90% Chance of Inside-Out Umbrellas

Tuesday's weather forecast calls for Typhoon Guchol to reach Tokushima.

Keep an eye on those umbrellas!

 

The Second* Annual Ferdinand** Awards are here!

I love car names. I think they are fascinating and nonsensical all at the same time. At first glance, Odyssey sounds like a great name for a car, but who really wants to drive a vehicle named for a man whose journey home took approximately ten years longer than it should have?

"Are we there yet?"

The rules to win a Ferdinand:
1. I have to have seen the car, either driving or parked.
2. The name has to be interesting, noteworthy, or roast-worthy.


And the winners are ...

Best use of punctuation in a car name: That’s (Honda)

Best use of food for a car name: Cocoa (Daihatsu)

Best use of "It does what it says on the tin:" Carry (Suzuki)
It’s a pick-up truck.

Best use of a Biblical name: Noah (Toyota)
Does my seat double as a floatation device?

Best use of a nonsense word: Yaris (Toyota)
According to Toyota, Yaris is a hybrid of the German Ja and the Greek goddess Charis of beauty and grace. Toyota chose this combination because "we think this new name best symbolises the car's broad appeal in styling and is representative of Toyota's next generation of global cars."

Best use of a real word that is used for nonsense: Ipsum (Toyota)

Best use of a suffix: ist (Toyota)
Why "ist," you ask? I did not find it in English on the Toyota site, but I found this on wikipedia: "The name 'ist' is in reference to the suffix term '-ist,' which denotes something that adheres to, or is uniquely gifted in a specific talent, doctrine, or ability."

Best use of a suffix, Runner up: Vanette  (Nissan)

Best use of exponents: Cube³

Most awkward car name: Naked (Daihatsu)



*Second, because the first were in a letter I wrote to a friend when I lived in Tokyo.
**Father Ferdinand Verbiest, a Jesuit missionary to China, astronomer, mathematician, and inventor. Around the 1670s, he designed a steam-powered toy automobile, which some people claim is the oldest self-propelling vehicle.

How to Make Blonde Brownies in a Toaster Oven

I am considering changing the title of the blog into “Adventures in Toaster Oven Cooking.”


Blonde Brownies

0. Buy a tiny silicone cake pan.

1. Halve the recipe.

2. Melt butter and brown sugar (well, beige sugar) into a clump.

3. Add egg. Watch in horror as the realisation occurs that the pan isn’t cool enough. See egg cook as it hits the bottom of the pan.

4. Figure that butter is the most expensive thing in the ingredients, and since it’s unrecoverable at this point anyway, gamely go on.

5. Add flour. Lose count. Hope it’s not too much.

6. Add baking soda and baking powder.

7. Glob the mess into a small silicone pan.

8. Cover with tin foil so the top doesn’t burn.

9. Set temp to, oh, let’s say 160 Celsius. Wonder what that is in Fahrenheit.

10. Turn the “on” knob as far as it will go, which is 15 minutes. Come back every 15 minutes and turn again.

11. Take off tin foil when it seems the rest of the cake is far enough along.

12. Come back (again) in 15 minutes and realise it isn’t finished.

13. Burn fingers while reattaching tin foil to hot pan.

14. After another 15 minutes, give up, take the brownies out, and cut while warm, as recipe demands.

15. Turn brownies out onto cutting board, looking at the burnt bottom and uncooked, gooey middle.

16. Eat half the pan out of spite.

17. Go to bed. Try again tomorrow while dunking the rocky edges into your coffee to soften them up enough to not break your teeth as you gnaw on them.

(As a side bonus, you just learned how to make dwarf bread).

Teaching in Japan, Part 1

I have been trying to write an entry about teaching in Japan. However, I had a question about how long English has been taught in junior high here. In the midst of looking for the answer, I got sucked into Japan’s complicated history with the United States. What I ended up with is a three part series on the history of English study in Japan and where I fit into that today.

It’s not near enough to be a full report of history, however, I hope there is enough information to teach, without too much extraneous data.

Part 1: A (very) truncated history of English curriculum in Japan 

Students begin English lessons in junior high school. In fact, English has been taught in Japanese junior high schools on and off since the late nineteenth century.

In 1853, Japan opened its doors for trade with the United States.* It was a one-sided trading agreement, severely limiting Japan’s negotiating ability.  The Emperor decided the best way to overcome the inequality was to introduce English language learning. Scholars were sent abroad to learn English and classes were implemented four times a week at the junior high level.

