Volunteers from JETAANY helped make this year's yo-yo fishing game a big success.

By Alma Jennings (Fukushima-ken, 2008-10) for JQ magazine. Alma works at Japan Society in New York as a development assistant in foundation and government relations.

The sixth annual Japan Day @ Central Park took place on a warm Sunday May 13. Over 40,000 people attended the event, which featured live performances, Japanese games and language lessons, and the four-mile “Japan Run.” This year also marked the triumphant return of food tents, where volunteers dished out free sushi, udon, Pocky, and other Japanese vittles to hungry visitors.

According to their homepage, the goals of Japan Day are to build bridges of understanding between the people of Japan and the U.S., showcase the local Japanese community’s appreciation toward New York, and facilitate stronger grassroots connections within the local Japanese community. This year, the JET Alumni Association of New York (JETAANY) teamed up with Japan Society, a New York City-based organization that deepens understanding between the U.S. and Japan, to offer traditional Japanese “yo-yo fishing.” In this addictive game, participants try to win a colorful balloon by using a paper hook to lift it from a pool of water. Volunteers from the Japan Local Government Center, Mitsubishi, K Line Logistics, Mirai IT International, and the Bronx Science Key Club also provided much appreciated help at the tent.

The cute yo-yos look deceptively easy to make. In fact, they are tricky to make and can get messy. Volunteers showed up hours before the event began to blow up the balloons, which tend to deflate over a few days and thus couldn’t be made in advance. Japan Society’s director of special events and JET alum Christy Jones (Nagasaki-ken, 1995-98) served as the yo-yo activity organizer on behalf of the Society, encouraging Japan Society’s staff and JET alums to prepare thousands of paper hooks before the big day.

I wasn’t keen on waking up at 6:30 a.m. on a Sunday, so I signed up for the afternoon shift. When I arrived, the yo-yo tent was a blur of activity with volunteers making balloons in the back, directing the line of customers, and encouraging visitors at the pools. Veterans of previous Japan Days directed volunteers new to the yo-yo activity to ensure that everything ran smoothly. At times when the line was very long, the volunteers shifted from allowing families to take their time to hurrying them along to make sure people didn’t have to wait too long.

I started my shift by attempting to make a few balloons and promptly made a mess despite the fact that I had learned the technique a few days earlier. After a few more failed endeavors, I finally succeeded in making a balloon that wasn’t itching to explode. I made a few more and then decided to go encourage fishers at the pools, which was a lot more fun for me. People were very excited and there were a lot of adorable kids who reminded me of my days on JET teaching elementary school students. I even used a bit of my horribly underused Japanese speaking with the Japanese parents and kids.

The rule that we all agreed on prior to Japan Day was to allow one balloon per person. However, the allure of the colorful bouncing balloons proved too much for most of our visitors and many of them absconded with at least two each. Some volunteers also found the rule difficult to enforce when they saw the pleading eyes of the children.

According to a tally taken by Japan Day’s executive producers Gorgeous Entertainment, over 2,200 people participated in the yo-yo fishing (that’s roughly 400 per hour!), making it one of the most popular activities at Japan Day. Many people enjoyed the game so much that they waited in line to go twice or even three times. All the volunteers were in high spirits at the end of the day, which culminated in a group photo.

Japan Day was not only a great success based on attendance and audience enthusiasm, but also as a collaboration between Japan Society and JETAANY. Motoatsu Sakurai, president of Japan Society, was enthusiastic about the participation of JET alumni, saying, “JETs are forward-minded people and their dedication to Japan is impressive. I was greatly looking forward to working with them on Japan Day.”

JETAANY president Monica Yuki agreed.

“It was a really great turnout,” she said. “It was a fun-filled day and it allowed us to share a tradition we learned in Japan with the New York community.”

If this article has piqued your interest, I hope you’ll join us next year as a volunteer!

For more on Japan Day @ Central Park, visit www.japandaynyc.org. Watch a video report that aired on Fujisankei TV about JETAANY’s preparation for the event here.

• PDF:  http://www.jetaabc.ca/wp-content/uploads/2012/05/NewsletterV17N1.pdf
• Online viewer version on Issuu.com at http://issuu.com/jetaabc/docs/newsletterv17n1

© Satoshi Narita

What is Photohoku and how (and why) did you become involved with this project?

Photohoku is a family photo-album building project for those affected by the events of March 11th. It’s a portmanteau blending of the words Photo and Tohoku. It was officially started on September 11th of 2011 by myself (Brian Scott Peterson) and our co-founder, Yuko Yoshikawa. We became involved in the project having collaborated on another Tokyo-based project called Tokyo Kids Photo.

Basically we go to the earthquake and tsunami affected areas of Tohoku, armed with instant cameras and instant film and find families who lost all their photos in the disaster and make new photos for them. We put those photos in a new family album for them and present that newly started album to the families. If the families don’t have a camera, we also give them a retired digital camera we’ve collected as donations from our friends and families. Finally, on subsequent trips, we print the photos from the cameras with have given and add those photos to the albums as well so they can continue them. Basically help them start their photographic lives over.

How did Photohoku evolve from being just an idea to becoming a full-on reality?

We basically wanted to repeat our Tokyo Kids Photo portraiture project in Tohoku by simply traveling to the affected areas to make some nice new photos for the affected families. We would have to take the photos, return to Tokyo to print them and send them back to the families, which seemed straightforward enough but then we got the idea to use instant film and instant cameras. Coincidentally we were working with Fujifilm on an unrelated project at the time, so we asked them if they would consider supporting our project with some of their instant film. We were hoping they’d supply us with a few packs of film but they ended up essentially offering us more than we could possibly shoot ourselves in an entire year, which enabled us to start taking other photographers with us.

How frequently does the Photohoku team travel to Tohoku and, on average, how many families do you photograph and make albums for on each trip?

We travel to Tohoku about once a month, twice if we are lucky, and we are willing to go more if our supporters afford us the chance. Since September of 2011, we have been 9 times and gifted well over 100 new family photo albums and given countless photos.

What was the response like from the families who have been photographed and given new photo albums and/or donated digital cameras?

The response is unanimously positive. As the situation has been understandably mined for photos, people are occasionally at first leery, however once they understand we are giving them a photo that is just for them, everybody warms up to the idea, and when they see the magic of instant film, they are thrilled to have a their photo taken and receive a new album. It’s not uncommon for the recipients to shed a tear or two, nor is it uncommon for us to share one with them. It gets pretty emotional at times.

Are there any families in particular that stood out and/or left an impression on you?

There are just too many to mention. Off the top of my head, there was the couple whose granddaughter survived her mother (their daughter). The grandparents told us how sad they were knowing they wouldn’t be able to see the granddaughter grow up, much less give her the care she needed, and was so uncertain about what the future held. The grandmother told us she cried everyday and that she was more miserable than anyone around her. When the she saw herself smiling in the photo we took of her, she told us she hadn’t expected to ever see herself smiling again. She was so happy to have our album. (YouTube video of their meeting here.)

Then there was the family who escaped from their car through a shattered back window — who managed to crawl on the roof of the car (a mother and 4 kids), to then be rescued by others from atop a roof of a home. Stories beyond belief and certainly beyond words.

So far, what has been some of your most memorable Photohoku moments?

Every experience is truly special and unforgettable. We’ve met some amazingly kind people, heard unbelievable stories of both heroism and loss. We’ve laughed, we’ve cried, we’ve been invited into homes, been fed, been boozed, been sheltered, been given gifts, been bombarded by children (who know us by name), had songs sung to us, even asked for autographs. Every moment stands out as being THE moment of the project. In all of this, we have learned that even if we take a team of 6 people, it’s freezing cold, and we have few opportunities to connect, that even reaching just one family can have an impact on them for the rest of their lives, maybe even after their gone. In that, it’s fully worthwhile and unforgettable every time.

A question from our camera おたくs living here: What kind of equipment do you use for your Photohoku trips?

Basically we use any cameras that take instant film. Some of the cameras have included the Konica Instant Press, the Polaroid 195, the Mamiya Universal Press, a Linhof Master Technika, among others.

One fun camera we have is a homemade 3D (Stereoscopic) instant camera made from two Fuji Cheki cameras which takes two instant photos at the same time which when looked at through a special 3D viewer, which we make with the kids during a workshop, becomes a completely other experience in itself.

Looking forward, what do you want to see happen with Photohoku?

To be frank, we want to see Photohoku blow up. Our ambitious pipe-dream goal is to give every single last family in Japan who lost their photos in the earthquake and tsunami a start on a new album if they want one. To do that, it may take years, it may take a lifetime. But this is what we know how to do and we intend to continue is as best as we can for as long as we can. For the time being, we will keep going to Tohoku once a month and reaching out to as many families as we can.

For those of us living in Canada and other parts of the world, what are some ways that we can help/contribute to Photohoku?

