I have gotten so behind that I must now resort to posting my Fulbright monthly report in lieu of what I would normally write about as an entry. It briefly covers the period between June 15th and July 15th:
This month has flown past faster than any of the others. It has been pervaded by many of the same anxieties as the last, but just as many priceless experiences. I have at last had a chance to participate in more Ainu-related events and discussions. This has been long in coming, and I am so grateful that the chance arose at all. I have been making steady progress on my experiment, as well. I have now been given even more independence and control of the experiment. Indeed, I think it is entirely under my responsibility now. This is daunting and exciting. I worry that I will miss a step, and of course often must ask for help to learn procedures. Still, I have found that my knowledge is increasing quickly, and every week I learn a new skill--how to measure chlorophyll with a SPAD hand-held reader, how to measure N content with an Agriexpert, how to use an extremely expensive Nitrogen-Carbon Analyzer, and perhaps most often, how to punch holes in leaves.
Before discussing any of that, however, I should start precisely where my last report finished. This is because the very day I submitted my report, I was preparing to embark on what would become a memorable journey. A journey north, to Wakkanai. By bike! I departed on a Friday afternoon after seminar, and arrived 199 miles later on early Sunday morning. It rained and misted the entire trip, but it is so close to my heart. Just remembering the beautiful, varied landscape as we skirted along the coast of Hokkaido--through cliffs, through forests, through tunnels, wetlands, fishing towns, ocean, farmland--brings me a swell of joy. This was one of my most intimate experiences with the lands of Hokkaido. I was able to watch them shift every mile. I feel that I have come to know the lands here so well. They are dear to me. We biked as far as we could during daylight, and at sunset settled our sleeping bags on the floor of tiny, rural bus shelters. Some of these could barely fit two people, but we were lucky to stumble upon at least somewhat clean shelters--aside from the thousands of ants covering the floor (and us) the first night. One of my regrets while in Hokkaido has been that my lab, as kind and helpful as they are, has never taken me up on my sincere offer to be sent to the forests to accomplish jobs that others might decline. I have no trouble being sent to roam the woods, to hike long distances, or sleeping outside on the ground. These research activities, fairly common in my experiences in the United States, appear to be rare in Japan. Instead of tents, my lab has always stayed in hotels or ryokan. This bike trip fulfilled part of my desire. After reaching Wakkanai, I did something rather spontaneous. My friend needed to return to Sapporo that day, but I did not have a class that Monday. I was left with the option of staying behind, by myself, and exploring the two nearby islands. This possibility had been on my mind the entire trip. Although I was extremely nervous to be left all by myself, I took a deep breath, and bid farewell to my friend as she boarded a bus back to Sapporo. I bought a ticket for the ferry to the island of Rishiri and arrived in late afternoon. I had no idea of where anything was, and had no idea where I would spend the night. All I knew was that I would like to try to climb the mountain, and that there was possibly a campsite.
I debarked from the ferry, got on my bike, and promptly realized I had no idea which road to take even if it was an island. I turned back to the ferry station and asked which way to the Rishiri trail head, and if perchance the campsite was nearby. My questions were answered, but the Japanese couple certainly appeared to doubt my sanity. They would not be the last to look me up and down doubtfully. I was lucky to find an onsen on the way to wash up, then climbed up the long, winding, steep road just as it was coming close to sunset. Sure enough, the office was closed. But there was a small group of older, Japanese campers roasting dinner on a grill. I asked them about the office, and as it was closed, if it was ok if I slept there anyways. They said I should go ahead and set up my tent, to which I replied that I had no tent, and I planned to sleep on one of the benches. Either they hid their surprise well, or they weren’t surprised at all, because they let me do so quite naturally (although they did offer me blankets numerous times, and to come to their tents if I became cold). I ate some snacks for dinner, rolled my sleeping bag onto the bench, and crawled inside. The trees were swaying in the strong wind around me. The sky was becoming deep blue. The air was pleasantly cool. I watched one by one as stars appeared. Compared to the bus stations, my bench was a luxury. I slept well and woke up at 3:45am with the sunrise. I packed everything up, tied it to my bike, ate a bite for breakfast, and then set about climbing the mountain. The older campers were already up and preparing as well. I had been warned that it is a long, difficult climb. Two “tough” men had told me it had taken them four hours to climb up the 1,700m peak. The wind that had grown over the night, however, was downright blustery by morning. It would become stronger and stronger as I climbed, and eventually became enveloped in a cloud. My fast pace surprised even myself, and I was set to summit in just over three hours. I came to approximately 1,500m, but the wind was strong enough it could push me over, the rain was cold, the rocks became jagged and slick, and I was by myself. The last 200m was a sheer upwards climb, and looking out around me I could see no more than 10m ahead. I could see nothing of the view, and another 200m up I knew it would be the same case. So, valuing my safety, I began the climb back down. I managed to get back down by just after 10am. I had expected the climb to take up most of the day, and thus had set out early. Although I had not made it to the absolute top, I had come close, and in great time.
