The Marathon and Joyfull with Mr. Parker Jr. マラソンとジョイフルとミスターパーカージュンヤ

We did it. The third post. I’m gonna get right into this one because we just don’t have the time to dilly dally here.

Why don’t we have time to dilly dally, Steven? As I’m sure you’re wondering. You probably came here to dilly dally, and you know that I love dilly dallying, it’s true, and it’s hard for me to tell you that this won’t be a day of dallying and dillying.. but today is not that day, because tomorrow I am going to run 30 kilometers.

Do you know how many miles 30 kilometers is? I’ll tell you. It’s a lot of miles. I actually don’t know how many. It’s slightly more than 2/3 of a marathon. For any of you who have ran a marathon, you must know how I’m feeling, you can think back to running your first marathon. I think the most I’ve ever run at once was probably 6 miles in high school, which would be something like.. 10 kilometers?

Why am I doing this? Ozu High School has a tradition. This tradition started some time ago, over ten years ago. And this tradition is a school marathon. This marathon is not optional. It is not normal either – apparently some other schools have “marathons” but they don’t actually mean marathon marathon. Not the whole shebang. Well, Ozu High School means the whole shebang. In Japan, students take entrance exams for the high schools they’d like to enroll in, and I’ve heard that the marathon is something that students consider when they’re thinking about enrolling in Ozu. That and how cute the uniforms are. So it’s a big deal. Last year, I watched, like almost every teacher except 校長先生, the principal, and 副校長先生, the vice principal, who was probably forced into doing it by the principal. Who is, I should add, extremely genki. Energetic. I don’t want to get his age wrong here, but he is at least in his late 60’s. And he is a big fan of the marathon. My supervisor, Goto sensei, messaged me yesterday night and said, “There is a rumor that the marathon will be cancelled. But no one’s saying it out loud. Because the principal wants to run. Really.” (it’s supposed to rain tomorrow, possibly heavily. It’s currently thunder-storming)

So last year, I was a volunteer, helping keep the students alive during their trial. I had a post somewhere in the first third, to give water and disgustingly sweet sports drinks and encouragement, and after all students had passed through that point, I went back to the school to meet the finishers. And there I saw it all. Triumph, defeat, agony, relief, elation, misery, complete and utter exhaustion, friendship, perseverance. It was all there. I saw students end at a sprint, afterwards putting their hands on their hips and panting like some people might after going for a jog around the neighborhood, and I saw students drag themselves and their friends across the finish line, the weakest supported by their stronger friends, limping, in some cases being carried. A fair number of students had bloody socks – my Kikuchi family’s high school daughter couldn’t finish due to injury. And of course, I saw all of this, and I thought one thing – I want in. I personally have two goals for tomorrow – survive, and run the entire time.

I didn’t actually realize what I was signing up for until today, when some of the teachers got on a bus and drove the course. Did you know that 30 kilometers is a long distance to run? In your head, if you don’t have a good concept of distance, like me, such a number is abstract. 20, 30, 70 kilometers.. sure, at a certain point you just get tired, and you keep on running, and it’s no problem. Well today I saw what 30 kilometers looks like, and I realized.. it’s kind of a problem. I was trying to gauge at what point I thought my regret for participating in this would start, and the point that I decided my regret, coupled with suffering, would start at was around 10 kilometers. When we came to the sign that said 16 kilometers.. well, it hit me hard. And this would be bad enough if I was running back on those flat lands of Indiana, but of course, this is Japan, and the masochist who chose the route for the course (a previous principal) thought that it’d be nice to make the students climb a few small mountains while they run their 42 kilometers (this year we’re only doing 30 because of corona).

So I’m running tomorrow. It may just be me, the principal, and the students. Will there be blood? Will there be tears? Will I say “f it” and just walk? We’ll find out tomorrow!

Now, with that out of the way.. what’s this Joyfull business, you may be wondering? But before I get to that, I want to insert a mini-story, which might be interesting as a glimpse into what it’s like to live somewhere where most people don’t speak your language and you can hardly speak theirs.

Today I went to my town’s 役場, which is basically the town hall. It’s the place where ish gets done. I had to go there and get some ish done. And that, like it always is when I go to get ish done in Japan, without my guardian angels Goto sensei, Hayashi sensei, or Nagata sensei, was an adventure. It’s an incredible thing, to understand 90% of the words that are being spoken to you, and yet understand almost none of what’s being said.

