Losing the Love of My Life

I’m at a point in my time here in Japan that I’m fed up of the culture differences, language barrier and general misunderstandings that I see everything in Japan as attributing or part of this negativity.

This is simply not true. I try to tell myself, day in and day out, that I used to LOVE Japan and in fact I once spent a year in Tokyo loving life in Japan and having very little difficulty with the language and culture. But my mind won’t listen and I’m strugglingto find the reason why I even liked Japan in the first place.

Yesterday was a public holiday and I spent my day off as usual, at home, playing games, eating and generally perusing the interwebs. I decided to watch some of the old variety shows that I once was addicted to and found that I wasn’t sure whether I liked them anymore and noticed things in them that hadn’t occurred to me before. The way someone subtly voiced their opinion or how formal one person was to another, their body language in regards to their sempai. I didn’t mean to pick up on these things but my newly acquired knowledge of the office politics in Japan and how Japanese people work together pointed out these small interactions amongst the pure entertainment those shows used to be to me.

I notice at work my Japanese seems to be devolving rather than improving and my confidence has completely dropped out of the game. My pride in my language abilities and all the compliments I used to receive about my ability have disappeared into my past and I’m now a blubbering foreigner who can’t remember the word for ‘apple’.

The major problem with all of this is that, even though I am obviously able to look at this objectively and see how ridiculous it’s all become, I haven’t been able to snap out of it. It reminds me of something the keynote speaker at the JET Programme Tokyo Orientation said about culture shock; “Some of us never come into the phase of acceptance”. The ‘phase of acceptance’ being the final stage of culture shock where you come to terms with the differences and accept them.

As I remind myself that there are many things I enjoy about Japan I can’t help but create a mental pro and con list of reasons to stay in Japan. My con list is starting to get very heavy and I feel my desperation to leave this country and go somewhere new getting stronger and stronger.

I don’t know if that feeling is simply coming from my dislike for my current job but I have a feeling there are certain things about this office that areinherent in any office and will follow me wherever I go. I never thought I’d be the kind of person who is unable to let go of the ‘western way’ and adapt. I’ve always been very accepting of other cultures and it fuels my love of travelling but perhaps it’s not entirely my fault. Maybe, it’s Japan’s inability to adapt themselves.

I started watching a movie last night called Ikiru (to live) made by Director Kurosawa in 1952. The first 5 minutes show exactly why the Japanese office confuses and frustrates me (namely bureaucracy) but then I realised this movie was made over 60 years ago! I knew Japan hadn’t changed for a while but 60 years is a long time to go without improving your system for the better. The only thing that wasdifferent was that my desk has a computer (without internet access) and that I use a fax machine (though snail mail is also frequently used).

I don’t know if one morning in the next year or so I will wake up and just snap out of this but I sure hope so. I hate to see my passion and dedication to Japan evaporate into nothing after 10 years of study. In the mean time I’m just focussing on things that do make me happy and trying to tie Japan into that.

But maybe it’s time to conclude that, for me at least, Japan is just meant to be a place to admire from afar.

Being a CIR on the JET Programme

When I signed up for my position as a Coordinator of International Relations on the JET Programme the last thing I expected was to be fixing someone’s toilet seat or inspecting a Shingles rash. But my position has brought me many of these little surprises in the past 9 months.

I had not expected to get into the JET programme at all. I had messed up my application about 3 or 4 times and had completely bombed the interview. I was off on a two month trip around Europe when I heard that I was accepted onto the shortlist and needed to complete a health check. With only one or two days in each city it was not an easy thing to arrange. But here I am, in a job I never signed up for, filling out people’s holiday requests while I watch my year spin on.

The Coordinator of International Relations position on the JET programme never claimed to be straight forward and it’s true that some of the items listed on their official website relate to my own job; translation and interpreting. However, when someone asks me what my position is I don’t even refer to the coordinating of culture but rather the mother of 12 (soon to be 24) ALTs (Assistant Language Teachers).

There is another position on the JET program called a PA (Prefectural Advisor) or in my case a CA (City Advisor). I first found out about this position through an email 2 weeks before my arrival in Japan in July 2013 when a current CIR in my city asked if I knew I would be a CA. I didn't.

