opinios

I work with some really nice teachers.

They are friendly, jovial and have a good rapport with the teachers. Even the principal is Mr Smiley. In fact, especially the principal: he walks around beaming a big grin from ear to ear and is always super chatty (maybe because he doesn't have to do any work and just delegates everything to the vice principal!)

The thing is, I remember when I was in primary school in Australia, our school principal was a mean, grumpy, intimidating old man. He scared the bejeezus out of me.

And this meant that the teachers had a fall-back plan for when one of the kids acted up in class. If you were talking at the back of the room, or being a smart-arse, the teacher would threaten to send you to the principal's office.

Now that was one place you did not want to go.

I remember being hauled in there with a group of four other boys when I was in second grade. A teacher had seen us spitting on the school yard. I almost shat my pants and was whimpering like a friggin cissy. You see, I was scared out of my wits (not least because of the big cane that the principal was wielding and intimidating us with.)

It was a system of discipline that worked. The teacher had something to threaten the kids with.

In Japan, there is nothing. One of my kids the other day threw a piece of chalk to/at me from the back of the room and it shattered on the floor. Another stuck some clothes pegs to the dress of his teacher when she wasn't looking. And once I saw one of the nastier of my second year boys being Mr Cool Guy and staring up a girl's dress while paying her compliments while she was sitting on the stairs, not sure whether to feel flattered or disgusted. If talking in class is the only misdemeanour for the day then it has been a successful lesson (even if it was all the way through a listening test!)

And teachers have nothing to fall back on.

The kids know that they can get away with whatever they like, because they think "Or else what? You're going to send me to the principal's office??

In this country that would almost be a reward, so it doesn't happen.

The Japanese Proficiency Exam results came out today.

Ok, so I did devote every waking moment for an entire year of my life to studying for the damn thing. And I did fork out loads of cash on an electronic dictionary, flash cards, grammar text books and past exams to give myself the best possible chance at passing it. I managed to convince the principal at my school to let me go early on Friday afternoons so that I could very diligently attend Japanese class with my wonderful teacher, Yamada sensei, every week. And yes, it is true that I actually took an entire week of annual leave leading up to the exam to spend 10 hour stints sitting at the local family diner cramming characters and vocab and grammar structures and quirky nuances of the language into my head (warning: this is not conducive to good health).

But for what? A shitty little piece of paper?

No, I didn't pass the stupid exam. I got 55% overall so I was close to the 60% pass mark, but not close enough. As I predicted, I passed the writing and listening sections no worries, but the reading stung me - mainly because I just ran out of time.

So yes, I'm a tad disappointed. I think the fact that instead of writing 'Attempt Unsuccessful' or 'An Insufficient Score Was Achieved', they use the word FAILED just to really rub it in.

But I tell you what, I would have been even more disappointed to have put that much time and effort into the friggin' thing, only to get my certificate sent in the post on such a cheap-arse amateurish looks-like-it-was-printed-on-a-secondhand-inkjet printer-in-some-loser's-garage piece of paper. Now that would have been a real let-down.

What do you mean, I sound bitter???

Congratulations to those who did pass, whatever level you took (that means you Kinki!!).

Well, I got through the child discipline seminar alive. Boy was that fun.

I was a member of the "expert" panel, sitting at the front of a room of about 40 elementary school parents. There was a Nepalese woman who ran a restaurant, a Ukraine girl who was an exchange student, and me. What were we experts in? At being gaijins (foreigners) of course!

So it was that for two hours we were grilled (all in Japanese, of course) about the differences that exist between Japan and our respective countries in the way that children are brought up, disciplined, moulded and educated (what do you mean you didn't know that was my specialty?) That's right, two hours. We even had a microphone to talk into. And naturally, the Japanese level of the other two was pera pera (fluent).

So there I was, stumbling my way through, barely making myself understood. Trying to make jokes but not possessing adequate language skills such that my contorted mumblings drew polite but confused smiles instead of raucous laughter. A question would get fielded to the panel, the other two would prattle on in perfect Japanese for about 10 minutes, and then I would umm and aah and struggle to pretend that I had a point before handing the mike over back as quickly as possible.

Did I mention that the hall we were sitting in was freezing?

Somehow I managed to get through this arduous ordeal without looking at my watch every 5 minutes, and I could see the light at the end of the tunnel. Unfortunately, I failed to take into consideration Japanese hospitality customs.