Then, in 1924, the U.S. passed a law barring all Asians from immigrating to America. The English language curriculum fell out of favour in Japan, and was discontinued completely around the start of World War Two.

Junior high English classes re-appeared after the war. They’ve been a component of the Japanese education system ever since. Taking a cue from South Korea, English classes have recently been introduced in elementary schools one a once or twice a week basis.


*That’s a nice way of saying it. It such a nice way of describing the incident that it’s almost a lie. However, as the end result of Matthew Perry’s 1858 visit to Japan was, indeed, trade relations between the U.S. and Japan.


In the interest of being brief, I left out many interceding decades. A more complete timeline be found in the article “Globalization and the History of English Education” in the Asian EFL Journal:  http://www.asian-efl-journal.com/Sept_06_nfa.php

Other sources for this article are:
The U.S. Department of State Office of the Historian:
http://history.state.gov/milestones/1921-1936/ImmigrationAct

Other various articles on English education in Japan:
http://web.iess.ehime-u.ac.jp/raineruto1/02RD2.pdf
http://www.cis.doshisha.ac.jp/kkitao/library/article/tejk.htm

Part Two: English learning today

The one thing any junior high foreign language curriculum lacks is adequate conversation time. I remember learning German in high school, which was great. However, I couldn’t practice German outside of class - with whom would I speak? I could write sentences, read, and learn grammar, but I would not learn how to pronounce it other than three hours a week.

Japanese students learning English are no different. So, although almost everyone in Japan has looked at an English textbook once in their life, if you ask them “Do you speak English?” they will say no.

The first difficulty in getting written English off the page and being spoken comes from all the extra letters English contains. In Japanese, V and B are the same sound. The same goes for L and R and a handful of other letter pairs.

This is only the start, as English words rarely sound like they look, and the trouble of F, ph, and gh sometimes all sharing the same sound is well-ridiculed in English, the most famous being the word ghoti being an alternative spelling for fish. A simple Google search, though, returns many rhymes and jokes based on English spelling’s aversion to consistency.

Japanese teachers of English have studied very hard over the years to get this pronunciation correct. Or, they have not studied it so much and feel inadequate to teach it. Hence, many English classes in Japanese schools focus only reading and writing.

Many solutions have been offered to teach English pronunciation. You may have heard of the JET program, in which native English speakers are hired by the Japanese government to teach English in junior high and high schools in conjunction with the native Japanese teacher. Also, Christian missionaries have come to Japan with the purpose of teaching English in addition to their evangelising. That is what took me to Tokyo in 2005.

Another option is for a Japanese student to find a native speaker and strike up a conversation. Since walking up to a stranger in the grocery store is difficult and uncommon (although not unheard of, as a man approached David and I just last month with the proud news that he had been on a language study tour in Canada), there exists in Japan an institution called the Eikaiwa.  An Eikaiwa is a private English school teaching conversation skills.


Ei, means "English."
Kaiwai means "conversation."
Eikaiwa.


Students who spend all day studying and adults who spend all day working go in the evenings or on weekends to learn conversation skills from a native teacher. This is where I work now.

Part 3: What I do in Japan

My students are 2-year-olds who barely speak Japanese, let alone English. They are active elementary students who have been studying English for one or two years already. They are junior high students dutifully learning English from their state-approved textbook. They are adults wanting to watch movies from Hollywood without subtitles and trying to become proficient speakers.

The point of an Eikaiwa (see above article) is to give people a place to speak a language they aren’t able to use in their everyday lives. Some adults want to retain language learned while living abroad, but have no chance to speak English once returning home. Others want to become fluent speakers for travel or business purposes.

Parents often want to give their children an early start at learning a language they will need once they get to junior high. They know the difficulties in learning language at that age, and how much easier it is to learn when they are young.

With the children, we "run" and "dance." We "jump" and "swim." We count and sing and identify fruits, vegetables, and animals. We learn grammar (an apple, grapes, a cat). With the adults, I also teach grammar, albeit slightly more advanced (i.e. What have you been doing?). We talk about current events - the eclipse was a fun topic. We practice sentence patterns in the form of a "Grammar Rap." Don't worry, it' is not near as bad as it sounds!

All of the students, but especially the children put me to shame. I am embarrassed by my lack of a second language. Sure, I studied a little German and Japanese and a smattering of Spanish, but I am not fluent in any of them. I have long been a proponent of teaching Spanish to children in the United States from a very early age and making it mandatory in schools. It not only easier to learn when they are young, but it paves the way for the elective foreign language they will choose of their own accord in junior high, as it becomes easier to learn a third language than a second. Being bilingual allows people more career opportunities than being monolingual. Not least of all, it opens up communication to more people and and enables the speaker to be a better global citizen.

