Emily Scoble: Kyoto Cooking Circle and KLEXON

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This semester I participated in two CIPs, the Kyoto Cooking Circle and KLEXON, an English conversation circle.   The Kyoto Cooking Circle unfortunately only meets once a month, but I was able to attend a few meetings, cook some delicious food and have interesting conversations with the people I have met there.  KLEXON meets almost every week, and a volunteer session involves speaking with people both one-on-one as well as in small group settings.  In participating in both of my CIPs, I interacted with many people who spoke Japanese but were also looking to practice English, or other foreign languages, so it was interesting to be able to easily see the differences in interactions in both English and Japanese.

At a typical Kyoto Cooking Circle meeting, members are divided into tables where we first listen to a teacher’s instruction on how to prepare the entire meal.  This explanation is usually a fairly formal speech style, but members are able to interject with questions or comments if needed.   When we return to our tables, the conversation topics are usually fairly casual, as we talk about ourselves and cook the meal together and, unless the members recognize each other from a previous meeting and speak more casually, desu/masu style is usually used.  Conversation over the meal is usually fun and it is a great feeling to enjoy a meal that everyone has helped to prepare.  After everyone is finished, there is a “self-introduction” time, something that is very Japanese.  Even if we may have been speaking casually before, these self-introductions are usually pretty formal, as well as formulaic in their content and expressions.  Still, it is always interesting to hear about people’s occupations or hobbies, in addition to the names of people from different tables, before everyone cleans up the kitchen together.

KLEXON has also been an interesting experience, and I have had the opportunity to speak to many different people, both college students and young workers.  While speaking one-on-one has primarily been in English, many of my group sessions have used Japanese to converse.  It has been a good experience to speaking in-depth about various topics with a wide variety of people, and I have learned a good deal about people’s personal experiences, Japanese culture or even recommended spots around Kyoto.  All in all, my CIPs have afforded me the opportunity to meet many different people, with some good conversations and meals as well.

Anna Andriychuk: Assistant English Teacher

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For my spring CIP, I volunteered as an Assistant English Teacher at Ohara Gakuin, a school consisting of grades 1 through 9, in the small town of Ohara. Since I had initially hoped to participate in the JET program after graduation, I thought I would try my hand at teaching english during my time in Kyoto. Even though this experience taught me that JET is not the best path for me to follow, I do not regret the time I spent at Ohara. It offered me a glimpse of Japanese culture that I would never have seen otherwise, and left me with many great memories. The best part is that it allowed me to make friends with some of my favorite people in Japan; that they happen to be ten year olds just makes for a better story.

My volunteer experience in Japan reaffirmed both my love of children and my slight fear of teenagers. It also challenged many of the things that I thought I knew about Japanese schools, students, and the education system in Japan. One think that struck me at Ohara was how self-sufficient that students are expected to be. From my experience watching Japanese dramas, I was already familiar with the fact that students are largely responsible for sweeping classrooms, cleaning bathrooms, and just generally keeping the school clean. I was surprised, however, by the students’ many other responsibilities. I do not know whether or not this is common in Japanese schools, but Ohara Gakuin did not have a cafeteria. The students would carry prepared food from the kitchen to their homerooms and a few of them would take turns serving it to their classmates and teachers. The desks would be pushed together so that everyone could chat together while they ate. After everyone finished, the students would dispose of the remaining food and return all the dishes to the kitchen. I would never expect to see this type of responsibility given to second and third graders at American schools.

However, not all of these activities were tedious. The school also had a PA system which the students were fully in charge of. They would broadcast morning announcements and play music during lunch. To my surprise (and slight dismay), I had to make my introduction speech and say my goodbyes over the loudspeaker. In general, despite having some responsibilities that many American parents would condemn as being too much for small children, I found the degree of self-sufficiency and freedom to be really interesting and new.