I had gotten a letter in the mail, about a car tax I had to pay. I thought, finally, something easy. I walk in, announce, “I’m here to pay my car tax!” Pay it, and leave. But, of course, it’s never that simple. There was a catch, which I came to realize after I handed my paper to an unlucky young man named Daisuke, announced, “I’m here to pay my car tax!” and then proceeded to become increasingly confused, aware of only the fact that this was not going to be as simple as opening up my wallet, handing over some cash, and leaving. My poor friend Daisuke spent about 10 minutes staring into my soul and trying to explain to me what this catch was, and at around the ten minute mark, I had understood this much – there is a special paper that he either needs me to have or he needs me to get. This special paper is related to my shaken, my expensive special Japanese car insurance that I have to get every two years, along with a checkup on the condition of my car. Where this paper was to come from, who it was to be provided by, whether it was already in existence – none of this was known to me. A nearby employee took pity on him, on me, probably more on him, and came over to help explain, which meant that she said all of the things that Daisuke san did in almost exactly the same way, which meant that her joining the effort was almost futile, and after they realized this they had a small discussion, in quieted voices, but of course right in front of me, discussing what the best course of action would be. They had me write my name and address on two papers, and then pay the tax. After I’d paid, I was surprised to receive the special paper, and then I understood clearly what they wanted, which was that they wanted to give me a special paper that I needed to have when I went in to get my shaken renewed, but they didn’t know when my shaken would expire, and they wanted to see my shaken paper first. Perhaps the great source of confusion from this conversation was the fact that there were actually two special papers, the second being dependent upon the first, but that was lost on me until after. Throughout all of this, I probably apologized 6 times for not understanding his Japanese, and said that I was still learning about 3 times, and he apologized to me multiple times for not being able to explain clearly. After this great ordeal was over, both of us glad to have it resolved, we had a brief conversation, one that did not involve total non-understanding. He asked me if I was an English teacher (good guess), and I told him I taught at Ozu and Shoyo. He told me graduated from Ozu High School, and I said I was running in the marathon tomorrow, and he told me that he ran the whole 42 kilometers, and that it was, “Taihen.” (a pain)

Experiences like that always leave with me with a little more motivation to study harder, like a horse when a cowboy sticks it with his spurs, because it’s not a great feeling having that look on your face, that face you have when someone has tried their best multiple times to get you to understand something, that face that says, “Buddy ol’ pal… I know you’re trying you’re best and I’m trying my best and I have to say that I still have absolutely no idea what the hell you’re saying to me.”

I will never forget the new word I learned from this experience, “shorui,” which I take to mean “special papers.”

So that was a highlight of the day, and now we’re on to the main event. The Joyfull story. To start this I have to familiarize you with the most popular chain restaurant in Kyushu (the southernmost of the four main islands that make up the body of Japan). This restaurant is Joyfull. Joyfull is so popular that there are three of them in Ozu. Ozu is not a large town, and all three are located along the main highway that bisects Ozu, so that you can pass by all three Joyfulls in less than 5 minutes. I have been to Joyfull maybe 7 times already, and it was never by my own volition. I am always dragged there by Japanese friends, or Lewis, who also drags me to McDonalds, which I am slightly more of a fan of, because McDonalds has a shrimp burger that’s pretty good. Joyfull, on the other hand, has almost nothing to offer for a vegetarian, there being two or three wimpy salads on the menu, and only slightly more for a pescatarian. I’m not sure what to compare Joyfull to exactly, it’s like a Denny’s or IHOP or Bob Evans or whatever that class of restaurant is. Also, maybe you noticed, it’s spelled with two lls, which I actually thought was unintentional, because of the numerous and commonplace misspellings I see every day, which I am a big fan of because they are often extremely entertaining. But, a friend pointed out to me that it is in fact intentional, like you’re happy because you’re stomach is full kind of thing. Anyways, I’m really not a big fan of Joyfull, and when I go there I use the drink bar cups without paying for the drink bar, because they’re bigger than the pathetic tiny cups you get if you don’t do the drink bar (but I’m a good boy, I still drink water). It’s my way of getting back at Joyfull for having enticed whoever it is that took me there to take me there. Who, most recently, happened to be Parker, or “Mr. Parker Jr.” as he and the Japanese have taken to calling him.