I spent my last few weeks before moving my whole life over to a city I’d never been to googling what on earth a CA really was. The conclusion of my research; a counsellor. My research wasn’t entirely correct.

A CA is more of an administrative FAQ book which JET programme participants are encouraged to contact 24/7. My first few months on the job were stressed with everyone in my city (bar one) being a new JET participant including myself yet all the questions regarding the area (which I had never visited), being a teacher (which I had only a fleeting 1 hour of experience with), and how to use [insert household appliance here] being aimed at me.

I was asked to interpret with no prior notice and no knowledge of the subject on a regular basis. This, you have probably guessed, was a disaster due to the fact that I hadn’t actively used my Japanese for at least 18 months. I umm-ed and ahh-ed my way through the days of seminars and bureaucratic paper work until my head felt like it was about to burst.

Messages sent in the early hours of the morning or through my desperately leisurely weekends taunted me and hours of overtime accumulated without compensation. I tried to keep on top by keeping extensive memos in small notebooks that were always on my person but I am now on my 6th notebook and yet to comprehend anything I’ve written so far.

I was told, by the internet, that most of my jobs in the beginning would be easy, Japanese to English translations but I’ve had more English to Japanese translations than Japanese essays I’ve written in my past 10 years of Japanese study in just the first few months of work here. Sometimes I do native check for the translation group upstairs but most of the time I am filling out transportation reimbursement forms, holiday requests and going over lesson plans from the around 100 Elementary Schools and close to 50 Junior High Schools.

And all the rush and panic I felt 9months ago will be starting over again when 13 new ALTs arrive in the summer.

You’d think that after all this craziness I would’ve done the sensible thing and found an alternate employment but maybe the craziness drove me crazy because I’ve signed on for another year.

The office I work in is filled with people who feel the same as me, if not worse. Teachers who are supposed to be in classrooms but are instead charged with answering phone calls and filling out paperwork. Yet, despite their predicament, they are always working their hardest to smile and support each other.

Although I may not agree with all the office politics and processes that go on in a Japanese work place I do admire their ability to deal with unpleasant situations. Even if it’s just stapling a few programs together for a co-workers upcoming event or taking a unsatisfied parent’s phone call even though the person in charge of the case is away on sick leave and they have no idea what it’s about.

They sit through being yelled at, being despised by families, being criticised by the media, and even being accused of stealing money from the taxpayer. Despite all this negativity flowing around they still put on a smile every day, welcome each other back energetically after like it’s their own home, and crack jokes about sexual harassment (in a very non-offensive way).

It’s thanks to these people that even when I’m feeling stressed and tired I’m able to keep smiling even through the napping hours in the afternoon.

Unfortunately, their influence may not keep me here for much longer then what I’ve already signed up for but it has taught me priceless lessons about the power of positivity and also the benefits of calling for help on even the smallest of things.

Being a CIR has not given me what I hoped for but there is always a lesson to be learnt from whatever situation you find yourself in.

My Amazing Japanese

Hello there,

The common hurdle a lot of foreigners in Japan are faced with is ‘compliments’.

Now I know this sounds lovely and Japanese people being renowned as polite and kind would make this point obvious but anyone who has been to Japan to live or study for an extended period of time will understand the drop in my stomach anytime someone praises my use of chopsticks or ability to greet.

“Wow! You can use chopsticks?” Someone asks me, 8 months into my second period of living in Japan.

This is not the first, nor the second, third or fourth, time I have received this admiration from a Japanese co-worker. Each time I reply gently with a “Yes, actually we use chopsticks in New Zealand too.” This never fails to shock and mystify my sweet Japanese colleagues and they relish in their new found knowledge… until a few weeks later when they see me eating rice and are once again astonished at my nifty fingers.

Not your average fork and knife using hands

I am aware that not all foreigners are as lucky as me to have grown up in a country which is one of the most multicultural on the planet. As a New Zealander I was introduced to Asian culture early on and learnt to enjoy my sushi and chicken chow mein through the practical use of chopsticks. Maybe, someone from a less multicultural country or a New Zealander who might have preferred the use of a knife and fork, being complimented on their use of chopsticks every few weeks would be a welcome recognition of their growth. But as a practiced chopsticks semi-expert, it is a constant reminder of patience and the joker’s smile.

