Eye
This week has gone quite quickly and I’m left at the end of it feeling rather exhausted and little lost. My eyes hurt and I feel a little out of it. I have all these plans for things to do this weekend but whether I will get round to them remains to be seen.
I worked Tuesday and went out that evening, as Wednesday was a national holiday so we were treated to a rare day off. Sam and I went to one of our usual hangouts where we know the barman and spent the majority of the evening in there drinking beer and listening to stories. I not one for telling stories in bars, I don’t have the eloquence or timing necessary to keep people’s attention (and of course, the sneaking suspicion that I’ve not got a great deal to tell), so I listen to the other two tell stories from their pasts. It being a holiday the next day, the bar was busy and we were tortured by various groups singing non-stop karaoke until almost 2am.
We went out with the barman after he finished work. He took us to a tiny underground place with a crazy mama behind the bar. She seemed a little pissed (a necessity it seems for all bar-owners whilst working) and spent the evening randomly telling people to “shurrup!” in a voice that drilled down into your brain. We were, unfortunately, hideously overcharged for our brief stay there, so it’s unlikely I’ll be heading back there any time soon. After that bar we went on to the bar where all the bar owners drink. It was in this bar that the wall hit me. Japanese bars staying open as late as they do, there’s no pressure to drink quickly, or in any great amount (though invariably the long opening hours allow for a great deal of beer to be drunk), and so the descent into tipsiness is a gradual one. However, I was sitting at the bar and suddenly found that the corner of the kitchen in front of me was beginning to do the spinning thing. I can only equate this to when a projector runs out of film and you are met with blank frames rising up and out of the screen in front of you. Except my eyes were the projector.
“I’ve just gone dizzy,” I said and clung onto the bar, sure that I was about to topple over.
“You’re pissed, you mean,” replied Sam. After that I remember water being brought for me, and having to resist the urge to throw up (and failing - I know, I’m behaving like my embarrassing self as usual) until it was decided that we’d had enough for one night.
“Don’t both of you go falling in the river,” our barman said as we parted ways and staggered back home.
‘Falling in the river’ has become a little joke of ours. No matter how drunk you get, or how much of a tit you make of yourself, there can be no greater humiliation than it being known that you have taken a tumble in the river on the way home. I have this to lord over Sam whenever he ribs me about not being able to stop talking when I’m drunk. “Better a blabbermouth,” I say, “than a fish.” See, it was Sam who fell in the river.
He came into work one day back in January looking distinctly worse for wear, and a lot paler than he normally does after a night on the whiskey. He told me he’d got very drunk the night before and didn’t recall getting home. It transpired, a few days later, that the only part of getting home he did remember was finding himself in freezing cold water and dragging himself up the river bank, awaking the next morning to wonder why his clothes were soaking wet. The river next to our apartment block is a rather timid thing most of the time; it flows quickly but doesn’t get too deep until you are in the middle. However, the river banks are about ten meters deep and made from concrete so Sam’s tumble resulted in an extremely sore, bruised body for weeks to follow. He even said on Tuesday night that the last of the bruises had only faded away a few weeks ago. I wonder what the ducks and cormorants thought of him disturbing their sleep…
Wednesday was spent recuperating (a process which isn’t as painful as you may think) and watching episodes of Heroes. I went to bed early as I had to get up early the next morning to go to Tokyo. However, sleep was not forthcoming. I felt extremely tense and tossed and turned for a good few hours.
I woke up at 7.15am. I knew something was wrong when I opened my eyes and looked at the light coming through the curtains. Far too bright, I thought and then sat bolt upright in bed, scrabbling around for my phone. I flipped it open. Yup, it was 7.15am. My bus was at 7.25am.
“Fuck! Shitting fuck fuck fuck!” I think I swore as I leapt out of bed and stood in the middle of my room not knowing what to do first. It took me a good few minutes to accept the fact that regardless of what I did, I was going to miss the bus. I eventually settled down and put myself together to leave at 7.50am to get a ticket for the 8.25am bus. The wonderful thing about the bus journey is that I can sleep the entire way to Tokyo.
I arrived in Shinjuku at 11.45. The meeting started at midday. In Maihama. An hour and a half away. On the other side of Tokyo. I arrived at the hotel and snuck in as quietly as I could. Kaicho was giving his speech, a speech I seem to have had the distinct discomfort of watching every month on the videos we get sent (and which we are required to watch). Still, it gave me a chance to catch my breath. I was expecting a good bollocking afterwards from my area trainer, but instead was merely met with “Well, you know, it happens.” Phew.
