barefeet. I’d already gotten into my swimsuit that morning and was wearing those and a t-shirt only, so once I put my feet into the water I couldn’t contain myself so I threw my t-shirt in the sand by the beach and dove into the water, and once I got back up, everyone was snickering at me. Wonder why.

Of course, since I’d set the precedent, everyone realized there was no turning back, so people went and got changed into swimsuits and the like (some people didn’t even bring any, but they were eventually thrown in by the rest of us anyway … no prisoners!) and we all went swimming. Since it’s September, it started getting chilly quickly, but being IN the water wasn’t cold in my opinion. Some whined more than others though (*eyes girlfriend*).

Unfortunately it’s September and it’s not exactly getting warmer as the days pass from here on. I’m definitely going to insist on us going back again next summer. Repeatedly. Once it gets humid and hot, I’m going to start whining like a fat little snot-pup needing his sugar-high.

So, today I went to meet up with the guy who had that English teaching job I was possibly interested in. In my previous blog post, I said that I’d had a rather odd conversation with him on the phone, and that I was a bit concerned over how this would all work out — if at all. Today I met up with the guy and was in for a few surprises. Well, one big one at least.

I met with Mr. O outside McD’s as we had arranged. Well, I was there but he wasn’t, so when I called him up, he had mixed the times up. As I said yesterday, the class began at 3.30 pm and we were supposed to meet at 3 pm (30 minutes before class). Well, he somehow ended up thinking we were supposed to meet at 3.30 pm. In any case, he finally arrived and as we walked to the “school”, we talked a bit about what kind of school this is. And here’s the surprise.

Me: So, what is the name of this school anyway?
Him: Kyoto Kids’ Academy
Me: “Kids’”? So does that mean I will be teaching children?
Him: Yes.
Me: Uh, how old are they?
Him: Between… 1 and 12 years old.
Me: Wah.

Well, that was unexpected. I’d presumed this was a regular old fashioned “drill English to bored adults who, against their better judgment, decided to give ‘that english thing another shot’” but alas, not that easy.

When we arrived at the school, I noted that it was, well, not a school. It was more of a house, but it somehow fitted with the “daycare center” atmosphere that this whole thing was starting to take on. At the school, I was introduced to an American lad who was the head teacher of the facility. He was nice enough, and explained to me that basically, I wasn’t really supposed to do anything other than to make them speak English as much as possible. Now that may sound simple to the untrained ear……. In any case, there seem to be very loose “rules” regarding the teaching itself. No strict guidelines and such, since the school is just an outside regular school hours kind of thing. It’s basically the parents who place their kids in school in order to give them a headstart in the oh-so-important subject of English.

Personally I think it’s a great idea. I just wish it didn’t have the upper-class stamp on it that it appears to have.

Regardless, the pay is all right, but it’s only 2 hours and 40 minutes a week, so it doesn’t exactly pay the bills, and I will be spending 15% of what I make on train fares alone, unless I can muster up the energy to take the bicycle there and back (not impossible but then again, I doubt they’d approve of me arriving drenched in sweat from a 1+ hour bicycle-ride).

Dress code. Now there’s a mystery if there ever was one, but I’m not allowed to wear jeans. That’s it though, but unfortunately I don’t seem to have any non-jeans pants with me to Japan. I may have to go buy some, worst case.

The kids were actually cuties. There are two classes. The Thursday class has 4 kids, 3 girls and a boy, all of them between 7-8 years old. Actually, I didn’t realize until they pointed it out to me, but two of the girls are actually twins. You know, the “same-egg” kind of twins (I forgot the word for that in English). And they’re turning 8 next Thursday. Go them.

My biggest concern really is how to stop them from spazzing completely and not get anything done whatsoever during the 80 minutes I have them in class. Today, I was admittedly unprepared, but for the 40-something minutes that we were actually “teacher-student”y, I managed to make them do something useful for maybe half of that time. In between sporadic bursts of “running in circles around the table” or “making paper planes and tossing them at each other” and so on. I wasn’t too concerned, really, but instead tried to catch the attention of individuals as I got the chance. I will definitely have to figure stuff out to keep them focused in the future or people will probably wonder why my pups aren’t making any progress.