A common conversation in the office is as follows:

*writing up new schedule for meeting*

Co-worker: “Wow”

Me: “Wow?”

Co-worker: “You know Kanji (Chinese characters)?”

Me: “Yes, the computer comes up with them automatically anyway.”

Co-worker: “Wow”

Me: “I have had to learn a few over the 10 years I’ve been studying Japanese”

Co-worker: “Wow”

The co-worker remains in this stunned condition for about 5 seconds before reporting their findings to the rest of my co-workers for them all to join in the chorus of “Wow”.

While I appreciate the kind reminder that my Japanese degree has paid off, when this ritual admiration repeats, on average, every two weeks it does get a bit tiring. There are worse conversations of course; the ‘konnichiwa’ expert. Any foreigner trying to have a go at communication in Japan will face this at some point.

Me: “Konnichiwa” (hello)

Other person: “Wow. Your Japanese is amazing!”

Me: “I said nothing.”

And repeat.

Encouraging for the everyday tourist but excruciating for the live in foreigner just trying to buy some shampoo at their regular supermarket.

I know this all sounds a bit ridiculously picky to anyone who has never lived in Japan before but I wrote this for all my fellow non-Japanese workers and students in the country who will no doubt understand the wonderfully blurry line between compliments and patronising.

Whether or not the repeating of the same compliments is a part of Japanese culture or just my co-workers poor memory I don’t know.

Just thought you might want to know.

Successful JET CIR Essay

Here's my successful essay from my application to the JET program:

In 2010 I was honoured with the oppourtunity to spend an academic year in Japan through the Victoria University Exchange Programme. Having studied Japanese for six years at the time but not yet actually used my language skills or experienced the Japanese culture first hand I couldn't hold back my excitement. For ten months I lived and learned in Tokyo, Japan while attending Meiji Gakuin University . I met people from not just Japan but all over the world who then became life long friends all sharing the passion for the Japanese language and culture. My year was beyond anything I could have ever imagined. So, upon learning of the JET programme I knew this was another perfect oppourtunity to share languages and cultures with all new friends and colleagues that I could not let pass.

During my year long exchange in Tokyo, Japan I went to to Meiji Gakuin University in central Tokyo to further my studies in Japanese language and culture. I completed the academic programme and improved my Japanese skills to a high standard at which I was able to acquire a part-time job while living in Japan.

After spending a year there I came back with more than just insight into Japan as a country but also an insight into countries from all over the world. While living in Tokyo I was placed in a University dormitory where exchange students from all over the world gathered; Thailand, Canada, Germany, England, Australia, Taiwan, South Korea and so many more. Being around people from all those countries enabled me to study both their languages and their cultures which, I hope, opened my mind to the rest of the world. I think this gives me an advantage into not only language but worldly knowledge.

Since setting my goal to work in Japan as a translator I have been working hard towards building the skills I will need to be successful in achieving this. Recently I have been working at Victoria University as a research assistant on a project based around immigrant workers and the use of languages in foreign offices. This study shows the importance of an open mind and adaptability in an unfamiliar situation. With my experience as a medical receptionist I am well aware of the need to adapt in unexpected circumstances. This job faces many different cases varying in severity so it is always important to be on your toes. I believe that while working as a CIR on the JET programme difficult and challenging situations are bound to arise but I have the ability to problem solve and keep calm during such encounters. Also, with this experience in hand, I think I am able to handle any high-paced workplace that may be thrown at me as well as somewhere which may require someone to pick up things quickly.

One of the most important things about going on the JET programme is, I believe, being an advocate for your own country. Being able to represent New Zealand as a CIR would be an honour and a task I think I could fulfill. While I have studied many overseas cultures and languages I have also participated in work regarding New Zealand culture and language through the Victoria University Linguistics department. Knowing what is important to New Zealanders and what makes us unique from others is a great advantage in being able to represent our country well. New Zealand is a country with many different influences but yet is united and ahead of the world over issues such as nuclear power and equality. If given the oppourtunity to share the New Zealand point of view with Japan and to spread knowledge about our small and isolated country I would be more then honoured to take it on.

In conclusion, my skills and experience are well tailored to what I believe is important in being a CIR and a representative of both the JET programme and New Zealand. My Japanese language and culture knowledge is of a high level and I am prepared both mentally and physically to work to the standard required of me by my employers. 