Please consider helping by making a donation though out website. Our main expense is getting there and back. Any donation you consider making will likely be put towards getting a photographer and an assistant from Tokyo to a temporary housing area in the affected areas of Tohoku where they can use their talent to realize our goals which can be distilled down to giving the lasting smile of a photograph.

If you can’t make a financial contribution, please consider sending a retired digital camera to us so we can find it a new home in Tohoku.

If you can’t do either of those, please share about Photohoku with your family and friends. Eventually, it will find itself under the right nose and we can all work together to bring smiles to those who really need them most.

Last question:  What makes you smile?

We’re photographers. Smiles make us smile, naturally. SAY CHEESE!

More information about Photohoku (including a bilingual Press Kit) can be found at photohoku.org. Check out their trips on their frequently-updated Facebook page.

"'Live Your Dream' is principally about Taylor, but it is actually the story of all the JETs who come to Japan, so I really want to look at what the experience is for a variety of people and how that experience changes both the teacher and the students they interact with."

By Renay Loper (Iwate-ken, 2006-07) for JQ magazine. Renay is a freelance writer and associate program officer at the Japan Foundation Center for Global Partnership. Visit her blog at Atlas in Her Hand.

Live Your Dream: The Taylor Anderson Story is the latest work by filmmaker and Global Film Network founder Regge Life, who has been making groundbreaking films for over two decades including the acclaimed Doubles: Japan and America’s Intercultural Children, and most recently Reason to Hope, which chronicles the events surrounding the 2010 Haiti earthquake. Live Your Dream not only shares the story of JET alum Taylor Anderson (Miyagi-ken, 2008-11) who tragically lost her life in the 2011 tsunami, but it also seeks to celebrate the lives of those who live their dreams and inspire others to make a difference. JQ caught up with Life to discuss the film, which is being prepared for a November release.

Your relationship with Japan spans over two decades. What stirred you to first go there, and how has this relationship grown over time?

This is a question with a very long answer, so let me try to be brief and to the point as possible. Japanese film has always intrigued me, so as a young filmmaker I would watch marathons of Japanese films at a cinema on Eighth Avenue called the Elgin. After years and so many movies, I was introduced to the Creative Artists Program of the NEA and Bunka-cho, and that is how I went the first time to witness the making of Tora-san #43.

How has it grown? Well, leaps and bounds. Four completed films, almost four years in residence in Tokyo, and a current feature project in development for almost 10 years.

What inspired you to make this film and document Taylor’s story?

Like most people, watching what was happening [during the time of the tsunami and earthquake] was mind-boggling and devastating. I have never been to Ishinomaki before, but I have been to Hachinohe, Morioka, Ichinoseki, and other parts of the region; so when I saw water rushing over rice fields like that and trucks and cars being carried—I just couldn’t believe it. It was devastating [to watch] for someone who has never been there before, but when you have been there, you [can better understand] the magnitude of what was happening. So at that time I’d just finished the film about Haiti, and from my work there, I realized there was probably going to be a story that needed to be told: something that no one would cover.

I don’t remember where I saw the fist e-mail about Taylor’s story or how it came to be, I just remember reading about her online. I made a few calls and one thing lead to the next, and slowly but surely, I was able to get in touch with Taylor’s family. And even still, it was all about timing. As a parent, I would have completely understood if no one got back to me. Then suddenly, I got this email from Andy, Taylor’s father. Giving him credit, he did his due diligence and did some research on me and became familiar with my work. [This all happened] at a time when they were swarmed by the media, so I took my time and we worked as they were comfortable.

Every step of the way, I checked in. Andy connected me with some of Taylor’s friends from Ishinomaki, so when I went back to Japan, I carved out some time to spend with them. One of her friends picked me up from the train station and that’s when it really hit me. At that time [the devastated area] was pretty much cleaned up—but even still, there was a lot to be done. Visiting Ishinomaki and meeting [Taylor’s] friends solidified it with me. I knew I needed to share her story.

Since this is a documentary about a JET participant, what cooperation did you receive from JET Program itself for the making of the film?

The CLAIR office in Japan was very generous to the film and made a remarkable pledge. We also received support directly from one of the people on staff! The JET alumni chapter in New York City (JETAANY) was also very generous, as well as JETs from all over the U.S. and even abroad.

What is it about Taylor’s story that is different from any other story or any other JET participant?

Not taking anything away from anyone else or any other JET participant, but everyone who speaks about her talks about what an unbelievable kind of person she was, about her passion for life, her passion for Japan. For instance, the story behind one of the photos we’ve used for the website is inspiring. Earlier that day, she and all her friends had done a huge bike ride scavenger hunt where they had rode their bikes all around Ishinomaki finding different things just for fun. It was summer, so you know it was very hot!

When it was done, everyone was tired and all they wanted to do was go back home, take a shower and chill. Taylor wouldn’t allow it. She told everyone that one of her kindergarten classes was having a summer matsuri and they all were going! So she made them all put on a yukata and go over to the school. Apparently, this is what she did. She just grabbed people and said, “come on, this is what we are doing’” and “let’s do this and let’s do that.” That passion and zest for life, that “let’s not waste a moment of this precious thing called life”—that’s just inspiring to me!

It reminds me of not only my time in Japan, but also my first time abroad when I went to West Africa. I realized the meaning of being in the “present”…that it really is a gift. It also makes me think about how much we take for granted. Think about if you find yourself somewhere where nothing is taken for granted, it makes you really look and appreciate life, every moment of it. That’s the impression I get of Taylor. That’s the kind of stuff I want to celebrate and let people know about.

Also, I am trying to build the Monty Dickson (Iwate-ken, 2009-11) story as well—it’s proven difficult because there’s nobody that can really talk about his experience in Rikuzentakata, so I am still looking. Though, the more I learn about Taylor and Monty, the more I am learning that these are two kindred spirits. Whether they knew each other or not, they both were living a dream. Taylor’s happened for her early on when she was a little girl: she just knew this is where she had to be. There was nothing that was going to stop her. For both of them, you realize something really clicked; and it was something about Japan and their life there. After all these years working with Japan, I have a deep appreciation for that, for people who can connect with the country more than the superficial level. I want to celebrate that.

Both Taylor and Monty had this philosophical side to them—they had sayings and expressions that they shared with friends. Without giving it all away, I think these are two people who kind of knew they weren’t going to be here much longer. You will see in the film that their friends have since started to make sense of their pieces of advice and little sayings. It all now has a new resonance; it is starting to come back up. And it makes you begin to wonder, “what did they know?”

It really makes you stop and think, you can’t live life at 30 mph, you have to live at 60 mph.

U.S.-based production starts in June, and you’ll be going to Japan this month. What are your plans there?

In Japan, I am doing more interviews with friends of Taylor and some of the companion stories about the experience of other JETs during the crisis. I am also hoping to get to Rikuzentakata to meet someone who knew Monty Dickson and can speak about his life and times there.

What else do you want to include in the film?

As I just shared, Live Your Dream is principally about Taylor, but it is actually the story of all the JETs who come to Japan, so I really want to look at what the experience is for a variety of people and how that experience changes both the teacher and the students they interact with.

As we know, you were running a campaign on Kickstarter and I see that you have surpassed your fundraising goal, congratulations!  Moving forward, what can people do now to continue to support the film?

Kickstater is great, because it does just that, kick start. It is not the entire budget for the project—the goal was about 70% [of the total budget] and was what was needed just to shoot the film. It did not take into account original music, making a Japanese version, and of course all of the things that have to be done to promote and disseminate the film after it is made. The next phase is editing. So if anyone would like to be a part of contributing to the dissemination and distribution of the film, that would be great! For making the Japanese version, helping to see that this film is distributed widely in both the U.S. and Japan, contact me at www.thetaylorandersonstory.com and liveyourdream1 [at] earthlink.net.

You mentioned dissemination. What are your plans?

First, we are going to try and get it distributed as widely as we can, for example through organizations such as the American Association Teachers of Japanese. We would also love to see this get into the Monbusho in Japan. We would love to see this introduced into the Japanese educational system. I think this would be an invaluable tool to help kids to really think outside of the boundaries.

After 20-plus years that I have spent coming and going [in Japan], the thing that I have noticed that still plagues Japan is that it is so insular; and a lot of it [has to do with] the educational system. The educational system is not teaching kids to look outside. We feel this film can be a step in the right direction; a needed step, I feel.

How do you think this film will help kids to look outside?

I think they need a role model in a way. They need somebody from the outside who came to their country and interacted with them, and became a part of their community. I am learning more about Monty, but I know for sure that’s what Taylor did in Ishinomaki. Her mission was to really become part of the fabric of the community. And I think if Japanese kids see that, this whole thing of us and them—the Gaijin and the Nihonjin—will start to break down. To me, the power of the [JET] Program is being able to go out and explore Japan, find out what’s going; not just being the “gaijin on display.”

