ROUND ONE: A WEEK IN FUKUOKA

This story begins after Noah told me he would try to bring me an aged egg from Fuji. When he failed that, I got his window seat.

The shinkansen rolled through Japan, passing Nagoya, Kyoto, Osaka, then further: Hiroshima. Hakata. It was the furthest into Japan I’d ever been before and I watched the prefectures roll past my window with great joy. Surrounding me were the other Come On Out interns, many of them sleeping away the long journey. 

We arrived in Hakata and, to our delight, sunshine pouring on our heads, we saw our hotel, our home for the next week, directly before us. No long commute. No rush hour pushing, and the awkward ‘sumimasen’ to get through and set camp in a sufficient corner of a busy train. We managed to all show our passports to the hotel staff and took the lift a few at a time, crammed in with our suitcases. We (team 9) had become something of a unit over the past three-and-a-half weeks, used to these close quarters.  

When I reached my floor, I turned joyfully to the rest of my team – we all shared a floor – and we played a great game of ‘WHO IS MY NEIGHBOUR??’ We unloaded our things, joyfully surveyed our hotel rooms (especially the en-suites), and exited with some speed, for our leader had set us a time to be downstairs. I rushed ahead to reload my physical SUICA at the station, not wanting to hold back the group, recalled I had no clue where the school was, and awkwardly waited on the platform for my group to pass by and pick me up on the next train. 

When we finally reached the cramming school where we were to teach, we were greeted by friendly faces who showed us around and were thrilled to play some competitive UNO. The whiteboards were covered in welcomes, each of our names and country flags drawn. This was followed by an invite for dinner at a traditional izakaya, where we were to remove our shoes and sit on the ground.  

I cannot quite convey the energy: our enthusiasm and excitement at being somewhere new, the novelty and tradition and welcome. Three of us tried horse meat sashimi, for one of my students in Tokyo had proclaimed it her favourite food; we tried motsunabe, the Fukuoka special; and I was offered green tea rice by the Toshin staff next to me, who I had a compelling conversation with. When I looked up, Edwin and Kohana had their hands interlaced, their eyebrows raised quizzically; the message: ROUND ONE. 

The ‘Round One’ look

Round One had become something of team 9’s haven, after Nicole (our wonderful leader) brought us there to celebrate the end of our first week of teaching. We had enjoyed the bowling and karaoke, run for the last train, and strolled home in the rain. 

And behold, there was one (ha ha) outside the izakaya. We convinced some of the staff to join us: we split in half, one half to karaoke and the other to play basketball. We bonded and had a great time, a promise of more to come. 

The next day, we met our new students, and they were so eager and friendly. It was my first week solo-coaching, but I loved it. My students started very shy, but I found them to be an effusive and fun group; they had interesting life missions, worked together to improve their English, and enacted a hilarious and spirited retelling of Urashima-Taro. Nearby, there was a convenient food court where I also watched Kahlia buy the same ramen every time.

One day, me and some of my team walked into a festival adjacent to our train station and were so enticed that we remained, eating karaage and watching with amusement as people danced around a dais, following the musical instructions of a charismatic man. And, with Nicole’s encouragement, we found ourselves joining in, dancing around this dais, invited to sway arm-in-arm with the other participants, jumping and calling out. We found it addictive and kept spinning, sweating in the summer heat, but it was exultant. 

We also found ourselves once again in Round One, this time with three of the Toshin staff for bowling, where me and Edwin battled furiously to not have the highest number of guttered balls. Each day brought a new experience and memory, with the students and with my team. The week passed by until, finally, we were at the end, far too soon. We lamented the final goodbye. 

With the ‘thank you’ card made by my students! (And photograph credits to one of them for Airdropping this to me, including the strawberry filter)

After completing our last day, we met the Toshin staff at the train station and went to buy sparklers and a volleyball at Donki, then bought dinner at the convenience store. The following night was magical. We played volleyball on the beach in the dark, laughing and diving for balls and tripping in the sand. We waved sparklers, dancing around in circles, and lit small fireworks with childlike wonder. Then it was time for a heart-touching goodbye to most of the staff. 

Celebrating the end of a teaching week and farewell with Toshin staff on the beach

The next day, Sunday, I went with half of team 9 to Ainoshima, accompanied by a Toshin staff, and we had to race for the one bus that was leaving for the port. We then took a choppy ferry, laughing at the tossing waves, and spent the afternoon petting cats – jokingly naming them after our favourite parts of the programme – and exploring. We mused over who would we would be in a fantasy novel, threw rocks, and ate some of the best sashimi I have ever had.

Some photos from Ainoshima.

We met the rest of our team back in Fukuoka, ate some delicious yakisoba, then went to karaoke, where another Toshin staff joined us to say a last farewell. We lamented our leaving; we wanted to stay in Fukuoka for another five weeks; we would miss everyone. 

The next day – the lamentable moving of Monday– the Toshin staff who came to Ainoshima with us came all the way to Hakata to say goodbye to us before we left for the shinkansen returning to Tokyo, and thus Shinjuku. We would all talk about Fukuoka for the rest of our Japan trip, lamenting its loss and distance. 

It is a testament to the pleasures of my time in Fukuoka that, weeks later, I still remember it vividly, and I can visualise all as I type away, trying to convey a feeling I cannot quite capture. I have also just finished writing up a very late account of the entirety of the Come On Out programme in my journal, and I was surprised at the colour that remained in my recollections, which are usually quite blurry. These memories of Japan have established themselves as unforgettable, insisting on my fond remembrance. So, perhaps, this truly is only Round One…