Yes, in the principal's office afterwards, out came the coffee. For everyone. Black, with cream on the side, as always. Just like I never have it. With a seventy-year old man telling jokes that everyone was laughing at.

Forty-five minutes later I decided I couldn't take it anymore and rudely interrupted to excuse myself. This was bullshit. I wasn't even getting paid. Of course, the immediate response was to inquire why I couldn't stay any longer. I explained that Kim had dislocated her knee, that she needed me at home because she couldn't walk properly and thus struggled to walk to the grocery store to do the shopping. I didn't want to have to play the sympathy card, but jeez, I didn't expect to have to justify myself!

Of course, at the station, the dear little old lady who originally roped me into this insisted I let her buy me a bento for the road. She just didn't understand.

Let me go!

I am currently halfway through reading Yukio Mishima's Runaway Horses, the second in the tetraology by this seminal Japanese author. Reading it has definitely given me new insight into the Japanese take on suicide.

The public perception of the act of taking one's own life is viewed completely differently in this country compared to the west.

In Australia, it is most often depression that leads people to end their own life. A person's life feels meaningless, there seems to be no point in continuing in such helpless conditions, and they decide to end it all to end the sorrow. If it occurs as a result of some scandal, the act is often viewed as a cowardly way to avoid dealing with the situation at hand, an easy way out. A way to avoid taking responsibility for your actions.

In Japan, however, even today it is often viewed as a noble thing to do - the ultimate way to take responsibility for something shameful that you have done. These CEOs and government officials who get away with dodgy stuff for years and hang themselves when they are eventually uncovered: in their eyes, they are not taking the easy way out. They are doing what they think is the only way for them to leave this world with any last shred of respect. They believe that it is expected of them.

Rooted in this mindset are the dozens of characters in Mishima's book who commit seppuku - ritual disembowelment. But their suicides are not because of their dishonorable actions; the act of knifing oneself in the stomach, then the throat, often brings them joy, happiness and contentment that their life has been worth living. To die beneath a rising sun, up on a mountain ridge overlooking a beautiful green valley on a clear day, is the dream of the book's young protagonist, desired even more than being killed in battle defending the emperor.

Or is this just the justification that today's disgraced businessmen use to end their life in a way that avoids being shamed?

I dunno. I'm too busy living.

After nearly two and half years I thought I had all the different nuances for assimilating into Japanese society down pat by now (as much as is possible with my blond hair and big nose).

Apparently not.

Today at an elementary school things were going great guns. I was wowing the vice-principal with my much-evolved Japanese skills, impressing the homeroom teachers with my ability to draw an Aussie flag on the board, and putting the kids into fits of laughter as we did the "Hokey Pokey". It was one of those "I'm on a roll and being an English teacher in Japan rocks!" moments.

And then we said the goodbyes. The vice-principal escorted me to the reception area where one changes out of the school-provided slippers and back into one's shoes...

...and I realised I had been wearing my shoes inside the school the whole time.

DOH!

The other day I experienced a massive earthquake while I was at school. It measured 7 (the highest possible rating) on the Shindo scale. Luckily nobody was injured and nothing was broken.

This was mostly due to the fact that it all happened in the back of a truck.

Yes, the Shinjuku Ward Office sent their mobile earthquake simulator around to our school, and students and staff all lined up and had a go.

The quake-on-wheels was decked out in the back with a simulated kitchen (complete with gas stove and hot water system that lit up when turned "on"). The team visits different schools and companies in the area to educate people on how to react when mother nature decides to do some serious rearranging of the plates down in the basement (such as switching off the gas and protecting yourself from falling debris by hiding under a table).

It was surprisingly realistic. I climbed aboard with some of my students, and as soon as the truck started rocking on its wheels we quickly turned off the gas and dove under the table. Like the real thing, the upward jolts were soon followed by sideways ones. At one point the table, with me clutching one leg, was lifted up from the floor.

The kids weren't really taking it too seriously - some of the boys were goofing off by pretending to drink from the kettle, or by selfishly kicking their friends out from underneath the table.

I wonder if they learnt anything though. Tokyo is soooo overdue for a massive quake. And when it happens it will be disastrous. The density of people here, all crammed together in buildings, subways and apartments, makes me shudder.

It's only a matter of time.

I had to pop into the enormous Seibu department store tonight on the way home to pick up a few things, and as always, was distracted by the pet section.