What about your dissemination plans here in the States?

Most of my films up until now have been in higher ed, so I have to admit this is kind of a new world for me. I am really looking to get into the secondary school world.

You have mentioned tons of takeaways from the film, but for the JET community in particular, what do you hope we walk away with?

I am not saying everyone should try to be Taylor or try to be Monty, but everybody, particularly now, needs to be more open and in some respects humbled at the opportunity of being a JET and an ambassador between two countries and two cultures. Don’t limit the assignment to merely being the gaijin on display. See it as an opportunity, a real chance to be and do more; to leave something behind when you go and encourage those who you may meet, or have met, while in Japan to follow your path in America. Maybe even one day you, would get a call from a kid you taught in a far-off place in Japan or someone you interacted with, saying they are now in America because of you, because of what you showed them.

It’s about reaffirming the mission of the JET Program and the encouraging the new generation of JETs to become the generation that builds the new relationships for “a brave new world.” We know the world is changing. The U.S.-Japan relationship is going to change, too. We can’t do what we did 10, 15 years ago. Times have changed. There is something new going on. The JETs of today and tomorrow have to be part of that newness and part of that change.

To me, the story of Live Your Dreams is not so much what happened to Taylor, but more about the good works. Yes, her story is in it and she is not here with us in the physical sense anymore, but Taylor’s mission is still very much alive.

Live Your Dream premieres Nov. 9, 2012 at Saint Catherine’s School (Taylor’s High School) and CenterStage in Richmond, VA. For news and additional screenings, visit the film’s homepage at www.thetaylorandersonstory.com.

JET alum and 'Monkey Business' editor Roland Kelts will appear at Japan Night @ Joe's Pub in New York May 6. (Kaz)

By JQ magazine editor Justin Tedaldi (CIR Kobe-shi, 2001-02) for Examiner.com. Visit his Japanese culture page here for related stories.

Regular visitors to NoHo’s St. Mark’s Place are known to enjoy many of the Japanese pubs and eateries that dot the street down to Avenue A. This Sunday (May 6), neighbor Joe’s Pub will host live music and the latest English release of a notable Nippon-centric literary anthology.

Japan Night @ Joe’s Pub, held at the eponymous nightclub a stone’s throw below Astor Place, promises an unforgettable night of transcultural readings, music and live performances. On tap for Sunday: revered Japanese writers Masatsugu Ono, Tomoko Shibasaki, and award-winning author and translator Motoyuki Shibata will arrive from Tokyo to share the stage with American authors Stuart Dybek, Kelly Link, and Canadian translator, scholar and editor Ted Goossen.

The scriveners’ summit will celebrate the second Issue of Monkey Business International, the latest English-language edition of the acclaimed Japanese literary magazine that Pulitzer-winning author Junot Díaz calls “one of the year’s best publications” and Luna Park Review dubbed “one of the seven best literary magazines of 2011.”

Emceeing is JET alum (Osaka-shi, 1998-99), Japanamerica author and Monkey Business contributing editor Roland Kelts (click here for an exclusive interview conducted with Kelts last year), who describes the literary project as “all about dear friends calling upon me to be a bridge between the worlds I inhabit, write about and know best—giving me an enormous opportunity to feel a momentary spurt of self-worth.”

For the complete story, click here.

The view from Sakura Matsuri at Brooklyn Botanic Garden, April 2012. (Preston Hatfield)

By Preston Hatfield (Kofu-shi, 2009-10) for JQ magazine. Preston moved to New York in January 2012 from San Francisco and works for Skyhorse Publishing. In addition to fantastic manuscripts, Preston is now accepting submissions from people who want to be his friend. Abduct him from his house in the middle of the night, or find him on Facebook and ask about his JET blog in which he details his exploits and misadventures in that crazy Land of the Rising Sun we all love.

In the end I find myself in Cherry Esplanade, sinking to the ground, my back comfortable against the broad face of a cherry tree whose gnarled and mostly barren branches still sported a few late blossoms flitting in the breeze, the petals of those that had come before it strewn across the grounds, specking the meadow in gentle shades of pink. It’s an act of defeat, really; an act of resignation.

I never did find that damn press table.

*           *           *

I arrived early, as planned, eager to take in the 31st Annual Sakura Matsuri at the Brooklyn Botanic Garden. It was my first matsuri since moving to New York in January, my first trip to the Garden. I was stoked.

As instructed, I went to the entrance designated for performers, event staff and press and told the man at the front desk who I was. After consulting his clipboard and giving me a skeptical look, he let me in and gave me directions to the tent where I could pick up my press kit and thank the publicist for giving JQ magazine and myself the opportunity to cover the event. I set off, and once inside was instantly struck by how large the Brooklyn Botanic Garden really is. Droves of people had shown up for the event, a fair number of them in costume, though conspicuously, from where I stood just outside the visitor center, it was not readily apparent where the main event was being held. As I continued walking down the path, I was growing more and more sure that either the guy at the front desk either gave me poor instructions, or I was poor at following them (and this would not surprise most people who know me, least of all my mom or some of my elementary school arts and crafts teachers).

Leave it to me to let this bother me, to knock impatiently at the door of my mind so loudly that I was unable to really take in and appreciate my surroundings. Find the press table. That is the first priority. Enjoying myself can come later.

And so I wandered. Every curve of the path, every safari I took through a thicket or brush to see what lay beyond seemed to bring me no closer to my destination. But hark! In the distance I heard, and indeed all along had been hearing, the rumbling boom of taiko drums. Thought I, It may not be where the press table is, but there’ll at least be something to witness and report on.

*           *           *

The drummers are well into their last number now. At such close proximity, I feel the vibrations bumping me through the ground, practically shoving the air around me. For a different person, on a different day, this might be jarring, but for me it’s not. Strangely, I’m imagining this pounding in my ears and my chest as something reminiscent of a penetrating massage, and for the first time in far too long I exhale deeply and visualize the stress of New York City subsiding. Shoulders easy, chest deflates. Here in this moment I am lighter, but that weight isn’t far away; it’s only gone as far as the garden exit.

*           *           *

When I went off in search of the drummers, what I found first was not Cherry Esplanade, where the main stage and food tents are set up, but the Japanese garden. Walking through it brought forth a powerful kick of nostalgia. The garden is beautiful, a gem of landscape engineering (if that wasn’t a real term before, I hereby declare that henceforth it shall be). With the slightest bit of effort I knew I could convince my willing mind that I was back in my old haunts in the Yamanashi mountains, or touring the grounds at one of the gardens in Kyoto. But some of us are wise to abstain from playing make believe so recklessly.

The crash back into reality can be harsh. Still a stranger to New York, I feel more at home in the Garden than I have anywhere else. So many cozy memories of “better” times surface with the appearance of a maple leaf or a koi, or hearing the alien twang of a shamisen. Recklessly, I step, and suddenly the press table is forgotten. Back I go, spirits and memories taking flight, to a place where autumn breezes make playthings out of cherry blossoms and mountains burst with grass instead of trash and cigarette butts, where people are quick to apologize for the slightest of inconveniences, and preserving wa in society is paramount.

*           *           *

I come out of my reverie long enough to hear the MC introduce the Ryukyu Buyo and Nihon Buyo dancers. I’m in a freefall now. Terminal. I miss you, Japan. 2010 was a long time ago; 2008 longer still. I feel, as I so often do, the acute pangs of regret, that I could have, should have been with you in March, 2011.

I find a distraction in the gaiety happening around me; so many jovial, happy families, friends and couples, all enjoying the weather and festivities under the cherry trees, many partaking in the overpriced bento lunches and seasonal Japanese sweets. Were it not for living on a shoestring budget I would seriously consider buying one for myself, if only to relive those late night stops at Family Mart on my way home from a night of careless revelry with my friends or office nomikais. I ate these lunches with a certain amount of relish when I was an exchange student at Tsuru University, sitting out on the school patio with the other members of my program, each of us with wooden chopsticks in one hand, flimsy plastic trays in the other.

Regrettably, it’s very clear to me at this point that I will fail to adequately do my job as a reporter of this event. I admit I did not interview any of the performers or try to get a quote in advance from the event publicist. Hell, I’ve hardly spoken to the other spectators. The one interaction I went out of my way to initiate was to offer to take a family picture of a Japanese couple and their daughter. “Shall I take a picture with the three of you?” I asked in their native tongue, which I had previously observed them using amongst themselves.

“Oh, your Japanese is very good,” the father told me in English. How many times did I have that conversation and get that same double take which resolved into unnecessary and self-defeating praise in English while I was in Japan? It used to annoy me, and I suppose it still does somewhat, but the difference is now when I tell them “Yes, I speak Japanese” it is with less and less certainty. Every day I sense my language ability atrophying. A part of me is dying. Like the Maza and Dota in Murakami’s 1Q84, being away from Japan, the other half of my cultural identity, it feels an essential piece of my being that I’ve worked so hard to foster these past seven years is dying. I don’t want to be left with this space left hollow, and yet it feels like an inevitability. A sad and terrifying one.