Chilly and wet, even though the weather back on the ground was pleasant, I stopped at the onsen again. Then I caught the ferry to the next island, Rebun, in what would become dreary rain. Undoubtedly, I am an “ame onna.” I only had a few hours here, and not long enough to venture to any of the main sights. I biked, somewhat lonesome and deflated from my adventure, along the coast. Then, coming back to the ferry terminal to buy my ticket back to Wakkanai, I was barraged by nearly every old Japanese lady I had been forced to meet along the way. I say “forced” because at times there were literally lines of old ladies forming (sneakily) to come up and ask me the same string of questions, some making a bee-line over to me: where are you from? (Minnesota) Your Japanese is so good! (Not so good) Oh, what are you studying? Oh! You are traveling alone! I had been trying to find an omiyage for my lab, and was forced to flee because I was truly pursued by person after person. Now, I appreciate friendliness and curiosity, but this had reached a limit. In one day, I had explained 14 different times the exact same story of what I was doing in Japan. However, as we all lined up to exit the ferry as it approached Wakkanai, I was absolutely touched by the kindness of these ladies. A group of three came up to me, talking a few more moments, wished me luck, and proceeded to give me their own possessions. They each took the charms and various key chains from their bags and gave them to me. One gave me her handmade coin purse. I was at a loss for words by their kindness. I had done nothing to deserve their gifts. I thanked them many times, but I could not fully express the gratitude and surprise I felt. Parting with them, one more lady who had surreptitiously taken a picture with me on the ferry the day before, also handed me a keychain and a pack of gum! I could not believe it. At midnight, I caught a night bus back to Sapporo, thus ending one more among many of the incredible journeys I have had in Japan.
The following weekend, I was also able to attend an Ainu music festival in Nibutani. This would be my first visit to Nibutani, a district of the town of Biratori with a very active Ainu population. I was nervous, because I was going with a professor who I had only recently met, and I did not know anyone from Nibutani. But I was also excited. The band that performed, Ainu Art Project, left me in awe. Their combination of traditional aspects of culture with contemporary rock music and style was incredible. I watched in elation as very young children danced to the music--proudly incorporating traditional dance moves that they saw adults use. As the songs intensified, an elderly man named Kazonobu picked up an empty plastic water bottle and began clapping with it. He ushered more and more of the audience and friends in front of the stage to dance. The professor I had come with went out as well. And soon enough, I had been ushered down as well! It was one of the few times I have ever felt comfortable dancing. The elderly men said to me, encouragingly, “good or bad dancing, there is no such thing!” Much of the dances were synchronized in a circle, and I tried to follow everyone else’s movements. I felt so welcomed, and so happy to see such smiling faces. To see pride and joy and strength. I was also lucky to, briefly, meet Kaizawa-san’s son, who hopefully will be able to invite me to visit the Chikoronai reforestation project I mentioned in my previous report.
