Out in the country, there aren't many twenty-somethings. Generally, around that age you either go away to school or migrate to a city. In my little country county, this seemed particularly true. Yoko was about my age and was assigned to teach in a special English program at one of the smaller middle schools. This school, essentially a magnet English school, was down the block from my house and requested my teaching services on a fairly regular basis (more-so than any other school). Being able to have repeated visits with the same school allowed me to form a relationship with some of the students (my favorite part of teaching). During the summer, I even was allowed (after heavily volunteering and pleading) to go to that school to help out with their sports clubs, instead of sitting at a desk in the county educational building watching "Love Actually" on repeat (the only movie i had on my computer).

So Yoko, whose own English far exceeded the English ability of both most Japanese and most Japanese English teachers (there was more than one instance at other schools where the [usually older] English teacher would try to teach students absolutely horrifyingly incorrect grammar--causing great tension between them and the foreigner trying to teach proper English) was sent out to the country to help with their special English program. Yoko's family lived in a more populated area closer to Tokyo and she too was therefore a bit of a transplant out in the country. But what makes Yoko special to me, and what I can never thank her enough for, is that she too decided to make the most of the opportunity we had together, and really opened up to me as a friend. While this may seem like an incredibly small thing from the outside, in the Japanese culture, opening up is not something done lightly. I'm pretty sure there were only a few instances (besides those with Yoko) where I felt that the Japanese people I was with let me "behind the curtain." And it isn't without risk. While the Japanese won't tell you anything mean to your face, they gossip like crazy. [For example: One American English teacher left his town after 3 years thinking he was loved by all. Only after his departure did it come out that he was resented for his laziness and flaunting of the rules. When I went to his schools (i went to everyone's schools), I too thought they loved him. ] And additionally, when there are only 6 or 7 white people in the entire county, you can be sure they were talking about us.

(*Tangent. To give you an idea of my visibility, I couldn't go to the grocery store between 6-8 during the week because all of the students would come running up to me asking for my autograph. Absolutely crazy. End Tangent*)

So, considering that Yoko and I had a completely platonic friendship, being sen out with me was a fairly high amount of risk for a non-romantic person. But she saw me, lost in the middle of a rice field and way out of my element, and she essentially took pity on me. She helped me learn my surroundings and how to navigate the basic interactions necessary to happiness and survival. It's incredible what one visit to a restaurant with a "translator" can do for all of your successive visits there (one thing is that it gets you food you actually wanted).

And we didn't have outlandish adventures. We got sushi, wen't to the mall in a nearby city, we just hung out. But while that kind of interaction with foreigners was common in the Mecca's of Tokyo and Kyoto, for me--out in the middle of nowhere--they were few and far between. Being friends with Yoko helped me to see the depth of the individuals I was working with, instead of falling into the trap of seeing the Japanese people as one united entity. Yoko also gave me the freedom to bring my creativity to the English curriculum. She let me conduct a Halloween class where the kids were allowed to dress up (see pictures--I dressed as a Japanese bathroom door) with bobbing for apples (they'd never heard of it), pumpkin carving, and a drawing contest (the products of which we used to decorate the classroom).