I’m a JET alum whose heart never left Japan. It never got packed and didn’t make it with me on the plane home to the States. Perhaps it’s still in my old room, forgotten behind the headboard of my bed along with the ukiyo-e prints I made while on a day trip to Shizuoka Prefecture with one of my JTEs. It doesn’t matter that I came back with three real prints which are now matted, framed and mounted on my dad’s study back home in California, I want those prints—and those memories—back.

There is an exhibit around here somewhere where they show people how to make these woodblock prints. They might even be using the very same Tokaido plates I used in Shizuoka. But alas, it wouldn’t be the same. Even though it hasn’t been working, I’m trying to live for the present now, to embrace all that New York has to offer instead of doting on the past. The one genuinely good thing this city has done for me so far is give me the opportunity to stay in touch with Japanese culture. True, some of this festival today may not be traditional in the strictest sense, but Japan, like all people and places, has many faces, each of which deserve to be celebrated. I only wish there were more Japanese people in attendance.

 *           *           *

I realize that sitting down under this tree was a symbolic act. I’ve anchored myself here in a place where I feel at peace. It was naïve of me, irresponsible to have thought I could write this article the way it should have been written. These words, cathartic though they have been for me to write, I fear are alienating the reader, and wholly missing the point of promoting a fantastic event that is now in its thirty-first year. The people who deserve recognition are on stage—the dancers, musicians, manga artists, cosplay models—and the staff who worked so hard to put the event together and execute it so well.

I salute each of you and offer my sincerest thanks and gratitude for bringing an incredible representation of Japanese culture to Brooklyn in what is, in all honesty, one of the mostly stunningly beautiful gardens I have ever had the privilege of walking. I urge readers (assuming people are, in fact, still reading this) to see this for yourselves and support this event so that it can continue for another thirty-one years. Finally, to the event coordinators, I say this: I promise that as long as you continue hosting Sakura Matsuri, I will keep attending.

 *           *           *

Some time and a number of acts of stage pass before I muster the fortitude to do what needs to be done. I stand, brush myself off, and take a breath. In the distance I can see apartment buildings jutting up over the trees, like children spying into their neighbor’s yard.

All eyes are on me, and I’ve still got a press table to find.

For Brooklyn Botanic Garden’s Sakura Matsuri page, visit www.bbg.org/discover/cherries. Click here for a review of Sakura Sunday in Philadelphia by JET alum Daniel Moeller (Hiroshima-ken, 2009-11).

Dance performance Kota Yamazaki/’Fluid hug-hug (glowing)’ will be held at New York's Japan Society April 27-28. (Ryutaro Mishima)

By JQ magazine editor Justin Tedaldi (CIR Kobe-shi, 2001-02). Visit his Examiner.com page here for related stories.

Following a month of concerts from all types of Japanese musicians, New York City bids sayonara to April this weekend with an exciting pair of performances from a Bessie Award-winning performance artist, followed by the 31st edition of one of Brooklyn’s finest annual events.

Kicking things off tonight (April 27) and tomorrow at Japan Society is the performance of Kota Yamazaki/Fluid hug-hug (glowing), the Society’s newest commissioned work by the butoh-trained choreographer. In this new work that will appeal to fans of dance, Yamazaki re-examines the fundamentals of butoh, the form in which he received his training, as six dancers hailing from Senegal, Ethiopia, Japan, and the U.S., perform within a set constructed to evoke the soft lighting and dim interior of a traditional Japanese house, where shadows contribute to a visual atmosphere.

The performance, which made successful stops earlier this month at the Andy Warhol Museum in Pittsburgh and the Painted Bride Arts Center in Philadelphia, draws its inspiration from the world-renowned essay In’ei Raisan (In Praise of Shadows) by the great modern Japanese novelist Jun’ichiro Tanizaki. First published in 1933 and in English in 1977, it has itself been praised the world over, with the Guardian calling it a “hymn to nuance.”

For the complete story, click here.

Australian JET alum Pepi Ronalds (Miyagi-ken, Sendai Shi, 2010-11) recently published an essay on Amazon titled “After Shock:  Experiencing the 2011 Japanese Earthquake.”  Below is a bit of context from Ronalds along with an extract from the essay:

About Pepi

Pepi is a freelance writer, ghostwriter and researcher based in Melbourne, Australia. On any given day she is found writing, researching and craving sakuranbo soft-cream from the Omiyage shop below Yamadera. While working as an ALT in Sendai Shi, Miyagi prefecture she experienced the Great East Japan Earthquake first hand. She writes about the experience in her long-form article After Shock: Experiencing the 2011 Japanese Earthquake, which can be downloaded via Amazon or Pepi’s website http://www.pepironalds.com.

“After finishing JET I returned to the freelance writing career that I had begun in late 2009. As a writer of non-fiction, I was keen to write about my experience of the triple disaster in Sendai. I knew that many people outside of Japan had a limited understanding of what had happened. – Yes, I was caught up in a natural disaster as a foreigner, and yes it was scary. But there was (and continues to be) so much more to my experience (and those of my fellow JETs and gaijins). I was astounded by the incredible generosity of my Japanese friends and colleagues, and the work they’ve done (and are doing) to rebuild.”

As publishing paradigms change, I there are fewer venues for long-form articles like mine.  So in publishing this article I made my first foray into ‘entrepreneurial journalism’. That is, I am selling direct to readers. Below is an extract. If you want to read the whole thing (6,500 words) you can either download the article via Amazon, or buy direct from me using Paypal.”

Extract from After Shock: Experiencing the 2011 Japanese Earthquake

“We started the heaters,” my friend Yuriko writes, “but we are trying not to use them often to save them in case of an emergency.” I know the school in Sendai to which she refers. Winter is marked by a meter of snow on the baseball field. It’s sustained by snowflakes the size of marshmallows that seem to fall horizontally. The winds wheeze and rattle at loose windows. When I was there last year, I was constantly dabbing my nose with a tissue. And when my friend writes this from Sendai eight months after the earthquake, winter in Japan has barely begun.

I read her email and think back to that frigid Friday, March 11, 2011. My students and I were decorating the walls of the school with a mosaic of origami-paper blossoms. It was so cold in the unheated hallway that my fingers seemed to move in slow motion. We worked with a feeling of purpose and excitement. Then there was a long, deep, foreboding yawp. An announcement from the earth beneath us that everything was about to change.

When people learn that I was in Sendai for the Great East Japan Earthquake, they ask me, “What was it like?” As their lips form the inevitable question I think about my students, the games we played and the pleasure of our simple conversations. Memories tumble through my mind like objects rattling from shelves. I think about learning Sendai’s traditional dance, suzume odori, and about the spectacular orange of the city’s mountainsides during autumn. I want to tell them about the day we welcomed spring at the kindergarten. I want to show them pictures of the view from Yamadera, the ancient Buddhist temple. And I also feel guilt. Mine was a place of relative safety. “It was long,” I answer. “Earthquakes are meant to last for less than a minute, and this one went for at least three.” And I am always back in that hallway, my pulse pumping a little faster.

The yawp below groaned upwards, stretching lazily, with a gentle rock. At first it felt like we were standing on a children’s fairground ride – just a rocking, but with a clamorous rumbling. We stood in the hallway attentively, still holding the pins and decorations. We cocked our heads sideways and furrowed our brows, listening and looking nowhere in particular. In a moment the ride seemed to derail and upgrade itself by way of a lurch and intense rattling. We scattered, my colleagues yelling instructions to the students. Clatter! Rattle! Clatter! I scampered into a wobbling classroom and went under a desk near a door. I held onto the legs of the desk and vainly pulled them towards the floor. The other desks and chairs zigzagged like giant flies in small orbits around me. Papers on the teacher’s desk fell one by one as if being sorted by an unseen presence.

Everything – literally – was rattling. It was being lifted, dropped, tipped and clattered. I could hear the movement of doors and walls and windows and curtains and pens and pot plants. The ceiling above creaked. People were calling somewhere. The noise was a rat-tat-tat, boom-boom-boom that I will always recognize as a cacophony unique to earthquakes.

“What was it like?” It’s a near impossible question to answer. In the eight months I spent in Japan before the earthquake I had hiked through a valley so beautiful that everywhere I looked could have made a postcard. I rode buses through Japan’s crazy urban landscape. I listened to taiko drums. I sang with my students. I didn’t know about the tsunami until over six hours after the earthquake. I couldn’t speak the language.

We evacuated to the baseball field, where there was a biting wind. Thankfully the snow had melted since spring had formally begun over a month earlier, but the puddles were ice blocks and a nasty mite-like snow stung my cheeks. I trembled. The building we’d been in looked like it was about to sneeze. I watched trees quiver apologetically.