The adventures continued the next day. Hearing that it would be a “supermoon” that night, I decided impulsively that the best place to view the moon would be from a nearby mountain. In the afternoon, I set out with a friend to bike to the mountain--about 40 minutes away. We made it up to the top just as the sun was beginning to set. We were graced by the setting sun and the rising moon simultaneously above the forests, mountains, ocean, and the twinkling cityscape of Sapporo spread out before us. We slept on the platform of a ski lift, protruding from the mountainside like a dock into the sea. The night air was cool, but pleasant, and I closed my eyes with a smile on my lips. The round moon brightened the night, and I could open my eyes to watch it progress across the heavens. In the morning, we woke up before 4am, ate waffles and Minnesota maple syrup that I had packed as a surprise, and climbed back down. Later that day--after a 8am nap!--I was given the chance to act as a TA along, with a couple labmates, in my advisor’s lecture. This felt like a sudden amount of responsibility--in fact, my professor has a tendency not to explain beyond “please attend this lecture at this time,” so I was not aware, when I entered the room, that I would be asked to lead a group of students in discussion about ecological effects of nitrogen deposition. In Japanese. I did my best, frazzled though I was to be so trusted by my advisor.
For my “Agriculture in Hokkaido” course, I have found, the lectures are unfortunately lacking. However, in the past weeks they have picked up. This is mostly because the professors have brought us to their experimental fields! One week, I was able to see the biogas chambers attached to the Hokudai barn. Another, I was able to see experiments on cover crop usage. Then I was given heaps of asparagus from one professors experiment after a lecture on vegetable production in Hokkaido. Still another, I was able to stroll through the berry production fields and pick any haskap, raspberries, currants, silverberries, gooseberries that I wanted to try--at my own risk, since some were quite sour!
Additionally, I have continued to volunteer at the urban beekeeping group here in Sapporo. I am so grateful to all the members for greeting me so happily each week. This past week, I actually felt very useful this time around. I am learning how to help, and was for once put in charge of cranking the machine that spins the honeycombs and catching bees that got into the stairwell. A new volunteer visited, and I was even jokingly called a senpai! The entire experience has been such a wonderful way for me to interact and make friendships outside of Hokudai, and outside the “university” age group. For my efforts, besides a bright smile I also receive the gift of a jar of honey! Honey that I have watched and helped to harvest. And, I am excited to say, I have now competed in a track and field competition in Japan. In fact, I won the “open” 800m! I was glowing with joy a full week after this competition. This was a dream come true for me. It is the first time I felt fully accepted into the team. I even ran on the Hokudai 4x400m relay, wearing a green Hokudai jersey! Which we won handily! This was the true highlight of the meet, because there was no longer any difference between me and the other Hokudai runners. We were a relay. We were a team. I was not just some unattached runner; I was their teammate. I have gained so much from participation in this club--linguistically, physically, and mentally. I have become stronger and more confident. in each respect.
My Japanese classes are also continuing as usual. The vocabulary that we have been learning is actually quite useful, and this makes studying for tests especially rewarding. Nevertheless, I have found that, because of the limited options I was left with due to the poor scheduling (simultaneous scheduling, that is) of the courses, I am not forced to study as often as I was last semester. This is freeing, in many ways, but I also feel that structured learning is important. Yet I feel lucky that most days now I am speaking far more Japanese than English simply do to the activities I am participating in, and an increasing confidence. Through volunteering, through clubs, and increasingly through my lab, I am speaking Japanese just as naturally as English. I am sure that my conversations are littered with grammatical errors, but they are very fluid ones at least! Reflecting at the end of each day, I am sometimes surprised to realize suddenly that I have actually been communicating in only Japanese all day long!