Seibu Loft have the cutest, most adorable collection of puppies, kittens, rabbits and a whole menagerie of big-eyed newly born animals to take home under one arm with your cleaning detergent and your sofa cover. They attract crowds of curious shoppers who are drawn in by just how damn cute the little things are, all cooing 'kawa-iiiiii!'

The only problem is, they are kept on display in tiny boxes with perspex windows, barely big enough for the little tackers to stand up in. The store clearly figures that the animals' cuteness is not a big enough selling tactic, and preys on customer pity for them being cooped up as well.

Tonight however I was lucky enough to see a chihuahua get its revenge for being confined in one of these claustrophobic compartments.

The 8 week old white puppy brought a few politely muffled chuckles to the onlookers when it braced itself and laid a huge cable in its tray. What the punters weren't expecting though, was for the little rascal to turn around and start licking its fecal masterpiece. Yup, he was licking it right up. And he appeared to be enjoying it, because he soon started chowing down on the fresh sausage.

The store assistant was oblivious to the whole thing, despite all the shocked laughter and masses of people trying to keep from dry reaching. I just had to say something (plus, here was my first opportunity to use the word "unchi" (poo-poo) in a conversation!)

I discretely mentioned that her chihuahua was currently munching on its own ka-ka, and she frantically raced backdoors to unlock the cage and prevent little our little Turd Taster from getting to the second course.

Of course, as soon as the door was unlocked, Crap Chomper started going frantic, barking and trying to escape. This was clearly his ploy all along - a last effort bid to be set free. But the assistant held him at bay, and removed the plastic tray to give it a good clean.

At which point the dear little thing proceeded to pee all over the carpet that the tray had been protecting...

Something that I always knew, but never really thought about until it came up in one of my lessons today, is the fact that the number to dial for the police in Japan is different from the one to call for an ambulance or the fire brigade.

I wonder if that says anything about the level of importance that is placed on these services?

That's right, the number to call in an emergency - for example, your house is on fire or you have been lobotomised by the samurai sword of an intruder - is 119.

But if you need the police - those helpful purveyors of street directions - then the number to call is 110.

It does kinda make sense though if you think about it: 110 is the approximate number of questions you are likely to be asked by the police if you report a crime, as happened when I reported Kim's bike as stolen a year or so ago.

And 119 is just the American emergency number 911, but backwards.

Like so many other things in this country...

Well, I'm glad that's over, but the question of whether I passed the level 2 Japanese Language Proficiency Test this year is one that will be harder to pick than a broken nose. I wore myself out last week studying for the damn thing, and then had to get straight back into the swing of a regular work routine, hence this delayed report...

It's not that I did badly. There is a small chance I might have passed. I was pretty pleased with the Kanji and Listening sections, and had to guess less questions than I expected to in the Grammar section. But it was the 7 pages of newspaper and magazine articles with comprehension questions in the Reading section that killed me. And I kinda knew it would, but never really believed that I would simply run out of time.

That's what shat me about the test. I mean, if you want to make a test really difficult, then fine. Throw in some obscure vocabulary, some slang and some difficult characters. Sort out the men (and women) from the mice with some hardcore confusing grammar patterns, like those ones that use double-negatives or combinations of the causative-passive voice, so that you get it all twisted in your head and don't know if the article is saying "the man took the picture of his friend", or that "his friend took the picture of the man", or that "they both had someone else take a picture of them" just because there is an extra conjugation of the verb form at the end... Like I was saying, if they want to put that shit in there then fine, go right ahead. It makes my head spin and I'll have to take a wild guess, but at level 2 you should be able to sort it out as it is how the language works, and I'm happy to acknowledge that I don't know something.

But why is it so unrealistically long, given the allotted time??? I consider myself a pretty quick worker, I have sat a lot of exams over the years (some of those engineering exams at Adelaide Uni were killers). And despite having to deal with distractions (like mobile phones going off and CD players left playing in people's bags, audible enough to piss me off but out of ear reach for the patrolling invigilators, can you believe it?) I have managed to get my reading speed up to a level that I am pretty proud of. And yet I still didn't get through half of the reading!

At the "there are 5 minutes remaining" announcement I began to despair as there were still 5 pages that I hadn't read through, and desparately tried to inhale all of this information in record time before jumping to the questions.

I mean, why not have a separate test for "Speed Reading", and let those who want to prove their Japanese comprehension ability do it in a reasonable time frame?