Want to read on? You can buy a copy of the full article via Amazon, or full article direct from Pepi Ronalds – both for only $2.99!

"My time on JET bolstered my thinking that we need better institutions and processes for dealing with difference. To its credit, the prefecture I worked in was definitely ahead of the curve."

By Renay Loper (Iwate-ken, 2006-07) for JQ magazine. Renay is a freelance writer and associate program officer at the Japan Foundation Center for Global Partnership. Visit her blog at Atlas in Her Hand.

Originally from London, Kalu “Kaz” Obuka (Saitama-ken, 2005-08) is currently working as a conflict resolution specialist at Meta-Culture, a conflict resolution NGO in Bangalore, India.  Having a unique career fueled by his graduate studies in Coexistence and Conflict at Brandeis University paired with his time on JET, Kaz spent a little time with us to share more.

How did your time on JET influence your decision to take up your particular course of study?

My time on JET bolstered my thinking that we need better institutions and processes for dealing with difference. I think it was seeing the way that the institutions I worked with were absolutely out of their depth when, for example, it came to dealing with pupils with migratory backgrounds. To its credit, the prefecture I worked in was definitely ahead of the curve, and was actively looking to develop mechanisms and services for immigrants to help them navigate what, in some cases, would be a very alien cultural landscape.

Aside from immigration, it was seeing the way politics played out, especially the posturing with which the Japanese and their neighbors engaged one another, and their history.

How did your JET experience help you to secure your position at Meta-Culture? 

I think my JET experience helped me to the extent that it bolstered my desire to enter the conflict resolution and consensus building field.

What fields did you work in prior to JET?

Prior to JET I dabbled in the NGO sector with an organization that worked to empower disadvantaged youth in London, as well as PR and some professional modeling.

You spent three years as an ALT. What were your biggest takeaways?

Not sure about my biggest takeaways from my experience, though after my tenure on JET I would quip that if you can live in Japan for three years, you can probably live anywhere. The experience definitely helped me learn about myself. So I came to Bangalore somewhat prepared for—and I daresay inured to—the culture shock, and feelings of frustration and isolation that come with moving to a completely new context on your own.

What made you stay on JET for so long?

I completed the years because despite the difficulties, I was attached to Japan and the life I’d managed to build for myself; I really came into my own in the middle of my second year, and wanted to see it through; I wanted more time to cultivate the relationships I’d developed; and I wanted to save up a decent amount for grad school.

What is your role at Meta-Culture? 

We design and facilitate processes that help individuals, communities, governments and organizations build relationships, manage differences and resolve conflicts. Some of the projects, past and present, include: An inter-religious dialogue series with Christian, Hindu and Muslim leaders; an assessment of conflict dynamics in Orissa after an outbreak of inter-communal violence; conflict management training for the police; and the Garment Sector Roundtable (GSR), a multi-stakeholder initiative in the Indian garment sector.

I am like the “special ops” guy for our team. My main role is to support the development and delivery of our projects and occasionally I’ll get pulled in by my executive director to execute some key tasks for him.

All in all, we’re a pretty lean organization, so I may do a wide variety of tasks in one day including carrying out qualitative interviews; writing articles; working on the design of new programs; communicating with high-level government advisers; work on the design of some training modules; work on funding applications and more.

What’s the most rewarding part of your position now?

I enjoy being the special ops guy—especially when they require me to be creative. The opportunities for learning and creativity are amazing. One of my favorite projects started when my executive director suddenly popped out of his office and said, “Ya know, I’m thinking that we need a grievance resolution mechanism for our multi-stakeholder group,” and asked me to design and present one at the next GSR meeting.

If someone were interested in working in your current field, what advice would you give them?

I would tell them to network as if their life depended on it!  Also, specialize in a region or country seen as needing development or peace-building interventions, or a field of expertise (like program evaluation or economics) all the while strengthening their peace-building skills. Oh and get as much overseas work experience in countries seen as needing assistance as possible.

During my master’s program at Brandeis [prior to applying for JET], I conducted fieldwork in Japan, where I assisted the Japan Immigration Policy Institute with their synthesis and promotion of policies for increased immigration and inter-ethnic coexistence. Quite frankly, until the Tohoku earthquake and tsunami, I’m sad to say that more than a few people I encountered in the field were left somewhat dubious about my bona fides. I’m in a very competitive field for positions, so it has to be very easy for potential employers to imagine you as a fit. I didn’t make it as easy for them as I could have. That being said, I really don’t regret that Japan ended up becoming the site of my fieldwork. I did something pretty unique, and I’m extremely proud of it.

“Dubious about my bonfides”? Can you please elaborate on what exactly you mean?

I did JET before my master’s. However, much of the work I did during and after my master’s course was carried out in industrially developed nations like Japan. So after the Tohoku earthquake and tsunami, a few of my contacts suggested the possibility of getting involved in the relief operations given my experience in Japan and my Japanese language abilities.

In short, I felt I was easily imagined as a fit for work in Japan, but not so for other contexts. Hopefully my experience in India will help change that. Fingers crossed!

How is living in Bangalore like any other city you have lived in, say Saitama or London?

As for life in Bangalore, infrastructure development is far behind that of cities like London, Tokyo, or Saitama. Regular power cuts, irregular refuse collection, a ton of stray animals, uneven and incomplete distribution of potable water, iffy sewage systems, that sort of thing. At the same time, the city has a thriving middle class, and there are quite a few decent bars, clubs, and restaurants. The annoying thing is that everything closes down by midnight.

The chaos gives the city a completely different feel from any place in Japan.

Where do you see yourself going next?

That’s a toughie. I think I’d like to stay in India for a while; the field doesn’t yet enjoy the same legitimacy it has in a place like the U.S. I’d like to make significant contributions to building the field here before moving on. I think if I do move on, I’d like to get more involved in the development field designing larger scale programs. I’m thinking Africa. However, I’ve always wanted to learn Spanish, so maybe I’ll eventually look to Latin America.

If you weren’t working in your current position, where do you think you’d be?

Before I decided to join Meta-Culture, there was the possibility of me taking a volunteer position in West Africa. Failing that, I’d be in London.

What is the most unique thing you have learned about India since living there? What gives you most joy? What do you find most humorous?

The delicious sambar at a breakfast restaurant near me! Other than that—the idiosyncrasies of the Great Indian Middle Class, the way that things get done, somehow, in spite of absolute chaos; random animals—cows will just be ambling along unattended, dogs sleeping in the sun, giant rats scurrying about in the dark places, cats in high places looking at you with disdain, and the crows that insist on eating rice, not bread!

Visit Meta-Culture online at http://meta-culture.org.

"The author's final thoughts about his stay in Japan struck a chord with me. Though many people seek adventures in foreign lands, if they stay in one place long enough, they often find it's the people they befriended that end up meaning the most to them upon their departure." (Baka Books)

By Tim Martin (Fukui-ken, 2006-08) for JQ magazine. Tim works as a research assistant in a neuroscience lab, and is an avid swing and blues dancer in New York City. He runs a humanist/atheist blog, The Floating Lantern, and is looking for ways to make a difference in people’s lives.

Fukui is a rural, out-of-the-way prefecture, relatively unfamiliar even to the Japanese. It boasts the largest number of nuclear reactors in the country, but only a single Starbucks. It’s home to a Buddha statue larger than the one in Nara, which, curiously, very few tourists come to visit. Fukui also has an amusing reputation for getting terrible reviews from authors who’ve passed through—in his book Hitching Rides with Buddha (aka Hokkaido Highway Blues), fellow JET alumni author Will Ferguson (Nagasaki-ken, 1991-94) describes it, only half-jokingly, as “a hole.”

So it’s an interesting place.

It’s also where Sam Baldwin (Fukui-ken, 2004-06) ended up when he applied to teach English in Japan as a member of the JET Program. In For Fukui’s Sake, Baldwin recounts tales from his two-year stay in this quirky rural backwater, weaving together the varied strands of his experience to form a continuous narrative of adventure and personal growth.

While working a monotonous job as a “research lab technician” in the UK, Baldwin decided he needed to broaden his horizons. Looking to discover what else life could offer, he set his sights on Japan, which, according to a friend who had visited, was a place where Baldwin could indulge in his love of snow and mountains. This may be a casual way to make the decision to start a new job in a strange country, but the required spontaneity and openness to new experiences may be what ultimately allowed the author to glean so much from his time in Japan.