Lastly, for my experiment, I am really beginning to accumulate results. Interpreting them will be the next, and more difficult, step. I ran into a slight hitch last week when I realized in shock that a few of my seedlings had gone missing, however! I finally needed to do individual seedling measurements, only to realize I could not find them. Luckily, there should still be enough from the remaining seedlings to create accurate results. But at the time, it was discouraging! I also had to re-run a full five hours of sample analysis after it was revealed that the machine had made a mistake halfway through the cycle. This was equally discouraging, but a good way to become even more familiar with the equipment. Next week, I will hopefully be acquiring a new skill. Since my seedlings are growing under a limited light environment, we would like to measure the intensity and length of “sun flecks.” These are momentary patches of light as a result of sudden openings in the canopy, primarily caused by wind. I will be setting six more sensors, but also attempting a method using photography to map the canopy. So I will finish on that note of excitement. Although I often find myself slipping into sadness or reflection about the short time that I have in Japan, I also find myself smiling at the many memories I have collected. I worry that I have nothing concrete to return to in Minnesota--as yet, no job, no school. I have rough plans, and it makes me anxious to have so little settled. So I am grateful for the everyday joys and excitements--for this amazing opportunity to learn.
Additionally, I have continued to volunteer at the urban beekeeping group here in Sapporo. I am so grateful to all the members for greeting me so happily each week. This past week, I actually felt very useful this time around. I am learning how to help, and was for once put in charge of cranking the machine that spins the honeycombs and catching bees that got into the stairwell. A new volunteer visited, and I was even jokingly called a senpai! The entire experience has been such a wonderful way for me to interact and make friendships outside of Hokudai, and outside the “university” age group. For my efforts, besides a bright smile I also receive the gift of a jar of honey! Honey that I have watched and helped to harvest. And, I am excited to say, I have now competed in a track and field competition in Japan. In fact, I won the “open” 800m! I was glowing with joy a full week after this competition. This was a dream come true for me. It is the first time I felt fully accepted into the team. I even ran on the Hokudai 4x400m relay, wearing a green Hokudai jersey! Which we won handily! This was the true highlight of the meet, because there was no longer any difference between me and the other Hokudai runners. We were a relay. We were a team. I was not just some unattached runner; I was their teammate. I have gained so much from participation in this club--linguistically, physically, and mentally. I have become stronger and more confident. in each respect.
My Japanese classes are also continuing as usual. The vocabulary that we have been learning is actually quite useful, and this makes studying for tests especially rewarding. Nevertheless, I have found that, because of the limited options I was left with due to the poor scheduling (simultaneous scheduling, that is) of the courses, I am not forced to study as often as I was last semester. This is freeing, in many ways, but I also feel that structured learning is important. Yet I feel lucky that most days now I am speaking far more Japanese than English simply do to the activities I am participating in, and an increasing confidence. Through volunteering, through clubs, and increasingly through my lab, I am speaking Japanese just as naturally as English. I am sure that my conversations are littered with grammatical errors, but they are very fluid ones at least! Reflecting at the end of each day, I am sometimes surprised to realize suddenly that I have actually been communicating in only Japanese all day long!
Lastly, for my experiment, I am really beginning to accumulate results. Interpreting them will be the next, and more difficult, step. I ran into a slight hitch last week when I realized in shock that a few of my seedlings had gone missing, however! I finally needed to do individual seedling measurements, only to realize I could not find them. Luckily, there should still be enough from the remaining seedlings to create accurate results. But at the time, it was discouraging! I also had to re-run a full five hours of sample analysis after it was revealed that the machine had made a mistake halfway through the cycle. This was equally discouraging, but a good way to become even more familiar with the equipment. Next week, I will hopefully be acquiring a new skill. Since my seedlings are growing under a limited light environment, we would like to measure the intensity and length of “sun flecks.” These are momentary patches of light as a result of sudden openings in the canopy, primarily caused by wind. I will be setting six more sensors, but also attempting a method using photography to map the canopy. So I will finish on that note of excitement. Although I often find myself slipping into sadness or reflection about the short time that I have in Japan, I also find myself smiling at the many memories I have collected. I worry that I have nothing concrete to return to in Minnesota--as yet, no job, no school. I have rough plans, and it makes me anxious to have so little settled. So I am grateful for the everyday joys and excitements--for this amazing opportunity to learn.
