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.
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