The assignment to live and work in a lesser-known part of rural Japan doesn’t immediately suggest much opportunity for adventure or excitement, yet Baldwin manages to find both by taking advantage of his unique location and the people he meets in Fukui. Following his obsession with snow, Baldwin tracks down a local bar owner who happens to be a serious mountain climber, thus beginning a friendship that eventually takes him to the snow-capped peaks of some of Japan’s most sacred mountains. He also tells of a trip to the home of a Japanese sword sharpener—one of a rare breed of artisans from a bygone era. There Baldwin learns about the craft firsthand, and is afforded the opportunity to see a 600-year-old katana, one that has almost definitely been used in the taking of life.

The tales Baldwin recounts of his time in Fukui, I must admit, hold a special significance for me. I taught English in Fukui for two years myself, beginning right after the author left Japan. He and I have never met, but I do know many of the places and people he describes in the book personally, and so there is a much greater connection between text and experience. Or in some cases, a disconnect—in reading Baldwin’s book, I learned more about my erstwhile neighbor, a fisherman in Obama City, than I ever did from living next door to him.

It’s incidents such as this that make me wonder how I could have taken greater advantage of my own time in Japan, and learned more from, or more about, the people around me. I should also make one more admission about the book, in a less serious vein: the word “Fukui” is so commonplace to me that it took me three days to realize that the book’s title was meant to be a pun. Prior to that, I simply thought that the author had done something nice for Fukui. So not in all cases does familiarity breed understanding.

Throughout the book, Baldwin describes many of the common surprises and challenges that foreign residents are confronted with in Japan, no matter where they happen to live. There’s the fascination with Japanese technology—so perfect when it comes to the Washlet toilet, and so lacking when it comes to the uncovered drainage ditches on the sides of the roads. There’s the joy of being a celebrity…followed by the frustration of being a celebrity. Baldwin also describes the particular pleasures and troubles of being a JET participant—for example, giving an introductory speech to your school in a language you don’t know, or wondering why your teachers opened up to you at your school’s enkai, only to treat you distantly at school the next day. Those who are familiar with the life of a foreign teacher in Japan will find few stories here that they haven’t heard—or lived—before. Fortunately, Baldwin recounts them with such charm and humor that readers won’t mind treading these well-worn paths again.

One of the enjoyable aspects of For Fukui’s Sake is witnessing the way the author discovers truths about the Japanese people through his experiences. It is during his trip to the massive Fuji Rock Festival that Baldwin remarks on the Japanese penchant for cleanliness when he notices that there is no litter strewn about the concert grounds. He also has several occasions to bring up the incredible kindness of the Japanese toward strangers, such as when two young men in Tokyo guide him and his friends to a bar they were looking for, have a few drinks with them, and then insist on picking up the tab. These observations don’t make for in-depth cultural analysis, nor do they have to.  The author shows us, simply, what a person of another culture might learn about the Japanese by being in Japan.

The author’s final thoughts about his stay in Japan struck a chord with me. During my time in Japan, I was always looking for that sense of fitting in, or being “just one of the guys,” even though, as a foreigner, I couldn’t be. I did have one group of close Japanese friends with whom I found it. Baldwin was looking for that, too, and he found it—among the cast of characters who frequented the bar owned by his mountain climbing friend. Though many people seek adventures in foreign lands, if they stay in one place long enough, they often find it’s the people they befriended that end up meaning the most to them upon their departure. For Sam Baldwin, this is certainly true.

For more information, visit www.forfukuissake.com.

Geneva enjoying hanami in Hakusan Kouen, Niigata, 2009.

By Geneva Marie (Niigata-ken, 2008-09) for JQ magazine. Geneva works as an account manager in the vast Great Plains a.k.a. Omaha, Nebraska and is a (sometimes) contributor to JETwit. Contact Geneva at geneva [dot] sarni [at] gmail [dot] com and visit her on LinkedIn.

It’s 8 a.m. on a chilly morning in December and I’m sitting at my desk in a thoroughly nondescript building located on the edge of Omaha, Nebraska’s suburban sprawl. I’m checking my interoffice e-mail and yielding phone calls—typical cube-rat chores. I’ve got my coffee and my Spotify, and oh right, I’m writing this article during my downtime. When I think about my daily routine, I realize that it’s a far cry from what I was doing two and a half years ago when I was teaching English to elementary and middle school students in rural northern Japan on the JET Program.

Like everyone who returns from living abroad, I found myself suffering from the typical culture shock and malaise. However, the readjustment to regular life, a regular job, and a regular me—the life I had before my time on JET—has been a continuous uphill battle. It’s been a very trying two years, a strange journey that has somehow left me feeling isolated and worlds away from my former home in Japan, taking me to a place I never thought I’d end up in. Not to mention feeling like I will never get the chance to work in a Japan-related field anytime soon.

My story begins in the frozen metropolis of Minneapolis, where as a 24-year-old, non-traditional student I reenrolled in college at the University of Minnesota as an Asian studies major (emphasis in Japanese, of course). Admittedly, I wasn’t the best Japanese student. I was older than most of my peers and thus (I felt), at a disadvantage. I struggled through two years of language learning before deciding at 26 to embark on my first trip out of the country—a study abroad in Tokyo. It was a life-altering experience for me and probably the most expensive thing I have ever done. It was so life-changing that I often look back at life in my twenties as “before and after Japan.”

Nearly a year after my study abroad I (finally) graduated college. I decided to take the advice of my peers and faculty and immediately apply for the JET program, as it seemed to be the best bet for a Japanese studies major hot off the heels of graduation. However, I didn’t get the job. I had assumed JET would accept me based on my major and the experience I had studying at a real Japanese university, but I was wrong. After this happened, I became increasingly concerned about all of the time and money I had spent on attaining my education. I was worried I’d start losing my language skills.

I did lose them for awhile, until I actually got my job with JET. I committed to working in an office for another year after being turned down the first time. I found myself in a steady relationship and had really settled into a stable existence for myself after college, although I was still persistently seeking a way to get back overseas. A year later, I reapplied again and after all the interviews, the checking of credentials, and the nearly six-month waiting period, I snagged an ALT position with JET. Soon after I received word about my placement I went into waffling mode, trying to decide if I should actually go or not. I wouldn’t be working in posh Tokyo, but the somewhat isolated Murakami City in Niigata-ken—far from the hustle and bustle of the big city. I had worked so hard to get a placement on JET, but at the same time I would be leaving everything that I built for myself during the interim. With the encouragement of my then boyfriend and family, I realized this was not an opportunity that comes along every day and maybe I should go for it.

I headed to the small village of Murakami City in the summer of 2008 at the age of 29, obviously a lot older than my first-year counterparts. It was definitely an experience in every sense of the word. Thrilling highs and forlorn lows—and honestly, that’s what I was seeking at the time. Of all the worries I had about working on JET, the language barrier, the homesickness, etc., the one thing that I hadn’t given much thought to was my health going awry.

I ended up spending only one year on JET due to some unforeseen health problems that were only an issue at that time (and have mysteriously not returned since). My plan had been to stay more than a year, but with my health going downhill and trying my best to juggle a long distance relationship, I decided to return to America, and at the worst time, mind you. My fellow ALTs and I had been carefully watching the news during the early summer in 2009. Most of us would be returning home in a few months and we were especially worried about the economic nosedive that had taken place. We were scared that we wouldn’t get jobs when we returned, and that is exactly what happened to me.

Fast forward two years: I’m in Omaha, employed with a full-time and a part time job. I spent a good portion of time after I had returned from Japan with no job and seemingly no prospects of landing one. Depressed and discouraged, I had lost all confidence in my abilities. The relationship I tried so hard to keep from ending while I was abroad slowly fell apart, too. The following year was pretty bleak. Feeling like I didn’t have many options left, I decided to move here, where my family currently resides.

Omaha has been a great transition place for me, despite it feeling like an utter failure at first. I was finally able to find work here, but unfortunately, it’s nothing to do with my field of study or college level experience. This also is not a place like Seattle or New York where there are major Japanese hubs and thus I find myself more and more removed from my Japanese knowledge, let alone not having the option to work in a Japan-related industry. I often feel like I am a victim of location. If I could afford to make the move out to a bigger city I might be able to finally find a career in my field.

Although I have decided now that I have a little more confidence under my belt, knowing that I’m actually a hirable person and worthy of a job, I’m going to finally set off on the journey of pursuing a career in something Japanese-related in 2012. I imagine it won’t be easy and it will take a lot of hard work, especially with having some strikes against me. But just like I was persistent in getting my JET job, I believe I’ll eventually persevere in finding work I’m passionate about doing. Ganbarimasu!

Ximena Garnica performs in ‘Floating Point Waves’ at New York's HERE April 6-14. (Shige Moriya)

By JQ magazine editor Justin Tedaldi (CIR Kobe-shi, 2001-02). Visit his Examiner.com page here for related stories.

As the sakura (cherry trees) blossom in the Big Apple, so does the sheer amount of Japanese talent in music and performing arts coming to Manhattan this month. Here are some highlights guaranteed to appeal to audiophiles of all stripes.

