Japanese Journal – Day 1 – The Long Morrow

Today we left for Japan. I've done this flight 4 times before, but I was young. And had no idea what I was in for. When I first left for Japan, I was 18, a recent high school graduate, and knew only one thing about myself with absolute certainty: I did not want to go to college.

College had always been this great dreadful cloud looming over my future. I was told from a young age that I had no choice but to go and that I was supposed to figure out what I wanted to do with my life before I got there. Wherever “there” was. But I never did. Never really gave it any thought unless forced. If you had asked me when I was 18 what I wanted to do with my life, I probably would have either told you that I wanted to be a journalist. Or a dancer. Or a physicist. I don't think I ever gave the same answer twice. All I ever really wanted to do was be the editor of a newspaper – unfortunately a dying breed. When I finally did go to college, I decided that a textbook editor would be more practical, so I started pursuing that. I'm still not there.

Anyway, back to Japan. I knew I didn't want to go to college, so I jumped at the chance to delay my life and to travel abroad for the first time (aside from Niagara Falls). Through circumstantial connections, I got a job as a pre-school English teacher, which was my first experience teaching English. Wait – I should qualify that – I didn't actually teach English in Japan at all. That was just my job title.

The school I worked at was a private pre-school, designed basically as a day care program for single or two working parents who could afford to send their children (ages 0-6) to “school” for up to 12 hours a day. They hired me (and my friend) as “English teachers” because they wanted to be able to market themselves as having prepared their students for the best private kindergartens – by teaching them English.

It was my first real exposure to American Imperialism. A concept I have thought long and hard about since. It's long been known that English is the international language of business, but seriously, what good is that going to do a 5-year-old? By the time those children understand that learning English may in some way, in some cases, help them in their future careers, it'll be far too late for them to learn while they're young (which, according to much debated theories, is the best time to learn). In fact, the children I taught are all turning 13 this year. They probably still hate learning English.

And let me tell you – they hated it. Well, as much as a 2-year-old can hate anything. That's right, I was in the 2-3 year room. Meaning that all of my students started the school year at 2 and turned 3 before the end of the year. Practically what this meant was that I wasn't teaching English so much as working at a pre-school. Theoretically it meant that I was “immersing them in the English language so that when they went to kindergarten they would be better prepared to really start studying because they were accustomed to hearing the language.” However, the real reason they hated English is because I was a foreigner and stranger danger runs deep in Japanese culture. It all stems from back before the world wars when Japan was completely isolated from the rest of the world – from trade, from international conflict, from everything. One of the first words I learned in Japanese was “baka” which translates to “fool” and was a word liberally applied to anyone who looked or spoke differently. The term was so ubiquitous that even a fully born and raised Japanese brother and sister I met were so typified because the had spent some time living in the US and didn't have perfect Japanese accents.

Probably the best example of such blatant “otherness” was at the spas. Japanese spas are often built up around hot springs, and you can go to bathe in the pools. And by bathe, I mean you have to be naked. My host family took me to the hot springs many times during my 6-month stay and every time I entered a pool, it would clear out. Instantly. They'd just leave and go to a different pool. My friend and I actually made a game of it at one point. The longest anyone ever stayed was 10 second. Let me tell you: there is nothing more mortifying than people fleeing at the sight of you naked. Fortunately this time I'm not allowed in the pools because I have a tattoo.

Back to the pre-school. I spent 40 hours a week (my first full time job) basically watching kids play. Fortunately, I also had several menial responsibilities, or even that would've gotten boring. For example, I got to rinse and ring out wash cloths for the kids to use as wet napkins during lunch. I also got to dust their cubbies, clean the stairs, and lead them on field trips to the many area playgrounds. Didn't the school have a playground? Why, yes, of course it did. But these kids were there for so long that they needed more stimulation than the same old playground day after day. We took them on mile long walks (still dealing with 2-year-olds mind you) in all kinds of weather just to get to these other playgrounds. The kids all wore matching hats and if anyone fell behind, they were dragged along by the hand until they were ready to keep up on their own again. I once tried to stop and comfort a child who had fallen and skinned his knee, but was only rewarded with a slap on the hand and some very angry yelling in Japanese.