As one would expect, many of my observations concerned the nature of English education at Ohara. Unfortunately, I was often frustrated at the teaching style and I now understand why so many Japanese students struggle so much with English. The teaching method is centered on memorization and repetition. While memorizing words and sentence patterns are important, they are useless without understanding the underlying grammar. This inefficiency was made most clear to me when I was assisting the 8th grade class on the day they had a presentation quiz. They had been memorizing a short story (a very simplified retelling of E.T.) for several days, and would have to present the story in front of the class, without the text in front of them. During practice, I listened while one of the students recited the story word for word. After he finished, I asked him whether he understood what he had just recited. He smiled and said no. As it turned out, he was one of the better students in the class. Many didn’t care enough to memorize the story, laughed their way through the presentation while reading directly from the book. Whether the students just didn’t do their work or actively disrupted the class, the teachers just basically turned a blind eye. In America, the teacher would have sent the kid to the principal’s office, called his parents, yelled, or done a number of things. But in my experience, the teacher never simply ignored it. While the 6-9th grades were tough sometimes, the younger grades were really fun to be around. Not only were they often as good or better at English than the upper grades, they seemed genuinely enthusiastic about learning. Although that doesn’t come as much of a surprise.

Ultimately, however, I was only able to observe ten weeks in one school of several thousands in Japan. I can also admit that I was observing it all through an impartial eye. I learned English fairly quickly and efficiently in three or so years because I was already living and studying in America. Learning and teaching English in a non-english speaking country will have its share of difficulties and inefficiencies, and Japan is no exception. As for the 8-10 year old friends I’ve made, I hope I get a chance to meet them again in the future and see how much they’ve improved.

Alexa VanDemark: Koto Lessons

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When I started learning koto back in September, it was a musical experience like I’ve never had. From the beginning, I considered the presence of both “uchi” and “soto” within that world. Is the student in the sphere of “uchi?” Or maybe “soto?” As it turns out, it’s not black and white – both are valid, though I think one is more appropriate to my particular situation that the other.

In America, I have taken clarinet, piano, and guitar lessons, among others, and they were all done in local music studios. This kind of lesson is certainly a “soto” experience. I would go to a school-like building with individual classrooms, take my lessons in the room that my teacher is renting, and leave that room when my lesson is over. On top of that, because my teachers were borrowing those rooms from the music studio owners, doesn’t that mean that my teachers were also in a “soto” sphere within that space? You can hardly call that an emotionally close experience. However, my koto lessons here in Kyoto are taught at my teacher’s, Noda-sensei’s, own home. Considering that, I had to consider whether this was an “uchi” or “soto” world, in comparison to the clearly “soto” world of my previous lessons. If I were to say “soto,” there are certain formal and polite interactions to consider. For instance, when my teacher is talking to me, not only about her other students and acquaintances, she uses the Kansai-ben word “iharu.” I wondered why on earth she would use keigo with me, her considerably younger student. Through using this language, though she uses it out of kindness, it’s as though my teacher is carefully handling our teacher-student relationship to keep a social barrier between us.

Though I say that, I find the argument that this situation is “uchi” more compelling. Because my lessons are done in my teacher’s home, there are also plenty of experiences that aren’t “soto.” For example, because I’m going into someone’s house, I have to use the appropriate greetings, and sometimes I meet members of my teacher’s family by coincidence. I was recently talking to my teacher about the coming of spring, and I asked if she was planning on going to a hanami. She responded that although she wasn’t planning to go, since she dislikes the bugs that live in the sakura and the crowds that accompany a hanami experience, she can enjoy the ume in her own backyard garden, and opened the shoji separating the classroom and the living area so that I could see through to the ume outside. If I had been taking these lessons in a music studio, there’s no way I could have had this experience.

On top of that, lessons aren’t the only thing I receive from my teacher. She lends me a koto for free so that I can practice on my own at my host family’s house, and so that I don’t have to spend money on my own music, she lets me borrow her own sheet music to copy at school for a fraction of the cost. In addition to that, because I am doing my independent study on the tegotomono genre of koto music, my teacher has given me various things in preparation for that project. For instance, because she works as a koto performer in addition to teaching lessons, she gave me three CDs of tegotomono music that she recorded to use as sources – all for free! These kinds of experiences where I receive all these things from my teacher are certainly “uchi.” That is to say, all of the above-mentioned freebies that I received would normally be paid for, and would be a “soto” relationship, right? But Noda-sensei is not only my teacher, but also my mentor, and as such she helps in any way she can to make my experience a good one, which convinces me that this is more of an “uchi” relationship than a “soto” one.

Of course, you could reasonably say it’s “soto” or “uchi” – it all depends on what specific experiences you consider to be more telling. However, I have found that my relationship with Noda-sensei is more meaningful than the relationships I have had with previous private lesson instructors, and so I consider it to be “uchi.” If I were to take lessons again when I return to America, I have to wonder if I’ll pay attention to these same kinds of interactions more than before I took my koto lessons.