Parker is my friend living to the east in Oita, in a town called Taketa, that is larger than Ozu, and in a more mountainous area. He’s from Nashville, and has a slight accent, which came out just this weekend, when we were talking about The Ring (scary movie) and he says “well” and he’s talking about an actual well that you dig for water, but what he actually said was “whale.” The Mr. Parker Junior name is coming from a skit that a Japanese comedian has been doing recently, where he puts a hood over his eyes and he says, “I’m Mista. Pahkah. Junyah!!” And that’s the whole thing. The first time I met Parker he showed up to the party with a small boombox and played good music for us the whole night. He’s tall, has a huge smile, and is friendly, open, and goofy. He has a great deal of friends, buys mainly secondhand clothes, owns a greenscreen, and makes highly entertaining music videos for his songs. He also has inherited about 10 or more schools, all elementary and middle school, and the trunk of his car is a well organized school supply room. Parker has visited me twice now in Kumamoto, and so it was about time that I came out to Oita to visit him and see what was going on out east, where I rarely go, having previously had no friends in that direction, past Aso.

I came into Taketa, about an hour east of me, to check out a local castle (Okajyo), see beautiful autumn leaves (kouyou), and go to a jazz concert (jyaazu konsaato), with Parker and two of his friends. It was going to be a great day. The weather was perfect, the leaves were at peak color, in various hues of greens, yellows, oranges, reds, purples, and all the in-betweens. After a beautiful drive through Aso, I arrive in Taketa, and Parker is going over the plan of the day for me. We’re talking about where to go for lunch, and he says, “You know, there’s not many places around here. There’s a local chicken place but they don’t have a great vegetarian selection.. and then there’s Joyfull. Did you know, they’ve got corn mayo pizza now?” And immediately, I’m surprised to hear him say that. Because, this is certainly not a Joyfull time. We’re not desperate, and we’re not in inaka, and so there must be 15-20 better places that we can choose from in the immediate area. So I’ve been alerted to something about Parker that I didn’t know before, which is that he is one of the Joyfull people. And more significantly than this, because the Joyfull people are many, there’s another thing that I’m thinking, and it’s this. Is Parker a fan of the corn mayo pizza? This is significantly more meaningful, because Parker has been in America, and must have had good pizza. And the corn mayo pizza, it’s not a pizza at all. Corn mayo pizza is a few pieces of corn and a slathering of mayonnaise on a thin piece of cracker bread. It combines the Japanese obsession with mayonnaise with the Japanese concept of pizza, with corn taking the unlikely role of bringing these two together. To me, corn pizza is like the watered down soup that people make when they have nothing more substantial to eat, and are only trying to keep starvation at bay. You eat it because you have nothing better to eat. The creator of corn mayo pizza must have been in a similar position, and instead of a sad meal of mushrooms and lettuce, had at his disposal only a few bits of corn, mayo, bread. At least, that’s how I see it.. but that’s not how the Japanese see it, because they love corn mayo pizza. The Japanese, and Parker. He saw then that I was not one of the corn mayo pizza people, and threw out another his other selling point. “They’ve got a new apple pie!” So I said, in this moment not really caring, and because I didn’t want to shoot him down, and after giving him some heckling for the corn mayo pizza liking.. Parker, if you really want to go to Joyfull, we can go to Joyfull. But after enjoying a leisurely tour of the castle and the leaves, we found ourselves hungry, and for me, the thought of coming all the way to Taketa, to enjoy it’s new sights and charms and culture, just to end up going to a Joyfull for lunch, it was too much. So I said, Parker, I’m sorry, I know you want to go to Joyfull but I just can’t do it, I’ve never been here before, there’s gotta be something better, something local, anything. And he cedes. “Alright, we can go to the chicken place. It was rated #1 toriten in Japan.” And here I do a bit of a double take. Toriten is an Oita specialty, and it’s an extremely juicy, rare, in the double sense of being slightly undercooked and hard to find, chicken. With that in mind, and with the number one rating backing it, I made a decision, and I ate some chicken. It was the first time I’ve eaten chicken in I don’t even know how long and well.. it was pretty damn good. Incredibly juicy. I was also especially receptive to the deliciousness of chicken after having not had it in so long. If you go to Oita, and get a chance to try the toriten.. I won’t tell you not to. And if anyone is judging me, saying, Steven how could you! I’ll say that I don’t see any harm in eating a bit of meat on occasion, and I would do it more often if I could be sure that the meat I was eating was treated humanely and was grown in such conditions that weren’t damaging to the health of this planet, but unfortunately at this time, such meat is hard to come by, and it’s much easier to forgo eating meat almost entirely. (It’s also healthier).

