There's no plateaus in Japan... it's all hills--in the literal sense, but also in the figurative, emotional sense

The cascade of feelings begins in the morning during the one hour and forty-five minute commute from Mukogaokauen to Kita-Matsudo, during which I drifted between reality and dreams about as frequently as the Chiyoda train stopped to gather passengers. (That's 35 stops to be exact, and that's an express line, too.) But, at least the subway is dark, and Japanese people are quiet.

On the train ride, the emotion was loneliness, because all of my classmates had gone to Kamakura, while I was forced to visit Matsudo High School to do a bit of work for my internship; and though traveling to Matsudo for their bunkasai (culture festival) certainly was an exciting proposition, I'm not sure it was a fair trade-off for Kamakura, one of the most beautiful places in Japan that would have permitted me the opportunity to walk upon the beach with my naked feet and gaze off into the ocean.

But it was OK, it was only temporary loneliness on a very, very empty train.

At Kita-Matsudo, I was only expecting to meet Matsumoto-sensei, the internship coordinator, however as I approached the turnstile I noted that not only was the short, 29-year-old Matsumoto-sensei standing there, but he was flanked by two irritating looking gaijin who I had never seen before and didn't want to talk with.

Who the hell were they?

Well, THEY were two absolutely abysmally annoying, smelly, lame people, and on top of it all, very confident in their generally lackluster Japanese that they spoke at a deafening volume, for no other reason than that they couldn't properly control their tongues.

They talked about manga, videogames, Japanese women and other ridiculous things I didn't want to talk about, such as the "hotness" factor of different peppers. That spicy conversation went on for about 30 minutes, for all of which I remained completely silent.

They also, of course, made stupid jokes.

One kept trying to show me pictures from his digital camera, ignorant of my blatant lack of care. "Look at this! This is when we were in Edo!"

I don't care, dude.

The worst of this came when we were all smashed into a tiny room to watch a play put on by the Japanese students in the 3rd level English class. It was a fantastic play, but I wish that I could have enjoyed it from a better seat, instead of standing sandwiched between a wall, and one of the annoyances, Jake, who had his back toward me, his trenchcoat brushing against my shirt and his 4 foot ponytail inches from my face.

He smelled like you would expect him to.

He wasn't even invited to Matsudo. He had nothing to do with it. He came with a kid had only slightly more right to be there because he helped out in Lincoln during the Bright Lights program that some Matsudo students participated in last summer.

So I stood there, boiling mad. I can't even express how annoyed I was at that exact moment, it was perhaps one of the greatest tests I have ever had in restraining an overwhelming desire to beat the shit out of someone. I just wanted to enjoy Matsudo with myself and the other well tempered interns, not two Japan-culture-fetish douchebags oozing over every little thing they saw.

All of that was really not so great, but maybe I was just jealous of their ability to speak Japanese.

But forget all that. Bunkasai was perhaps the greatest event I've ever experienced. The entire school (a combined Junior High and High School) had been turned into some kind of foreign place, each student participating in a different way: creating giant murals, selling food, putting on a play or musical performance, hosting a sports demonstration... etc...

So many uniformed boys and girls walking around giggling and screaming, yet all so polite. It was amazing. I was enraptured. After meeting a few of them, I couldn't even speak. For the first hour of my visit I had no words because I was so overwhelmed by the cuteness of these children.

After being introduced to a group of giddy 8th grade girls as "next year's intern," I was swarmed all about the legs and lower body as they hugged me and clapped for me and told me in their best effort at English: "You are fun! Come back! Please be a teacher!"

I think many of you, my friends, Anna especially, would have broken down into tears at the sight of these children because they really were that type of beyond-belief-cute that you only think exists on television and with newborn babies. However, I can assure you that Matsudo is teeming with hundreds of children who are just unbearably adorable.

Honestly. I was so taken aback by this that I was hardly able to take any pictures--but I have 6 months there in the Spring, so I will be sure to take plenty.

To interject in the story quickly: this is an awful entry. I'm having a lot of trouble writing lately because I've had so little time; demands are being placed on me by so many of my Japanese friends who want to hang out nonstop and talk, which is good, but I do want to provide accurate, entertaining reading... something which I'm not doing now... alas...

The train ride back to Mukougaokauen station went by a bit faster than the ride out, mostly because it was spent e-mailing one of my newest friends, Asako, who I met at her train stop, Ikuta, for dinner and chat.

She needed to practice English, and I needed to practice Japanese.

These are the times when I'm truly flying on some kind of transcendental emotional high that just blows away everything. The moments when I get to speak Japanese with someone who wants to help me are just beyond describable. But... I've said that about everything.

Asako and I spent about 3 hours talking, after which I returned to my dormitory to meet Kyohei to chat. We spent probably 4 or 5 hours conversing, until maybe three in the morning. Though I love all the practice, I wish I could see results immediately.

I kind of abridged this entry. I'm too tired to write more, especially when I'm aware of how awful it is... so I'll leave you with one final thought about Japan...

...Or maybe its just a wish, but this language is so, so incredibly hard, and there are so many people around who are so gifted at it, I just want to be like them, somehow. I see them every day, and I desire to have their capacity to communicate. I'm going to work at it. Wish me luck.