For all of these same reasons, Japanese parents bring their children to me. 50 minutes, once a week. It isn’t much. It really isn’t even enough. But it’s a start. Therefore, I do my best to nurture the students in this global society.

Tokushima Sky

Sometimes I am depressed by the sky in Tokushima, those days when it is a single washed-out grey/white colour without depth or character. More often than anywhere I have experience, this flat dull sky hovers, mocking me, making me wish for the ever-changing mid-west sky.

But then, after a spectacular wind and lightening show, the clouds billow up above the mountains, allowing the mountain tops a chance to play hide-n-seek with the sky. The orange temple roof and nearby green of treetops are made even more vibrant against the black clouds. The colours are sharp and the sites are hazy in the mist and fog of a Tokushima storm.

Then I remind myself not to be too hard on Tokushima. The sky may take its time, but when it opens up, it is breathtakingly beautiful.

School Excursion: Tokushima Zoo

What looked to be a rainy day turned into a sunny day.
What looked to be too difficult a Scavenger Hunt turned into too easy a Scavenger Hunt.
What looked to be chaos turned into a fun day at the zoo for the UI students.

What do I say about a school field trip to the zoo?
There were children.
There were animals.
There were people dressed up as Japanese cartoon characters.
(Not our students or parents - it was a show put on at the zoo. Don’t ask me what it was about, because I didn’t understand).

It was pretty much everything one would expect from a school field trip, in Japan or anywhere!

Everyone had a great time, although almost everyone was finished with the scavenger hunt before lunch. As far as I can tell, no one was tripped up by the “Bird that sleeps during the day,” even though the duck was sleeping and the owl was awake. And many people were wearing striped shirts, so I waited for one them to turn themselves in as “An animal with stripes.” No one did.

On the other hand, I did not expect to sit down with a three-year old who sang “One little, two little, three little monkeys,” for me. He got tripped up at eleven, but heroically picked up again with fourteen and was up to nineteen before getting distracted by the people dressed up as Japanese cartoon characters. I really don’t know if he would have stopped at twenty or just kept going until I had to leave.

There were stickers and candy for the winners - which was everyone, not out of “fairness”, but because (as I mentioned) I needed to be tougher with my clues. Ah well. Next time.

Before beginning - explaining the rules and reviewing the English.

An animal from Japan. Check!

Lunch break - a game of tag and catching tadpoles.

The restaurant we ordered lunch from included an English word
game in the lunch boxes for us: Which word is different? 

Everyone received stickers because everyone
finished the scavenger hunt.

Handing out candy to one very smart three-year-old.

Firefly Festival

We had barely gotten home from the zoo and fallen into bed for a nap when the phone rang. Our landlady had invited us to a firefly festival on June 9. Discovering the festival was June 3, she hurriedly called and changed our outing, and could we still make it?

Two excursion in one day? Oh, why not?

In the end, the evening was too cool for fireflies, and the turnout was less than she had hoped. But, we did watch an amazing fire dance, so I am breaking my self-imposed “2-3 photos per post” rule in order to lavish you with fire.

There is talk about going back next weekend when the weather is expected to be more cooperative, and consequently the fireflies, too.

Fireworks Finale!

Jellyfish!!!

I am from Iowa. I was one month away from college graduation the first time I saw an ocean. David is from Montana. He, on the other hand was three the first time he laid eyes on the foaming brine. Not that he remembers it.

Now we live on an island. Rivers criss-cross Tokushima and are connected to the ocean at at much nearer distance than any where we grew up. Near enough to have dozens of jellyfish wash in with the tide.

We sounded like school kids on a field trip: heads hung over the railing, squealing sounds of delight (okay, that was me, not David), and taking photos with abandon. Thank goodness for digital cameras!

This type of jellyfish is called a moon jelly.

We met some people from Tokushima after that and tried to share our excitement, but they were not as impressed. Apparently, when you grow up near the ocean, even the 8-year-olds are nonchalant about jellyfish in the river.


As if a horde of jellyfish wasn’t enough, we also happened across what appears to be a stingray. They are common in the ocean all around Japan, and often found in shallow water near the coast. It was awesome!

