A Pseudo Farewell

My last day at my visit school is quickly approaching and though I only go to this school twice every week, I have established a fairly good working relationship with my English teachers. Whereas in contrast, I am not even sure that the teachers at my base school would even notice if I did not come into work. That being said, my fellow teachers and I went out to dinner as a farewell party. Despite the scalding hot oil jumping off the hotplate onto my arms, neck, hands, and pants, the party went really well.

Japanese dinner parties are always entertaining to me because I could just sit back, not say anything, and be perfectly entertained watching the awkwardness happen on its own. The first encounter with one of these enkais is shocking, but the fiftieth is just plain-old fashion hilarity. The drink pouring phenomena is the most socially important aspects of these parties. There is a secret, unspoken competition at the table. The competition is between the people who, for some odd reason, are not drinking alcohol and the people who are. It is an honor and a mandatory rite of passage to pour bottled beer for your coworkers and it is an honor to be poured for, but the problem is that one can never have an empty glass, even a little empty. Every time I took a sip of my crudely brewed beverage someone was ready and waiting for the glass to leave my lips so they could refill my drink to the brim. I love it. Such efficiency.

At the end of the night my coworkers gave me a stone hanko (name stamp used for official documents) and some traditional red ink used for signing artwork. I was very surprised and grateful. I am going to miss this school, but I am not going to miss the hour and a half commute every morning.