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As you can see, you don't have to be the best writer to get in but just giving them a reference to your character and experience is a definite must if you are going to get in. Good luck with your own essays!

Just thought you might want to know! 

Rubbish Lady - The Dictator of Japan

So as some of you may have seen on YouTube or read in my last post I am now living and working in a place called Hamamatsu City (fondly referred to from here on as Hama) in Japan. I know I should start this by saying how amazing Japan is and how much I'm loving it here (which I most definitely am) but all I can think of to write about is the Rubbish Lady.

The middle-aged, business owner Rubbish Lady who lurks outside my apartment beside the rubbish drop off area each morning. She owns the neighbourhood. Metaphorically. If she doesn't like your rubbish it doesn't get thrown out. Quite simple really.

I feel that before I go on it's important for you all to know that the Japanese rubbish and recycling system is not a simple one. Have a look at these:

Mhmm. You get it? Don't worry. I'm pretty sure even Japanese people are confused. So it's understandably not easy for a foreigner to get used to. Generally most things go into burnable and clean plastic goes into the plastics. It's rather a time consuming process though and while I try my best to separate rubbish as well as I can, it's not a simple task.

A few weeks into living here I heard of one of my neighbours getting their rubbish put back. I hadn't experienced this yet so I was feeling pretty cocky. The next day I put out two bags of rubbish with almost identical contents and when I returned home in the evening I found just one of them waiting for me at the entrance to the apartment building.

I was confused. There was no note to say what was wrong and if the city rubbish collectors don't take it they are supposed to put a sticker on it telling you that you did something wrong. The sticker was no present. The bag was full of food and with the temperatures reaching 38degrees over here I didn't want to risk taking it back to my apartment for the cockroaches to feast on. So instead I've started a new system of making it other people's problem by leaving it under the stairs at the entrance of our building. I will add, though, that there is a suspicious pile of rubbish already under the stairs coated in dust so I suspect that I am not her first victim. 

Every time I tried to put rubbish out either only one bag would be taken or no bags would be taken. I would try again using the bags under the stairs which would then, possibly having improved with age, now be acceptable for disposal.

One time I tried to put some rubbish away from the Rubbish Mafia Lady's area because I considered the idea that that wasn't the rubbish drop off place but I received an angrily written note that seems to say "THIS IS NOT THE RUBBISH SPOT". If anyone out there can read this a bit better than me I would appreciate your translation.

Another day I put out my bag in the usual spot but there was no green net to put it under (nets are used to keep the crows out of the rubbish). So I just left my bag in the usualy spot. When I got home I found my bag with a note explaining when rubbish is thrown out and that it should be placed under the net. It said that burnable rubbish (the contents of my bag) was thrown out on a Friday (it was a Friday) before 8.30am (it's always 8am when I leave for work) under the net (which wasn't present). To this day I remain confused as to the meaning of this note.

I have greeted the rubbish lady on several occasions. One of the first few weeks I was here she said "Hello" and asked me where I was from. In my half asleep state I told her I was from the apartment building and pointed to it. She laughed sharply and grimaced and said "No, what country?". Picture this said in the most condescending way imaginable. I'm so great a first impressions.

Other times I have attempted to repair this impression by calling out brightly with a greeting when I see her but she always gives me a stare down and mumbles back with the bare minimum... sometimes not even replying.

For two weeks my rubbish has been returned to me. I'm almost at the end of my wits. I have no idea how to get rid of this build up of trash. I also have no idea how the ALTs (assistant language teachers) in my apartment block are getting rid of theirs. I'm almost ready to beg them to put mine out for me in the hopes that if I don't have my finger prints on the bag it will be accepted.

My current rubbish situation not including the 3 rejected bags downstairs

 However, my fight with the Rubbish Lady will go on. I will continue to challenge her with my foreign rubbish ideals and she will continue to throw them back in my face. My dream is that one day I will come home after a long day at work and be able to walk into my apartment without the greetings of one month old rubbish on my doorstep.

Just thought you might want to know. 

[UPDATE: a kind ALT in my building has informed me of another rubbish drop off spot just up the road. Wish me luck!]