I’ve not had a chance to learn how to take photos into the water. I had no idea what  was doing. Please forgive the quality - but they’re jellyfish!! I could not contain my excitement earlier, and I am still (several hours later) giggling over seeing jellyfish and stingrays. Today is the first time I’ve ever seen them outside of an aquarium. And it was without a doubt the coolest sight I’ve seen since coming to Japan.

What an amazing day!

Making Tortillas

We were utterly spoiled when we lived in Chicago. We had our choice of great tasting tortillas - and some not so great ones as well. David likes tortillas, but I love them. I eat them instead of bread for grilled cheese sandwiches, breakfast (with peanut butter), desert (with yummy chocolate spread!), a snack (with peanut butter and yummy chocolate spread), not to mention in their more expected place around tacos and enchiladas.

I had learned to make my own tortillas in Tokyo when I discovered how difficult they were to find, and just how expensive they were after finally locating them. A flour tortilla recipe only called for flour, salt, shortening of some sort, and water. It was much easier just to make them myself. And they tasted better than any I had ever bought.

Cooking up some flatbread goodness!

When I moved to Chicago, however, the opposite happened. They were locally made, delicious, and cheap, so I stopped making my own. By the time David came around, I had long since believed my tortilla making days were over.

Then we moved to Tokushima. 

Somedays I am not sure what prompted a move back to a country that doesn’t value the tortilla as a staple food. Japan has many good qualities, but undervaluing the tortilla is not one I understand.

Tonight I tracked down a new recipe for flour tortillas - mine was long ago rejected from the recycle bin for being too well-used and covered in oil, and like a pizza box, my recipe was consigned to the trash. I found a new recipe, a better one than before, and I made tortillas for the first time in four years

Heavenly: warm and soft. Fresh. 

Just the way a tortilla should be. 

Forgiveness in the Rain

I dislike riding my bicycle in the rain. I would rather walk and carry an umbrella than ride and feel like I have no protection. Often, the umbrella is a placebo anyway, as the wind is so strong as to make carrying the umbrella useless, or even counter-productive.

Since it was starting to dribble when I left for work on Friday, I grabbed my umbrella and began to walk. The wind wasn’t blowing so I was enjoying the cooler weather, if not the humidity.

My work schedule is a rare paradise in workplaces. I have the guilty pleasure of being able to I go in when I have work to do and leave when I am finished. All my Friday classes had already been planned; I left right around 2:30, solid in the knowledge that I’d still be an hour early to do any last minute changes and to set up the classroom.

I was two blocks from home when I remembered.

A new student was scheduled to begin class that day. With me. At 3:00. Even had I been riding my bike, at that point, I would not have made it to school before three. Panicked, I called my boss and explained the situation. I figured I could be there almost on time if I ran home, retrieved my bicycle, and hightailed it the work.

Her grace and forgiveness calmed and soothed me as she said, “I’ll come get you.”

In the chaos of setting up a new student, especially one whose work schedule is as varied as mine, uncertainties always creep in. There had been a question of whether she would begin this week or next, and at what time. In the end, 3:00 on Friday was decided. I wrote it down in on place, but not on the schedule at work. I felt only a little relief I managed to remember before class started. I should have remembered before leaving the house.

Yet, my boss offered more than mere forgiveness, which is enormous in itself. She came in her car to give me a ride, and we arrived at the school at 3:00 on the dot. No one (but the world of blog readers) was any the wiser of my mistake.

People ask why I picked Tokushima as the place to live and work in Japan. My boss is why.

Update

There is only one carrot left in the fridge. There are two carrot cakes in the freezer. My landlady has her cake. I've got one to take to work. There's still one sitting out to be eaten.

And yesterday we ate carrot jam for lunch.

I wish someone would start harvesting chocolate chip cookies.

Tower of Cake!

David's lunch, with my carrot cakes in the background.

Carrots

Since we live in Japan, where ovens are non-existent, the biggest tool I have for making cakes and cookies is a toaster oven. Last month I bought two miniature loaf pans. Those loaf pans have already contained four loaves of carrot cake each. They are currently gearing up for another round because I live in Tokushima.

Tokushima has carrots the way the ocean has wet. It doesn’t really matter if you like it or want it. Carrots are going to appear on your doorstep.

Imagine going to the grocery store with your plastic grocery bag (I know, it’s not very eco-friendly, but at least you are re-using it). You take your grocery bag to the produce aisle and fill it with carrots. Three times. In two weeks.

