Lost In Translation

Once upon a time, an English teacher came to work in a little town on the edge of Osaka. He was in his mid-twenties, three years out of university and in a bit of a lull. The English teacher was confused, more than anything, by the fact he was not really even an English teacher. He had just completed an intense, exhilarating, frustrating, sometimes traumatic - but always rewarding, two-year period working for a dynamic organisation and in a team of fantastic people. His brain was tired and so was his body, but that said, he was content, or so he thought - with what he had accomplished in the last two years and similarly with the ones that had gone before. He had no regrets. His mind had not stopped in the last ten years, awash almost always with ideas and things he was working on; from exams, to coursework, to more exams and then into the professional environment; with meetings, targets, new ideas, projects, budgets, problems, and theirsolutions. His mind had never been blank before; his brain had never taken a holiday prior to today. But now, for the first time, it had stopped.

All the creativity and energy had gone and he did not know where, or how, he could find it again. He became lethargic and frustrated with the world around him, no longer with purpose or direction. He was too tired from the previous years to see clearly and as a result he could not be bothered with what was going on straight in front of him. He just grew angrier and angrier when he failed to rediscover his spark, arguing with those closest to him and failing to see the beauty of what was happening so subtly in front of his eyes - which was so magnificent, unique and wonderful that it was a shame he did. His new job as an English teacher frustrated him the most. It was not taking him where he wanted to go, not that he knew exactly where that was. The kids he worked with were shy and the barrier between them seemed insurmountable. He was no longer fulfilled, at least in a professional sense. He was unsure of his identity and his ideology. His hopes and dreams, he still had some but not the passion and the commitment that had served him so well in implementing them before. He had grown stale, stagnant and cynical.

It will come as no surprise to you that I am describing myself a few months ago. That was exactly how I felt shortly after I came here. Five months later Ive come to realise though, the thing about Japan is that, well, its exactly like a child. Loud, incomprehensible and difficult at first, but if you give it enough time it will eventually get under your skin. In many ways that surmises my experience here. The word life changing is bandied about far to much to really mean anything for someone who returns from travelling and I wont use it, but, having said that, the things I have experienced through living and teaching here have slowly worked their way beneath my skin and as I look back on my time I can see that Japan with all its good and bad points, has affected how I think about the world and, most definitely, has awoken me from my slumber.

The kids have been fantastic and undoubtedly were instrumental in that. Once I broke through that communication barrier, their energy and enthusiasm astonished me, (even if they do produce about 1000 litres of snot between them per day,) seeing them grow and develop as they have begun to grasp the basics of the English Language has cheered me (I even managed to slip in a few British versions of American English words when nobody was listening.) It has been hard saying good-bye to them and the many other friends I have made; Karen my best three year old kid was in tears and the others looked dejected, though I leave safe in the knowledge that with the right support, they can grow up to fulfil their potential, whether that involves English or not.

Despite everything that drives me crazy about this place, and that goes against every ounce of my being, there is an endearing beauty hidden deep beneath the madness. I have grown to love it. Will I come back? Certainly. Where else can I sing in public without looking like a fool, bash old bus drivers with mallets without being arrested, eat all kinds of weird and wonderful raw delicacies without dying a slow and painful death, have hundreds of people bowing at me without being a King, and visit solid gold temples without breaking into Fort Knox. Anyway, there is so much about here I have not yet discovered for this to be sayonara.

I am proud of what I have achieved here and am glad my clarity has returned, spurring me on as I am about to embark on the next exciting and (hopefully just as) rewarding chapter of my life when I return to sort it out this week. The ideas, passion, enthusiasm and spark that had deserted me at the end of last year is back in abundance, and, strangely enough all it took was a bunch of three year olds and some raw fish. Who could have guessed? In all honesty though, it was much more than that, much, much more indeed, and no words of mine can ever do this crazy little country justice. With that in mind I will close what will be my last update for the foreseeable future with the thought, that, despite my frustrations at times, my experience in Japan, definitely wasnt - lost in translation.