Red Wine, Pink Blossoms

I think I need a new pair of jeans. A couple weeks back at Nanaimo, a strange spell of spill-related incidents made its way to the end of the bar, leaving my secondary pair of jeans red-wine-tinted. It started when Aya spilled a beer on Sean. A bit later I spilled some water, but in doing so I passed the curse one chair down to Hashimo, who must have been clutching his red wine class with some determination, because it was reduced to shards, expelling wine onto the bar, and of course, onto my pants. Fortunately, the glass didn't do any damage to Hashimo's hand.

So the pants, and the glass, were the only real victims. More domestic types might know a trick for saving these pants, but they have also developed holes and other problems.

It's time to move on.

Spring being on the horizon, new beginnings are all around here in Japan. This school year ends in March, the new year starting in April. Of course that means a new round of first-year students.

This year, it also means a new direct supervisor, as the guy in that position now has been here for 13 years and is ready to move along. The principal too will end his three-year stint at Yamasho.

In addition, many teachers will move on, new ones filling their spots. Teacher turnover is much more common here. Three years seems like a standard posting, though we do have a few long-term Yamasho people on staff.

Meanwhile, the ALT community in Ise will also see change, but not for another few months. Every year some ALTs move back home or to a bigger city in Japan, seeking excitement, or, possibly, the comfort of living within walking distance of public transportation. That means new faces every year. Sam and I are staying on at Yamasho for at least another year, and a third ALT will join us in the summer when the new contract period starts, working here and at another local school.

I have never been in Japan for spring. This country is wild about seasons. Locals tend to boast to visitors about how they have four of them, only to be somewhat deflated when people like me tell them that we have this in common. There are certain things to see or do in each season here. When I arrived in summer, it was the season of fireworks and festivals. Also, the season of cursing the heat and the humidity. In the fall, it's time to see the leaves change color. I failed to take part. I was busy enjoying mild temperatures and getting used to life in Ise. Winter is dominated by greeting the new year, with shrine visits and a host of other traditions I did not observe first hand.

Spring, it seems, will be cherry-blossom season. On the TV news, forecasters note and predict the progress of the cherry blossom front. I read a book last year by a former ALT who hitchhiked the length of Japan, from the far south to the northern-most tiny island off Hokkaido, following the cherry blossom front. Now I'm afraid I would need a little more vacation time to go for such a journey -- and let's face it, somebody beat me to it -- so I'll settle for some regional viewing.

And while a nice sunny day sounds great right now, I truly fear the return of summer and the sweat that comes with it.

But all I can do is put those memories aside, face the cold February, and prepare for the wave of pink cherry blossoms to emerge from my built-up expectations into some kind of reality.