So.. I narrowly avoided having to go to Joyfull, and ended up getting a chance to try the best toriten in Japan. Which just goes to show you what happens when you avoid Joyfull. After the toriten, Mr. Parker Jr. and I met up with his friend Nick, the other ALT in Taketa, and his girlfriend, Lynn (or Linn, or Lin, I don’t know but I do know it’s some form of that and not Rin, which I called her at first). And Nick is an interesting guy – a little on the short side, possibly coming from the fact that he’s a quarter Chinese, confident, knowledgeable. Nick moves quick, which Parker had given me some of idea of, but which I experienced firsthand when, at the castle, Parker was on the phone with him, and I said, “Hey Nick!” And he made some kind of grunt or other sound that wasn’t a word in response (Parker said after he hung up, “He’s not a fan of small talk.”). Nick is not a fan of small talk, but he is fan of sharing his knowledge, and in our short period of time together, he taught me that the first murder hornet nest in the US was just destroyed, that staring into a red light will help your eyes more quickly adjust to the dark, and that Buffalo Buffalo Buffalo Buffalo Buffalo Buffalo Buffalo Buffalo (I do believe it’s eight Buffalos) is a grammatically correct sentence. He looked me in the eyes on two separate occasions and said to me, “Do you know about the _______ effect?” The first blank being Mandela, and the second being Hobbler. I would like to hang out with Nick again. His girlfriend, we’ll just go with Lynn, is a Canadian from Toronto, and she’s not a JET, making her one of the rare non-JET foreigners in my circle. Us four went to a jazz concert, which I could write about in more detail but I’ll keep it short and just say this: the organ player was a man possessed, the cello player had one of the deepest voices I’ve ever heard, and Nick was TikTok (I had to look up how to write this) interviewed by a Chinese woman.

After the concert, we’re making our way back to Taketa, and we’re going over all of the Japanese that we didn’t understand, and Nick is generally doing the filling in of the gaps in Parker and I’s understanding, him being the best Japanese speaker. Some of this included a reference to us, when the singer asked, “Who here is from outside of Oita?” And looked jokingly at us (this went completely over my head) And asked if anyone had seen the James Bond movies (which in the moment I thought, “Is she talking about James Bond?” To which I got the answer yes, when they started doing Skyfall.) So we’re talking, and the conversation dies down a bit, and after a few moments of silence, Parker says to me, “So… what do you want to do for dinner?” This we had talked about earlier in the day, and had settled on just scrounging something together at his apartment. He said he didn’t have any food, and we’d have to go somewhere. And he said, “What do you want to eat?” And I said, “Veggies.” And I was serious, I hadn’t eaten a fruit or vegetable all day – up to this point it had been a produce drought. And Parker said, alright. And it’s quiet again. A few seconds pass, and he inquires further. “But really, what are you thinking?” And I say, you know, I’m serious, I really just want some vegetables, and otherwise I don’t care. We can pick out some things that look good when we go to the store. “Alright,” he says, ambivalently. Then again, silence. Some time passes, and we get back to Nick’s place. We say our goodbyes, and Parker and I get in the car, him driving, and he says, “So what do you want to get? There’s a HIHirose around here (generic department/grocery store thing).” And I say, “Sure, perfect, anything’ll do.” And it’s quiet again. And clearly, at this point I realize, Parker is thinking about something, and it must be related to what he wants to eat. And I’m wondering, Parker, what exactly do you want to eat? A brief moment passes, and then Parker, not taking his eyes off the road, says to me, “Do you wanna go to Joyfull?” And then I realized. Of course. It was Joyfull. He’d been thinking about it this whole time. He had never stopped thinking about it. He had been waiting, biding his time, for the right time to try again, and here it was. Sure, he was asking me, but what was it really, but a plead, a cry for that sweet sweet Joyfull apple pie, that poor man’s pizza. I didn’t know what to say, because it really wasn’t a question meant for me, it was a statement, the way he said it – please Steven, let’s go to Joyfull. And after a pause, I just said, “Do you?” And he looks over at me and says, “They’ve got apple pie!”