David and I have eaten raw carrots, stir-fried carrots on rice, carrots in minestrone soup, a few more carrots on rice. We put some in the freezer. And of course, I made carrot cake. I gave one to everyone we know: my boss, my co-workers, our landlady, the Jehovah’s Witnesses who came to the door. Everyone.

What's left after the third batch has been eaten for dinner. And
lunch. And snacks. Now it's time for breakfast.
Yummy carrot cake!

In addition to the creative uses we have tried to conceive, we have been given a jar of carrot jam. Carrot jam. I admit that in my wildest imaginings, I never imagined someone would make jam out of carrots. Truthfully, it’s not too bad, although it looks like something you’d feed a three-month old child. It is a little sweet, and a little vegetable-ly. I ate it on toast, and discovered it is, albeit a little weird, rather tasty.

It’s now the middle of May, The fields are empty or full of newly-planted rice. I was even informed by my boss that carrot season is over.

Then last night my landlady thanked me for the delicious carrot cake. Another bag of carrots appeared. And she smiled.

I need to go buy more eggs.

The New Phone

A week ago David and I bought a cell phone. We bought the cheapest possible cell phone plan, since you all know how much David and I both love to talk on the phone. We also bought the cheapest possible phone. It’s one of those so-called smart-alek phones, and didn’t come with an instruction manual. Then again, the manual would have been in Japanese and less than helpful. I need all the help I can get trying to use the thing.

The other day my boss called and I couldn’t figure out how to answer the phone. Every now and then a light will blink in the corner; sometimes it’s red, sometimes green. I have no idea what it means. When I am trying to explore the various icons and what they do, I’ll change the look of my phone and be unable to put it back. The good news is we have no data plan, so I can’t run up any charges from accidentally hitting the wrong button. Argh! I’m not a fan of this phone.

This so-called smart-alec phone will be useful, though when we get internet. When that happens, David will do some magic and I’ll be able to call the United States. And you’ll be able to call us. And get this - it’ll be just like calling us in Montana. Won’t that be great?

But the best part of our new phone? Yesterday David discovered how to watch television on the phone. Television! On our phone! And it even records programs for later viewing, which will come in very handy today when, say, I’m at work during the sumo tournament.

Maybe I’m starting to like this smart-alek phone idea.

How do you know you're in a foreign country?

I was thinking yesterday about living in a foreign country. When I go to the grocery store, I don’t know what most of the things on the shelf are. Or if I have a general guess, such as, “That’s a sauce,” I still do not always know exactly what kind of sauce. Yet, whenever I go, I’m just grocery shopping. It doesn’t feel strange. There may be crates of fresh squid and other such sea creatures in the meat department, but it’s still just a grocery store.

Also, last week David and I opened a bank account. It was a very long process, and my little bit of Japanese was not good enough to make things progress smoothly. We had to struggle between Japanese and English and I quickly learned how to write my address in Japanese, which I hadn’t done yet. But, all in all, it was just like any other trip to the bank: sitting at a desk, filling out form after form, dealing with the tedium, and having someone try to sell us the bank’s credit card.

Then yesterday, on the way to work, I looked out over the fields that had been empty the week before. During the Golden Week holidays when I didn’t go to work, the farmers were busy. The whole walk to work is now lined with freshly planted rice fields. Suddenly I felt the exoticness of Japan rushing up into me.

It isn’t the language or the billboards I can’t read. It isn’t the unidentifiable food in the stores. It isn’t the multitudinous garbage and recycling schedule. It isn’t the children in their school uniforms including matching hats and high-viz yellow backpacks glowing behind them. But when I look at the rice fields with their dainty green stalks rising up out of the water, I immediately feel as if the earth has shifted under my feet. Wait, where am I? Oh, right - I am far away from home in a foreign country.

You're not in Iowa anymore!

My walk to work.

It’s the rice fields.  Stretching from the road to the foot of the mountains, pools of the unknown, reflecting the clouds, the sky, and my dreams, it reminds me just how far from home I am.

Golden Week 2012

During Golden Week, Japanese students (and many non-students) enjoy a week-long vacation. A collection of four holidays happen in a span of seven days, giving people a nice break to get spring cleaning done before summer sets in, hot and humid. Well, David and I cleaned the apartment; my students took trips to Osaka or somewhere else nearby.

One day, though, we did get out and have a fun afternoon. The school I work for is planning an excursion to the zoo next month. To help plan a scavenger hunt, David and I accompanied my boss and another teacher to the zoo yesterday on a fact-gathering mission.

Tanuki.
I might have a new favourite animal!

