The Crew

I’ve been steadily collecting photos of everyone with whom I work so I can do a sort of mass introduction, and also so you have a clue who I’m talking about in later posts. We’re quite a diverse lot! (caution: contains lots of deadpan biographical humour; prepare your pinches of salt!)

Those Still With Us




Tom’s from Chicago. He recently shaved his beard off, which made him look like a completely different person, but he's decided to grow it back.

Amy and I are divided by a centuries-old enmity. She’s from Cornwall, and the Mildons are from Devonshire. This apparently makes us deadly enemies, although it’s amazing what beer and shop talk will do for inter-shire relations.
Stephen is one of my flatmates, and hails from Pittsburgh. He does a wicked Howard Cosell impression, and strongly denies any Mob connections.


Posing here with Amy are Ellen from New Plymouth (left) and Carrie from Pennsylvania (no telekinesis jokes please). Ellen was actually in my interview group in Wellington. We were most surprised to see each other.


Welsh Stephen shows off his gentler side. Swansea is the ideal nurturing environment to raise a well-balanced and caring child. Wishes Wales actually had a chance in the World Cup.


Natalie’s Papuan/Australian and lends an unmatched artistry to her work. She tells hilarious stories about her family.


Big Chris (named to distinguish him from Little Chris) regales us with tales of his wild youth in rural Wisconsin. He is a champion of honesty, truth and pragmatic thinking, which often puts him at odds with Japanese politics and other institutions.


Ryan is my other flatmate and fellow gamer. He is a beacon of modern American culture in a strange and unfamiliar land. Sometimes inadvertently finds himself an "other institution."


Used to the frozen wastelands of central Canada, Andrea is enjoying the sweltering Japanese summer a great deal.


Ben is Australian. He'll be transferring out in a few days. He is dedicated to working on his alcoholism.


Completing our Australian contingent is Luke, from Adelaide, here looking thoughtful at the local jazz bar. He lives downstairs from us, and we live on the second floor. Makers of lame music jokes the world over are pretty disappointed about that arrangement.

Missing: Stacie, just arrived from Pennsylvania and with whom I work quite a lot; Michael, a big enthusiastic guy from Chicago; Luke, a strange lad from Auckland; Matt, a Zimbabwean who recommends the Trans-Siberian Railway.

The Departed






This is Kylie, from Christchurch. She and Ellen transferred to Kobe not long ago. She was one of four other New Zealanders here, and the only one I really saw from time to time. She exhibited the trademark Kiwi taciturnity.



Sayuri is from Chicago and paints wonderful abstract works that reflect life in Sendai. She has had two exhibitions here. Our house became Artwork Central as all her paintings were packed up prior to her departure. They were exciting days.

So there you have it. Now in the future when I refer to "Welsh Stephen" or "Amy" or "Big Chris," you'll know who I'm on about ;)

Day of Islands (Part 2)

(sheesh)

The path around Oshima brought fresh delights. I'd taken my sandals off by this point, so I got to feel the bite of the soil and its trees; the stone. The whole island was just begging to have some kind of puzzle integrated into its features.

We made our way back to the harbour, eschewing the somewhat seedy-looking aquarium. The boat trip had been recommended to us, and while we were considering our options, a group of Japanese approached and suggested we join them. Since a larger group lowered the ticket price considerably for all concerned, we went for it.

Now, unfortunately, the thing with small sandstone islands covered in forest is, once you've seen a couple...you've kind of seen all there is to see. You start looking for other features to catch your eye. It was a worthy ride, to see the extent of the bay and the sheer number of islands in it, but it didn't add much from a scenery-appreciation perspective.

There was only one place left to explore now: the large island of Fukuurajima. We crossed the long red bridge, which was made, somewhat disappointingly after Oshima's lovely wooden span, of concrete and steel. The forest here was much more lush than Oshima, with a great deal of undergrowth. By this time the sun had gone behind some rather heavy cloud, deadening the light; this, along with the style of vegetation (including the remarkable resemblance of the torreya tree to our own totara), produced the impression of walking somewhere in New Zealand. There was a moment of cognitive dissonance, relieved by obvious evidence of Japan: ants the size of my thumbnail.

Again I wandered off by myself. I descended a path and found, strangely, a large lawn set in the midst of the forest. There was a gazebo at one end, and at the other, neatly trimmed bushes covered in spider webs. Nearby had been built a pergola supporting the most monstrous wisterias I'd ever seen. It is said that Date Masamune brought the wisteria from Korea and adopted it as his personal tree. All around Sendai can be found wisterias, some of very impressive stature.

The view of the bay from Fukuurajima was not nearly as impressive without the sun. This house, however, apparently someone's residence, looked just fine.

And that was that. The sun came out again as we sat, thoroughly worn out, on the train platform. Pictures in magazines tempt me with even more spectacular scenes than these. It shall be my mission to find them while the sun shines.