The rest of the day was taken up with more meeting stuff - being given info on the ‘Giant Leap’ and just what was going to be expected from us as a result of this special programme. Quite a lot, and not a little short of small miracles in some cases. It seems an impossible task to single-handedly turn round the fortunes of your school based on your training alone. The business aspect of the training is not something I’m very keen in pursuing, but the teaching side of it has piqued my interest. We’ve been given a ‘project’ to work on over the next six months. Mine focuses on the teaching of vocabulary. Precisely what this will require I’m not sure, as my project notes were not at my seat with all the other stuff. Vocabulary is one of my favourite aspects of teaching, and something I think I’m pretty strong at doing, so I’m looking forward to getting stuck in to it. At the end of the six months, we will (maybe) be going to Australia as the final part of the training, and will have to give a presentation based on our project work. A little nerve-wracking perhaps, though at the moment I can just picture myself doing it. Perhaps teacher training will be something to get into.
After the training we had dinner at the hotel. Despite my making it very very very clear on my RSVP that I am vegetarian, I was not well accommodated for. My dinner consisted of (starting at the beginning) - broccoli, a bread roll, some pea soup, a bread roll, three small potatoes and two scoops of a spinach and mushroom gratin. I was not impressed, though I wasn’t really expecting much as vegetarianism in Japan receives the same incomprehension and derision as it does in the north of England. Pudding was much better, strawberries with vanilla ice cream and a strawberry mousse on a sponge base. Yum.
After dinner a group of us went out to find a bar. The Hilton Tokyo Bay is situated on the monorail loop of Disneyland, which makes for much surrealness. Getting the train around a theme park whilst wearing a suit, and being unable to go on the rides is not fun. I’ve not been interested in going to Disneyland ever before, but the excitement all the day-trippers had became infectious. I will have to go on the list of things to do for another time.
I got back to Ina on Friday feeling really exhausted. Fortunately my already short day was made even shorter by two cancelled classes, so my lack of brain function went largely unnoticed.
Anyway, here are some photos of the trip as my fingers are beginning to tire:
The Hilton Tokyo Bay
A blurry photo of the people I had dinner with. Spot me in the suit. It's just...wrong. (No idea why the picture has come out vertical.)
Four feet of beer.
How not to drink it.
And a lesson from Sophia the Pro-chugger (note the guys faces behind her).
I worked Tuesday and went out that evening, as Wednesday was a national holiday so we were treated to a rare day off. Sam and I went to one of our usual hangouts where we know the barman and spent the majority of the evening in there drinking beer and listening to stories. I not one for telling stories in bars, I don’t have the eloquence or timing necessary to keep people’s attention (and of course, the sneaking suspicion that I’ve not got a great deal to tell), so I listen to the other two tell stories from their pasts. It being a holiday the next day, the bar was busy and we were tortured by various groups singing non-stop karaoke until almost 2am.
We went out with the barman after he finished work. He took us to a tiny underground place with a crazy mama behind the bar. She seemed a little pissed (a necessity it seems for all bar-owners whilst working) and spent the evening randomly telling people to “shurrup!” in a voice that drilled down into your brain. We were, unfortunately, hideously overcharged for our brief stay there, so it’s unlikely I’ll be heading back there any time soon. After that bar we went on to the bar where all the bar owners drink. It was in this bar that the wall hit me. Japanese bars staying open as late as they do, there’s no pressure to drink quickly, or in any great amount (though invariably the long opening hours allow for a great deal of beer to be drunk), and so the descent into tipsiness is a gradual one. However, I was sitting at the bar and suddenly found that the corner of the kitchen in front of me was beginning to do the spinning thing. I can only equate this to when a projector runs out of film and you are met with blank frames rising up and out of the screen in front of you. Except my eyes were the projector.
“I’ve just gone dizzy,” I said and clung onto the bar, sure that I was about to topple over.
“You’re pissed, you mean,” replied Sam. After that I remember water being brought for me, and having to resist the urge to throw up (and failing - I know, I’m behaving like my embarrassing self as usual) until it was decided that we’d had enough for one night.
“Don’t both of you go falling in the river,” our barman said as we parted ways and staggered back home.
‘Falling in the river’ has become a little joke of ours. No matter how drunk you get, or how much of a tit you make of yourself, there can be no greater humiliation than it being known that you have taken a tumble in the river on the way home. I have this to lord over Sam whenever he ribs me about not being able to stop talking when I’m drunk. “Better a blabbermouth,” I say, “than a fish.” See, it was Sam who fell in the river.