So, yes, we went. It cost me nothing, and it meant so much to him, and I am not one to deny another’s Joyfull when it truly calls them. Now we’re sitting there, at the Joyfull, and it’s got a decent crowd, like Joyfull usually does. I’m browsing over the menu, looking for anything more promising than their wimpy salads and finding nothing. Parker says he’s not hungry enough for the corn mayo pizza. Good, I don’t have to see it. I find the apple pie and the corn mayo pizza on the menu. It says, New! Parker never looks at the menu. I know he’s going to get the apple pie, because he’s been talking about it all day, it’s the reason why we came, it’s why I said yes, so he could finally get his Joyfull apple pie.. As I’m thinking about which and how many wimpy salads I’ll order, I look at him, and I say, “You know what you want?” And he says, “Yep.” I decide and say, “Alright, I’m good.” He reaches over and pushes the button, the magical waitress summoning button. And after pushing it, he pauses. There’s a moment of silence, and he stares straight ahead. After a second, he picks his head up, and with an air of decidedness, and a sigh, like he’s just resigned himself to some unmovable act of fate and has no choice but to face it boldly, he looks me in the eyes and says, “You know.. I think I’m gonna get the strawberry parfait!”

This was too much for me. I was floored. After all of this, from the very beginning, from the moment that the specter of Joyfull had descended on this day, since it had reared it’s ugly head and forced it’s way into our plans, it had been about the apple pie, it was always about the apple pie, and the corn mayo pizza, but if it wasn’t about the corn mayo pizza, the apple pie was all that was left. And here he was, on the brink of achieving his heart’s desire.. and yet it wasn’t his hearts desire after all, as the simple act of pushing that button made clear to him. For when he pushed that button, he realized, someone would come, and he would have to tell them, then, what he wanted, and then it would come – and there was no turning back. In that moment, with the thought of the waitress, hearing the chime, making her way to the table, preparing to ask his order, he realized then – apple pie is not what I want. What I want is the strawberry parfait. And that’s what I’ll order. And thinking about it now, what happened right there may be exactly what happens when a bride or groom gets cold feet at a wedding. Up until that moment, they tell themselves, this is it, this is right, this is what I want, this is what’s best for me – until they’re faced with the stark reality that what they’ve been wanting, what they thought they’ve been wanting all this time – they don’t. Parker was the groom, the apple pie the bride, me, the best man, and the waitress the preacher, and when he walked into the church of Joyfull and stepped up onto the altar, in a flash, he understood. He wanted the strawberry parfait.

I had nothing to give Parker but a look. A look of actual shock, of raw surprise. I shake my head and say, “You’re kidding me.” He shrugs his shoulders and says, “I haven’t had it in a long time!”

Thinking about this story now, it brings me a lot of joy. I now don’t know if I should thank Joyfull for it. It doesn’t sit well with me but I think I have to, and I definitely have to thank Parker. What’s interesting to me about this, and what I’ve been thinking about some of these stories I’ve been collecting, is what you can take away from in a day. What stands out as being that defining thing in your day, that thing that makes your days unlike the others, and finds a way into memory, so that when you do a quick scan back through the log, it pops up and you have a chuckle, or a groan, or a good feeling? And for me, and I suspect for most people, it’s more often than not those little things, something unexpected, like this Joyfull, the only thing we didn’t plan for (I should say I, because Parker had clearly been thinking about this) is the thing that I end up writing about.

It’s late, and I’ve gotta wrap this up. Big day tomorrow, there will be slightly more pain and suffering than usual. It should be a great day.

I know I promised you a bowl story. It’s coming. I swear it is. I’ll recycle it and use it as the cliffhanger for the next post. That juicy post number 四！