It was useless. I realised this at the 4 minute mark. I then chose to resort to some advice given to a friend that was relayed to me in the morning...

When in doubt, choose number "4" !

And filled in about 12 questions with the answer "4" without even reading the question. Still, if my kanji and listening scores manage to bring me up to the 60% mark overall, then I will be one delighted man. It won't be an earth-shattering score, it will be dead-on 60 and not a point higher. But that's enough for me. The results come out around mid-February next year, so it could be a pleasant birthday present.

And if I don't get over the line, well.

You know...

*shrug*

They can all go and get fucked!!

:-)

Anyway I think that Kim might have gone better in her first attempt at sitting level 4. She was thrown by the listening as it is not much slower than level 2, just using a smaller vocabulary. But it sounds like she aced the kanji and reading/grammar sections so fingers crossed.

Oh my god I can't believe how much friggin' study I have done this week. Honestly, I think the local Jonathon's family restaurant staff were getting ready to set up a bed in the corner of the room to call my own. Today I put in a very studious 10 hours - from around 10am to about 6pm solid (with Kim joining me for lunch and some question-answer time), and then I went back again in the evening for another couple of hours.

I'm almost excited about this stupid exam tomorrow. Excited about the fact that it will be over, regardless of how I go. Excited about the prospect of doing something in my spare time that doesn't involve committing strange characters and stranger grammar patterns to memory. Playing my bass, reading books (so much to catch up on!), doing some drawing, redesigning opinios, going for a swim! All of these things have suffered in my dedication to passing this damn thing. And for what really? A while back I was thinking of maybe teaching Japanese in Australia, but my heart is basically set on the graphic design/web design stuff, so if I do pass then it won't really mean anything career-wise.

But it will for me. I've basically been working all year for this thing, so fingers crossed. Yes I will be a bit disappointed if I don't get over the line. But I'm also realistic that I will be very close to that line, dangerously close. If I don't pass then the thought that I have learned all this useful Japanese will not really be enough to console me. But the fact that I will know that I couldn't have done any more will. I took this whole week off work and immersed myself in Japanese. I'm as well prepared as I'll ever be.

But I still have that clock to beat in the reading/grammar section. A friend Mark suggested that I tackle the grammar questions at the back of this section first as they are easier. But unfortunately as of last year the format has changed and the reading comprehension questions are worth more. I just have to plough through as fast as I can. I'll tackle it as it comes.

The listening in past exams was easier than I thought. I suppose it's obvious but I guess my ear for understanding spoken Japanese really has improved. It's weird when something like that takes a jump but you don't really notice it. And I did another last minute cram of the kanji that is on the list that I know I have problems with. I don't know where I would be without that Heisig kanji book that I mentioned a while back. Once this is over I have grand plans for a kanji resource web site based on the stories I came up with for the book. I am aware it is nerdy but I can't wait to get that all up and running, will be a good chance to teach myself how to interface PHP to a MySQL database.

Fingers crossed. Good luck everyone else out there sitting the Nihongo Nouryoku Shiken tomorrow!!! Gambarimashou!!!

Well I have been studying like a mother f*cker for this Japanese exam, and we are getting very close. Naturally I am possessed by mixed feelings of elation at the prospect of getting it out the way, and deathly fear at how difficult it might be. Nevertheless, if things go badly I know that I will have given it my best shot. I have done nothing in the past three days but eat, sleep and study.

Oh, and write this blog. Hey, we all need time out.

Everyone says that the grammar section is always the hardest, so I have been ploughing my way through a few books to get my head around the different forms that you need to know.

I definitely recommend the Kanzen Master Series (1,200 yen) for its excellent example sentences and easy-to-understand explanations of each of the grammar constructs. I have also been steadily working through Grammar for the Japanese Proficiency Exam (1,460 yen) as it has lots of exercises, although there is no furigana for the kanji, so it's tough going and requires frequent visits to the kanji dictionary.

Of course both these books are all in Japanese and not a single book explaining grammar for the exam exists in English.

But it's the reading section that has me worried. Yesterday I sat down and did a past exam for the first time, including the listening section on the CD. Overall my score was about 65% (the pass mark is 60%). So there is some hope. Here's the problem though:

I took twice as long as the allowed 70 minutes to do the reading/grammar section.

I don't think the examiners will listen to me if say "Hang on a minute, I just want to read that paragraph one more time..."