Fact: The Tokushima zoo has many more different kinds of animals than I expected.


Fact: A native Japanese forest dweller, a tanuki, which is usually translated into English as “raccoon dog”, truthfully looks like a cross between a raccoon and a dog.


Fact: One black bird with white polka dots reminded me of a dress Lucy Ricardo wore.

What's the real name of what I call the "I Love Lucy Bird"?

Fact: The four of us had as much fun at the zoo as we hope the children will have.


On the way back from the zoo, we stopped at Japan’s smallest mountain, called Bentan San. A shrine at the top of the mountain is dedicated to the goddess who created Japan. Her name slips my mind, but I’ll let you know when it comes back to me. It is a mound of trees sitting in the middle of vast fields, so it certainly doesn’t fit the terrain.

Bentan San

Cherry Blossom Viewing

It’s one of those things that just doesn’t translate well: Hanami. Literally meaning, “Look at flowers,” the concept of Hanami embodies much more than a stroll through a garden. Last Sunday David and I went with Kazuyo, my boss, to a park called Kamiyama. There we joined dozens of families having picnics, playing games, and enjoying a day out in the beautiful sunshine.

 It looked like any Sunday outing, with one major difference: the sheet of pink above our heads. Japanese cherry blossom trees in bloom are like no other colour. They aren’t the dark pink of tulips. They aren’t the garish hot pink of a nine-year-old girl’s bedroom. For one very brief moment in spring the whole country of Japan is the soft shade of a baby’s blanket. But babies are small; hence their blankets are small. Early April in Japan is the only time I’ve ever seen such an unbroken line of baby pink.

The school year in Japan begins during cherry blossom season. The promise of new life and fresh flowers carry over into the promise of a new school year with fresh opportunities to learn and grow.

Cherry blossoms represent the life cycle in miniature. They bud, flower, and whither very quickly in early spring. Since their peak time for viewing is very, short cherry blossoms also represent a fleetingness in life. So, for one day, people take time out of their busy schedules. At the height of the blooming, families and friends pack up picnic lunches and have a party under the trees.

 Hanami doesn’t translate well into English. Yet the concepts of taking a break from overly busy schedules, enjoying beauty in nature, and celebrating life cross national boundaries. Maybe we should find a word for Hanami in English. Along sakura (cherry blossom) road.

David's picture of sakura.

David and I with Momo, my boss' dog.

The First Week

This is from March 28th. I'll post it today, even though it's not current. I don't have anything current, but soon.

We arrived one week ago today. I think we’re mostly getting switched over to a 16-hour time difference. I’m sleeping through the night now, although come around the middle of the afternoon, I’m ready for bed again.

Tokushima is Japan. Everything I remember about Tokyo, with fewer people. The same type of buildings, the same restaurants, the same advertisements I can’t read. The difference comes in its surroundings. Where as I lived in the heart of Tokyo, and rarely saw greenery, Tokushima is at the base of Mount Bizan, and is surrounded by fields of vegetables. Most of the students’ families have either large gardens or farms. In the few days I’ve been at the school, I’ve received spinach, carrots, cabbage, and broccoli more than David and I could ever eat.

And then there’s the bicycle. I don’t cycle. Everyone who knows me knows I will walk for an hour to avoid cycling for 15 minutes. When that hour long walk is at night, even in a safe country, I am a little hesitant. Mainly because at 9:00 at night, I just want to be home in bed! So, I’ve been biking to work. And I’ve only fallen into one field (don’t worry, the field hadn’t been planted yet), and been the bane of only a dozen or so cars.

But, then, I’ve only biked to school twice. I am sure I’ll find many more people to run over as they days progress.

March 19, or is 20?

All in all, I must admit there are worse places to spend the night. The International Terminal at the San Francisco airport is quiet, practically empty. The night cleaning crew is here, making the rounds, and a flight to Singapore left around 1:00 am. Since then at least I have managed a couple hours of sleep.

We are camped at an unused gate, sprawled on the floor. Then again, all the gates feel unused right about now - we had our pick of floor to sleep on. I’ve never been in an airport so quiet, so deserted. If it weren’t for the fact that no one has tried to kick us out, I’d think the place was closed for the night!

And then a luggage cart will slink past out the window.

Someone is going somewhere.

Wherever they’re going, it is not Japan. The next flight to Japan is the one we will be on to Osaka at 11:30 tomorrow morning. Or is that today already? The next two flights to Tokyo leave shortly thereafter.

So much for trying to hop an earlier flight. We’re on the earlier flight!