To a different drum

Like many of my experiences in Japan thus far, the coolest thing that has happened yet came as a surprise. The last night of the district conference was one big feeding frenzy, where platters of food that were set out were snatched up within about ten minutes. Our team, thinking that more rounds of food would surely come, sat back and relaxed. It always does. Wait for the fruit, right? That's our motto.

That never happened. But what did was even better. A drumline of girls in wildly bright outfits danced into the room. They were followed by dancers in pink. Then a flautist, then a singer. They were all so beautiful. Erin and I were tempted to join in.





The women here in general are beautiful. I was walking out of the hall when I saw the waitresses line up to bow as the Rotarians filed out of the hall. They were thrilled when I asked if they would take a picture with me. One of them whispered, "You're so tall." Yes, I am going to hold onto that one. It's the first, and likely the last, I will ever hear those words.


Lesson learned: Not only are Japanese women graceful, they know just what to say, even if they don't speak English.

Fumbling

The district conference has been a terrific breeding crowd for miscommunication and for us to make a string of cultural missteps. The conference, in all its formality, is where cultural rules of conduct were at their height. And where there was a trip line, we didn't fail to fall over it. In our defense, it wasn't always necessarily any one person or culture's fault.

First Takashi asked Andy to make a speech and do the presentation we've been giving to Rotary club meetings in the towns we've visited. We had a limited time to do this, but we didn't understand the stringency of this. As Andy spoke to the the crowd at Friday night's dinner, everyone just started eating and talking. We wished we had somehow been able to just skip our presentation and done simple introductions. (Yes, I know we look super hot in the picture, but what we're really thinking is "Umm, why are we up here? What are we doing? Is that tempura they are serving?")

Saturday morning, our team was announced during more than 100 introductions made. Our expected protocol for bowing was somewhat different than the others introduced.

The confusion about what we were supposed to do combined with the mispronunciation of our names led to us standing in the bright lights, eyes wide open, bowing to the wrong names. The audience, which filled a vast auditorium seating 1,000, just laughed at us.

At lunch, Erin, who is allergic to seafood, took a bite out of what she thought was meat. It turned out to be oyster, which is the worst thing she can eat. It scared her, so she headed back tot he hotel to take some medicine, throw up and rest. That could have been the end of it, but the scare launched a parade of Rotarians checking on her, pulling doctors out of Rotary meetings to look at her, and her confinement to her room for five hours.

We had a free afternoon yesterday, and I was happy to hide out in my room and watch an episode of Grey's Anatomy. Another run was also refreshing.

I would be dishonest if I only wrote that everything on this trip was happy, pretty and great fun. But I do believe that the frustrations are learning experiences just as the fun parts are.

Lesson learned: My name is not Anadawer Toslmaa. It's Alleesawah Waamiiwin.