This story was also published in AJET  (Association of Japan Exchange and Teaching) Magazine.
http://ajet.net/ajet-connect/volunteering-on-an-oyster-farm-by-the-sea-of-japan/

Driving down meandering roads along the Sea of Japan, I felt a mixture of fear, homesickness, and excitement. I was heading for a week-long homestay on an oyster farm and guesthouse in Kumihama Bay, a tiny town that none of my Japanese friends had ever heard of. I knew that at least one person there spoke English, but I hadn’t met him.

I felt powerful yet terrified. What was I doing? I could be with my family in California. “You better be here next year!” The words of my grandmother during my last phone call home echoed in my mind.

Thanks to Google Maps, I had a location that I was driving toward, although I couldn’t read the name of the place I was going. All I knew was that a man named Atsushi had agreed to host me through the Help Exchange program (helpx.net) that I had used before in New Zealand and Australia.

I arrived at a house with an indecipherable sign. Looking at my phone, and then at the sign, it seemed as if the two mysterious kanji might be the same. I sat in the car for a few minutes, gathering my courage and telling myself, “Get up. Get out of the car. Get up. You can do this.”

A full five minutes later I stepped outside into the freezing dusk. To my left, I could see Kumihama Bay and a deck with two dark figures in blue suits spraying water at some crates. “One of them must be Atsushi,” I thought to myself. “Maybe I should just wait for him to finish…”

But my legs betrayed me. I was already walking towards their front door when the grandparents spotted me.

“Ey! Konbanwa! We-ru-ko-mu! Watashiwa Tatsuo.” A wrinkled, grinning man came forward to shake my hand, American-style. “ここでなにしてるの？はは！じょうだんだよ！わたしたちのいえへようこそ！”

I blinked, confused. I couldn’t catch anything he had said.

“Oh no, not another one who can’t speak Japanese,” said his wife, a stocky, strong-looking woman. At least that’s what I thought she said.

“Oh no,” I thought to myself. “No one speaks English here. I’m doomed…”

“Kuruma? Pah-kin-gu? Doko?” The grandpa gestured for me to come — I think he wanted me to move my car to another parking spot. As I walked to my car in the darkness, wondering how I was going to survive the next week with my infantile Japanese, an angel appeared. Another foreigner was walking toward me on the street, frizzy red hair spilling from her winter cap. Hallelujah! I had no idea there would be another foreigner here.

“Hi, I’m Gosia,” she said. She helped translate for me what Grandpa was saying, and hopped in my car to direct me to the right parking spot. Later, I found out she is from Poland and has a master’s degree in comparative cultural studies with an emphasis on Japan. She has a one-year working holiday visa for Japan, and had already been volunteering on this oyster farm for almost a month. Gosia was my savior for the next week as I tried to adjust to the family and their habits.

Later, while drinking tea and attempting small talk with the grandparents in the kitchen, the door opened. In walked Atsushi, a tall and smiling man, looking windswept from working outside all day. He introduced himself enthusiastically in perfect English, and I immediately felt at ease. We would have many deep conversations in the next week. He showed me to my private room, made sure I knew how the heater worked, and asked me to try on my work uniform.

The ridiculous but very practical clothes he loaned us were blue overalls with thick, waterproof pants and a jacket underneath. Gosia and I joked that we looked like Mario.

The next morning, after a breakfast of granola and fruit, Atsushi assigned us our tasks, and took time to carefully explain what he wanted us to do. My job was to pack oysters into boxes, weigh them, and put stickers on the boxes to be sent to customers. It was a task similar to an easy puzzle, and I found it quite relaxing. When I finished a box, I would carry it to the grandmother, Ayako-san, in the kitchen, and have a brief exchange where she would offer me tea and a break. I would politely refuse and keep working.

My spirits were further lifted by Atsushi’s kindness. Every time he walked by, he would greet me with a smile and say something like, “Thanks so much for being here. You’re helping a lot! You’re an important part of the team.”

This ten seconds of his time did wonders for my state of mind, and I’m sure I became a more productive worker after his encouragement. I decided then and there that if I am ever in charge of other people, I’m going to frequently and genuinely let them know how much I appreciate their hard work. This was the first of many moments when I realized that Atsushi was much more than a simple oyster farmer.