And the food. Oh my god, the food. I'm not sure how many of you know this about me, but I can't stand seafood. I survived mainly on plain white rice (that I added Parmesan cheese to) and cookies I made in a toaster oven. I still have nightmares about going to the grocery store. Imagine being in a place, surrounded by food you don't like with labels you can't even read, while people glare at you for accidentally pushing your card down the right side of the aisle (yes, they drive... and walk on the left side of the road in Japan, and they have very strict grocery store aisle etiquette). The first time I went was straight from the airport. It was not a pleasant experience for me (or anyone else who was there, I'm sure).

The other notable thing that happened was what I like to call “the cuteness factor.” Apparently (and I have been told this by many different sources) I am the epitome of “cute” in Japan. I've never been able to figure out exactly what that means, but I'm pretty sure it means that when they look at me all they see is an anime character. I'm not sure which one. It was described to me like this: Japanese have a concept of cuteness that I am the perfect example of. “Ka-wai-ii” (one guess) was the second word of Japanese I learned because people would shout it at me as I walked down the street. It'll be interesting to see if that happens again. I have never felt so objectified in my life. And by old women!

Needless to say, I did not have a very good time in Japan. My grand 18-year-old adventure was a bust. I was working a miserably tedious job, wasn't allowed to care about the children I was working with, couldn't actually teach English, was hungry all the time, people pointed and laughed when I talked and ran out of the room when I was naked. It was literally most people's worst nightmare. Luckily, it wasn't my worst nightmare – but going back to Japan is.

I do have one thing going for me this time (actually way more than one thing). I'm traveling with family – my mother and my boyfriend – to visit family – my brother – and I'm on vacation. Oh and I'm a real English teacher now, so cross that one off too. I'm not allowed at the spas anymore, and I'm going to Tokyo – a real city with hopefully more open-minded people.

As I sit on the 14+ hour plane ride, I continually oscillate between “WHAT THE HELL WAS I THINKING GOING BACK THERE” and “This could be cool.” What better time to be in an emotional crisis than on a 14-hour flight. I'm concentrating all my energy on convincing myself that this time will be different. None of those bad experiences will happen, so none of those bad feelings will come back. My mom just brought me some chocolate chip cookies, and we're just past the half way mark, so right now things are looking up. I'm excited to see the Harajuku girls, see my brother, and explore what most people know as a beautiful exotic country that is full of culture, a rich history, and a beautiful language. It's too soon to tell what my mental state will be when we land, but I'm willing to give this country a second chance.

Edible Italian Flag Cupcakes

So I tried another Cupcake Wars recipe today. It's one that I've been mulling over for about a week because I couldn't tell if the cupcakes sounded completely disgusting or AWESOME. I finally decided that I just had to give them a try. Turns out, although each of the three separate parts do not taste good on their own, they taste pretty darn delicious all put together.

The Recipe: spinach and olive oil cupcakes with a tomato marmalade filling and white chocolate cream cheese frosting. See why I was so conflicted? I even took a poll at dinner last night, and my dad looked at me like I was crazy for even considering making them (he was also disappointed that my poll had nothing to do with politics).

Phase 1: The Cupcakes - Pretty standard as far as cupcakes go (if you ignore the whole spinach part...). The really strange thing about the recipe was no butter - but don't worry - there's plenty of butter in the frosting.

First you have to puree spinach until you have 1/2 a cup. It's a crap ton of un-pureed spinach, just FYI.


Then you make pretty standard cupcakes - eggs, sugar, spinach, olive oil, vanilla, lemon juice, salt, flour, and baking powder.


Bake at 325 for about 20 minutes. The recipe says 14 minutes, but that's not even close to right.


