Taxi drivers

Trains are the lifelines that connect people within Japan. My little piece of countryside has its own station, called “Gohyakugawa Stn.” My area is called 五百川、meaning “500th River.” Apparently, it is the 500th river from Kyoto. Who knew?!

Anyways, my little pink apartment is a leisurely 22-minute walk from the station. Last year, it was a common occurrence for me to walk to the station every weekend, toting my trusty black overnight bag. I often found myself in the city of Koriyama, singing the night away at karaoke bars or attending surreal hip hop nights at the local clubs. Thus, 22 minutes ended up being a small price to pay so I could hang out with my friends.

But as the weather grew colder and I got lazier, I started calling the taxi company. I remember the first time I called. The dude fully hung up on me, since I couldn’t really stutter anything over the phone in Japanese. As time passed, my Japanese slowly improved… and the dude finally realized that the “gaijin” (foreigner – that’s me!) mainly needed to be shuttled between two places: either to Gohyakugawa Stn., or my apartment.

I’ve used Mashiko Taxi dozens and dozens of times over the past year, and I’d like to think that I’ve developed some friendly bonds with my taxi drivers. Now, I can mumble out what time I’d like to schedule my pick-up. In the past, I’d just say a location and wait it out.

I’d say I get 4-5 taxi drivers whom I encounter on a regular basis. We often exchange friendly conversation! I often feel very fluent in Japanese after regaling them with my tales. (I’m still far from being fluent, ha!) After imbibing a few beverages of choice, it's always interesting to explain my evenings out to them. "NIHONMATSU! ENKAI! SUBARASHII!!!" (Basically, I am yelling out words but not connecting them with verbs. This is an example of how I tried to express that I attended a "wonderful enkai in Nihonmatsu!")

There’s Mr. My-First-Cab-Ride-Home-Ever-Driver. He was the first guy who ever drove me home from the station. He’s very friendly, but I haven’t seen him in a while. He remembered when my family visited over Christmas. He is interested in Canada. Most notably, he drove me home after my arduous Fuji trip. He was very excited to hold my Fuji stick!

There’s Mr. Smokes-All-The-Time-Driver. He’s a quiet fellow, with a cigarette in his mouth whenever he has the chance to sit outside and wait for me. Most recently, he drove me home after my Tokyo trip. For some reason, he was extremely nice and stopped the taxi meter at only 680 yen. The savings! He also handed me a train timetable on my way out.

There’s also Mr. I-want-to-learn-English-Driver. He was really stoked to hear that I teach English. He attends eikawa (English conversational classes) in Koriyama. Last week, he proudly showed me his English textbook which was carefully placed on his passenger seat. I think he wants to take an English proficiency test in Tokyo this year!

I can’t forget Mr. My-Friend-Driver. He only started driving me around recently. When I picked up Liz from the station one day in my own car, he was surprised to see that I actually drive myself. I was introducing Liz to him as my friend (“Watashi no tomodachi!”) He turned it around, and told Liz that he is MY friend. What a funny man!

Motomiya also has a female taxi driver. I haven’t really run into many female cab drivers, so I thought was oddly fascinating. I don’t like that she often takes the long way to the station, making my fare reach almost 1,200 yennies! But yesterday, she finally figured out the shortcut via the rice fields – and I was charged an average amount. She always remembers that she drove my family and our luggage to the station last Christmas.

Yesterday, I had a new driver after I got home from Fukushima. In my limited Japanese, I had to explain to him the way to my place. Like many others, he chuckled at the ridiculously pink exterior of my place. And he followed up with: “Oboete imasu!” (I’m thinking that translates into: “Oh, I’ll remember!”)

Train, plane, taxi cab... all these choices are hip. But I'll always have a soft spot for my Motomiya taxi crew.

The senior students (3年生) and Nichu teachers descended upon the empty staff parking lot. We stood in lines, and looked up at the second-floor balcony. An enthusiastic photographer was perched upon his trusty tripod, and would yell "ICHI! NI! SAN!" ("1! 2! 3!") A broad, goofy grin would spread across his own face, as he willed us to do the same.