Atsushi had loved English in junior high and high school, and he attended college for architecture in Osaka. When he was 22, he lived in Canada for a year and his thinking totally changed. “When I was in Canada, my world expanded more than 100 times,” he told me. He came back and worked in Japan for a while, but he soon went to Australia for a one-year working holiday visa. Six months into his trip, he started receiving letters from his family asking him to come back to Kumihama. Since he is the eldest son, it is Japanese tradition for him to inherit the family business and help his parents as they get older.

Now, he helps his parents, Ayako-san and Tatsuo-san, with their minshuku, or Japanese guest house. He also runs the oyster farm that has been in the family for three generations. His grandmother used to row out to the platforms in a wooden boat.

During the week, I had many eye-opening conversations with Atsushi about a range of topics from the politics of fishing to the controversially strict education system in Japan.

Thanks to advice from a foreign friend, Atsushi discovered the Help Exchange program, where he could invite travelers to stay at his house for a few weeks or months at a time. People volunteer in exchange for room and board. This is a win-win situation for everyone: travelers are happy to contribute to his family, learn new skills, and live in a beautiful place for free, while Atsushi gets free help with his oyster work as well as cooking and cleaning for the minshuku. Also, he really wants his nine-year-old daughter Yuzuki to learn English.

Yuzuki-chan plays the piano, and every day I would hear her plunking the same tunes, including the “Mickey Mouse Club March.” At first, she was a little shy, but soon my ukulele, magical singing Santa hat, and frisbee won her over.  (I find that frisbees, games, and musical instruments help break the ice with non-English speakers. That worked in other countries like Indonesia and Vietnam, too.) By the end of the week, we were playing together every day. She would relax with me and Gosia at the kotatsu (heated table) at the end of the day, drawing pictures or teaching me Japanese.

Just like how his daughter has an atypical childhood, with a never-ending parade of foreigners coming and going, Atsushi is not your typical oyster farmer. He wants to change the way oysters are grown in Kumihama Bay, borrowing ideas from French, American, Australian, and Canadian farmers to make the process more productive and efficient.

When he took us out on the boat to see his platforms, he asked us to lift a cockle box and feel for ourselves how heavy it is. Both Gosia and I were able to lift it, but just barely! There is a lot of manual labor involved in oyster farming, and the process can be sped up with the help of simple tools like a metal hook to grab multiple boxes at once. Machines, such as one that Atsushi uses to break up the clumps of oysters, can also replace tools like hammers and streamline the process.

Atsushi thinks that rural areas in Japan need innovation, because populations are decreasing and young people don’t want to continue the work their grandparents started. Other farmers are reluctant to try new techniques because of their traditional values, but  one of Atsushi’s goals in hosting volunteers is to collect ideas.

One night, he sat down with Gosia and I and asked, “What ideas do you have for me? What can I do to make your experience better?” I was really impressed with his openness. I have volunteered on ten farms in New Zealand, Australia, and Indonesia with the Help Exchange program (I wrote this articleabout it a few years ago), and I have never met a host who asked volunteers for advice.

After experiencing volunteering as a means of travel, I realize that typical tourism of staying in hostels and changing locations every few days is exhilarating but exhausting. I don’t have a strong desire to do it for more than a few weeks at a time. However, when I volunteer I can integrate into the community, make friends, and feel like I’m contributing to something larger than myself. I can stay in each place longer, learn more, and make deeper connections. As I’m observing and internalizing, I’m constantly asking myself: what do I want to adopt or exclude from my own life?

Mostly, volunteering makes me realize that there is more than one way to live on this planet. Before I traveled, I only had a narrow vision for what was possible. Now I realize that it’s possible to start a cashew factory in Bali to help a needy community, or to have a zero-impact life on a self-sustaining farm in New Zealand. I lived with these people and was able to see the world through their eyes. I’ve picked up skills like milking a goat by hand, chopping firewood with an axe, cutting sashimi, and more. I’ve learned the process behind how foods from kiwis to milk to oysters are cultivated.

Atsushi told me that when he went to Canada, his perspective expanded more than 100-fold. Every time I travel, I feel the same way. Every time I volunteer, I can entrench myself in a community and be involved in a way that sightseeing does not allow.

I’m planning to use Help Exchange to volunteer again. There are more people to meet, more skills to learn, and more adventures to have. I’m young, and I have the energy to do it, so why not? Who is with me?

Here are some more photos from the adventure!

A few weeks ago, I was surprised by a message on my phone from a mysterious sender. It read, “Do you want to go to Kyoto with me?” It took me a few minutes to figure out who it was from, but once I did, I immediately replied, “Yes!”