April 6-14, 8:30 p.m.

‘Floating Point Waves’

HERE at Sixth Avenue

A performance experience of dance, real-time video, live electronic music, kinetic sculptures and meditative stillness, Floating Point Waves unveils the relationship between the human body and natural elements. This HERE Artist Residency Program (HARP) production plays for 8 performances

Conceived and designed by Ximena Garnica (a Colombia-born graduate of the Akira Kasai Tenshikan Dance Institute in Tokyo) and Shige Moriya (a Japanese-born video and installation artist) in collaboration with Jeremy D. Slater and Solomon Weisbard, Floating Point Waves stars Garnica in a place where movement, water, and light respond to one another as an organic causal chain unfolds, echoing that of our own natural world. Startling performance and exquisite design reverberate through the space, framing a landscape where beauty coexists with darkness.

April 10, 8:00 and 10:30 p.m.

Hiromi

B.B. King Blues Club & Grill

Nearly a decade after her Telarc debut album Another Mind (which won the Recording Industry Association of Japan’s Jazz Album of the Year Award), global superstar pianist Hiromi Uehara has been enchanting New York audiences ever since, with high profile appearances at the Blue Note Jazz Club, Highline Ballroom and Carnegie Hall. At 33 and with nearly a decade of tremendous accolades to her name, the Hamamatsu native stands at the threshold of limitless possibility.

"I made the video for Japanese people. It caught on with JETs, but I didn’t make it for them. The older generation can see how the younger generation acts now, and younger generation viewers can see themselves or friends in the characters I made."

By Paul Benson (Fukui-ken, 2006-2008) for JQ magazine. Paul is a freelance Japanese-English translator and writer in New York City. Paul enjoys reading, writing, brewing beer, and e-sports.

Mikine Dezaki is a second generation Japanese American raised in South Florida. After studying in Hiroshima for a year and graduating from the University of Minnesota, Mikine joined the JET Program as an ALT in Yamanashi Prefecture from 2007-2010. He then transferred to Okinawa and is currently serving his fifth year for 2010-2012. He looks forward to meditating on life as a monk in Thailand for a year after JET. You can check out “Sh*t Japanese Students Say” and more on his YouTube channel and follow him on Twitter.

When did you become interested in the JET Program?

It’s kind of interesting, because growing up I actually had no interest in Japan. My brothers and I are really Americanized. Growing up in Florida, there aren’t that many Japanese Americans. So, I didn’t have much interest in it, but I met some great Japanese friends in college and decided to give it a shot. I have two older brothers, but they don’t speak Japanese. I thought it’d be good if one of us was able to speak Japanese. We have relatives in Japan, and I also wanted to be a bridge for them.

You’ve definitely received some popularity with your video. As of today, YouTube shows over 100,000 views! What do you think about that?

It’s very surprising. On the second or third day, I was on Facebook and my friends were telling me that their friends were telling them about my video! “This is your 15 minutes of fame, Miki!” one told me. I guess; I hope not.

Actually, I made the video for Japanese people. It caught on with JETs, but I didn’t make it for them. If you look at the other videos on my YouTube channel, you can see they’re for Japanese people [Dezaki has produced a hearing test for Japanese on the English “l” and “r” sounds and videos reflecting on English education in Japan—Ed.]. I mean, all Japanese people have gone to school, so I thought they’d find it interesting. The older generation can see how the younger generation acts now, and younger generation viewers can see themselves or friends in the characters I made.

I’ve also noticed a couple things about the Japanese audience—they don’t share like Americans do. They don’t share much or use Twitter. They mainly use their mobile phones instead of a laptop or desktop. Also, the Facebook app on smartphones doesn’t have a share button. I asked some friends to share the video (if they liked it), and they told me they couldn’t because they don’t have that button. They’d actually have to copy and paste the link. I think that’s why it hasn’t spread in Japan like it has with the JETs.

Still, I am getting a lot of Japanese viewers. YouTube shows me the sources and a lot of them are “mobile devices.” I just wish they’d share it more! It’s funny—I went to school today and a coworker told me I’m on the front page of the mobile YouTube site in Japan. “You’re number one!” he said.

It really didn’t take long for people to spread the video!

Yeah! I don’t know how it happened. I posted it about a day after I made it [March 5, 2012]. And then, boom, it caught fire. There are websites where I can see what people publicly share on Facebook and when I looked at those, it was mainly JETs. I also got a few views on Gaijin Pot and other places, but not many. JETwit.com and Japan Probe also helped spread the video for me. I posted about it on a few places on Twitter and Facebook, but I really owe it to the JET community for spreading the video.

Why did you make it?

Well, first I thought it’d be funny. And I thought nobody had done it in Japan yet, so I thought it’d be kind of big. I mean, I know there’s “Sh*t Girls Say” in the U.S., but Japanese people haven’t seen that. They didn’t have that “boom” in Japan.

There’s one guy who has a “Sh*t Japanese People Say to Gaijin” video, but that’s in English. I saw an opening and I filled it. Later on, I’m hoping to make more videos to talk about social issues, things that are underground in Japan.

Now on your fifth year as a JET! Not many JETs stay as long as you have. You must be enjoying the Okinawan weather.

Actually, I’ve only been in Okinawa for the past two years. I transferred from Yamanashi Prefecture after three years. Interac is a more like JET now and got the contract for my school. I was teaching junior high before and I’m teaching high school now.

The way it turned out was perfect. My current school had some issues with the ALTs before me and actually wasn’t really looking for another ALT. They said they’d reconsider if they could get someone who speaks Japanese and plays a lot of sports, which I do. I happened to be available and it worked out great. I don’t think I would’ve stayed another year in Yamanashi. It was good for three years, but I felt like I followed the main English teacher and didn’t really feel like I was growing as a teacher. All my friends had already left, too.

I could easily spend another five years in Okinawa. If I could, I probably would. Most JETs love to stay in Okinawa. I think it has the highest number of JETs who stay four to five years. The people are awesome and really laid back.

So you’re coming to the end of your fifth year on JET. What are you thinking of doing afterward?

I think I’ll go back to the United States for a few months to pick up my pension money…but then I’m thinking I’ll go to Thailand to be a monk for a year. When I was in college, I was a premed major, and I thought if I became a doctor I’d have to deal with a lot of stress. So I decided to go to this free “meditation for stress” class, and I got my first taste of enlightenment. I had some amazing experiences.

Wow! This first meditation experience really affected you.

Yeah! Everyone else there was older. We would sit together for 30 minutes or so. After a month or two, I felt like my body had melted away and I wasn’t there anymore. It was an incredibly spiritual experience – it was the happiest I have ever been in my entire life. This experience I had, it blew my mind. One of the meditation teachers says “you stop being a ‘human doing’ and you become a ‘human being’ for once.”

So these were the experiences I had, I didn’t expect to have them at all – I was supposed to be a doctor! My mom flipped out when I told her I decided to not be a doctor and instead go into the JET program and possibly be a monk afterward.

I then created my own club at school called “Mindfulness for Students.” I created the club for students to deal with stress, and the club is still going. For me it’s an experiential thing. The meditation practice is no different than training my body for boxing. Instead it’s training my mind. I chose Thailand because I think they have the best meditation instructors.

Part of my reasons for coming to Japan was to check out Japanese temples, but the Japanese temples, I wouldn’t call them corrupt but I don’t think they’re really clean either. Most people aren’t aware of this, but Japanese monks and temples have a lot of money. It’s sort of funny because in Japan, monks drive better cars and wear nice watches. At the place I’m thinking about going in Thailand, you can’t touch money, you can’t touch women, and you have to go around the neighborhood and collect alms. The food you collect is what you eat. To me, that’s more my style.

Visit Mikine’s Medama Sensei Channel on YouTube here.

“A Glass Half Full:  Japan’s Disaster Response at One Year”

http://blog.philanthropynewyork.org/2012/03/27/a-glass-half-full-japans-disaster-response-at-one-year/

Here’s an excerpt:

One constant refrain in the disaster zone is the need for more effective mental health interventions. Women who lost family members, men who are ashamed that they can no longer support their families, and children traumatized by the disaster are all grappling with psychological trauma. In response, numerous Japanese nonprofits have established salons and other kokoro no kea (literally, “caring for the heart”) programs to give survivors opportunities to socialize, but these tend be rudimentary in nature, with little input from experienced mental health professionals, and they often fail to engage people at risk who are unlikely to seek out support on their own. Overseas funders can make a difference by encouraging and supporting more specialized and nuanced approaches.

Greater support is also needed for economic revitalization. A number of innovative programs have been launched to jumpstart local economies. In Kamaishi, for instance, the Fuji Social Welfare Council has started renting food trucks to unemployed chefs who lost their restaurants so they can get back on their feet. The trucks also help stimulate economic activity by gathering where new shops are opening in order to attract local residents. Meanwhile, numerous groups are pioneering new methods for small donor support of fisheries and oyster farmers in return for promised portions of future harvests. However, these efforts are only a drop in the bucket, and much greater investment is required.