Fingers crossed.

I saw on NHK news tonight that Tetsu and Tomo, those two rambling fools (a kind of Japanese version of the Scared Weird Little Guys, without the songwriting ability or any of the wit) who are responsible for the ridiculously overplayed Nan de darou? song, won a special award for the friggin' thing. No, not the song. Just the phrase.

That's right folks. The Japanese have a massive awards ceremony at the end of every year to recognize the most popular new phrases for the year. The ryuukou-go (fashionable words) are chosen by Jiyu Kokumin Sha, a publishing company, and for some reason this makes headline news.

Quite often they are political or social terms that have been coined. Past winners have included Prime Minister Junichiro Koizumi's seiki naki kaikaku (nothing is exempt from reform) and the phrase commonly adopted to mean 'mad cow disease', kyou-gyuu-byou.

WHAT THE FUCK?

There are people being blown up in Iraq (seriously people, the war finished ages ago) and this is what makes the news? I mean, honestly, can you imagine this happening in Australia? Taking the Japanese approach, the news item would be something like this:

And making headlines this evening, Prime Minister John Howard has been presented with a major award in this year's Most Popular Phrases awards ceremony. He is credited with inventing the phrase un-Australian, which was widely adopted in the mainstream media. This phrase was selected as the winner overall because it was seen to be applicable to a wide range of viewpoints, from being anti-war to pro-immigration to not really getting into the cricket.

Other winners included Pauline Hanson's Please explain!, Kylie Mole's She goes... she goes... she just goes! and Telstra Corporation, for their catchy phrase Not happy Jan! taken from a popular television commercial...

There are a couple of livewires in my first year class at junior high school this year. Two boys in particular are uber-genki. It's not that they're bad students - they always do pair-work activities and pick things up quickly. In fact, they're great.

They're just LOUD.

It's hilarious - when we are drilling new language, they pipe up in silly deep voices and make a laugh out of it all. Some would say they are taking the piss, but they are not distracting others, but actually making the lesson more fun. I think they just love being attention-getting clowns. And it makes everyone laugh and the whole lesson a bit more enjoyable (let's face it, how exciting can listen and repeat get?)

Anyway, today after class as I was walking down the staircase on my way back to the teachers' room, I heard a loud bellow of "MASHUUUU!!!!" and looked up. My two favourite little loud boys were at the top of the stairs, screaming enthusiastically at the top of their voices.

Mashuuuu!! Nan iro? What colour? What colour?

The boys had their legs spaced widely apart and were grinning as they eagerly pointed to their groins.

Ahh yes, thus our young curious scouts stumble upon the age-old and oft-speculated question that must plague Asian kids daily, from Timor to Thailand:

What colour is the pubic hair on a foreigner who doesn't have black hair?????

And thus one of the mysteries finally gets solved. Boys, it's flourescent pink. And yes, it glows in the dark.

I mean, honestly.

I am indeed a sucker for punishment.

I had the misfortune of going along to see some rakugo this afternoon. Rakugo is the Japanese equivalent to stand-up comedy, but obviously the style is quite different. In the West most stand-up involves at least some element of being rude. Eddie Murphy, Billy Connolly, Rodney Rude, Steady Eddy. Even Jerry Seinfeld's snippets had the occasional snippet of innuendo. The goal is to have the audience in fits for the majority of the time they are sitting in down.

It seems the goals in rakugo are a little different. I'm not quite sure what they are, but if you can imagine going along to a family reunion and hearing your great grandpa Ralph relay stories from "when I was a lad", from dinner until the early hours of the morning, then you would be getting close. From what I had read, the stories are generally set in the Edo period, and involve the performer assuming different roles and basically acting as the medium for these different characters to have conversations to facilitate the story. The smells, sounds and images of Edo-Tokyo are supposed to come washing back from the past.

I had three reasons for attending this side-splitting (ahem) performance. One was because one of the performers was a guy who works at my school. No, not as a teacher - Yoshizawa-san works in the office. I don't have much to do with him except at the end of the month when he approaches me for money for the school lunches I eat there every day. But he's a nice guy and had mentioned that he was performing, so I said I'd come along.

The second reason was, of course, to tick it off the list. Seeing some live rakugo is one of those cultural things that, like Sumo, Noh and Kabuki, one feels obliged to experience at least once while living in Japan.