Kaoru is a young Japanese teacher at my school who coaches volleyball and is one of the few teachers eager to practice her English with me. Sometimes we make small-talk in the teachers room when she can find a moment of peace in her hectic day.

When I asked why she is interested in English, she told me that she has an intuitive feeling that she wants to learn it. She studies once a week at an eikeiwa (conversation school.)

Then she asked me what is the best way to improve ones English, and I answered: “Make foreign friends, and spend time with them.”

So a few weeks later, she followed my advice, and asked me to spend the day with her.

It was raining but I decided to bike to the train station anyway.  I arrived slightly damp but excited, and we bought our tickets together at the office and got on the 8:30 train.

In a typical Japanese way, she had prepared an immaculately planned schedule. I appreciated her meticulousness, because when I travel, I am more of a drifter, seeing what I discover and who I meet, and making up my plan as I go. But she had done her research. Our plan was to hit up three popular destinations in one day: Kinkakuji, Fushimi Inari, and Byodo-in.

After our 2 hour train journey, we arrived at the bustling Kyoto Station and, after some trial and error, found  the correct ticket office, where we bought a one-day transportation ticket (1250 yen, or about $12) which allowed us to take most buses and trains around the city. So we hopped on a bus to our first destination.

Kinkakuji

After a 30 minute bus ride eavesdropping on some French tourists (I could pick out a few words!) we got off at the famous Kinkakuji, (金閣寺、きんかくじ)* also known as the Golden Temple. It is one of the most popular tourist destinations in Kyoto because of its picturesque reflection in the pond. However it’s typically overrun with tourists.  (If you only have time for one temple, I’d reccommend Ginkakuji (the Silver Temple) because of its stunning gardens. Both places cost 600 yen to enter.

Temples in Kyoto often have interactive activities, and at Kinkakuji you could buy a prayer candle with different themes (and funny typos.) You could select ones heart’s desire, a family in safety, be in safe and sound, or schoolwork accomplishment. I bought a family in safety candle for 50 yen and thought of my family in California as I lit it.

Kaoru picked a restaraunt for us nearby, and they miraculously had a vegetarian option! I ordered udon and tempura, and I felt well nourished for the rest of our busy day.

Fushimi Inari

After lunch, we took a bus to our second destination: Fushimi Inari (稲荷, ふしみいなり)*.

I had been there once before, but it was during New Years, when thousands of Japanese go to celebrate. (Don’t go during New Years!)  This time it was less crowded, and I was excited to hike the whole mountain, which took about an hour and a half.

Inari is the Japanese God of rice popular in Shinto and Buddhist belief systems. A shrine at the bottom of the mountain was founded in 711 AD, which made me reflect on my own young and immature country. Inari is also a kind of sushi – rice wrapped with sweet fried tofu – and I learned that its traditionally considered the favorite food of foxes. Also, foxes are messengers for Inari. So on the mountain, there are many statues of foxes guiding the way as you ascend.

On the way down, I bought a treat called taiyaki. There is sweet bean paste inside this fish-shaped pancake. おいしいでした！(It was delicious!)

Byodoin Temple

I was especially excited to visit Byodoin Temple because one of my students had recommended it to me. In fact, he always writes about it in his essays on tests, where students are required to write 5 perfect sentences (recently I asked him to challenge himself and write about something else!!) He always says the same thing: ‘Byodoin is a famous temple in Kyoto. You can feel the history of Kyoto there.’ He was right, though.

As soon as we walked through the gate, I was immediatly filled with an all-encompassing sense of calm. Sunlight filtered through the clouds, and the lake around the temple reflected it like a mirror.  I pulled a 10 yen coin out of my pocket, and compared the real view to the engraving on the coin.

We payed an extra 300 yen to enter the temple and admire the Buddha. Even though I couldn’t understand the explanation that was only in Japanese, I tried to ask a question about the hand-shape of the Buddha. The guide couldn’t speak English, but another Japanese tourist made an effort to answer my question.

They have a museum but don’t allow photography or drawing inside, or I would have documented its inspiring interior.  The museum has a large collection of statues and artifacts, and I would have stayed longer to admire them if time allowed!

The neighborhood surrounding Byodoin is famous for green tea, so we stopped and had some overpriced but delicious maccha (600 yen).

Finally, after buying omiyagi (お土産 , おみやげor souvineers) and these picturesque bentos (弁当 , べんとう, or meals to go), we caught the train back to Fukui.