Phase 2: The Filling  - This part took FOREVER. I seriously have no clue how this guy finished this recipe in 45 minutes. It took me a good hour just to make the marmalade. All I have to say is this: it was weird and slimy.

First you have to boil the tomatoes until the skin starts to peel off. Then you put them in cold water, peel the skin, remove the seeds, and dice.

Then you cook them with sugar, cinnamon, and cloves until they are "thick and syrupy." This is the part that took forever. They do not cook quickly. Luckily, they don't take much watching or stirring, so I was able to make the frosting while they were syruping.





Phase 3: The Frosting - I don't like frosting, so I never really enjoy making it. This frosting seemed particularly disgusting because I also don't like white chocolate or cream cheese.

This frosting was super easy, actually. Beat cream cheese. Melt white chocolate. Beat cream cheese and melted chocolate together (hard to picture because they're exactly the same color). Then add butter, lemon juice, and a pinch of salt. Continue beating for about a minute. MUCH easier than Italian Butter cream - trust me. I don't think this frosting tastes good at all, but it is a nice addition to the cupcakes once they're all assembled.












Phase 4: Assembly - This part's always fun because you get to use an apple corer to remove the middle of the cupcakes (so there's a place for the filling to go). Nathan called this the "goose turd" phase.

As you can see, the insides of the cupcakes do not look all that appealing... They were all quickly consumed, however; and it's the perfect way to taste-test the cupcakes to make sure they aren't gross - a genuine concern considering the spinach. Once there are holes in the cupcakes, you can fill them with the marmalade, and then put the frosting on top = YUM. I had some very happy taste-testers.

Adventures in Delicious... Continued

Tonight I decided to come up with a use for my Italian Buttercream. Dan suggested gingersnaps because the buttercream is actually very sweet. So I decided on a chewy spice cookie. It was supposed to have molasses in it, but I don't have any molasses and I certainly wasn't going to go out and get it. I tried to buy molasses once for a pumpkin pie. It's actually really difficult to find at the grocery store which made for quite a stressful outing. I found it eventually, but only after calling three people for help and assistance from a little old lady who took pity on me.

Photo by Nathan

I didn't take pictures of many of the steps for the cookies. They were pretty standard and, as it turns out, it's kind of a pain in the ass to take pictures as you're baking. You practically have to grow a third arm to hold the camera. Otherwise you have to stop. Wash your hands. Balance the phone in exactly the right spot. Try to balance whatever you're trying to photograph in the other hand. And pray that you don't get flour, butter, spices, egg, [insert baking ingredient here] all over your phone. Luckily I had some help tonight.

There were various steps involved, like this one that required rolling the dough into balls, dipping in sugar, flattening with a glass, and then sprinkling with sugar.

Squish

Dan made chicken and rice soup for dinner tonight. It was the perfect fall treat. I made the cookies while Nathan and Dan were eating. For some reason I thought that was good timing. It actually worked out ok because dessert was ready at exactly the right time after dinner. I'll be the first to admit that the final product doesn't look very good. But I promise it was delicious - and I have witnesses.

On a completely unrelated topic, I finished a sewing project today that I started... well, a long time ago. I bought this dress at the beginning of the summer and never wore it because every time I put it on it felt like there was something wrong with it. It's hard to put to words exactly what was wrong because I could never make up my mind exactly what I didn't like about it. Skirt too short. Straps too long. Too see-through. Too fancy. Too casual. All of the above? Oh wait - that 's not possible. Well anyway I never ended up wearing it.

Original Dress

One day, in the not-too-distant, but still-a-long-time-ago, past I decided that the dress would be better as a separate top and skirt. It then spent several weeks lying on the floor of my bedroom until I got up the courage to rip it apart. Normally I thoroughly enjoy using a seam ripper, but this dress was of shockingly good quality and it took several hours to get the skirt separated and the hem re-sewn back onto the top.