Baylee Williams: Impact Hub Kyoto

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My Community Involvement Project was interning at Impact Hub Kyoto. Throughout my time there, I translated a variety of documents including blogs, flyers, and instructions. Before going to Impact Hub Kyoto, my dream was to become a Japanese to English translator; however, translating at Impact Hub Kyoto helped to change my mind. Sitting for hours on end staring at a computer screen and constantly googling words, phrases, and grammar structures that I did not understand became quite exhausting. Even though Jim, one of my fellow students, cracked jokes to help alleviate our frustration and worked with me on the translations, I still found myself bored and aggravated most of the time I was there. When the two of us were translating one of the more difficult blogs, it occurred to me that I do not want to be trapped working in a job like this for the rest of my life. I want my life to consist of more than pouring over paperwork at a desk, especially paperwork that does not inspire me. This, however, is not to say that I hated translating at Impact Hub Kyoto. On the contrary, I found it to be a very useful experience. Translating at Impact Hub Kyoto has given me guidance for my future by helping to narrow down my search for future career possibilities. Moreover, I appreciated the experience of translating; it gave me valuable insight into how the Japanese language functions and some of the many similarities and differences between English and Japanese. Impact Hub Kyoto was more than just an opportunity to translate though.
Through Impact Hub Kyoto, I learned more about how Japan functions as a society. I witnessed the exchange of give-and-take firsthand. Whenever one of the members of Impact Hub Kyoto was ever given anything, or even if they only went to buy some food at the local convenience store, they always shared some of what they had. I feel like this mirrors how people in Japanese society often buy souvenirs for friends, family members, and coworkers whenever they go traveling. Soon Jim and I found ourselves doing the same thing. If we went to buy some strawberries, then we would buy some for them too. This somewhat elaborate system continues to fascinate me as I become further entangled in it. It has also affected my mindset regarding buying souvenirs for friends and family members back in the United States. I have noticed myself constantly wondering if I should buy a souvenir for this person or that person, even if I do not know them very well. I wonder if this will also continue to affect my habits even after I return to the United States.
Overall, I am grateful for the opportunity to intern at Impact Hub Kyoto, because it allowed me to experience a different aspect of Japanese society that I otherwise would not have been able to experience. It has helped to change my life goals for the better, and now I understand more of what I want from a job in the future.

Vanessa Tenazas: Zenryuji Nursery School

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Building on my experiences last semester, this spring I focused much of my attention on the general concept of “teacher” as understood by the children at the daycare. In exploring the various roles they play in the daily life of the attendees, I also became fascinated by how the ways a teacher corrects a child not only reflects something about the teacher, but also by how it affects the child developmentally.

My observations have led me to identify a “teacher” at the daycare as one who simultaneously act in 3 major roles: as one who guides, as one who dotes, and as one who disciplines.

As a guide, a teacher instructs a child on acceptable moral behavior. For example, they may interrupt or arbitrate a dispute and then ensure that apologies or concessions are made appropriately. This role of course also encompasses the teachings of daily life, such as proper manners and routine living (e.g. greetings, washing hands before a meal, etc.).

Teachers are also, at least at this stage, something of a playmate to the children. Physical affection through hugs and tickling seems to build a sort of trust and intimacy between the two that, in my opinion, enables the teacher to fulfill their other roles more effectively. That is, while they inevitably have to correct a child, the physical affection communicates to the child in a concrete way that a teacher is not always so distant an entity, but instead one who emulates a parent.

Finally, as a disciplinarian, the teacher employs various methods to correct children’s behavior. Aside from outright scolding, I have noticed a particular stress on accountability, whereby a child must first admit their mistake and then correct it on their own. Spilled milk episodes are most representative of this tendency. Additionally, passive-aggression on the side of the teacher seems to indicate when a child has deviated from a long-expected behavior, such as playing around after eating snack instead of preparing to go home. This method tends to lead the children to realize their own mistake, as reflected in their guilty expressions afterward.