All in alll, I’m both pumped and concerned about this all. It’s been a long time since I was “caretaker” for kids so I may need some warming up on this one, but eventually it might actually become something I look forward to. (Then fast-forward to a month or two from now, and watch my angst as I whine about the little brats… )

As the swedish crown continues its steady descent towards nothingness compared to the yen (down at 15.97 yen/crown now … never seen it that low before), I am struck with the realization, firmer than ever, that I need to earn money while here in Japan.

As a foreigner, my options are limited and at the same time, there are opportunities. Namely English teaching.

English teaching as a foreigner is no secret, really. It’s easy, it is (can be) fun, and most importantly, it pays several times the amount one would get from a regular old part-time job, hour-wise. The other foreigners living here in my apartment complex have also considered the idea of teaching English, and thus one of the guys living next-doors told me two days ago that he’d been called up by some guy who wanted a teacher for their school. Only 2½ hour a week but it’s a good start.

Unfortunately for my friend, the work hours collided with his school hours, so he had to decline. Fortunately for me, my school hours are different, so I got the number from my friend and called the guy up.

It was a rather odd conversation. His English wasn’t flawless, and he kept thinking I was the neighbor. But in the end, we decided to meet up. Here’s the funny part: the next class is scheduled Thursday 3.30 pm-4.50 pm. And we’re supposed to meet at 3 pm on Thursday. 30 minutes before the class.

Um. Am I expected to take that class?

I don’t know anything about the school, or about the students, or about what they expect me to do — produce material or work alongside some form of book? What preparations am I meant to do before every class? How many hours of my spare time do they expect me to invest into this? — nor have I a single clue what they intend to pay me for this all.

If this had been Sweden or the U.S. or some other place, there would have been some kind of interview and discussion way beforehand, but this guy seems content with whatever he can get his hands on, as long as it breathes and speaks English. I guess I’ll find out tomorrow.

In any case, with the SEK (swedish currency) dropping like a bowling ball in the ocean, I see no alternative but to begin seriously hunting students for private teaching. I wish Cara (my girlfriend’s friend) still lived here in Kyoto, since she’s got a lot of experience teaching, and she’s lived here for several years (4-5 if I recall). I could use her advice.

In any case, I’m sure it’ll be … interesting, no matter what happens tomorrow. Worst case I’ll just leave, and that’s only a loss of a couple of hours (plus the train fees) so no sweat, there.

Wish me luck, though.

Sick for the first time since I left Sweden. And coincidentally, homesick for the first time since I left Sweden. I’d give anything to just head over to my mom’s and fall asleep on the bed in her guestroom now.

Yesterday I suddenly felt like crap so I decided to go to bed despite it being 9pm but I have a hard time falling asleep. Outside my door — right outside my door — a bunch of my neighbors are chattering away. One of the Koreans left today, so they were all sort of being social for his last evening here.

Meanwhile my body’s starting to shake like a leaf. For the first time since I got to Japan, I feel super-cold, so I grab the extra blanket and pull it over me and try to sleep, but whenever I’m about to fall asleep, someone in the group outside yawps out a laugh or raises their voice in some argument or whatever, so I’m jerked awake each time. At 12.30 am I decide I’ve had enough so I climb into my clothes, walk outside and tell them to shut the fuck up. Great connection with my neigbhors from here on, I can just feel it.

Today I woke up 5 billion times, but kept falling asleep again. Or rather, I couldn’t climb out of my bed. Around 3.30 pm I finally managed to get up, but now I’m sitting here with no ambition to do anything whatsoever. I should eat but I’m not hungry. I don’t even wanna THINK about how to deal with dinner.

A cockroach just sauntered by me and smugly slithered into my PJ’s. Luckily I wasn’t wearing them at the time.

I slapped the PJ’s with my school book a couple of times, with enough force to kill a largish rat.

Then I shook the PJ’s, but no cochroach fell out. Le sigh, I said, and looked around, under the couch, etc. but no cochroach. Shook the PJ’s more and this time it fell out. Yay. Alive. What the?

Cochroaches must honestly be the creepiest thing out there. The combination of big, intelligent, fast, and hard-to-kill just weirds me out.

I wish I had a cat. I could just sic the cat on the things whenever they appeared and the prob’d be solved. Crunch crunch.

You in cochroach-infested areas of the world, what should one think about to keep them out?

“How can we who feed on the dead
We, murderers
Find it in us to despair and mourn our relatives.”