Kinindate again in the afternoon, with Ro-sensei and the kōkōdana. Good times.

After dinner, most of us huddled up in the dōgu room at the women’s dorm to make a birthday card for Oiemoto. Took us all evening to generate and execute an idea. I have no gift for collaboration. But I do have a gift for shutting up and deferring to others’ opinions. So we made something that I never would have done myself, but that I’m sure accomplished what was required.

And thus another 24 hours from my finite reserve elapsed. Sorry for the short entry. I assure you the next one will compensate.

First of all, if, like me, you have no history of wearing kimono, putting one on takes some time, and is difficult to do well. This difficulty is no doubt increased if, like me, you are poor and have to settle for ready-made kimono. By now I’m convinced that mine will never actually fit very well. When I get the custom-made kimono that the school paid for, I’ll find out for sure. Because the garment is all one piece, it resists being adjusted in multiple points simultaneously. Mine seems to be too wide; if I have it wrapped around me tight enough, the collar closes uncomfortably high on my neck. If I fix the top, the bottom won’t be tight enough, and will flap open and get tangled and not behave itself when I sit and stand.

Kimono are hot, especially if, like me, you have to settle for polyester–and if, like me, you attend a school that adheres to a rigid old clothing calendar that specifies when you can begin wearing lighter materials. Through the end of May we’re expected to wear heavier lined kimono. In June we can switch to unlined; in July and August we can wear the lightest summer material. (Which will still be polyester, in my case.) Worse than the kimono itself, though, is the juban, the robe worn beneath. Mine is not only polyester, but the beastliest shiny polyester imaginable, and a true horror against sweaty skin. I desperately want to upgrade to wool, but really don’t know if and when I’ll be able to afford to. Likewise, I’ll need, for sanity’s sake, to get myself into an unlined kimono as soon as I’m allowed to, but can’t imagine where the money will come from. Perhaps I can find something used and affordable at Daiyasu. Now that I know something about correct fit, I’ll be able to make sure I’m buying one that will actually fit me before I walk out the door with it. Otherwise I’ll have to suffer while I save up for a tailor-made one. In the worst-case scenario, I’d have to wear the lined kimono through June before switching to the summer one in July. (I should put that on again and see if it actually fits.) Sometime between then and September I’d be able to get an unlined one, which I’d then be able to get a few months of use out of before acquiring a better-fitting lined kimono for the cold months.

Did I mention that I’d also like to have some money left over for a summer vacation trip up to Tokyo? And some tea stuff, perhaps?

I had an awful day. My morning walk took me nowhere interesting. Hamana-sensei gave a very interesting lecture on tea room architecture that left me feeling overloaded with vocabulary, and panicked about how I’ll ever remember any of this. In the afternoon I was hot and flustered and clumsy and my knees hurt more than usual; I gritted my teeth through two unusually incompetent temae. The longer I spend in the tea world, the more desperately I want to do beautiful things, and the more frustrated I get with the speed of my progress toward that goal. I think I’m going to have to start devoting my evenings to study and practice. While maintaining this account, and more or less timely correspondence. And an adequate sleep schedule.

I wrote a very overdue thank-you letter tonight on behalf of Midorikai to the lady who taught us to make sweets last Monday. Had to do it in Japanese, so it took a crazy amount of what little evening I had to begin with. Now I’m fighting to put words in my native language together, and the results are annoying me, but already it’s bedtime and I don’t have time or inclination for editing or rewrites, so I’ll have to publish something I’m ashamed of.

Next time: something less whiney. Or so let’s all hope.

Our first weekly quiz consisted of thirty questions on the names of various tatami mats and dōgu, directions and steps in the tearoom, and the like. I got 29 of them correct; an encouraging start. During second period, an American teacher named Hlawatsch who teaches Japanese history to international students at a local university gave us a crash course on the 14th century Ashikaga shogunate. We’ll see Hlawatsch-sensei once a month, and we’ll be tested on the information he gives us in lecture as well as on the copious reading he assigns. Our senpai have warned us that these tests aren’t easy.

After a lunch of croquettes, we had our last afternoon of warigeiko, the initial practice in component skills like folding the fukusa that are common to every temae. I could probably stand to sit through another month of this. Hamana-sensei is increasing the pace at which he introduces new terminology. Today we used the lacquered trays that function centrally in the temae we’ll start tomorrow: the simplest preparation, in which most of the required implements are brought out on a tray and the host pours hot water from a little kettle rather than drawing it from a bigger vessel with a bamboo dipper. Hamana-sensei expects us to remember the name of the tray shape (yamamichibon, because the top edge of the tray’s (bon) rim undulates gently like a mountain (yama) path (michi)); the lacquer technique; the red accents on the black tray (tsumagure: like nails painted red); the kinds of tea bowls used; the flowers; the scroll; the pebbled texture of the kettle (arare: hailstones).

We finished our chores and had another dinner of unidentified breaded meat, then went to the girls’ dorm. One responsibility I’m being groomed to inherit is the writing of letters on behalf of the Midorikai group. We owed a thank-you to Oiemoto for the dinner on Friday and one to Daisōshō for the tickets to Miyako Odori, and a birthday card for Daisōshō as well. I wrote the note to Oiemoto in English, Tanawat helped out by writing the other thank-you in Japanese, and Anita, who is the current letter-writer, made the card.

That didn’t leave us with much free time before bed. But that’s seems to be the way life here works.