SNOW!!!

Today, Chubu (Central Japan) received its biggest snowfall in 60 years, which would mean folks from this area haven't seen snow like this since the end of WWII. By the time the party ended, there was roughly 8 in. (20 cm.) of snow on the streets, a devastating amount for Nagoya.

I woke up, looked out the window, and thought I was back home in Chicago. Until today, I'd only seen snowfall a grand total of three times out of my 3.75 years in Nagoya, and this was the second time in one week. I just KNEW school would be cancelled. The roads and trains virtually come to a standstill during heavy rain even, so given this amount of snow I heavily anticipated a day off from work. Plus, I remembered two winters before, when all the students were sent home from my (then) junior high school during a "blizzard," and it hadn't snowed half as much as this.

So I rose and showered as usual, taking my time, confident there would be school cancellations. I flipped on the television to check the weather report, though I couldn't decipher the characters scrolling across the screen. I phoned up one of my fellow teacher buddies, John, and asked him what he knew. To my chagrin...

There was school. Doh! In disbelief, I called my company to verify. No answer. I called my school, and was greeted by the secretary. He too, said there would be class as usual. Curses! On Mondays of all days, when I have to walk 15 minutes from the local train station to get to school, I definitely did not want to deal with this snow business. I reluctantly got ready and made my way to the train station, trying not to slip--there was even ice too!

The trains were a complete mess. The marquees that ususally display the punctual arrivals of the trains were blank, indicating that it was going to be a long morning journey. As it continued to snow, I waited, and waited, and waited. Eventually a train came trudging along. What was a 10 minute ride became a 30 minute ride. And after a beast of a walk through country ice and snow, I arrived right during the first recess to catch 5th graders gleefully tossing snow chunks at each other at the front of the school entrance. Barely noticing my arrival, I caught the attention of one boy, Takuya, who looked up and emphatically uttered "Snow!" Yes, "Snow," I replied. I was just under 3 hours late, and not too ecstatic.

The assistant vice-principal, with his trademark sly grin, greeted me, saying "You're a little late, huh?"
"Um, you think?" I mentally quipped.
"Well, because you're late, your 3rd period class is cancelled, so you'll just have your 4th and 5th period classes today," he informed me.
"Fine. Whatever," I thought, while nodding in confirmation.

That was okay, actually, because I needed the extra period to defrost and get some green tea in my system. The rest of the day was pretty normal; I taught the remainder of my schedule as usual, though I left school a few minutes early to give myself time to slip and slide back through those rural, icy backstreets to the train station. What a day.

"SEAN"

I met Sean on the bus on the way home from school. I boarded and took my usual middle seat at the back (No diss to Rosa Parks, but that's the only seat on the compact bus that won't disfigure my long legs). As I was taking my seat, I immediately noticed a hip-hoppish-looking young Japanese guy with a cap, shades, shamrock-green Yankees Starter jacket, and a long braided ponytail. I didn't pay him much mind, mentally brushing him off as another J-hopper MTV Japan emulation.

It wasn't until I popped in my iPod earbuds and fired up Erykah Badu's Worldwide Underground did I hear a voice from my left. It was the hip-hoppish-looking guy. Initially, I think I gave him a "Wha?" before removing my phones. Naturally, I spoke to him in Japanese:

Him: "Erykah?"
Me: "Yeah. You have it?"
Him: (smiling) "Yeah."

And that was the beginning of our conversation. He introduced himself as "Sean," a very non-Japanese name which caused me to raise a suspicious eyebrow, to which he then revealed his real name as Shun (pr. shoon). He used the alias Sean to sound more Western. It turned out Shun liked soul music and had traveled to San Francisco where he'd made friends with a musician, a "Black man." Shun could also speak a little English, though we spoke mostly in Japanese. We began discussing music. He told me was in a band and played percussion, namely African drums. He commented several times that my Japanese was good, a compliment I appreciated though didn't overindulge in, as it seems almost any foreigner who speaks any level of Japanese is eligible for such praise from a Japanese person. Shun reeked of alcohol.

To my surprise, I also discovered that Shun, a construction welder by day, was on his way to Hawaii for 4 days to run in a marathon. Wow. At that point, I noticed his small luggage case. We continued to talk until we arrived at the train station, then rode the same train and taled some more. He told me he frequented Gary's, a well-known club that features live soul music by Black musicians. He invited me to come see him play at some club in Nagoya I'd never heard of. I'd mentioned the musical instruments in capoeira, and invited him to one my practices. Shun asked if Iwent out often, to which I responded "Not often." He also asked me if I liked to go out drinking--I guess that explained his pungent aroma. I didn't hold it against him; he seemed like a nice guy. We exchanged cell numbers and pleasant farewells--his in English, mine in Japanese--before I got off at my stop.

The biggest surprise of my encounter with Shun, was the fact that he spoke to me first. Admittedly, I tend not to bother with attempts to socialize with Japanese strangers, as Japanese people tend to be very socially reserved, especially toward stangers, especially toward foreigners. Only in a rare few instances have any Japanese strangers struck up conversation with me. I suppose "Sean" had gained some confidence from going abroad and befriending Black folks. Kudos for his bravery. Perhaps we'll meet again in the new year.