This month has flown past faster than any of the others. It has been pervaded by many of the same anxieties as the last, but just as many priceless experiences. I have at last had a chance to participate in more Ainu-related events and discussions. This has been long in coming, and I am so grateful that the chance arose at all. I have been making steady progress on my experiment, as well. I have now been given even more independence and control of the experiment. Indeed, I think it is entirely under my responsibility now. This is daunting and exciting. I worry that I will miss a step, and of course often must ask for help to learn procedures. Still, I have found that my knowledge is increasing quickly, and every week I learn a new skill--how to measure chlorophyll with a SPAD hand-held reader, how to measure N content with an Agriexpert, how to use an extremely expensive Nitrogen-Carbon Analyzer, and perhaps most often, how to punch holes in leaves.
Before discussing any of that, however, I should start precisely where my last report finished. This is because the very day I submitted my report, I was preparing to embark on what would become a memorable journey. A journey north, to Wakkanai. By bike! I departed on a Friday afternoon after seminar, and arrived 199 miles later on early Sunday morning. It rained and misted the entire trip, but it is so close to my heart. Just remembering the beautiful, varied landscape as we skirted along the coast of Hokkaido--through cliffs, through forests, through tunnels, wetlands, fishing towns, ocean, farmland--brings me a swell of joy. This was one of my most intimate experiences with the lands of Hokkaido. I was able to watch them shift every mile. I feel that I have come to know the lands here so well. They are dear to me. We biked as far as we could during daylight, and at sunset settled our sleeping bags on the floor of tiny, rural bus shelters. Some of these could barely fit two people, but we were lucky to stumble upon at least somewhat clean shelters--aside from the thousands of ants covering the floor (and us) the first night. One of my regrets while in Hokkaido has been that my lab, as kind and helpful as they are, has never taken me up on my sincere offer to be sent to the forests to accomplish jobs that others might decline. I have no trouble being sent to roam the woods, to hike long distances, or sleeping outside on the ground. These research activities, fairly common in my experiences in the United States, appear to be rare in Japan. Instead of tents, my lab has always stayed in hotels or ryokan. This bike trip fulfilled part of my desire. After reaching Wakkanai, I did something rather spontaneous. My friend needed to return to Sapporo that day, but I did not have a class that Monday. I was left with the option of staying behind, by myself, and exploring the two nearby islands. This possibility had been on my mind the entire trip. Although I was extremely nervous to be left all by myself, I took a deep breath, and bid farewell to my friend as she boarded a bus back to Sapporo. I bought a ticket for the ferry to the island of Rishiri and arrived in late afternoon. I had no idea of where anything was, and had no idea where I would spend the night. All I knew was that I would like to try to climb the mountain, and that there was possibly a campsite.
I debarked from the ferry, got on my bike, and promptly realized I had no idea which road to take even if it was an island. I turned back to the ferry station and asked which way to the Rishiri trail head, and if perchance the campsite was nearby. My questions were answered, but the Japanese couple certainly appeared to doubt my sanity. They would not be the last to look me up and down doubtfully. I was lucky to find an onsen on the way to wash up, then climbed up the long, winding, steep road just as it was coming close to sunset. Sure enough, the office was closed. But there was a small group of older, Japanese campers roasting dinner on a grill. I asked them about the office, and as it was closed, if it was ok if I slept there anyways. They said I should go ahead and set up my tent, to which I replied that I had no tent, and I planned to sleep on one of the benches. Either they hid their surprise well, or they weren’t surprised at all, because they let me do so quite naturally (although they did offer me blankets numerous times, and to come to their tents if I became cold). I ate some snacks for dinner, rolled my sleeping bag onto the bench, and crawled inside. The trees were swaying in the strong wind around me. The sky was becoming deep blue. The air was pleasantly cool. I watched one by one as stars appeared. Compared to the bus stations, my bench was a luxury. I slept well and woke up at 3:45am with the sunrise. I packed everything up, tied it to my bike, ate a bite for breakfast, and then set about climbing the mountain. The older campers were already up and preparing as well. I had been warned that it is a long, difficult climb. Two “tough” men had told me it had taken them four hours to climb up the 1,700m peak. The wind that had grown over the night, however, was downright blustery by morning. It would become stronger and stronger as I climbed, and eventually became enveloped in a cloud. My fast pace surprised even myself, and I was set to summit in just over three hours. I came to approximately 1,500m, but the wind was strong enough it could push me over, the rain was cold, the rocks became jagged and slick, and I was by myself. The last 200m was a sheer upwards climb, and looking out around me I could see no more than 10m ahead. I could see nothing of the view, and another 200m up I knew it would be the same case. So, valuing my safety, I began the climb back down. I managed to get back down by just after 10am. I had expected the climb to take up most of the day, and thus had set out early. Although I had not made it to the absolute top, I had come close, and in great time.