Until volunteering at Zenryuji, I did not realize how important a role a teacher at a daycare plays in shaping the growth of a child. By instructing them, being friendly with them, and also disciplining them, they teach children not only what is expected of them at the daycare, but also in society as they prepare to go further out into the world. Since I have always observed Japanese people to be sticklers on accountability, it made me wonder if the emphasis on recognizing and fixing one’s own mistakes at Zenryuji may be culturally influenced. In any case, it was a very enlightening to get a glimpse of one of the foundations of Japanese society, even if only for a short time.

Catherine Aker: Teaching English

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The very first time I found myself at Kyoto Bunkyo, a combined middle school and high school in Higashiyama, something earth shatteringly shocking happened: I was cool amongst middle schoolers.

They laughed at my jokes. They got excited when I showed up. They all enjoyed talking to me. It was all my middle school fantasies of popularity realized a mere seven years too late.

Of course, as I was soon to figure out, this was not because some latent coolness gene had activated inside me sometime after high school. Rather, it was because no one could understand a word I was saying.

One would assume that this lack of communication should have been obvious after a couple of extremely one-sided conversations. And the truth is, it probably was. Just not to me.

And here, after a few weeks of painstaking observation, are the reasons why:

  1. The English the students know, the students really know. It kind of works like a script. The students know certain phrases and sentences. They have them memorized like they’re preparing for a play. The most infamous is what I like to call the “How Are You” Script.

 

It goes like this:

 

“How are you?”

“I am fine, thank you. And you?”

“I am fine.”

 

As long as you stick to the script, the students can have a pretty passable, if a little bit flat, conversation. Unfortunately, they know the script so well, that your input is barely necessary. It doesn’t really matter what answer you give, the script will continue on regardless.

 

On one occasion, a student gave the entire script in one breath without my input at all. (“How-are-you-I-am-fine-thank-you-and-you. Good-bye.”)

 

Nonetheless, the fact remains that when these students are on script, they are in their comfort zone and, although their intonation is a little off, they speak smoothly and confidently. Since most conversations start out with scripts, and frequently contain more in the middle, it’s easy to believe that these students are understanding more than they are.

2.They laugh a lot. Which, as most English speakers are prone to, I usually took as a cue that they were enjoying my insightful and witty comments.

 

As it turns out, that wasn’t the case. The students frequently used laughter to cover up for times they didn’t understand. I think it was a combination of nerves, a desire to seem more fluent, and behaviors learned from their teachers.

 

That’s not to say that they never laughed because something was genuinely funny. They did. But it is not the special, “I don’t understand laugh”. The “I don’t understand laugh” is hesitant. All the students take a split second to make eye contact with each other and check if anyone understands. Then, when they do laugh, it comes out in a quick burst and stops just as fast.

 

But, it’s close enough to regular laughter to convince someone like me that the conversation was on track, and they enjoyed my jokes. Even the one about the platypus. (They actually did know the word for platypus, by the way. They had all studied in Australia.)

 

Anyway, between the scripts and the laughter, it took me an embarrassingly long time to realize that anything was amiss. When I finally did notice, there was much mortification on my part for a few days. Afterwards, I had to slow down my speech immensely, and our conversations degenerated into fairly bland repeats of the same discussions, but at least everyone was on the same page.

So, I guess the end result of this story is that communication mishaps are easy. Correcting them is a little bit harder. But at the end of the day, I like the think that learning to bridge a few differences and learning to detect a couple of new ticks is worth it in the end. If nothing else, I’ve won a few cool points, which is a victory in and of itself.

Mingtian Ouyang: KLEXON

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I joined KLEXON since the beginning of last semester. It was a circle with plenty opportunities to make Japanese friends and many fun activities. Most members of KLEXON are either college students or company employees. Among the company employees, engineers and designers make up a great portion. These two fields require them to use English more frequently than other company employees. During the meeting I noticed something very interesting. Before the meeting starts, Japanese KLEXON members would stay in their own seat, busy looking at their phone, while entire ignoring their surroundings. Meeting starts at 7 pm, however, around 6:55, even though most people have arrived, no one seems to bother start any conversation with others. I found this strange. Their goal of coming here is to practice colloquial English, but why do they have to wait till the last minute to do so?  