Luckily the project was going well - and I wore the top many times this summer. When I finally got around to finishing the skirt, I first had to order an elastic to use for the waist. That turned out to be the easy part. Do you have any idea how hard it is to find black thread? (I may or may not have used ballet pink for the seam on the top because that's what I had and it doesn't show). I was obviously looking in the wrong place, but I had to go to 7 stores before I found the thread I needed.

Let me just say: elastic waists are a huge pain in the ass. I've tried before and always given up part way through. This time I was determined. I spent an entire day just measuring and sewing the elastic into a circle that was likely to fit around my waist. You're probably wondering at this point whether I have a sewing machine or not. The answer is: yes, I do. But the real answer is that I sew everything by hand because the sewing machine and I do not get along. I'm pretty sure that thing is possessed by a demon that makes it sew crooked lines and creates giant knots of thread out of thin air.

Today I finished sewing the skirt to the elastic. It was a huge accomplishment. I'm pretty happy with the way it turned out, but we'll see what happens when I go to wear the skirt...

Top and bottom obviously aren't meant to be worn together.

Adventures in Delicious

So lots of people I know are really into live blogging. I know I'm not technically using this term correctly, but what I mean is documenting things they... do. Some are into exercising, others cooking. But either way, they're taking pictures of things they do well step-by-step and explaining each part of the process. I figured I'd give it a try.

I like to bake, but rarely have an occasion to do so (and unfortunately am not a huge dessert fan myself). Tonight I was bored. Of course I have more work to do, but I already worked today from 8-6 so that's not happening. I started watching an episode of Cupcake Wars (check it out - really) and one of the contestants was having an absurd amount of trouble properly making Italian Meringue Buttercream. I should probably mention - I have a habit of watching Cupcake Wars and then trying to make whatever the contestants mess up. I'd like to think that I do it to challenge myself, but let's face it, I do it to prove I'm better than them. (We can all just ignore the fact that the circumstances aren't comparable - I have no time limit and no pressure - right?)

Anyway, tonight I decided to try my hand at Italian Buttercream. I have no idea what it's for, what it's supposed to taste like, look like, feel like (I'm assuming delicious?). I always start by googling (yes it's a verb now, I studied it in grad school) recipes and, through a personally-developed-highly-sophisticated-evaluation-process, chose the one that I deemed best. In this case, that means the one I already had all of the ingredients for. Let's face it: that's always how I choose a recipe because I hate going to the grocery store.

Step 1: Beat egg whites until you don't want to hold a mixer anymore 

Step 2: Heat sugar and water until it is dissolved and boiling (apparently 235F is right - and yes, for some reason I have a candy thermometer)

Step 3: Add sugar water to frothing eggs and beat until you have marshmallow fluff (technically meringue, but it was shockingly fluff-like)

Step 4: Butter (that's been hiding in the background warming to room temperature)

Step 5: Continue beating until you want to die and it looks like your efforts are only producing cottage cheese

Step 6: And then beat it some more. This part was very much like the Asparagus Soup phase of risotto (I suppose I'll have to explain that one later). But basically it's the phase when it looks like what you're making will always be disgusting and you want to give up because your tolerance-for-stirring time expired 20 minutes ago and everything is disgusting and always will be until it isn't anymore.

Step 7: Ta da! Unfortunately I didn't think this one all the way through and may or may not have forgotten to look into what this frosting(? I think it's frosting... or filling? It's probably frosting - at least it's frosting-like) is actually supposed to be eaten on/with. If anyone has any great recipes that call for an Italian Meringue Buttercream frosting, let me know!

P.S. It's delicious at every step. Trust me, I know from experience.

October 26 - 31: The End!

October 26





















October 27

October 28

                                               October 29

                                             October 30

October 31

October 18 - 25

Almost done! The month has flown by so fast it's scary...

October 18

October 19

October 20





















October 21 - We finally got a picture together!

October 22

October 23





















October 24

October 25 - I got a really exciting part of my Halloween costume in the mail today :-)