Chilly and wet, even though the weather back on the ground was pleasant, I stopped at the onsen again. Then I caught the ferry to the next island, Rebun, in what would become dreary rain. Undoubtedly, I am an “ame onna.” I only had a few hours here, and not long enough to venture to any of the main sights. I biked, somewhat lonesome and deflated from my adventure, along the coast. Then, coming back to the ferry terminal to buy my ticket back to Wakkanai, I was barraged by nearly every old Japanese lady I had been forced to meet along the way. I say “forced” because at times there were literally lines of old ladies forming (sneakily) to come up and ask me the same string of questions, some making a bee-line over to me: where are you from? (Minnesota) Your Japanese is so good! (Not so good) Oh, what are you studying? Oh! You are traveling alone! I had been trying to find an omiyage for my lab, and was forced to flee because I was truly pursued by person after person. Now, I appreciate friendliness and curiosity, but this had reached a limit. In one day, I had explained 14 different times the exact same story of what I was doing in Japan. However, as we all lined up to exit the ferry as it approached Wakkanai, I was absolutely touched by the kindness of these ladies. A group of three came up to me, talking a few more moments, wished me luck, and proceeded to give me their own possessions. They each took the charms and various key chains from their bags and gave them to me. One gave me her handmade coin purse. I was at a loss for words by their kindness. I had done nothing to deserve their gifts. I thanked them many times, but I could not fully express the gratitude and surprise I felt. Parting with them, one more lady who had surreptitiously taken a picture with me on the ferry the day before, also handed me a keychain and a pack of gum! I could not believe it. At midnight, I caught a night bus back to Sapporo, thus ending one more among many of the incredible journeys I have had in Japan.
The following weekend, I was also able to attend an Ainu music festival in Nibutani. This would be my first visit to Nibutani, a district of the town of Biratori with a very active Ainu population. I was nervous, because I was going with a professor who I had only recently met, and I did not know anyone from Nibutani. But I was also excited. The band that performed, Ainu Art Project, left me in awe. Their combination of traditional aspects of culture with contemporary rock music and style was incredible. I watched in elation as very young children danced to the music--proudly incorporating traditional dance moves that they saw adults use. As the songs intensified, an elderly man named Kazonobu picked up an empty plastic water bottle and began clapping with it. He ushered more and more of the audience and friends in front of the stage to dance. The professor I had come with went out as well. And soon enough, I had been ushered down as well! It was one of the few times I have ever felt comfortable dancing. The elderly men said to me, encouragingly, “good or bad dancing, there is no such thing!” Much of the dances were synchronized in a circle, and I tried to follow everyone else’s movements. I felt so welcomed, and so happy to see such smiling faces. To see pride and joy and strength. I was also lucky to, briefly, meet Kaizawa-san’s son, who hopefully will be able to invite me to visit the Chikoronai reforestation project I mentioned in my previous report.