And thirdly, it was free. Say no more.

Nick Pal had expressed an interest in joining me, but was running a little late. I was looking forward to it though (it couldn't run longer than an hour or so, surely) and so I settled into my seat at the Fukugawa-Edo Community Centre. I suddenly realised that not only was I the only foreigner (as expected), but I was also the youngest person in the audience. By about 40 years.

I desperately sent Nick a text message on the phone, requesting that he bring beer.

The first storyteller began his ramble, and although I actually understood more of the Japanese than I had at my school culture day, I still couldn't put it together. The audience chuckled here and there. His facial expressions and staccato arguments that he had with himself were comical enough to draw a smile from me, but basically most of the dialogue went over my head.

Fifty minutes later I realised that I could be in trouble. My Japanese listening muscles were prepared to sit through an hour, maybe an hour and a half of Edo period rough slang, but it looked like there were going to be four performers, and if each was going to run for that long, well... you do the math.

Nick arrived half an hour in and we both sat patiently, straining our ears and trying our darndest to comprehend what was going on. It was futile though.

As soon as the first performer finished, we cracked our tall cans of beer open and began to chug-a-lug. I think it was the fastest I have drunk 500mL of anything. Once both cans were downed we gave a silent nod to each other and hastily made our exit.

Here was my dilemma though - I had seen Yoshizawa-san on the way in to the hall, and said hello, so he knew I was present. I had to watch his performance, but who knew how long away it was. We asked the lovely ladies at the front desk. They empathised with our situation (Muzukashii, desho? - I guess it's difficult hey?) and informed us that at 3.30, Yoshizawa-san, the star performer of the day, would be taking to the stage for our laughing enjoyment.

Nick and I took our time, dined on some sashimi at a local hole-in-the-wall restaurant, and sobered up. Half a litre of beer with no lunch really goes straight to the head. It was good though, we hadn't caught up for a while and had a good chat before preparing for the final show.

We snuck in at around 3.30 and eagerly awaited Yoshizawa-san's humorous antics. He took his place on the sacred cushion on stage and began rambling. And rambling. And on he went. I picked up bits and pieces but even what I could understand wasn't funny. It just wasn't. No-one in the audience was laughing either. I panned around.

They were all asleep.

Well, not all of them. But definitely a majority. I even heard a snore coming from the back row. This was supposed to be comedy! And I had yet to hear a single laugh. Poor Yoshizawa-san, I really wanted to support him. But I just couldn't take it any more.

I sculled the rest of my Yebisu beer, turned to Nick, and got a nod of agreement from him.

And we got the hell out of there.

I attended the first half of my junior high school's anniversary festival today. I get the impression that one doesn't normally get invited to these kinds of things (I didn't last year), but I have established a good rapport with the teachers at this school and felt like I should do the right thing and make an appearance.

I rocked up (9.00 on a Saturday morning, mind you) not quite knowing what to expect, and took my seat in the gymnasium in the area reserved for teachers, off to the side of all the students.

And thus the music begun.

It must be that Japan is a karaoke-culture that so many kids have no inhibitions about just getting up on stage and belting out a number. Ikeda-kun from the 3rd grade did it while playing a guitar and harmonica, and he sounded good. The girls from 3B didn't quite hit the high notes of their soppy number, but credit to them for having a go (they still sounded better than I would have had I tried to sign in front of a few hundred people). I really enjoyed listening to the different styles that were performed, from pop rock to love ballads to brass-band instrumentals.

But the problem for me was that after the music finished, the rest of the day was full of plays. Music is a universal language. Japanese is not.

Before I continue, let me clarify that I tried really hard to understand what was going on. I had drunk a Dekavita C genki drink with my breakfast to pep me up in preparation for a long day. And for quite a while now I have felt confident enough to carry out a conversation in Japanese with anyone about pretty much anything. If you don't know the word for something, you can always say it another way and be understood.

But hearing native speakers speak amongst themselves and understanding what is going on is an entirely different ball game. I have definitely made ground lately in terms of comprehending the Japanese I hear around me, and I'm sure if I watched more television understanding would improve. Unfortunately I'm just not much of a television watcher.

