And a Reluctant Sayonara

So I’m home now.  And I can’t believe it.  I can’t believe both the fact that it’s over and the fact that the whole thing even existed.   As for the first point that the lives my friends and I made for ourselves together in Japan has ceased to be, I prefer to live in denial for the time being.  As for the disbelief that the whole thing even happened, that is something I definitely need to avoid like the plague.

Of course I have regrets.  Not many, but inevitably some.  One regret is how much I neglected to write about in this blog.  Like, I wish I wrote an entry that gave my two cents about how the Japanese sticker photo booths (“purikura”) automatically enlarge eyes, lighten hair and clear skin.  Or I wish I shared the events of the Osaka courthouse visit in which I had the chance to partake with one of my lecture classes.  That could have been an interesting one.  I especially should have written more these recent weeks, as I’ve done so many “lasts” and so many thoughts were going through my head.   But, as others have justified for me, I was busy living.  So sue me (But not in Japan, please.  The prosecutor would probably most definitely win, and I’d like to have a chance at least).  I guess many things will of course just have to be left for me to share with you in person.

All week long, dreaded black taxi cabs have been whisking people away from our seminar house to bring them to the bus that brings people to the plane that takes people back to their home countries.  Monday, the cab showed up for me.  It was one o’clock in the afternoon, but it was dark, cloudy and pouring.  And how appropriate that weather was!  Leaving was truly upsetting; the program is comprised of people from all over the world, and we realistically recognize that it’s going to be very hard to see each other, let alone be anything remotely close to the 24/7 amount of time we had been spending together as each of our lives coincided for at least four months. 

As I said my goodbyes, everything Japan was racing through my mind—everything witnessed, experienced, learned, whatever.  I thought about the range of people I had met, the way of living I had adopted, each little difference in culture to which I had become accustomed.  I even thought back to my third (yes, only third) day in Japan when I already felt like I couldn’t eat another grain of rice or piece of fish even if someone were to pay me.  There’s something that changed.

But upon much reflection time amidst the long, lonely flights and first few days back home, I’ve found that all that I learned and acquired throughout my Asian semester can be grouped into two overarching ideas:

1.  The world is big. 

It’s hard to describe just how different Japan is from Western countries like, for example, the U.S.   But really, so much of it is.  It’s not even only things like the food, fashion, architecture, transportation, money or language that set us so far apart; moreover, the whole mindset is drastically different, too.  In Japan, I had to give in to its quiet, passive ways.  Coming from a land where it’s drilled in your head to “speak up” for yourself, this was not always so easy to do, mainly because it did not always seem right to me.  I had to get used to obediently standing in lines for trains and thereafter riding them in silence, refraining from eating or drinking in the streets, arriving places early (not just on time), resisting the urge to customize my order in restaurants, sorting trash in accordance to extensive, meticulous rules, leaving rooms and spaces visited close to immaculate…basically forgetting about discomfort, complaints and/or preferences in general in an effort to put the group ahead of myself.   Here in the Western world, much of this kind of lack of self-assertion is strongly frowned upon.  In fact, we are largely encouraged to do the opposite.

Thus, living in Japan has made me realize just how different people can live and think.  A society can be shaped very differently from certain underlying teachings and models, and then everything else can unfold differently thereafter.  Of course I always knew there were multiple ways of thinking and living, but Japan has pushed this knowledge to the max and has prompted me not only to realize there are other ways of doing even more things but more interestingly to question much of what I never even thought twice about before in the States.  This has become increasingly relevant as I have been attempting to adapt back to American culture.  To say the least, I have been surprisingly sensitive to the outspokenness of us Americans; my connecting (domestic) flight home—full of clashing loud, restless and opinionated passengers and workers—was especially painful.  Yet I haven’t forgotten how the quietness and ultra-politeness in Japan also often irked me, so who knows what I want anymore.  There has to be some happy medium.

2.   The world is small. 

Up until now, I may have focused on contrasts; ok, fine- I definitely have stressed that life in Japan is the polar opposite from the life I previously knew.  But even so, underneath it all—despite even the vast differences that exist—I have found that the world is still nonetheless shockingly tiny.   Sure, we may do things differently, but when push comes to shove, basic emotions, feelings, capabilities, needs, wants, joys, fears, uncertainties, etc. are for the most part international.  We’re all affected by the same major problems and are consequently loosely seeking the same major things—things like happiness, peace and security.  It’s just the approaches to attaining these “things” that create seemingly drastic variation, like the difference between an American speaking out to let his/her voice be heard to gain happiness and a Japanese keeping quiet to maintain a peaceful environment in which he/she can be happy.  There are completely different pathways yet identical destinations.