The Day I Got The Happy Juice (key-hole surgery)

So, it's been a long time since I updated you here and a lot has changed! I successfully had my surgery removing cysts and other uncomfortable stuff from my womb. I've traveled the world; 19 countries in 9 weeks. I've moved to Japan, a city by the name of Hamamatsu, to start a new job and life working for the government over here.

Some pretty big stuff.

As for the surgery - be warned this may get graphic and involve a lot of speaking about lady bits. For those of your who haven't read my previous blog or seen my previous vlogs I was diagnosed with endometriosis and PCOS after complaining to my doctor about heavy periods, blood clots and pain. I had an intrusive ultrasound to check things out where they found out I had far too many eggs - a sign of PCOS and I was sent to a specialist. The Specialist told me she suspected I had endometriosis as well as a possible thyroid condition. To double check these conditions were preset and to attempt to relieve some of the symptoms I was booked in for key-hole surgery.

The whole experience was a lot less scary then I thought it would be but also a lot more complex. I arrived super early in the morning as I was the first patient for key-hole surgery that day. My mother had come down from our home about 2.5hrs away to join me in Wellington where I lived for university and where the private hospital was that I would be getting cut open in. I needed someone to drive me around and because my apartment was up two flights of stairs my parents booked a hotel for us to stay in while I recovered for a few days.  I was determined that I wouldn't need to stay here. Oh, how naive I was.

I got dressed in my super hospital gown. Had my private parts shaved by an irritatingly bright nurse who would later turn out to be quite a rude you-know-what. And let me tell you an irritatingly bright nurse is not what you want in your downstairs area first thing in the morning. Then we waited.

A lot of waiting. I thought I would be a lot more nervous then I was but by that point I didn't really care. Usually my anxiety would be driving me crazy and I think it was a little the night before but actually waiting in the hospital wasn't too bad. I had my own room with a T.V. and there was a really pretty garden area outside my window. Thank god for insurance.

Flowers from Maxine

The anesthetist came in -  a super happy chap who got me to fill out some forms signing over my life and making sure he couldn't get sued if something were to happen. He explained how the general anesthetic worked and that he would be monitoring me the whole time. He seemed to really enjoy his job so I was pretty happy to leave my life in his hands. I guess I should mention before this that my dad is a doctor and I used to work as a medical receptionist so I'm not scared of medical things. I trust the medical professionals around me to do their jobs and they do a pretty good job 98% of the time.

Eventually the doctor in charge (the consultant that I had been seeing up until now) came in to do a little consultation to explain the procedure. They told me it would take about an hour without complications but they had no idea what they were going into so they couldn't be sure if that would be the case for me. I was still under the impression that I wasn't really suffering that much. Sure, my periods were always heavy and painful but I was pretty sure they weren't any worse then anyone else's. Didn't everyone had trouble going to the toilet during their periods due to intense pain? No Clare. Not everyone.

Anyway, eventually some nurses came by including super peppy nurse and they started wheeling me down the corridor. I cannot tell you how much fun this was for me. And I wasn't even on any drugs by then. I asked the peppy nurse if she could wheel me around all the time and she took one good look at me and said "No. You're too fat. You need to get out and walk more." It was no longer fun times in the hospital with that lady.

But she left as soon as I was dropped off in the surgery waiting room and replace by a lovely young nurse from the surgery department. I was getting a bit nervous at this point but the surgery staff were so sweet I was easily distracted. The anaesthetist came in and put the line in my hand for what he called the 'happy juice' and BOY was he right. I'm not into drugs but if I was I would want more of that good stuff. A wave of heat came over me and the euphoria kicked in. It was beautiful. From here things get a little fuzzy.

I think his next move was to start the general anesthetic except I can't remember whether I was in the operating room or the waiting room when this happened. I do remember the operating room looking like a medical T.V. show and I got lifted by some nurses from my bed to the operating table using the sheet trick and not long after I was out.

I woke up back in my hospital room and I don't remember feeling any pain at all at this point. Although I was pretty out of it. I remember smiling and joking; although that might have just been me saying normal stuff and laughing at myself... either way I was HILARIOUS.