A third area where funding from the United States and elsewhere can have a particularly significant impact is non-governmental organization (NGO) capacity building. Hundreds of small nonprofits have been established in the wake of the disaster, and while many will eventually fail, others have the potential to prosper and produce the next generation of Japan’s nonprofit leaders. However, the nonprofit sector can only live up to its potential if it becomes more professionalized and if the infrastructure that supports it is strengthened.

L'Arc~en~Ciel frontman hyde at the band's historic Madison Square Garden show, March 25, 2012. (Courtesy of BAM! Marketing, Publicity & Promotions)

By Sam Frank, an ALT who taught English in Hiraizumi-Cho, Iwate-ken, from 2002-04 and worked in Shirahama-cho, Wakayama-ken as a JET from 2004-06, for JQ magazine. He currently manages the New York division of UnRated magazine and works as a project manager/Web producer at Arrow Root Media.

A few years ago I went to the MTV Video Music Awards in Japan, and noticed something interesting. Whenever categories came up where American artists went against Japanese artists, nine out of ten times, the American would win, and not even be in attendance to accept the award. It seemed so unfair to compare American artists to their Japanese counterparts when you think about how many American bands have sold out stadiums in Tokyo while most Japanese bands that tour America have a hard time filling up mid-size venues such as Roseland Ballroom and Irving Plaza in Manhattan. That comparison doesn’t seem quite so unfair after watching L’Arc~en~Ciel (French for rainbow), a band formed in Osaka, cement its name in rock history as the first Japanese band to perform at New York City’s famed Madison Square Garden on March 25.

In celebration of the band’s 20th anniversary making music together, hyde (lead vocals), tetsuya (bass), ken (guitar), and yukihiro (drums) have taken their dynamic visual spectacle around the globe to thank fans in true rock star fashion. The show got underway with an epic opening video displaying the band members’ names carved in platinum scrolling across the screen before showing a beautiful butterfly landing in Hyde’s glove-clad palm.

As the excited crowd eagerly waved their florescent glow sticks in anticipation, L’Arc~en~Ciel stormed the stage backed by the enchanting piano intro to “Ibara no Namida” (いばらの涙). The instant the spotlight dropped on hyde, the Garden erupted into a surge of screams and cheers for the international superstar. Juxtaposing band members with various computer generated ethereal images, songs like “Good Luck My Way,” the theme song to 2011′s FullMetal Alchemist The Movie: The Sacred Star of Milos, “My Heart Draws a Dream,” and “Honey” all came to life in a fresh and exciting way. The visual narratives added another level of interactivity to each song, which is why concertgoers who might not be familiar with songs like 1999′s “Driver’s High” will remember it as the song that opened with a revving engine sound, pyrotechnics, and images of white smoke spreading across the three gigantic LED screens.

For the complete story, click here.

"Reading 'Tomo' is a reminder that even in the most desperate straits, friendship and personal relationships have the power to nourish and sustain us." (Stone Bridge Press)

By Sharona Moskowitz (Fukuoka-ken, 2000-01) for JQ magazine. Sharona is interested in fresh, new voices in fiction and creative nonfiction.

If you could know your future cause of death, would you choose to know? This is the question posed by “Yamada-san’s Toaster,” one of the short stories in the new fiction anthology Tomo: Friendship through Fiction: An Anthology of Japan Teen Stories. As the title suggests, the collection is geared toward adolescents and dedicated to the youth of Tohoku, though it undoubtedly has— in the parlance of publishing— tremendous crossover appeal. There is plenty for adults to enjoy here, too. Edited and with a foreword by Holly Thompson, this collection features 36 stories—including 10 in translation—contributed by several JET alums from around the world, all of whom share a connection to Japan. Proceeds from its sale will go directly to the continued relief efforts.

In Kelly Luce’s story, Yamada-san’s toaster burns into each slice of bread a Chinese character supposedly predicting one’s cause of death. The tale’s young narrator observes the effects of the toaster on the townspeople as news spreads and they become stirred into a ridiculous pandemonium. There’s a great element of humor to the story though it also reveals a universal human folly: the vulnerability towards superstition. People try desperately to find order and make sense of a chaotic and random world, even if it means looking for burnt kanji of the toast on a breakfast plate.

The stories are grouped thematically, represented by “Shocks and Tremors,” Friends and Enemies,” “Ghosts and Spirits,” Powers and Feats,” Talents and Curses,” Insiders and Outsiders” and “Families and Connections.” (The final story, the poignant “Peace on Earth,” is penned by Suzanne Kamata (Tokushima-ken, 1988-90), whose own book of short stories, The Beautiful One Has Come, was released last year.

For many of the characters in Tomo, the earthquake and tsunami are catalysts for inward reflection and personal evaluation. Thoughts and emotions gush out like the waves themselves.  The surreality of the disaster and its aftermath force the teens to become conscious of mortality and reexamine their own ideas about the impermanence of the material world, all the while grappling with some of the thornier trademarks of adolescence such as self-esteem, alienation, tests of friendship and a frustrating desire to understand that which simply can’t be explained. Yet despite these weighty issues, the tone of the book never feels gloomy, nor its characters overwrought. Tomo treats young adults with the intelligent dignity they deserve.

“With time, we’ll all find our harmony again,” concludes the narrator of the short story “Half Life” by Deni Y. Béchard. And one year after the earthquake, this seems to be the case. Reading Tomo is a reminder that even in the most desperate straits, friendship and personal relationships have the power to nourish and sustain us. While the future is uncertain and death is indeed imminent, the sturdy bond of friendship may in fact be the more important great equalizer.

A special book launch event with Holly Thompson and Tak Toyoshima will be held at the Boston Children’s Museum on Friday, March 23 at 6:30 p.m. Admission is one dollar, online RSVP requested. For more information, visit www.japansocietyboston.org/tomo. For more on Tomo, visit http://tomoanthology.blogspot.com.

View from where Sarah's desk used to be in the Board of Education in Rikuzentakata

Here’s the article:

After The Tohoku Earthquake: ‘I Gave Up My Family For Dead’

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/sarah-ruddy/after-the-tohoku-earthqua_b_1335092.html#s770689

Here’s an excerpt:

My decision to go back was not about whether I should but how soon I could. I was determined to do whatever I could to help. I was often asked if I was afraid of another earthquake and tsunami occurring or how the radiation would effect me. There are plenty of dangers in the world that we can’t predict or prevent. They shouldn’t stop us from experiencing life.

I ended up going last November, seven months after the tsunami hit. I was welcomed by friends and generously offered a place to stay. I heard their stories of that day and the seven months that followed. The improvements made in that time were incredible.

I volunteered in Rikuzentakata and Ofunato, the city immediately north, and returned to my former schools to help out with classes. The people I volunteered with were from all over Japan, including students who were on break, retired couples who had free time and curious people who wondered how anyone could have survived. I spent long hours digging through fields of sediment and debris.

"The word ‘Japonicana’ comes from Japan, America and Spain. The ‘a’ sound is for the females, so my album is a girl. There’s more than one genre—dance, pop, hip-hop, and R&B. It’s like my baby, because I created it from scratch." (Courtesy of PLAN C Agency)

By JQ magazine editor Justin Tedaldi (CIR Kobe-shi, 2001-02). Visit his Examiner.com page here for related stories.

In his native Japan, Jin Akanishi is a superstar. Since his early teens, he’s achieved fame as a pop idol, singer-songwriter (with the groups KAT-TUN and LANDS), actor, and radio host. After launching a successful American tour in 2010 to sold out (and screaming) crowds, Jin is back in the U.S. supporting his hotly anticipated English-language debut album, Japonicana. Released earlier this month, the disc features production by Grammy Award-nominated trio the Stereotypes (Far East Movement, Ne-Yo) and platinum hit maker Static Revenger (Madonna, Shakira).

Jin takes Manhattan at New York’s Best Buy Theater tonight (March 15) and hits San Francisco’s Regency Ballroom on March 17. In this exclusive interview, I spoke with the 27-year-old about the tour, the making of the album, his love for hip-hop, and hanging out with Justin Bieber.

“Quake, tsunami a year ago refreshed Kentuckian’s memories of time in Japan”

By Graham Shelby – contributing write

Posted:  12:00 AM on March 11, 2012

Twenty-three years old and eager to get out of my hometown, I left Lexington for Japan.  In the summer of 1994, I took a job teaching English in Ishikawa, a small town surrounded by rice fields and forested hills in Fukushima Prefecture, about 100 miles north of Tokyo.

Click here to read the full article:  http://www.kentucky.com/2012/03/11/2104978/quake-tsunami-a-year-ago-refreshed.html#storylink=misearch