Being a third-year student is a pretty colossal deal. And every major moment is captured on film. During this past school year, they've already been documented at two sports events held at school. A photographer is usually invited to the school to snap photo after photo, particularly of our third-years. At the end of this school year, the kids will receive a yearbook filled with memories. Yesterday marked the day the students took a picture with all of us teachers.

Looking at the 95 students, I struggled to find an ideal spot. Moriei-sensei, who happens to be the baseball coach, encouraged me to stand with the baseball kiddos. They giggled and pointed at each other, saying: "He is gentleman! Stand beside him! He is gentleman!" (The kids still have no concept of the word, "a.")

I ended up hanging out with some of the girls from Homeroom 3-3. We waited patiently for the photographer to give everyone a cue. Everyone's hands were resting by their sides. But the instant he hollered for us to pose, something changed. All of us - teachers, boys, girls - automatically flipped up their peace signs. For me, it was one of those "Only in Japan" moments. I couldn't help but chuckle.

But other things reminded me that some things will always remain the same. The baseball boys from 3-2 jumped in unison for a couple shots; likewise, FuJETs often try to achieve the "jump shot."

Since I've arrived in the land of the rising sun, I've embraced the peace sign. I don't know what I did with my hands before smacking two fingers up to my right cheek! My friends even call it "The Gemma pose." Or, should I say, "The Guemma pose." (Thanks, Aizu boys. My name is forever pronounced incorrectly!)

Naming names

Erika. Eriko. Rui.
Takahiro. Takafumi. Naoto.
Chigusa. Chihiro.
Hiroto. Hiroki. Hiroatsu. Hiroshi.
Shiori-chan.
Syun-kun.

Onamae wa nan desu ka? (What is your name?)

These are just a few of my kids' names. To think that a year ago, the words coming out of their mouths were complete jibberish to me. To be quite honest, I am still very much lost in translation. But I can proudly decipher Japanese names, in addition to shouting out random Japanese words.

I can name all of the students at my base school. That's almost 300 kiddos! I can also point out my favorites who graduated onto high school last year. I also visit two elementary schools, but I've been having trouble commiting their names to memory. I do remember the ones that write me little notes or literally come knocking at my door after school.

Teachers and some of my friends are always surprised when I call each student out by name. I feel like naming names is a small way to make an instant connection with my students. I mean, I still can't hold down a basic conversation in Japanese with them. Plus, I am terrible at sports... so I just watch them during club activities on the odd day I feel like staying after school. (I did promise the soft tennis girls I'd make my second appearance on the court next week, so that they can teach me how to serve!)

In recent weeks, I've experienced a lot of frustration living in Japan. On little things, like not receiving omiyage like the rest of the teachers. But little glimmering moments remind me that my students keep me sane. I'm enjoying my "celebrity status" in Motomiya. The teachers in my staffroom fully believe that I spend all my time at the local MOS Burger restaurant and Yoku Benimaru, since all of the students will casually mention this to their teachers. But my most interesting run-in would have to be with the senior boys from baseball, who happened to be at the Asahi Beer Factory on my birthday. They still snicker in class when we do one of our lessons where the JTE asks: "Gemma-sensei, would you like to drink sake?" The whole class has to repeat it as well. Awkward.

So, yes, running into my students all over town is fun. Over the weekend, for example, I saw the brass band at Cafe Gusto. When I walked downtown with N., I ran into my fave 3年生 boys as they were perusing the manga racks at the local bookshop. There was even Kei-kun, who now sports massive manga hair, who was riding his bike - he was one of my students last year. At the Koriyama Stn., my little １年生 boys talked with me on their way to Mac (McDonald's). And at Plant 5, which is our local Costco-like store, I ran into Shou-kun who was busy eating ice cream.

The １年生 are the most enthusiastic - love those kids. Those who are shy will usually dash away, which I understand. I mean, who wants to talk with their teacher during their downtime?

Even the quietest "Herro!" makes my day.