Again this is fuzzy but I think after this they wanted me to get dressed. Except the clothes I had had waistbands (obviously) and because my stomach was so bloated after being pumped with gas for the operation they cut into my now sore middle section. I think I started to feel quite sore now. I should mention, my doctors policy was not to give out pain killers... I really which I had known this before I went in. I was allowed a few panadol (asprin) even 4-6 hours or so but nothing more. As I said before though my father is a doctor... luckily we had our own supplies.

 I was told that I had to go to the toilet before I was allowed to leave the hospital so I tried a few time but no success. I think they were starting to worry about there being a blockage but I just hated having the attention on me while I was on the toilet. I'm trying to pee! Eventually I was able to release but it happened just when the anasethetist came in. I hate public toilets at the best of times and having conversations through the bathroom door is not my idea of an ideal situation. He left pretty quickly though.

I must say that at this time while I cared about people talking to me while I was on the toilet I didn't really care at all about appearing naked in front of everyone. I was still on a bit of a high after the medications and if I needed to get up I just got out of bed in front of everyone completely naked. My mum (she's seen it before), Maxine (she's lived with me for years), and I think at one point a nurse was there too (it's her job). I make no appologies. I'd even go as far as to comment on how lucky they must have been.

My doctor came in and it was then that it occurred to me to ask how long I was actually in there for. I think it was about three hours. It had no been as smooth as they had imagined. She gave me some photos of my inside illustrating what they had removed and how they had attempted to repair me. I had this gauze like padding lining my uterus which actually freaked me out rather than consoling me. Just think of all this paper filling you. Gross. There had been a major cyst on one of my ovaries and they had to drain both ovaries because they were almost forming several more cysts and were far too full - at least that was my understanding of the situation. The lining of my uterus had been covered in little spots that look like acne which is the endometriosis so the had to strip a few of these layers off and use the gauze to stop it from sticking to itself while it healed.

Maxine brought me flowers and a magazine and we chatted for a while, I think... still fuzzy. Eventually mum went off to get some medication for me and I think Maxine went home. I, of course, instagrammed my hospital dinner which I barely touched but there was ice cream so I was happy. I forgot that I hadn't eaten anything for about 24hours but my stomach was so tender I wasn't too keen to binge.

Me in the Hospital

As a side note, my stomach was a brilliant purple and yellow from the dye they used which highly entertained me but was also a bastard to try and get off in the shower.

I wasn't really interested in staying the night at the hospital so at about 8pm we managed to get me discharged. I might add that the nurse since before my surgery had changed and the new one was absolutely lovely. She was super helpful in getting me home as they usually didn't do discharges after 8pm.

We headed out of the hospital slowly. I was super dizzy and almost collapsed at one point (in retroflex I probably shouldn't have been discharged). We got to the hotel and I just collapsed down onto my bed.

The next few days were a confusion of pain, movies, pain, dizziness and eventually sever nausea with a side of pain. Unfortunately the nausea hit on the check out day from the hotel so we made an executive decision that I needed to head back home to Wanganui for the rest of the week to recover. This is one of the worst instances of nausea I've ever experienced. I was super faint and I couldn't move an inch for fear of exploding. After the first few times I obviously had nothing left in my stomach so the constant burning of my throat for about 4 hours non-stop was not fun.

We drove to my apartment first and mum ran in to get me a few thing and to find something for me to be sick in rather then a potentially leaky plastic bag on my lap. I controlled my breathing and tried to be the best statue I could be. Even when Maxine came down to the car to see me I could do nothing but twitch the side of my face into a half grimace and keep staring forward. My bag was replaced with a bucket lined with plastic bags and I slightly moved my eyes to Maxine as a farewell before we drove the worst 2.5hours I've ever experienced to my hometown. I was a silent statue the whole time. I think I somehow managed to put some music in my ears and use the beats to control my breathing and as soon as we got home I made my way out of the car and collapsed into bed. I fell asleep almost immediately and when I woke up, thankfully, the worst was over.

I got back to Wellington that weekend and started work almost straight away. My job was mostly standing and running around on the night shift at a busy after-hours medical center so it wasn't the best job to do right after having your insides scraped out. I really should've given myself more time off but as I mentioned before I was under the impression that they would venture in there only to find that I had nothing wrong with me and I would be sent home immediately.

