The nose knows
Embarassingly, when I watch Japanese/Korean/Hong Kong(ese?) films, I can rarely follow what's going on, because I can't tell the main characters apart. My East Asian Facial Recognition is really rather low. Or (wait for it) so it used to be. When I first arrived, all of three weeks ago, it was like stepping into a sea of indistinguishable people, differentiated only by their uniforms - salaryman, school student, uni student. Now, they are starting to resolve themselves. Having to memorize the faces of thirty small children has helps, but mostly I've just got my shit together and the streets are now populated with individualism once more. This has had an odd side effect. I'm suddenly really rather conscious of my nose. My nose has always been fine for me; I didn't even hate it when I was a teenager. If I squint, I can see it but I presume everyone can, and at my vainest, I try on adjectives like aquiline. But here, now, in the land of snub noses, my nose sticks out like a beacon. It heralds my coming, a small triangular mountain attached to my face. While the Japanese - noses designed for speed and many G-forces - let the air wash past them easily, mine cuts the air. It's bizarre. I want a snub nose. It looks better (especially on children - Japanese children are the cutest in the whole wide world). It feels better (I imagine). And god, I wouldn't stand out nearly as much.
As a corollary, I'm coming to resent other white faces in the crowd. At first, my eyes leapt to them - familiarity! cultural similarities! open emotions I know how read (mostly commuter boredom)! - but now I hate seeing them. They stick out like I do from the amazing homogeneity.
---
I spent the weekend trying to decide which toddler was cutest and why, and looking forward to work again. This is a problem. I'm going to get back, and apply for Real Jobs and they will ask, what did you learn in Japan and I will mention my competency at noseblowing, asswiping, inane singing and the like.
---
Tomorrow, I get to read my first story in front of the class. The title of the book is, 'Everybody Poops'. True. Perhaps borrowing from an R.E.M song? The story is festooned with lurid pictures of animals 'pooping' (we use this word in our Daily Reports to Concerned Mothers and Housewives who Live For Their Children) and tales of poop being the same the world over. I suspect it will go down a treat. The thing I love about children is that they are the easiest people in the world to please, and I like pleasing people because it means I get liked back and so we all win.
----
I would never, ever be allowed to work in childcare in Australia without first having been police checked beyond all recognition, psych tested by the ghost of Freud and probably emasculated to boot. To get the job here, I proved that a) I speak Native English, mate, b) I can tolerate Ponyboy and c) I was desperate enough to work for Z____, the guiding light of dodgy companies everywhere. So, thank you, Japan, for being curiously lax with this particular aspect of the gaijin presence, and allowing me to testdrive fatherhood before my time.
----
(Oh - this blog has hit 65,000 words, I think, which has to be some kind of record in the growing field of writing-about-myself-because-I'm-so-damn-interesting)
Embarassingly, when I watch Japanese/Korean/Hong Kong(ese?) films, I can rarely follow what's going on, because I can't tell the main characters apart. My East Asian Facial Recognition is really rather low. Or (wait for it) so it used to be. When I first arrived, all of three weeks ago, it was like stepping into a sea of indistinguishable people, differentiated only by their uniforms - salaryman, school student, uni student. Now, they are starting to resolve themselves. Having to memorize the faces of thirty small children has helps, but mostly I've just got my shit together and the streets are now populated with individualism once more. This has had an odd side effect. I'm suddenly really rather conscious of my nose. My nose has always been fine for me; I didn't even hate it when I was a teenager. If I squint, I can see it but I presume everyone can, and at my vainest, I try on adjectives like aquiline. But here, now, in the land of snub noses, my nose sticks out like a beacon. It heralds my coming, a small triangular mountain attached to my face. While the Japanese - noses designed for speed and many G-forces - let the air wash past them easily, mine cuts the air. It's bizarre. I want a snub nose. It looks better (especially on children - Japanese children are the cutest in the whole wide world). It feels better (I imagine). And god, I wouldn't stand out nearly as much.
As a corollary, I'm coming to resent other white faces in the crowd. At first, my eyes leapt to them - familiarity! cultural similarities! open emotions I know how read (mostly commuter boredom)! - but now I hate seeing them. They stick out like I do from the amazing homogeneity.
---
I spent the weekend trying to decide which toddler was cutest and why, and looking forward to work again. This is a problem. I'm going to get back, and apply for Real Jobs and they will ask, what did you learn in Japan and I will mention my competency at noseblowing, asswiping, inane singing and the like.
---
Tomorrow, I get to read my first story in front of the class. The title of the book is, 'Everybody Poops'. True. Perhaps borrowing from an R.E.M song? The story is festooned with lurid pictures of animals 'pooping' (we use this word in our Daily Reports to Concerned Mothers and Housewives who Live For Their Children) and tales of poop being the same the world over. I suspect it will go down a treat. The thing I love about children is that they are the easiest people in the world to please, and I like pleasing people because it means I get liked back and so we all win.
----
I would never, ever be allowed to work in childcare in Australia without first having been police checked beyond all recognition, psych tested by the ghost of Freud and probably emasculated to boot. To get the job here, I proved that a) I speak Native English, mate, b) I can tolerate Ponyboy and c) I was desperate enough to work for Z____, the guiding light of dodgy companies everywhere. So, thank you, Japan, for being curiously lax with this particular aspect of the gaijin presence, and allowing me to testdrive fatherhood before my time.
----
(Oh - this blog has hit 65,000 words, I think, which has to be some kind of record in the growing field of writing-about-myself-because-I'm-so-damn-interesting)
posted by Doug @ 3/15/2005 07:44:00 pm
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