Kyoto is a cultural mecca of Japan, and I feel so lucky that I live just 2 hours by train from here. It was my fourth time there, but every time I find more to explore and discover. The longer I live in Japan, instead of feeling like, ‘Oh, I’ve seen enough,’ I keep realizing there are more places that I want to visit.  It can be kind of an overwhelming feeling, since I know it’s impossible to see everything.

I was really lucky to go with Kaoru, who was enthusiastic and well-organized. We did some language exchange, so I learned some random words like 写し , うつし , utsushi, or reflection and 苔, こけ, koke, or moss. Furthermore, if I had been alone, it would have been nearly impossible for me to figure out how to get from place to place so efficiently.  It was a win-win for both of us, because she got to engage in English conversation for most of the day, which I hope was a special experience for her. Now we are better friends at school. Today she suggested that our next destination might be soba making!

Stay tuned for our next adventure!

*For my friends who aren’t  familiar with Japanese, I thought I’d put some words in both Kanji, Hiragana, and Romanji, so you can notice the different writing systems. It’s excruciating to learn but beautiful to see, don’t you think?

If you start humming ‘Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer,’ most Japanese junior high school student’s eyes will light up, because they know the Japanese version: “Makka na ohana no tonakaisan wa itsu mo minna no waraimono. ” (The English translation of their first line: “The reindeer with the bright red nose, always a laughing-stock to everyone.”)

Or, if you bring your ukulele to school, and invite the entire school to sing Christmas carols with you after lunch, you can expect everyone to sing along.

Christmas as an ALT is one of the best parts of the year, second only to Halloween where we can wear our costumes to school and give out Halloween stickers (or candy, depending on the school.)

Last December, I recruited some teachers to sing Christmas carols with me to students after lunch. At my smaller school, the 居と先生  (kyoto sensei, or vice principal,  who is also a music teacher) played the piano, I sang and played the ukulele, and a musically-inclined social studies teacher gave some nice harmonies for “Silent Night” and “Jingle Bells.” This year I asked them again, but on the day we had planned to sing together the vice principal had to guard the phones in the office and the social studies teacher suddenly got sick and went home, so it was up to me to bring the Christmas spirit alone. I chose “We Wish You A Merry Christmas.”

I had a great worksheet with the lyrics in English and Japanese thanks to a very talented principal (and English teacher) at an elementary school in my town who made a translation  for her students. When I visited her school, she had all of her English classes sing it as a warm up. I made copies of her lyrics and brought them to my other schools so students could understand and pronounce the words correctly.

I had sung this song dozens of times in front of other classes, but this time I was a bit nervous because it was the first time I was gathering the whole school by myself. They surrounded me at the piano, and I passed out the lyrics with translations in English and Japanese.  I wore my magical Christmas hat and played my ukulele, and we sang: “We Wish You A Merry Christmas.”

To the students shock, I asked the crowd, “Can someone play the piano?” I knew it was almost an impossible request – imagine playing a song you haven’t practiced for the first time in front of your entire school! – but there are some talented pianists, so I thought I’d ask.

Besides Christmas carols, talking about holidays in Japanese schools is fun because students don’t know much about them, and its a nice respite from their textbook. It’s our chance to teach them about an important part of our culture. I made a powerpoint with photos of sparkling houses, Christmas tree lots, gingerbread houses, and so on. After the presentation, we sing “We Wish You A Merry Christmas” as a class.

Whenever I deliver my presentations, I try to pepper my talking with questions. “What’s this?” “Do you have a tree at your house?” “What do you do for Christmas?” After a year of teaching at my Junior High, I’ve come to realize that most students don’t want to be lectured in English (or any language, probably) for more than about 30 seconds before their eyes start to glaze over. I try my best to make my talking as interactive as possible, with time for them to discuss ideas with partners and with clarifying questions at the end. I also try to use grammar they’ve recently learned.

Another fun thing about Christmas is that it gives us a chance to decorate the school. Thanks to my Facebook newsfeed I was seeing other ALT’s creative Christmas inventions, which prompted me to make my own. My British friend Becky (who is also a designer, you can see her work here)  made a one month advent calendar for students.

 

Mine weren’t quite as extravagant, but I’m still happy with how they turned out. I tried to make them educational with question and answer style format. I have two schools, so I made two of them.

After I made this board, two of my students approached me and asked me to sing ‘Let it Snow’ for them, because I listed it as my favorite Christmas song!