The Crying Game....

This week, I've taught a couple of model lessons for some new students. This can be a fraught process, because usually the younger the kids are, the longer it takes for them to get used to the tall, shouty foreign who's trying to bedazzle them with flashcards and tuneless songs. On Tuesday, it was three year olds and with five in the class, I knew there'd be at least ONE cryer. Generally, it seems the best tactic when this happens is to not pay too much attention to it and play some awesome games so they get bored with their sobbing and come and join in. (Only if they're crying for no reason of course. If they've trapped their head in a table, it's probably a good idea to step in). In the past, the Mum's have employed some of their Japanese ninja heritage (probably) by coming in the class with their sobbing kin, and they g-r-a-d-u-a-l-l-y moving closer to the door, and eventually slipping out all stealthy.

The pattern when meeting these new kids is generally the same - their first reaction is to just silently gape. You can see the inner cogs working: "shall I cry, or shall I try wander over and see if I get eaten?". On Tuesday, four decided on on the latter, but one plumped resolutely for the former. She clung to her Mum like a newborn koala, and although she briefly joined in with a craft activity (making snakes - rock!), she sooned return to her default mode of wailing and getting snotty. I don't know if she was scared or nervous or what, but its pretty heart rending to have a little mite sobbing through your whole lesson. The others were fantastic though so that's some consolation!

Today I had two even younger kids - both about 2, and they seemed absolutely TINY. Not just in size, but in presence - both of them seemed really frail and delicate. Again, there was a brief moment of teetering on the edge of crying or laughing, but thankfully they wandered over and we played catch with a ball. Now, I'm all for kids enjoying themselve, but I have never heard such loud squeals of joy when I threw the ball to them - it was earpiercing! I actually winced a couple of times, but it was nice to see them happy. The lesson was actually pretty crazy because the kids rooms are so full of stimuli the students just wander around trying stuff out rather than pay attention. But I was sweating by the end, and the mums were exhausted, and that's what counts.

Soba and pretty leaves....

On my days off last week, I went to Anna's parents's house in Takenami - way way in the Japanese countryside. To put it into context - so far every single Japanese person I've told about my trip didn't have a clue where it was. Anna had been raving about relaxing under her kotatsu which - if you've never heard of one - is a low square table with a blanket attached to it that reaches the floor, and a heater underneath. So you can snuggle under the blanket all nice and snug while the wintery weather rages outside. Or - if you're a gangly foreinger like me - you can sort of get your shins under, and then give up and sit on the sofa with a blanket.

Anyway, whilst in Takenami we decided to have a go at making soba noodles at a nearby restaurant which does a little class in it. There's only three ingredients - none of which I could identify and all of which look like flour - plus some water. The process was marginally complicated by the instructor speaking only in Japanese, including when she came round to correct me (despite being told I don't speak it). Actually, this happens alot - the traditional view of the English man abroad is shouting "WHERE-IS-THE-TOILET?!?!" at uncomprehending Turkish waiter, and I think the corresponding view over here is for the Japanese man to patiently explain in fluent Japanese what he wants, rephrasing it over and over without any kind of gestures, simplification or a single word of English. Still, we managed to sort the whole process out, and then eat the soba noodles that we made afterwards. They were pretty tasty, although I didn't realise you actually ate them cold. Rolling with the punches when it comes to food is one of the first skills you develop in Japan though, so I wasn't too fussed.



In the evening, we went to view a koryo or leaf colour changing site (or こりょ now I've managed to work out how to type in Japanese on this computer :) ). Autumn and Winter have kind of mixed together this year here, but all the leaves are now turning an amazing shade of red. I have to admit I was initially skeptical about this - after all, we have Autumn in England too right? It's when all the trains stop running (ooh, political satire). But actually it looked really impressive - there's a particular type of leaf called momiji （もみじ　he he he ) which looks very cool when they've changed colour. Although it was night time, the place had been set up with all spotlights and stuff, and the place was packed with people, most of whom were equipped with a vast array of photographic equipment. I had to make do with a couple of shots from my little camera.