And so it was useless. The speed these kids rattled off their lines, using all kinds of variations and rough phrases for when people get angry or are frustrated made comprehension impossible. The play lasted about 45 minutes and I understood about 10% of it. I was proud to see my students up there, so naturally acting out some drama about... well I actually have no idea what it was about... but I was still proud to see them up there on stage and in lights. But that's not enough to get you through 45 minutes while sitting in an uncomfortable chair. The audience laughed at punchlines, gasped at shocking turns of events, and cheered at heartfelt speeches. And I clapped politely.

All of a sudden I felt incredibly lonely. Here I was, sitting on my own in a big hall surrounded by a constant stream of a foreign language coming at me, with no reprise. I've been in this country for over 2 years and really made an effort at studying the language and immersing myself in as much of the culture as I can, and I basically understood nothing. It was a frightening realization.

The festival runs all day. The afternoon is full of plays, and as much as I wanted to "do the right thing" and stick around, I had to excuse myself. I used the word yakusoku, which means that I had a promise that I had to keep.

Not a complete lie - the promise was with myself, and involved having some solo time, before I have to go into Japanese mode again for the dinner with all the teachers from 6.00 tonight. At 6,000 yen a head, it better be a damn fine meal.

Never since arriving in Tokyo have I wanted to be surrounded by English so much. Not a good frame of mind to be in for studying for my exam. Hence the question: is it better to be completely ignorant and not speak any nihongo, so that you don't get invited to all these things and don't have to struggle through the frustrations of understanding nothing? Probably not, but it would certainly be a hell of a lot easier...

Well, I am studying like mad in the countdown to this year's Japanese Proficiency Exam. Having flown through level 3 last year I am taking a crack at level 2 this December. But the only flying to be done this time round is likely to be my hands in the air (out of frustration, not out of joy).

Yes, the jump in difficulty from level 3 to level 2 is enormous, and I am beginning to ponder the wisdom of my decision. But, I've paid the 5,000 yen entry fee and on the off chance that I might scrape through, I'm going to give it everything I have. If I was to sit the exam right now I would guess that I would probably get about 20%, but there is still (a bit of) time. Kim is also having a crack at the exam this year - level 4 - and has a much higher probability of passing as her nihongo has really come along lately (surprisingly, since she actually started doing the occasional bit of study!)

Because I won't be thinking about much else, over the coming months I plan to write mainly about Japanese study: books available, methods, useful internet resources and the like.

The most interesting part of studying Japanese is the kanji character set, so let me start with one of the best dedicated kanji study sites, kanji clinic.

Although the design is terrible (really Mary, yellow on black is hard on the eyes), the author writes a column for the Japan Times about studying kanji, and scrolling through the archives of these columns there are lots of useful tips and links. I find kanji characters fascinating, but there are so many of the bastards, so reading as much as possible about the different methods you can approach your study of the kanji with is imperative.

Another great site is rikai.com. For the student of Japanese, this web site is honestly amazing. You can input the URL of any Japanese web page, and it will spit out a version of the page which provides the reading and English meaning of all of the kanji characters on the page. [Note: for people who can't read any Japanese, this doesn't mean it translates the page into English. You do need to be able to read hiragana and have some knowledge of Japanese grammar to get the full meaning, but you can probably get the gist]. There is also a great kanji flashcards page on this site too, very comprehensive and complete!

For studying in the wee hours of the morning though, a computer simply cannot beat a good old-fashioned book, and after trying a few different ones, I have become an evangelist for James Heisig's Remembering the Kanji 1, the best-selling seminal text for teaching kanji characters through mnemonics.

Although it addresses over 2,000 characters (almost enough to read a newspaper), this book only teaches you how to write and understand the meaning of each character - not any of the Japanese or Chinese readings. So once you have completed the book, you will then still have to do additional study to learn how to read them (that's where my precious electronic dictionary has come in handy). However, for those who live in Japan and have a higher level of conversational Japanese than written Japanese (usually the case), this task then becomes simplified: each time you happen on a new character on the way to work, there is less learning to be done because you have the meaning under your belt already. I have found this true for many of the characters that appear in day-to-day life, such as on advertisements in the train and in signage on the street.

I actually bought a similar book a while ago entitled Kanji ABC, by Foerster and Tamura, and worked my way through creating stories using their method. However, I found their method to be massively flawed, for reasons I will detail another time. In short, if you are interested in learning all the kanji (an ominous sounding task), then I firmly believe Heisig's method is the only way to do it. Buy the book.

More late, back to the study! I am only up to character number 1,201. And after that there is the readings of each character, vocabulary, grammar, reading comprehension, listening...