Little Bo Peep & Dracula

Whether I’m driving down the street, slurping up ramen, or scouring the supermarket for the right kind of detergent, people always stare at me. I never get mad about it, or go so far as to ask them what they’re looking at, but I can’t help but wonder. It wasn’t like this in Tokyo.


Four years ago, I lived amongst the other 18 and some odd million. And when you have some freak dressed up as a Japanese Dracula, or a Little Bo Peep sitting next to you on the subway, suddenly the foreigner sitting next to them doesn’t look so strange.

In fact, I didn’t know that Miyakonojo, or better yet, even the entire prefecture of Miyazaki actually existed. I was put here randomly, totally by chance. Actually, when I applied for this gig I was asked to put down my top three choices of where I would like to be placed. All of which were somewhere close to a big city. In the end, I got Southern Kyushu: Hundreds of miles from bustling streets where the foreigner is just another face in the crowd.

I’m in a basin, known here as “The Bonchi.” Surrounded by mountains, highlighted by the beautiful volcano of Kirishima off in the distance. As the mountains keep Miyakonojo and its surrounding cities well insulated, the winters are chilly and the summers cook. After about 45 minutes of driving too fast, I can be on my surfboard in warm waters that are back dropped by misty mountains. In 30 minutes, I can be hiking a volcano where at the summit on a clear day, one can see the dotted islands off the rugged Japanese coast.

Miyakonojo is no Podunk hillbilly town of one noodle shop and general store. There are 180,000 people within the city limits. But for some reason, it still maintains a friendly, laid back atmosphere that I’d be hard pressed to find in any other city of equal size. The people are still very warm and outgoing, and yes, as I said before, they like to have a look.

Although I’ve gotten comfortable being the sour thumb walking down the street, sometimes I can’t help but wonder, “What are they looking at?” I talk to my friends and coworkers about last night’s episode of 24, CSI, and Desperate Housewives all the time (In case you were wondering, yes, they are dubbed, and the voices are hilarious). Why is the color of my hair still so strange?

Maybe I haven’t done enough staring. How about some of the strange things that I see?

So you may get some stories about some bizarre t-shirt I found in the infant section with a camouflage swastika printed on the front (the store selling the shirt was completely unaware of it’s historical significance). Or maybe I’ll tell you about my boxing sparring session, where my nose was split wide open, turning the gym into an absolute bloodbath. Or maybe I’ll tell you about how I climbed Mt. Kirishima and had instant ramen on the top with a total stranger. This place is full of tales. I hope you like em.

So here I go.

From now on, they stare, and I’m going to stare too. This is what I see.

Trouble With Air Conditioning

I woke up shivering with my blanket pulled up tight around my chin. I turned my bedroom into a meat locker, with the AC was cranked down into the teens. I dreaded what was behind my door. I slid the rice paper back, and the blanket of humidity pasted to my skin.
If someone asks me which I like better, the heat or the cold, I never hesitate with my answer that I like the heat. I'd take boardshorts to long johns any day of the week.
When I arrived at school, the office ladies gave me the ear-to-ear smiles and multiple bows I'm used to. But today, all the windows were open and the single rotating fan that accommodates the entire office of 15 moved back and forth as they all looked at me and said with a bit of concern, "atsui, ne."
I agreed.
Yes. It was really hot.
As I went into the teachers lounge, the teacher's daily morning meetings had just finished, and nearly every teacher sat at their desk leaned back frantically fanning themselves. They mumbled to one and other, again, and again.
"Atsui."
For the 30 teachers in that crammed in the teacher’s office, a total of four fans knocked the air around in hopes that it would bring a bit of relief. And it was only 8:30.
"Good Morning, Luke."
"Good Morning," I replied to the teacher at the desk next door.
I pulled out my handkerchief from my bag to blot my beading forehead.
"It's hot, isn't it?" He said while fanning himself with his hand and tugging on the collar of his polo shirt.
"Yeah, it is."

All of a sudden the bell rang and my teacher whisked me off to our first class. The students were quiet and lethargic. Completely unenthusiastic, preoccupied with what method they would use to fan themselves for the next fifty minutes.
All the windows were wide open and everyone hoped for a breeze. No such luck, but finally the bell rung and I made my way back to the teachers lounge.
As I stepped through the sliding door, all the teachers were still huddled around, having the same conversation. They continued to fan themselves and just talk about it.
I leaned back in my chair as my neighbor asked me again how my last class was. And I told him that it was fine, just hot. I continued to look up at the fans as they rotated and made the rounds hitting the necks of the sweating teachers sitting below.
It was at that point when I looked up and saw it. An Air Conditioner. Not just a little window unit with three settings. A full-blown chrome industrial Air Conditioner. It hung right in everyone's face, in the center of the Styrofoam ceiling.
Was there something I was missing?
It took me a minute to process.
I don’t think I need to go into my train of thought here. But I thought, "If that thing works..."
I leaned over to my neighbor who was now fiddling with the fan above us, trying to adjust the speed.

"Hey is that an Air Conditioner up there?" I whispered across my desk.
"Yeah."
"OK." I had to pause. "Why isn’t it turned on?"
"Luke wants the Air Conditioner on!"

He slid by me and jogged across the room where he was met by 3 other teachers, and fiddled with the thermostat on the wall.

"No! Wait...I didn't say that!" I said to the other teachers as they sat there staring at me, smiling.

There are a few things at work here. The teachers were smiling for 2 reasons. The first reason was that I was the foreigner scapegoat. I asked for what I wanted, even though I didn’t really ask. Many things are just assumed in Japanese speech. It was assumed that I wanted the AC on. And for one person to ask for something, something that might affect an entire group is very un-Japanese. Because, who knows? Having the air conditioning turned on in a lobster pot of an office, might just "inconvenience" somebody. The second reason for them smiling is that they were genuinely thrilled that they wouldn't have to suffer for the rest of the day.
So, after about 20 minutes, the sweating and fanning stopped in the teachers lounge. The cries of "atsui" (hot), turned to "suzushi" (cool) as students and teachers escaped into the teachers lounge between periods. Even the secretary’s office followed our lead and turned on theirs after we had on ours. A revolution had just taken place.
I want to go back and clarify what I said about the smiling bit. It is certainly not my intention to cast the teachers in a malicious light. I think they were smiling because it's not what they would have, or better yet, could have done. Not to get too Japanese Sociology 101 on us, but typically, ‘speaking up’ is not something that they do. It just took someone who wasn't so Japanese, i.e. me, to get what everyone else wanted without any rift.
What would have happened if nobody said anything? It was only 9:30 when I dropped the bomb, but from the looks of it, the fanning and loosening of ties could have gone on all day. It would have been interesting to see how it would have transpired. Another hour? All day? Who knows? It would have been almost worth the sweat to see how long the discomfort could have lasted with the air conditioner hanging dormant in the center of the room, staring everyone in their sweaty faces.