One of my professors in the Japanese department here at UAF gave me the opportunity to take a JLPT N2 practice test. I did rather poorly on it. As I suspected would be the case, my lacking vocabulary was at the heart of all the problems I had with the test. I have too heavy a class load to make it worthwhile to study heavily and try to take the JLPT this year; even if I were willing to sacrifice my grades in the attempt, the air fare to Seattle is too expensive to be worth it if I fail. Just because I’m unwilling to cram, however, that doesn’t mean that I have no intention of stepping up my studies a bit. I have several resources at my disposal which have barely been tapped, including several books.
Shortly before the end of my study abroad term in Japan, I was given a full set of the 2005 Japanese language grammar textbooks for grades 1-9. These are the official Ministry of Education approved grammar books for native Japanese speakers going through primary school. There are twelve books for elementary grades 1-6, two books for each grade. There is only one book for each of the three middle school grades, and they’re thicker than the two books for any of grades 1-6 put together.
I’ve decided to start reading them straight through, beginning with the first of the first grade books. Some of the things in it are difficult for me to understand, because a lot of children’s language is used. They aren’t defined in the book because they don’t need to be for their intended audience. A child goes into school with a fairly large vocabulary, and grammar lessons start by teaching him to write words with which he is already familiar.
About midway through the textbook, however, once all the hiragana have been covered, short stories are introduced. There are three multi-page stories in the first textbook. One of them is a rather boring (to an adult) story about an old man who couldn’t pull a huge vegetable out of the ground. Along comes an old woman who tries to help him, then a kid, then a dog, then a cat, and finally a rat. Together they finally get the vegetable out. Very repetitive. The other two, however, are cute little stories that I think are worth sharing.
The translations are not quite literal in some spots. When I had to choose between faithful and accurate, I chose faithful. They’re stories for children, and they should read like children’s stories.
Steam Train (けむりの きしゃ)
A shooting star fell from the sky.
ながれぼしが おちて きました。
An old smokestack cleaner picked it up.
えんとつそうじの おじいさんが ひろいました。
The old man set the star on top of a smokestack.
おじいさんは、 ながれぼしを えんとつの てっぺんに おきました。
“Here, I’ll return you to the sky.”
「さあ、 そらに かえして あげよう。」
The old man started to burn some wood.
おじいさんは、 まきを もやしはじめました。
Smoke came out of the smokestack.
えんとつから、 けむりが でて きました。
“Thank you, grandfather.”
The star, riding the smoke, rose up and up into the sky.
ながれぼじが、 けむりに のって、 そらへ そらへと のぼって いきました。
The Mountains That Argued (けんかした山) by Mikio Ando
The illustrations for this story added context which aided me in its translation.
Two tall mountains stood next to each other.
たかい 山が ならんで たって いました。
They always argued about which of them was taller.
いつも せいくらべを しては、 けんかばかり して いました。
“Stop arguing,” said the sun.
「けんかを やめろう。」 お日さまが いいました。
The moon spoke, too.
“Stop it. If you don’t, the animals of the forest
「おやめなさい。そうで ないと、 もりの どうぶつたちは、
will be nervous and unable to sleep.”
あんしんして ねて いられないから。」
But neither mountain listened to their words.
それでも、 どちらの 山も いう ことを ききません。
Then, one day it happened.
ある 日の ことでした。
Finally, both mountains, unwilling to lose, suddenly spurted fire.
とうとう、 りょうほうの 山が、 まけずに どっと 火を ふきだしました。
Many green trees were engulfed in flames in the blink of an eye.
たくさんの みどりの 木が、 あっと いう まに、 火に つつまれました。
The songbirds spoke all at once.
ことりたちが、 くちぐちに いいました。
“Sun! Please call for the clouds to bring rain.
「お日さま。 はやく くもを よんで、 あめを ふらせて ください。
We’ll call for them, too.”
わたしたちも よびに いきますから。」
The sun called the clouds.
お日さまは、 くもを よびました。
Black clouds gathered quietly and rained steadily.
くろい くもが、 わっさ わっさと あつまって、どんどん あめを ふらせました。
The extinguished mountains looked at each other glumly.
