Crash Jonas

"Your shower shoes have fungus on them. You'll never make it to the bigs with fungus on your shower shoes. Think classy, you'll be classy. Win 20 in the show, you can let the fungus grow back and the press'll think you're colorful. Until you win 20 in the show, however, it only means you are a slob."
-- Bull Durham

About a week ago, we went over to a fellow teacher’s house for a curry dinner with his wife and 3-year-old daughter. During dinner, the wife, who spoke no English, smiled broadly, pointed over at Jonas and declared, “Kevin Costner.” So what do we think? Does Jonas look like a young, Bull Durham-era Kevin Costner. I intially dismissed this, as I’ve been told I look just like Matt Damon. But after a second look, I don’t know. Maybe she’s right.

 

A future Jonas?

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A young Costner?

The daughter was a full year and two months older than Jonas, though exactly the same size, and I think this confused her terribly, because Jonas, being younger and being Jonas, wasn’t much interested in talking with her. He ignored nearly everything she said and instead opted to play with all of her toys. She also appeared completely flummoxed that we couldn’t understand what she was saying. This happens to us a lot. Kids walk up to us and start jabbering away in Japanese. We tell them, in Japanese, that we don’t understand. And from the looks on their faces, and can just see them saying to themselves, “Why the hell not?”

 

She sat still from start to finish. He sat still for a few minutes.

We went camping last weekend, cutting the trip short after just one night. Jonas bolted awake at 3:30 a.m. and decided, instead of sleeping, he’d scream as loud as possible. This was a problem as the campground was packed. So I put him in the car and started driving, hoping he’d fall back asleep. He didn’t. He just sat there, staring out the window for the full two hours as I drove completely around Japan’s deepest lake, then drove to another prefecture, Iwate, before returning back to the campground. So we ate breakfast, went to Nyuto Onsen, featured earlier in the year in The New York Times for good reason, as it’s definitely the oldest and most authentic-seeming onsen we’ve been to, and then headed for home. Here is the photographic evidence.

 
 
 
 

I think anyone who does one of these blogs has to, at some point in time, apologize for neglecting it for a period of time. I wish I could say that I (Tricia has forbidden me from speaking for her in any way whatsoever in this space, so I will honor this directive by only commenting for myself) have been terribly busy and haven’t had the time. This would be untrue. I’ve been no busier than at any other point I’ve been here. Maybe less so. I’ve simply run out of steam. After nine months, Japan and all things Japanese are no longer new and interesting. They haven’t been for awhile. They just are. I’m still enjoying it all. But I think the end is in sight, and I’m ready to cross that line.

Finally, one of my schools canceled classes last week to honor all the sports teams and hold its annual river cleanup. This attracted the attention of the local newspaper. And if you look closely, that’s me in the middle of all that trash. Among the items discovered: a rusty, triangular saw, a Japanese wash basin and a hot tea dispenser. Thankfully, no bodies. This is Japan, after all.