The Full House House

Telling the students I’m from San Francisco is easier than telling them I lived in Oakland for 7 years. Lately, I’ve been drawing a map of the United States with an over-exagerrated east coast and a severely malnourished west coast. Michigan gets more land mass than it should and I leave off Alaska and Hawaii. I do mention that I grew up in Massachusetts and drove across the country (leaving out the tidbit that Sarah did most of the driving) where I landed in San Francisco at the age of 23.

Lies.

I landed in Berkeley at the age of 24.

Regardless, describing San Francisco is easier than incanting Oakland. I was in one class of 14 year olds where I did mention Oakland and I almost said, “You know, Tupac Shakur’s hometown?” I don’t think that would be enough.

When speaking of San Francisco I assume that the most recognizable landmark would be the Golden Gate Bridge; the spanning art-deco and red suspension bridge that connects San Francisco to… to… well, no one who doesn’t live in the Bay Area would know so why bother. But, it’s not. In class today I mentioned the Golden Gate Bridge but was met with blank stares until I said, “Okay, Full House? Do you know Full House? That show is set in San Francisco.”

Now, they know. Full House is in syndication here, dubbed in Japanese. And I could’ve guessed by the way some of the girls have their hair styled; side ponytails and oversized clips. The show is very popular. One student excitedly asked me after school, “You know Full House?” and I told him that the show started in America when I was his age, like 20 years ago.

Innocent adolescents, precocious pre-adolescents, foolish adults whose attentions orbit the children’s existence. Is this the message Japan is receiving about America? Unchallenged sitcom writing and a basic directing formula is shaping how the international community perceives us? Then again, I remember thinking the same thing as the show progressed beyond its first season. Sitcoms can be oversimplified and our lives are anything but. I really didn’t like this show; the adults weren’t mean enough, the kid actors had hyphenated names, and the situations were too cutesy. Blech. Made Family Ties look like The OC.



I’ve known people who’ve made pilgrimages to see the Full House house when they visit San Francisco. They mark their words with badges of honor. We all have interests that stir the pot of tastelessness, for sure. And, I believe, that picture of the steppe-like houses was popular before the show aired its intro. I guess you can only go to so many museums, walk the GG bridge, Baker Beach, North Beach, SoMa, cable cars, Union Square, Mission, Castro, etc. Why not stop and take a photo for a laugh while you’re in a beautiful scenic park. Or maybe out of complete seriousness. Whichevs.

I have mixed feelings for the people who live in those houses. If anyone really does. I sympathize with the way their house must be treated like a national landmark but, then again, it must have cost a bundle to purchase and then live the Tanner home lifestyle. If that’s their choice may the lords of syndication help them.

Okaasan Cooking

Last Friday I went to a cooking class with one of my JTEs. She invited me earlier in the week. “Would you like to go to a Korean cooking class on Friday with all my older women friends? They’re a lively bunch and like to drink beer.”

Older women and beer is a very entertaining concoction.

I met T-sensei in the Kinokuniya in Sapporo and we rushed-walked to a building I think may have been a library. We walking into a classroom that had a full kitchen with a giant mirror suspended above that reflected the countertop to rows of desks. There were about 12 mama-san ladies listening to the sensei.

T-sensei brought an extra apron for me. “Here,” she said, “wear this one.” She handed me a Miffy apron because “it matched my shirt.” This got a lot of laughs from the gals. Then we all gathered around the counter to watch sensei as she prepared a homestyle Korean meal.

I tried my best to follow along between the chopping techniques and ingredients that looked familiar but I didn’t know their names. The ladies were having a blast. Joking with each other, cheering each other on when they could flip the vegetable pancake with a flick of their wrist. All of this with the stomach grumbling smell of roasting sesame oil and simmering chicken soup.

The ending meal was a chicken and egg-drop soup served over rice and chicken with sides of spicy cucumber salad and the vegetable pancake. Amazingly tasty. It was so much fun spending outside school time with T-sensei, she’s a very cool and fun person.

Afterwards about ten of us went out for some beers and appetizers. One of the ladies insisted that I try sanma, an in-season fish that’s a Hokkaido specialty. The fish arrived on its side, eye staring up. I dug in with my chopsticks and she wasn’t kidding. It was delicious. I joked about how the face of the fish bothered me, looking up at me while I ate its body. The lady next to me, playing along, wrapped a piece of lettuce around the face of the fish and held it down with a potato. Perfect!

Boy, could these ladies drink. Everytime the server came over and asked if we wanted more drinks, all their hands rose and a giggly chorus of “Hai”s went with them. T-sensei and I talked about teaching and education. She’s very impassioned with what she does and desires so much to give these kids the best.

It was a great night. I had so much fun. Many of these ladies reminded me of my mother and her friends. They joked around in the same way, had fun in the same way.

Looking back I feel like I understood what everyone was saying though, in actuality, I didn’t. There’s something more than verbal language when you’re cutting loose with a group of people.

After A Day of School