火の きえた 山は、 しょんぼりと かおを みあわせました。
One year, two years, three years passed.
一ねん、 二ねん、 三ねん たちました。
Years and years passed.
なんねんも なんねんも たちました。
The mountains were completely wrapped in green.
山は、 すっかり みどりに つつまれました。
(Illustrated by Masahiro Kasuya.)
かすや まさひろ え
UAF has many traditions, I’m sure, but the one best-known by the bulk of the student body is Starvation Gulch. Starvation Gulch occurs on a Saturday at the end of September every year, and involves a great deal of fire.
Six bonfires are constructed to one side of the Taku parking lot by different teams. They have to be within certain dimensions, include no spray paint, and follow a few other rules which are in place for safety reasons. The fire fighters light them on fire over the course of about 15 minutes, starting at one end, and the team whose flame burns highest gets to take the trophy home and display it proudly until next year.
Clubs and departments are given the opportunity to sell things at booths set up in the middle of the parking lot by the bus station. I helped out with the Japan-Alaska Club’s booth this time, since I’m trying to be an active participant in their activities this year. We got together on Friday at the club president’s house to prepare the food. 440 gyoza made, three bags of chicken sliced into strips and boiled slightly for yakitori, and two batches of mochi made using the microwave. We had Dragonball Z on in the background while we worked; having a Japanese movie playing with no English subtitles proved too distracting, since the president and/or I had to explain what was going on to everyone else.
At the event last night, we warmed the finished gyoza over a grill as it was ordered. The chicken was cooked over the grill as well, having soaked up a home-made marinade all day. The mochi could be grilled if people wanted it. Everything was served on sticks. Business was steady the whole time. Even accounting for the fact that we always had a few people hovering while their food cooked, we had one of the busiest booths.
We stayed open after everyone else had gone. We were the only ones who stayed open long enough that the event staff could get something to eat. They ended up having to lift our canopy over our heads and move it so they could take it down. The event staff left and we elected to cook the rest of our supplies. We ate a few; some club members paid for some of the leftovers; and we gave quite a bit of food to the firefighters who were going to be there all night watching the smoldering flames. They were glad for that, since they hadn’t considered midnight hunger before their shift started. It turned out that one of the firefighters had grown up in Japan, so she was especially happy about the gyoza.
We had our fire a bit warm on the second grill, which was great for cooking times but less so for keeping the skewers intact, in spite of the fact we were keeping them submerged in salt water. Winston, one of the Japanese exchange students, was eating some of the night-end yakitori when his skewer broke off right above his hand and his delicious (if over-salted) chicken plunged into the dirt. “Shit!” he exclaimed (he’s great with slang), and we all turned to look. After a moment’s pause, we all cried, “NOOOOOOOO!” Our communal melodramatic lamentation lasted long enough to demolish the three-second rule, and Winston’s yakitori was laid to rest on the hot coals.
Winston is not his real name, of course. It’s a nickname he adopted for use here, and intends to keep using on his return to Japan. He’s a lot of fun to be around. He has a good sense of humor, and is great to talk to. He’ll be leaving before too much longer, but I intend to hang out with him some more before he returns to Japan.
All in all, this is the most fun I’ve had at Starvation Gulch. Much more fun that just showing up to stare at the bonfires. I didn’t get to see the fire jugglers, though I hear that one of them managed to catch her hair on fire this year. If I weren’t graduating in spring, I would totally help run the booth again.
More often than not, when I hear someone arguing for better equality, their reason for why equality is ideal is subjective. The words, “How would you feel if…” are often thrown about. “We want…” is the cry of people seeking to lengthen a stick of which they are firmly held at the short end. People who use such tacticts are trying to convince a majority who have never been, are not, and perhaps never will be at the low end of inequality to act in their behalf by appealing to sympathy.
But most people don’t know what it’s like to be trampled on, stuck without enough money for rent or even food, having few if any options for education that would allow them to get out from between the rock and the hard place. I know I don’t. Their appeals to my sympathy have always failed miserably in the face of my apathy. While that’s still true, my opinion on inequality has changed.