I'm sorry for the super long entry but I thought that some people would be interested in the follow up to the surgery. This was way back at the beginning of the year so my memory is even more fuzzy then when I was on those drugs but for anyone about to go through a similar experience my advice is not to worry yourself too much. Trust your doctors and they'll take care of you. Make sure you have people around to support you. I was, at one stage, thinking of doing this by myself but luckily my mum had time to come down and take care of me. My friends were pretty great at pep talks too.

There are a lot of women out there who suffer from similar issues and if you happen to be one of those in New Zealand who do, I would highly recommend seeing Hanifa Koya in Wellington. She is a leader in this area and deals with a lot of young women. She doesn't dumb anything down and is completely honest with you. She's also admired by the staff she works with (although she can be a bit harsh with them). They all trust her to be their doctor too which is saying something when you work so close to someone.

Anyway, just thought you might want to know.

How to Make a Fake Fur Stole/Collar

It all started when I unwillingly ventured into a fabric sale with two friends I will never shop with again, far too dangerous. With 50% off everything we touched was gold. Bargains on every cardboard roll. But the best bargain of all was the indescribably soft and cuddle-able fake fur. Though $58 per metre would be way past my normal limit it had sunk down to $29 and for the project I had planned a half a metre would do just fine.

I've been obsessed with the fur collars I've seen around at the moment. It's a constant feature in BeautyCrush's OOTDs and makes regular appearances on pinterest, chictopia and other such time burning websites. Despite the fact that New Zealand is currently right in the middle of the summer months I decided to make one for myself as I'm about to head off to europe for two months and I'll need as much padding as I can carry! 

So here's how I fumbled my way through making my fake fur collar:

Materials:
1/2m of fake fur
1/2m of SATIN lining (I'll explain why satin is important later)
1/2m of calico for the pattern (or use paper - whatever works for you)
Fabric scissors or craft knife
Ruler (I mostly used mine as a fabric weight... I'm not one for accuracy)
Thread
Sewing Machine

Step One: First take your calico or paper and cut a sausage like shape semi diagonally. The degree of the angle depends on how much you want it to wrap around your neck. I was going for a cross between a stole and a collar so I made it less severe.
 

Step Two:  Take the cut out pattern and make sure it sits at the length you want it to. I wanted mine to be quite long and this is how it measured up on me below. If it's not quite right cut out a new one or adjust what you already have to suit - you don't want to start cutting out your more expensive materials until you know it's right with the cheap disposable stuff.

 Step Three: Before you start ANYTHING make sure you are prepared for the onslaught of furry crap about to happen. The fur will go EVERYWHERE. Mine is still shedding a bit around the edges. I made sure that I moved my project outside onto the veranda and away from any carpet or other material that might pick up the fur easily. I did forget about my own dress but a lint roller will clean that up - I hope.

Step Four: Anyway, once you've sorted out where to cut it's time to get cutting. Using the pattern you previously made cut out your fur and satin lining. For the fur it is a lot easier and tidier to use a craft knife. My craft knife was not strong enough unfortunately so I resorted to the scissor approach but this resulted in giving my fur a haircut despite going as carefully as I could. This didn't really show on the final product but I couldn't help thinking it might have been nicer.

Step Five: Now that you have your two pieces pin them right sides together (aka. the sides you want showing together). 

Now let me explain why you should use satin (or a non-stretch alternative): stretch fabric stretches. I know - mind blown. But I didn't think of this on my first attempt and was left un-stitching for hours on end trying not to pull all the fur out of my fabric. The fabric stretched as I was sewing and pulled the collar round so it was completely twisted by the time I was done. The next day I went out and bought some non-stretch satin. Much much smarter. So on my second attempt I was much more successful. 

I found it helpful to pin from the centre out just to make sure it was even on both sides.

Step Six: Now SEW! Make sure to leave one end open so you can pull it inside out. While moving around the sides make sure to tuck in the fur as you go. If you do miss a few pieces just pull them out on the other side later with a pin.

Step Seven: Now all you have to do is pull the right side out and sew up the open end! Et voila! The perfect winter furry scarf/stole/collar! Wasn't so hard now was it?!

Hope you enjoy your new accessory and that this tutorial was somehow helpful! Feel free to give me feedback and send photos your completed masterpieces to me at whatsheepdo@gmail.com

Good Luck!

What Sheep Do's Clare