The adventures continued the next day. Hearing that it would be a “supermoon” that night, I decided impulsively that the best place to view the moon would be from a nearby mountain. In the afternoon, I set out with a friend to bike to the mountain--about 40 minutes away. We made it up to the top just as the sun was beginning to set. We were graced by the setting sun and the rising moon simultaneously above the forests, mountains, ocean, and the twinkling cityscape of Sapporo spread out before us. We slept on the platform of a ski lift, protruding from the mountainside like a dock into the sea. The night air was cool, but pleasant, and I closed my eyes with a smile on my lips. The round moon brightened the night, and I could open my eyes to watch it progress across the heavens. In the morning, we woke up before 4am, ate waffles and Minnesota maple syrup that I had packed as a surprise, and climbed back down. Later that day--after a 8am nap!--I was given the chance to act as a TA along, with a couple labmates, in my advisor’s lecture. This felt like a sudden amount of responsibility--in fact, my professor has a tendency not to explain beyond “please attend this lecture at this time,” so I was not aware, when I entered the room, that I would be asked to lead a group of students in discussion about ecological effects of nitrogen deposition. In Japanese. I did my best, frazzled though I was to be so trusted by my advisor.
For my “Agriculture in Hokkaido” course, I have found, the lectures are unfortunately lacking. However, in the past weeks they have picked up. This is mostly because the professors have brought us to their experimental fields! One week, I was able to see the biogas chambers attached to the Hokudai barn. Another, I was able to see experiments on cover crop usage. Then I was given heaps of asparagus from one professors experiment after a lecture on vegetable production in Hokkaido. Still another, I was able to stroll through the berry production fields and pick any haskap, raspberries, currants, silverberries, gooseberries that I wanted to try--at my own risk, since some were quite sour!
Additionally, I have continued to volunteer at the urban beekeeping group here in Sapporo. I am so grateful to all the members for greeting me so happily each week. This past week, I actually felt very useful this time around. I am learning how to help, and was for once put in charge of cranking the machine that spins the honeycombs and catching bees that got into the stairwell. A new volunteer visited, and I was even jokingly called a senpai! The entire experience has been such a wonderful way for me to interact and make friendships outside of Hokudai, and outside the “university” age group. For my efforts, besides a bright smile I also receive the gift of a jar of honey! Honey that I have watched and helped to harvest. And, I am excited to say, I have now competed in a track and field competition in Japan. In fact, I won the “open” 800m! I was glowing with joy a full week after this competition. This was a dream come true for me. It is the first time I felt fully accepted into the team. I even ran on the Hokudai 4x400m relay, wearing a green Hokudai jersey! Which we won handily! This was the true highlight of the meet, because there was no longer any difference between me and the other Hokudai runners. We were a relay. We were a team. I was not just some unattached runner; I was their teammate. I have gained so much from participation in this club--linguistically, physically, and mentally. I have become stronger and more confident. in each respect.
My Japanese classes are also continuing as usual. The vocabulary that we have been learning is actually quite useful, and this makes studying for tests especially rewarding. Nevertheless, I have found that, because of the limited options I was left with due to the poor scheduling (simultaneous scheduling, that is) of the courses, I am not forced to study as often as I was last semester. This is freeing, in many ways, but I also feel that structured learning is important. Yet I feel lucky that most days now I am speaking far more Japanese than English simply do to the activities I am participating in, and an increasing confidence. Through volunteering, through clubs, and increasingly through my lab, I am speaking Japanese just as naturally as English. I am sure that my conversations are littered with grammatical errors, but they are very fluid ones at least! Reflecting at the end of each day, I am sometimes surprised to realize suddenly that I have actually been communicating in only Japanese all day long!