I’m minoring in sociology, and as my current sociology professor pointed out on the first day of class, sociology is a liberal discipline. Sociology turned out liberal, though, because the results of sociological studies have shown that liberal institutions tend to be beneficial to society. Sociological studies focuses on the nature and causes of social dysfunction, including the level of inequality between groups within a society and how societies’ levels of inequality compare to each other. Many studies have shown that countries where inequality is less have lower poverty rates, which in turn lead to lower crime rates and fewer and milder instances of other social problems.
It is such logical reasons on which arguments for equality should stand. If you can convince the majority that it’s in everyone’s best interest to help the needy rise above their situation, you stand a much better chance of seeing changes happen.
That’s not to say that using logic on the dominoes will make them all fall into place. There are many obstacles to seeing more liberal social assistance programs put into place in the United States, not the least of which is cultural attitude. The term welfare state has a negative connotation here in the United States. Our culture holds a deep-rooted belief that working hard means working your way to the top, that you can do anything if you only put your mind to it. The flip side of that coin is the belief that people who are on the lower rungs of the equality ladder suffer from some sort of personal or moral infirmity, that they’re not deserving of assistance since they can’t help themselves.
This is where emotional appeal does come in. Used appropriately the, “How would you feel?” argument can be put to good use to raise awareness of the fact that not everyone living in poverty is there as a consequence of their actions. By itself, though, it’s not enough; logic must be used as well.
Ash and Patti offered to bring me and my stuff up to Fairbanks because they’d been considering a trip up to Chena Hot Springs anyway. I found the idea quite pleasing — not only is Patti’s car much younger and in much better shape than Dad’s car (he’d offered to drive me up, as well), spending the night at Chena with Ash and Patti sounded like great fun.
And it was. The road trip up was considerably less exciting than the one we took to Juneau, of course. Not only have all three of us previously traveled this road on numerous occasions, none of us are particularly fond of Fairbanks and Ash turned out not to be in the mood for a road trip anyway.
This is the first time any of us have been to Chena when grass was visible. Usually we go in winter, when the place is blanketed in snow and the only green is on the pine trees. When we decided to take our first break from the hot springs, we explored the grounds.
The pools they allow guests to bathe in are all constructed. The water is pumped in from a few dozen feet away. The pool pictured above is the hottest one — hot enough that they fence it off and tell you to stay away.
This doesn’t bother me, though. With the strange… stuff… floating in the natural pools, I’m kinda glad they pump it in. I assume the stuff isn’t toxic — after all, it would probably make the water toxic if it were — but it’s creepy. The idea of touching the stuff is unappealing, though the random log floating in one pool was interesting.
When we wandered outside some of the normal touristy areas, we got to see some of the workings of the place. There were pipes and tubing scattered about, some half buried or wrapped in insulation. The tubes pictured above are running to their ice museum, a year-round attraction they keep up but to which I’ve never gone. The building is made of ice, and they use hot water from the springs to keep it cool. They have an explanation about how it works in one of the main buildings, but I’ve forgotten the details. It’s pretty cool, though.
Would you like to see their pump in action?
They also grow vegetables in a fenced-off area near the source pools. (This picture was taken with my camera held over the fence.) They sell some of their vegetables in one of the main buildings. I’ve heard since the school year started that their vegetables are quite delicious, but I did not buy any.
There are also a number of rusty things laying about and gradually being overcome by plants. Some have obviously been set into place for display, but others seem to be kind of lying where they were left.
We availed ourselves of the hot springs again after wandering around, then went to bed. We went straight into the hot springs again as soon as they opened in the morning; we were the first ones there, with no one else showing up until we were about ready to leave.
We hit up Sourdough Sam’s Cafe for breakfast, then drove to campus. Since I arrived on the same day as all the freshmen, there were volunteers standing around to help carry stuff inside, so my stuff got brought in in record time. One fellow, who speaks English as his second language, accidentally sent a few of my boxes to the right room number in the wrong building, but aside from that hitch, it was the fastest I’ve ever settled into the dorms. I had everything unpacked and put away that same day, since I wasn’t fatigued from carrying everything in.
Of course, I moved to a different room less than a week later to secure myself a good roommate. I’ve met quite a few nice people in the elevators.