      When entering the room, some college students tend to greet their friends, who also happen to be in KLEXON. However, the rest members would normally just walk straight to their seat and start playing with their phone. Meanwhile, when foreign students come in to the room, they would greet people they know, and start a conversation right away. I think there are many reasons behind this difference. First of all, there is a different concept of time in Japan. For example, “everything is on time”, “low tolerance for being late” are some impressions Japan has left me. The idea of “doing the right thing at the right time” is critical to Japanese society. Maybe it is currently 6:55 pm and the meeting starts at 7:00 pm, but 6:55 is not 7:00. To the Japanese members in KLEXON, these two times are very different. Therefore, it is not the time to start practicing English because it is not the “right time”. I also asked a Japanese friend from KLEXON to prove my idea. His answer was that this phenomenon has to do with the idea of the “shyness as a national character of Japan” (シャイな国民性). He explains that it is not customary for Japanese to start a conversation with anyone he or she meets. Almost all conversations begin with a formal self-introduction.  Also, some worry that talking to someone before meeting starts might bother them, because strictly speaking it is not the “right time”.

Justin Chao: HUB Kyoto

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Upon hearing about KCJS’ CIP requirement, I found myself struggling with 2 possible choices. The first was to pursue my interests and seek some kind of personal project; examples being to learn a form of Japanese craft such as an instrument or Karate or something along those lines, and the other being to pursue an opportunity that would be help me in finding a job after college. I decided upon the latter, participating in Impact HUB Kyoto. What initially drew me to HUB was the laid-back environment and overall emphasis on being a self-starter. This did not change throughout the semester, as the laid-back environment and encouragement of pursuing individual interests and projects did not cease to exist. As an example, I initially started on a Facebook/social media project where I would supplement HUB Kyoto’s Facebook page with my own page in English. However, after a period of research, I had second thoughts pertaining to the practicality of such a project, and instead, worked on translating newsletters from Japanese into English. The flexibility and encouragement permeating through HUB was a huge positive for me, as it allowed me to pursue projects related to my interests; social media marketing and translation, whilst volunteering under an entrepreneurship network that could help me out in the future, as far as finding work.

On the topic of the HUB network, another aspect that greatly interested me was the overall atmosphere and manner in which HUB is run. Because its members are so laid-back and emphasize self-starting, HUB stands in firm contrast to my image of a stereotypical Japanese business. One characteristic of culture shock I have experienced is how intense Japanese working ethics and culture is, and after being involved with HUB for a period of time, I am very happy to see that although the Japanese salaryman life is not particularly all fun and games, there are always exceptions, of which is exemplified by HUB. Granted, HUB is a worldwide network of entrepreneurs, however it is encouraging to know that if I were to absolutely want to try and pursue opportunities in Japan in the future, I am not necessarily confined to the never-ending hustle of a typical Japanese corporation.

Overall, I am happy to have been involved with HUB Kyoto. There have certainly been times where it felt like actual work as opposed to a fun way to get involved in the Kyoto community, but in retrospect the opportunities to pursue projects such as social media marketing in a Japanese context and translation work, as well as the experience of feeling the positive community of HUB first-hand are truly an invaluable experience for me. If my time in Kyoto had been longer, and my schedule was not so confined by school and the home-stay, I feel as if HUB would had been exactly the kind of opportunity I was looking for, as far as doing something fun and productive in Japan for an indefinite period of time.

Daniel Moon: Igo

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My first day in the Kyoto Igo Salon began with me walking into a classroom full of elderly ladies and being greeted by their curious stares. Upon telling the instructor that I am a foreigner trying to take Igo lessons, the classroom buzzed with whispers of “He’s a foreigner!” Needless to stay, the unwanted attention was more than enough to reconsider going back to the salon.

I’m happy to write though that it feels a lot more comfortable attending the class now. The class, including the instructor, is very friendly, and a lot of the students have been eager to talk to me about life back in the states, my thoughts on Kyoto, Igo, and so on.

Each week, the instructor lectures the class for half an hour about new strategies. After walking me through a brief overview of the basic rules of Igo, the instructor has allowed me to listen in on the lectures along with the rest of the class. The basic idea of the game is to build one’s base as large and secure as possible using “stones,” which are the basic unit of the game. The lectures have been mostly about conducting offensive and defensive moves based on predictions of the opponent’s moves. According to the instructor, veteran players can predict the flow of the game multiple moves ahead of time, though I’m not confident that I can predict beyond one or two moves at best.

