The Armpit of Japan
I awoke this morning, expecting to find that it had cooled down overnight, but no, it definitely hadn’t. Not only was it warm, but there wasn’t a whisper of a breeze, and a weird, hazy fog of humidity had settled over Shirakawa. The feeling was much like I imagine it would be to curl up and go to sleep in someone’s sweaty armpit. And thanks to my laziness when it comes to washing up, the smell was similar.
Nevertheless, I get dressed and get in the car to go to school. The airconditioned car is such a relief. I definitely do not envy those ALTs who have to cycle to work every day. Global warming? Huh? Inside the car its as cool as ever.
At work, I unfortunately have to step out of the car and go inside. It’s hot. There is no aircon and not even any fans. In that wonderful way of stating the obvious that the Japanese have mastered, everybody is telling me how hot it is, as if I am unable to detect the ambient temperature. “Jimejime ne~!” (It’s so humid!). And then they take it a step further. I glance down at my shirt and realise that I am a sweaty mess. And its stuck to my back. “In 3-2-…”, I think to myself, “Damien-sensei, you have sweatmarks!”. This from one of my teaching colleagues. “Yes”, I say, wondering if that is the correct response. “Its very hot today”, I observe. This is met with a chorus of approving noises around the staffroom.
Despite their astute observances regarding the weather, not one of my colleagues is sporting a single drop of sweat on their brow. Is Japan now so advanced that all people have now been replaced with even harder working, non-sweating robots? Am I the only human in the place? Or are the Japanese so good at maintaining their composure and dignity that they can will themselves not to sweat?

Japan’s Four Seasons
As I have no doubt mentioned before, Japanese people are incredibly fond of telling anyone who’ll listen that Japan has four seasons. Apparently there is some kind of training system that not only ensures that the Japanese know how many of these seasons there are (“four”), but also what flowers will be blooming, what fruit and vegetables will be in season and other associated “facts”, apparently known to all Japanese. (Case in point. A student writes a description of a Japanese object for me. This is used in summer to keep us cool. It is made from metal and makes a noise. “An air conditioner.” Wrong. “A fan.” Boo. “A refrigerator?” Nope. It turns out that the answer is a wind chime. I asked this little riddle of a Japanese friend, and sure enough, he answers “correctly”. To my, Western, way of thinking, surely an air conditioner is far better at keeping people cool than a wind chime.) As a result their wealth of seasonal knowledge and curiosity about the outside world, Japanese people frequently ask foreigners how many seasons their home country has. Beware of the silly answer: “Two” “What are they?” “Er… Sprummer and Autumnter” Not only will this result in confusion, but the fact that your answer was intended as a joke will require explanation, and cause your Japanese friend to wonder why anyone would joke about something as serious as the seasons. Quite why the Japanese believe they are alone in having four seasons is beyond me. Sure, Japan does have more distinct seasons than say Sydney or LA, let alone Singapore (I always wonder why Singapore has a weather forecast – its 32C every day) but lots of other places have equally distinct seasons. Minnesota, I’m looking at you. Now we are in the worst of the four. Summer. Much as I bitch about the cold in winter, the heat and humidity of summer is definitely worse. Unhappily Japanese summer coincides with the rainy season (a fifth season?). Which means: a) its hot b) its raining c) it has just rained or is about to rain again. And all of that means that I’m sweating. A lot. At school, while all the other teachers, and students, look cool and dry, I look like I have taken a shower with my shirt on (I haven’t). At night, fans and aircon provide some relief. But the thought of having to step out into the humid armpit that is Shirakawa in the summer is enough to distract one from sleep. That and the little pools of sweat that I occasionally roll over into. Perhaps I should get a wind chime…