Lastly, for my experiment, I am really beginning to accumulate results. Interpreting them will be the next, and more difficult, step. I ran into a slight hitch last week when I realized in shock that a few of my seedlings had gone missing, however! I finally needed to do individual seedling measurements, only to realize I could not find them. Luckily, there should still be enough from the remaining seedlings to create accurate results. But at the time, it was discouraging! I also had to re-run a full five hours of sample analysis after it was revealed that the machine had made a mistake halfway through the cycle. This was equally discouraging, but a good way to become even more familiar with the equipment. Next week, I will hopefully be acquiring a new skill. Since my seedlings are growing under a limited light environment, we would like to measure the intensity and length of “sun flecks.” These are momentary patches of light as a result of sudden openings in the canopy, primarily caused by wind. I will be setting six more sensors, but also attempting a method using photography to map the canopy. So I will finish on that note of excitement. Although I often find myself slipping into sadness or reflection about the short time that I have in Japan, I also find myself smiling at the many memories I have collected. I worry that I have nothing concrete to return to in Minnesota--as yet, no job, no school. I have rough plans, and it makes me anxious to have so little settled. So I am grateful for the everyday joys and excitements--for this amazing opportunity to learn.
Additionally, I have continued to volunteer at the urban beekeeping group here in Sapporo. I am so grateful to all the members for greeting me so happily each week. This past week, I actually felt very useful this time around. I am learning how to help, and was for once put in charge of cranking the machine that spins the honeycombs and catching bees that got into the stairwell. A new volunteer visited, and I was even jokingly called a senpai! The entire experience has been such a wonderful way for me to interact and make friendships outside of Hokudai, and outside the “university” age group. For my efforts, besides a bright smile I also receive the gift of a jar of honey! Honey that I have watched and helped to harvest. And, I am excited to say, I have now competed in a track and field competition in Japan. In fact, I won the “open” 800m! I was glowing with joy a full week after this competition. This was a dream come true for me. It is the first time I felt fully accepted into the team. I even ran on the Hokudai 4x400m relay, wearing a green Hokudai jersey! Which we won handily! This was the true highlight of the meet, because there was no longer any difference between me and the other Hokudai runners. We were a relay. We were a team. I was not just some unattached runner; I was their teammate. I have gained so much from participation in this club--linguistically, physically, and mentally. I have become stronger and more confident. in each respect.
My Japanese classes are also continuing as usual. The vocabulary that we have been learning is actually quite useful, and this makes studying for tests especially rewarding. Nevertheless, I have found that, because of the limited options I was left with due to the poor scheduling (simultaneous scheduling, that is) of the courses, I am not forced to study as often as I was last semester. This is freeing, in many ways, but I also feel that structured learning is important. Yet I feel lucky that most days now I am speaking far more Japanese than English simply do to the activities I am participating in, and an increasing confidence. Through volunteering, through clubs, and increasingly through my lab, I am speaking Japanese just as naturally as English. I am sure that my conversations are littered with grammatical errors, but they are very fluid ones at least! Reflecting at the end of each day, I am sometimes surprised to realize suddenly that I have actually been communicating in only Japanese all day long!
Lastly, for my experiment, I am really beginning to accumulate results. Interpreting them will be the next, and more difficult, step. I ran into a slight hitch last week when I realized in shock that a few of my seedlings had gone missing, however! I finally needed to do individual seedling measurements, only to realize I could not find them. Luckily, there should still be enough from the remaining seedlings to create accurate results. But at the time, it was discouraging! I also had to re-run a full five hours of sample analysis after it was revealed that the machine had made a mistake halfway through the cycle. This was equally discouraging, but a good way to become even more familiar with the equipment. Next week, I will hopefully be acquiring a new skill. Since my seedlings are growing under a limited light environment, we would like to measure the intensity and length of “sun flecks.” These are momentary patches of light as a result of sudden openings in the canopy, primarily caused by wind. I will be setting six more sensors, but also attempting a method using photography to map the canopy. So I will finish on that note of excitement. Although I often find myself slipping into sadness or reflection about the short time that I have in Japan, I also find myself smiling at the many memories I have collected. I worry that I have nothing concrete to return to in Minnesota--as yet, no job, no school. I have rough plans, and it makes me anxious to have so little settled. So I am grateful for the everyday joys and excitements--for this amazing opportunity to learn.
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