The sweet smell of kerosene in the morning...

And here you thought that kerosene was just one of those things from "the days of old". Nope, kerosene is alive, well, and available from self-service pumps at every gas station in the great nation of Japan. I remember thinking this summer when we were oriented on our many heating options for the coming winter that I was beyond kerosene heaters, too evolved to heat my apartment by burning oil. After all, kerosene was once used in lamps as a slightly more dangerous alternative to WHALE BLUBBER. Heat my apartment with something that replaced whale blubber and is now one of the main components of jet fuel? I think I'll pass, thanks.

That was before.
That was before I realized that air-conditioners-cum-heaters are expensive.
That was before I realized that space heaters don't actually heat very much space.
That was before I realized that a kotatsu (heated coffee table) was not designed with Norwegian genetics in mind.
That was before I had to sleep on my heated rug because my bed just wouldn't warm up.
That was before I woke up yesterday morning to my indoor thermometer reading forty-six degrees Fahrenheit.

That was before.

I am now the proud owner of my very own, song playing, timer functioning, child-proofing, oxygen level checking kerosene heater. And maybe it is just the congestion, but all I can smell is heat, delicious, toe-warming heat. I hadn't realized how debilitating the cold was until my apartment crept back up to 62 F, and I suddenly wanted to do dishes, tidy things, and generally go places in my apartment that weren't within arm's reach of my heated rug. I was warm.

And I will be warm again tomorrow morning when I wake up...

Whale blubber, schmale blubber.

Update 01/12: My kerosene heater is kind enough to give me two warnings when it is getting low on fuel. First, it plays "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" and flashes a green light. The second warning flashes a red light to the tune of "Mary Had a Little Lamb". Who knew that burning oil could be so cute?

What's up?

I am starting a revolution... one wannabe punk-ass junior high school student at a time. Somewhere along the line it was decided amongst the English teachers in Japan that there is only one appropriate greeting. It goes as follows:

A-san: Hello.
B-san: Hello.
A-san: How are you?
B-san: I'm fine, thank you. And you?
A-san: I'm fine, thank you.

Three months in and 1,700 students later... I am starting a revolution, the "What's up?" Revolution, because there are only so many times you can hear "I'mfinesankyouandyou!" before the crazy hits the fan. I'm starting slowly. Just a few of the pierced eared, fashion mulleted, disenfranchised Michael Jackson dancing 15 yr. old boys first. I try to convert 3 new ones a week.

Last week I had particular success with Nonsense Shouter-san. He was one who not only slept in class, but he even managed to ignore my perfectly calibrated hallway salutations (2 parts obnoxiously genki, 3 parts "Oh yes, it's true. I am WAAAY cooler than you are.", and 1 part Minnesota Nice). I couldn't even get past a "How are you?" before he would start yelling nonsense and quickly retreat to the safety of his fellow hoodlums.

Then, one regular afternoon as I passed him and two of my revolutionaries on the staircase, I saw my chance. I ignored him, turning to his friends instead, because there is no better motivator than feeling like you are out of the loop. "What's up?", I said and gave them my best gangsta shrug. They were paralyzed by fear for a moment before realizing that they knew the answer and that the answer was COOL. "Not much!" they shouted (they always shout) before making valiant attempts at gangsta shrugs while their hair danced in the breeze 5 inches above their heads. Nonsense-san looked confused, desperate. He looked at his friends. He looked at me, his head cocked at the universal "What???" angle.

I had him.

I explained, using my best gangsta shoulder shrug again, that "How are you?" is, well, ma-ma (so-so). But "What's up?".... cooool. "Ahhhh," he nodded, "Not much!"

...several hours later...

I accost Nonsense-san in the hallway, and as he begins to shout nonsense, I give him a LOOK and repeat myself. "What's up?" *gangsta shrug* He pauses for a half second, thinking. And in that half second I remembered that these moments are the reason people teach. He was interested. He was interested in speaking English. I could see the neurons connecting as he searched for the answer he knew he had... "ehhhh tohhhh.... NOT MUCH!!" And he gave me a smile like he had just discovered The Secret, which, I guess, he had.

I caught him explaining "What's up?" "Not much." to a friend the other day, complete with gangsta shrug. If I teach him nothing else, it is enough.