And the Japanese are not the only ones to show me this small-worldness in these past few months.  Unexpectedly, the other students of the abroad program proved to be a source of this lesson as well.  Because students hailed mainly from Western countries, we all experienced very similar shocks and adjustments as we acclimated to life in Japan.  And thus we were able to see just how similar Western countries are, nearly forgetting about country divides among us, save for the occasional television show reference or what not. 

And as I (non-Asian, American me) am quick to take my shoes off when I enter a house, willing to wait in lines for my turn, more cautious of the environment around me, in the market for a rice cooker, and—knowing or unknowingly—sporting other pieces of Japanese/Asian flair, the small gap that is between the Eastern and Western worlds is shrinking even more, meaning the world is inevitably following suit. 

That Japanese Twist

One of the many fun things about Japan is that it adds its own unique Japanese flair onto everything (everything) it takes from outside.  For example, food-wise, some sandwiches sport maple syrup, fruit & whipped cream, or even noodles, and オムライス(“omuraisu”)—a mound of flavored rice wrapped in an egg blanket—challenges the traditional omelet.  Commercial-wise, jingles and underlying messages fall into a completely different breed.  Fashion-wise, shoes are either: a) high-heeled, b) an array of neon colors, or c) both a & b.  Other articles of clothing and accessories are showered with bows, lace, pastels and the likes.   Office and school supply-wise, pens and pencils regularly show off sparkles, characters and charms.  Even a Kit Kat bar can’t merely be a Kit Kat bar in Japan; there are endless varieties that other countries—for whatever reason—just don’t have the pleasure of enjoying, including Sweet Potato and English Breakfast Tea.

And then there’s the whitewater rafting experience we had at Kyoto’s Hozu Canyon last weekend.  This little daytrip definitely wins the most surprising and interesting (and fun) rafting experience in my book.

We expected the typical rafting experience—a little paddling, some currents and rapids, possibly some swimming, and probably some type of minor mishap like getting stuck on a rock for a brief period before we would all huddle to one side of the raft to shift the weight and send ourselves back along the river's natural flow. 

But instead the day turned out to feel like we were on one of those Japanese game shows, filled with those assorted tasks that you never even remotely imagined would be asked of sane people.  After each stretch of rapids, a “High five!” chorus echoed from the guides, to which (as we were strictly briefed in the beginning of the trip) we were to simultaneously raise all of our oars above our heads to join them in the middle as a celebratory gesture.  Once we reached our first stretch of calm water (approximately five or six “High five’s!” later), the trip—in true Japanese fashion—took a swift turn, morphing into a series of random, odd unique “ trust games,” with a little white water in between.

First, we were all instructed to stand on the edge of the raft, hold hands and lean back without falling into the river.  Um, yeah.  We followed instructions like a herd of terribly-confused-yet-awfully-amused sheep.  The glaring issue in the back of (I think) all of our minds though was that we were the ones who were the center of this “amusement.” 

Proud to say that our stellar raft was the only one on the tour to survive this one dry….not that it mattered though, since we all got soaked during the next activity, better known as jumping off a cliff. 

After cliff-jumping we were roped into another “game.” Literally roped.  Like, we were each tied to a rope via our lifejackets and instructed to stand on the raft’s edge once more to horizontally hover—à la Superman style—above the water and put faith in our companions that they would hold us steady.

This little exercise didn’t work out as well though.  Too bad we’re all so untrustworthy.

Before we had arrived at the rafting company’s hut, we had passed the time by reading the company’s incredibly generous list of FAQ’s.  Initially, it was pure entertainment.  But as our river journey took shape post-high fives, cliff-jumping, and leaning both backwards and forwards off the edge of the boat, one particular excerpt became much more insightful.

 “You don't need physical strength. The reason is you don't have to paddle all day long. You just have to paddle in the rapid. All you need is feeling to have fun.” --Big Smile Rafting, Japan

True words of wisdom, readers.  Only in Japan would a rafting company be so…zen.

Oh, and then the final leg of this company’s thoroughly-planned tour turned out to look like this:

I could explain, but isn’t your curiosity/confusion just so much more fun?!

