Sunday, December 12, 2004

041211 Sick   I have been sick for the last few days.  I started to feel bad on Tuesday afternoon (still managed to stay until 7:30pm, not bad for an aspiring Japanese Salary Man).  On Wednesday two people from PARC were coming to the project room, and I was the only other PARC person that was supposed to work, so despite feeling dreadful I went and spend the day, got them settled (no problem there, they are terrific) and did all kinds of work until finally I had to leave by 4pm.  The whole day I wore one of these surgical masks that you may have seen people wear on the subways and in the streets of Tokyo or in pictures of Japan.  I think it is pretty much the universal first assumption by Westerners visiting Japan that these people are trying to protect themselves from either pollen or pollution.  However, this assumption (as are most other assumptions about Japan) is wrong; the people that wear these masks do so to protect others from their own germs, i.e., for the same reasons surgeons wear those masks.  Wearing such a mask is a kind gesture, but I doubt very much that it actually works.  The masks do not create a hermetic seal, with breath spewing out of multiple unavoidable holes.  But when this was suggested to one of my Japanese colleague, she was adamant that she felt completely safe.  In my workplace in the US employees are strongly encouraged to stay home in order not to spread the disease.  Not here.  If you are sick, please put on one of those surgical masks and go make a contribution at work.  When I stayed home one day before because I was not quite well and frankly had a bunch of work I needed to do on the computer which would be a lot easier to accomplish at home.  I sent a note out to my team that I was home but could be reached, and then sent a message to the leadership saying the same.  Much to my surprise I got a response from one of the leaders of the project saying: “I consented”.  It was nice to know, I guess, but frankly I wasn’t actually asking for permission. On Thursday I finally stayed home.  I had no choice in the matter, remained in bed and even the illegal (according to Japanese customs) substance contained in ‘Sudafed severe cold’ could not stop the chills and overall malaise.  I did not even open my computer that day.  Friday I was only slightly better, but went in anyway as we have an important update meeting in the morning and there was stuff to arrange for PARC’s boss’s visit the next Monday.  After that morning meeting there was one thing after the next, so I did not get out until 4:30pm.  In my book, that amounts pretty damn close to a full days of work (especially on a Friday).  But when I departed, depleted, feeling utterly miserable, my team mates in the project room all came to show me to the door, wishing me a quick recovery, and expressing considerable understanding for my early departure. 10:40:25 PM     04.12.06 Sinterklaas   Today I played Sinterklaas at the Tokyo International School.  It was another great performance, I wonder how the critics will react.  Unfortunately, the costume did not travel well, the mitre is all banged up and crumpled, as it was made by paper 4 years ago.  Also, the beard and wig (the latter attached quite subtly to the mitre with some staples) which made of some very itchy artificial cotton ball material is still rather unconvincing as either hair or beard and the elastic bands that hold up the beard are very hard to hide, which had some children rather suspicious that Sinterklaas may not be, in fact, the real thing.  All three children’s classes participated in the event and as they all receive some candy in their shoe, they are pretty content with the whole deal.  Pascale had come to the Sinterklaas party visibly upset.  It turned out it had nothing to do with the Sinterklaas poem she received the night before in which Zwarte Piet (Sinterklaas’s black helper (he is supposed to be a moor, Sinterklaas coming from Spain)) had written that—unlike last year—this year she would in fact be taken back to Spain on account of her unkind behavior towards her parents (Piet noted in this regard a time when she had turned around and showed her buttocks to her father while emitting rude farting noises presumably to show her discontent with an in everyway reasonable course of action he had proposed). What had happened was that Pascale out on the playground with some friends, making tea in a plastic bag (she has adapted to Japanese culture very well).  The tea was composed of some leaves and dirt.  Pascale went to show the tea to a friend, Charlotte, who was playing with Ben.  Upon arrival, Ben grabbed the plastic bag and popped it, the dirt and leaves spilling all over the play area, which is where the children have PE and has a special floor with markings for different sporting events.  A teacher on duty that saw the dirt and became very mad at Pascale and her friends.  Since most of the people involved were from Mr.T’s class (Pascale’s favorite 3rd grade teacher, although not hers) Mr. T then came out and became very angry, especially to Charlotte, so Pascale stood up and said Charlotte had nothing to do with her.  Pascale felt very bad about the whole thing and was still upset when Sinterklaas appeared, whose engrossing performance did cheer her up somewhat.  However, she was still mulling over things when she got home.  Then, on her own, she decided to write Mr.T a letter.  She first completed a draft, then made some changes and wrote the final letter neatly on a card.  I include a picture of the letter below.  As you may not be able to see this due to my incapacity to manage this bloody blogging software, I include the text below as well.   December 6, 2004   Dear Mr. T. I feel really bad about what happen yesterday.  I am afraid that you don’t know the truth though.  Really what happen was that Sarah and I took a plastic bag and filled it with dirt, water and leaves.  Then I brought it over to show Charlotte.  But Ben was with Charlotte, he grabbed the bag and popped it.  I never wanted to make a mess of coures.  The bag spilled and Barbara saw the mess (She did not know how it happened.  It does not seem fair you got blamed.)  I know it was not a good idea, I’m sorry.   Very truly yours,   Pascale   8:59:48 PM

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