I have to admit that I have yet to win a game (and I don’t imagine that I’ll be returning to the states with a win on my record), but strangely enough, despite my competitive personality, I haven’t found myself stressing about losing in Igo. My guess is that there is a certain atmosphere about Igo (or perhaps an atmosphere specific to my salon) that allows both the winner and the loser to walk away from a game with satisfaction.

What kind of atmosphere? What I view as the attractions of the Igo game come mostly in comparison to other strategy board games that I have played in the past, namely chess. Granted chess has its own appeals, I would characterize Igo as a game that places relative emphasis on respecting the opponent. Some of the customs of Igo (bowing to the opponent before the game, placing the first stone in the upper-right hand corner, avoiding making sounds or touching the opponent’s stone when placing one’s own stone, etc.) are purely for the sake of paying respect to the opponent. Of course, mannerism is present in any game, including chess, but clearly Igo comes with a longer list of intricate customs and manners that are virtually considered rules.

Besides the general rules and customs of Igo, it is also the informal atmosphere of my salon that allows for a relaxed few hours of lectures and practice. It seems that the students here have been regulars for a long time, since they all seem to know each other well and speak to each other in informal Japanese. While they address the instructor as “sensei,” it was surprising to see that they also speak to the teacher in informal Japanese, as does the instructor. I have been able to talk with a number of students, though the talks mostly consisted of them asking me questions about where I am from, why I decided to come to Japan, why I chose to study Igo, and so on. The students had a strong Kansai Accent, and it might be a safe guess that talking with them helped grow my ears for the Kansai Accent.

I can’t say that there’s been a major breakthrough that suddenly elevated me to become adept in the workings of Igo. What I can say, however, is that over the course of the semester, I steadily grew a good amount of understanding of the logic and dynamic of the game. I dare to say that along with better understanding came a better appreciation of the game in its unique charisma.

Katsumi Morales: Kyudo

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There are several reasons that I am sad to see this Spring semester come to an end, and leaving my CIP behind is among the top few. My experience at the 道場, practicing 弓道 hasn’t been the most social or life-changing, but I am extremely grateful for having been given the opportunity to be taught by a proper instructor and train amongst other Japanese 生徒.

Although there have been countless awkward moments for me, whether due to my own lack of communication skills or due to making a mistake and dropping an arrow, my overall experience has been quite pleasant and I normally leave practice feeling somewhat accomplished. My teachers and fellow students have been very kind to me, and as the months flew by, I felt more and more welcome amongst them.

During my first few weeks at the 道場 back in September, a few foreign travelers came and went, practicing only a few days or weeks before leaving again. I remember 先生 talking about how even 4 months was not enough time to truly learn about 弓道, and I can say that after nearly 8, I still feel I have a long way to go until I can be called even “decent”.

Looking back, I believe there has been a very large difference between how teachers and other students treated those who stayed only a short time, and how I have come to be treated after being around for a much longer time. That is not to say that they treated anyone badly at any point in time, but that after 6 or so months there, I definitely began to feel a change. Despite having few conversations with others, I could sense that they had grown used to seeing me around, grown used to expecting me there. The times I did have conversations with people, they were always very nice and asked me about myself, and about how long I would be staying.

If I compare myself with some of the other students who had attended while I was there, I believe that my being there for a much longer time than the others, spoke of how serious I was about learning and practicing 弓道, as opposed to being there just for an experience in Japan. I got the impression that those who were only there a handful of weeks were really only doing it as a “one time” thing. せっかく日本に居るから. I and Jasmine who practiced with me last semester hope to continue 弓道 after returning to the states, and if possible coming back to Japan to practice again with a teacher. I am not too hopeful about finding a place to practice in the States as of now, but I will definitely keep my eyes peeled. I knew before I began here that I preferred 弓道 to Western archery, especially competitive archery. I had tried it for a year and a half and realized that the more spiritual and wholesome experience of 弓道 fit me better. I have found myself to be quite right in that respect. I am not the kind of person that enjoys sport and competition, but to me at least, 弓道 is something more.

I believe that it was my genuine desire to learn 弓道 as what it is and not as a sport, not as I learned Western archery in the past, that eventually helped change the way others looked at me. Even　先生 changed her attitude towards me bit by bit. Now I feel much more like part of the group of people there every Monday and Thursday. Unfortunately that only makes it harder to leave and I’m sure these last weeks will fly much too quickly for my liking.