TokyoTime

A few days ago I returned from Tokyo, meaning that after a little over three months in Japan, I finally was able to make it to the city that so often is thought of as the epitome of the country.  It was Golden Week, an annual spring lineup of unrelated-yet-conveniently-consecutive Japanese holidays, such as “Emperor’s Birthday” and “Children’s Day,” for example.  Just for your information pleasure, this slice of the year is as opposed to autumn’s Silver Week, a different lineup of unrelated-yet-conveniently-consecutive holidays.  I must say it's a great set-up.

But anyway, there’s a statue right outside of Tokyo’s Shibuya Station (right before the corner of the prominent Shibuya crossing) of a dog named Hachiko.  The story goes that during the 1920's loyal Hachiko would patiently wait in this exact spot each evening to greet his owner as he returned home from work.  The dog and man kept up the practice for a good length of time, joyfully reuniting at the exit of the station at the finish of each day.  But one night, when Hachiko was waiting in the same spot at the same time as always, the owner never showed.  The man had suffered a cerebral hemorrhage and passed away, but this was unbeknownst to the dog.  And so Hachiko continued to wait right where his owner had met him so many times before.  He came each evening for nine years—until his own death crept upon him.  Today, many people use the Hachiko statue as a prime meeting spot for their family and friends.

While not half as dramatic or valiant, my trip to Tokyo did turn out to be a little like Hachiko’s famed experience; we were expecting something that ultimately was a no-show.

That statement above may be a little harsh; it may sound like we had an awful, miserable, agonizing vacation in which there was absolutely zero about which to get excited.  But that is certainly not even remotely close to the case, so please do not get the wrong impression.  Overall, Tokyo has a lot to offer, and we definitely had a great stay.  We were able to see and do a lot, reaching a good number of the city’s distinct districts.  Visited districts included Shinjuku and its lively streets, 

Harajuku and its dynamic fashion,

Asakusa and its old temples,

Shibuya and its famous crosswalks,

Ueno and its grand park,

Roppongi and its foreigner-filled sidewalks,

(Didn’t actually take a picture here.  Awkward.)

and Akihabara and its abundance of electronics. 

We were even able to make a day trip to the nearby city of Yokohama. 

But despite all that each of these places had to offer, and despite the fact that we did enjoy each of these things individually, the biggest “wow factor” we experienced in Tokyo was the fact that we were not too “wowed” at all.

Through movies, TV, magazines, what have you, Tokyo has been shaped as a cutting-edge, eclectic, overall booming metropolis.  We envisioned a land with significantly more than what we have already experienced—ya know, the works: so many lights it’s blinding, so many people it’s intimidating, so many videos plastered on the sides of buildings that we wouldn’t know where reality ended and fantasy began.  Maybe there would even be hovercrafts involved.

But the bar at which we set our expectations for this city before embarking on our trip did not take into account the fact that we have already been submerged in much of the “eclectic” Japanese culture and ways for a good portion of time now.  Because we neglected to think that one through, the city that was supposed to have it all oddly turned out to be like a familiar Shania Twain song…

“Oh-ooh-oh…That don’t impress me much.”

Yes, that may be a harsh line, but again, please do not get the wrong impression.  It’s not that Tokyo isn’t great and all; I swear!  The point is that the timing of the trip drastically altered our view toward everything we saw, which is the interesting part.  As we should have anticipated, a lot of the things that make people ooh and ahh at Tokyo—the cultural differences, the random machines, the atypical food, etc.—are vastly aspects of Japan in general, including of course the Kansai region I’ve been inhabiting for the recent months.  And Tokyo even seemed to even be watered-down in some of these respects because of its big city, global nature. 

I can’t—and won’t—say everything Japan has become the norm for me; that is simply untrue.  But I can say that I’ve reached a point where I’ve become used to certain things, no matter how out of the ordinary I may have viewed them not too long ago.

One more time, I just want to rehash that I did have a wonderful Golden Week, due to a great city as well as the great company (shout out!).  Tokyo is hoppin’ in many regards, and I in no way suggest that Tokyo is a waste of time to visit, totally overrated, dreadfully deceiving, or anything of this sort.  I know I would have reacted differently to everything if it was my first stop in Japan, and so a part of me just wishes I could have seen it with a fresh pair of eyes.  I’m sure I would have gasped and gaped and marveled at every little detail, just as I had here by Osaka, and just as we witnessed so many other Tokyo tourists doing.  It was very amusing, really.