He came into work one day back in January looking distinctly worse for wear, and a lot paler than he normally does after a night on the whiskey. He told me he’d got very drunk the night before and didn’t recall getting home. It transpired, a few days later, that the only part of getting home he did remember was finding himself in freezing cold water and dragging himself up the river bank, awaking the next morning to wonder why his clothes were soaking wet. The river next to our apartment block is a rather timid thing most of the time; it flows quickly but doesn’t get too deep until you are in the middle. However, the river banks are about ten meters deep and made from concrete so Sam’s tumble resulted in an extremely sore, bruised body for weeks to follow. He even said on Tuesday night that the last of the bruises had only faded away a few weeks ago. I wonder what the ducks and cormorants thought of him disturbing their sleep…
Wednesday was spent recuperating (a process which isn’t as painful as you may think) and watching episodes of Heroes. I went to bed early as I had to get up early the next morning to go to Tokyo. However, sleep was not forthcoming. I felt extremely tense and tossed and turned for a good few hours.
I woke up at 7.15am. I knew something was wrong when I opened my eyes and looked at the light coming through the curtains. Far too bright, I thought and then sat bolt upright in bed, scrabbling around for my phone. I flipped it open. Yup, it was 7.15am. My bus was at 7.25am.
“Fuck! Shitting fuck fuck fuck!” I think I swore as I leapt out of bed and stood in the middle of my room not knowing what to do first. It took me a good few minutes to accept the fact that regardless of what I did, I was going to miss the bus. I eventually settled down and put myself together to leave at 7.50am to get a ticket for the 8.25am bus. The wonderful thing about the bus journey is that I can sleep the entire way to Tokyo.
I arrived in Shinjuku at 11.45. The meeting started at midday. In Maihama. An hour and a half away. On the other side of Tokyo. I arrived at the hotel and snuck in as quietly as I could. Kaicho was giving his speech, a speech I seem to have had the distinct discomfort of watching every month on the videos we get sent (and which we are required to watch). Still, it gave me a chance to catch my breath. I was expecting a good bollocking afterwards from my area trainer, but instead was merely met with “Well, you know, it happens.” Phew.
The rest of the day was taken up with more meeting stuff - being given info on the ‘Giant Leap’ and just what was going to be expected from us as a result of this special programme. Quite a lot, and not a little short of small miracles in some cases. It seems an impossible task to single-handedly turn round the fortunes of your school based on your training alone. The business aspect of the training is not something I’m very keen in pursuing, but the teaching side of it has piqued my interest. We’ve been given a ‘project’ to work on over the next six months. Mine focuses on the teaching of vocabulary. Precisely what this will require I’m not sure, as my project notes were not at my seat with all the other stuff. Vocabulary is one of my favourite aspects of teaching, and something I think I’m pretty strong at doing, so I’m looking forward to getting stuck in to it. At the end of the six months, we will (maybe) be going to Australia as the final part of the training, and will have to give a presentation based on our project work. A little nerve-wracking perhaps, though at the moment I can just picture myself doing it. Perhaps teacher training will be something to get into.
After the training we had dinner at the hotel. Despite my making it very very very clear on my RSVP that I am vegetarian, I was not well accommodated for. My dinner consisted of (starting at the beginning) - broccoli, a bread roll, some pea soup, a bread roll, three small potatoes and two scoops of a spinach and mushroom gratin. I was not impressed, though I wasn’t really expecting much as vegetarianism in Japan receives the same incomprehension and derision as it does in the north of England. Pudding was much better, strawberries with vanilla ice cream and a strawberry mousse on a sponge base. Yum.
After dinner a group of us went out to find a bar. The Hilton Tokyo Bay is situated on the monorail loop of Disneyland, which makes for much surrealness. Getting the train around a theme park whilst wearing a suit, and being unable to go on the rides is not fun. I’ve not been interested in going to Disneyland ever before, but the excitement all the day-trippers had became infectious. I will have to go on the list of things to do for another time.
I got back to Ina on Friday feeling really exhausted. Fortunately my already short day was made even shorter by two cancelled classes, so my lack of brain function went largely unnoticed.
Anyway, here are some photos of the trip as my fingers are beginning to tire:
The Hilton Tokyo Bay
A blurry photo of the people I had dinner with. Spot me in the suit. It's just...wrong. (No idea why the picture has come out vertical.)
Four feet of beer.
How not to drink it.
And a lesson from Sophia the Pro-chugger (note the guys faces behind her).