(last night I tried to post this but my wireless was spotty at best. So backdate this to the evening of 7/16, I guess)
I’m hanging out in my room (after another long day of doing absolutely nothing except napping and eating) and on TV there’s a travel show. They’re talking about French castles, and I realize now just what I would give to be in Europe, surrounded by people who speak English and don’t have this bizarre, permuted view of American popular culture (and who don’t desperately try to work it into every damn facet of their marketing).
Japan is a lot of bright colors, insanity, and deep tradition, all the while with a very definitive sense of “us” and “them”—you can’t get it unless you’re “us”, and that’s impossible for an outsider.
Granted, my Japanese is getting better, and I chat regularly with both the proprietor and the woman who runs the bento shop, by it’s still frustrating to know that wherever I go I’m still an outsider. In Europe, if I walked into a grocery store, it’d be okay. I wouldn’t be even remotely conscious of everyone’s stares, because there wouldn’t be nearly as many—I’m not going to pretend people would overlook me completely, or that they stare as openly as the fat woman on the train here, but there’s always a consciousness that people are looking at me here. In some recess of my mind, out of the corner of my eye, I can see their eyes fixed on me. It’s incredibly isolating.
This is why the students here travel in clusters—it’s much easier to ignore the staring, or at least cope with it, when there are four or five of you to share the burden. The trip to Gamagori and Takeshima was great, because there were four people there and we got to just hang out and have a good time, stares be damned. I got acquainted with Adrian for the first time, Sampath and I faced death together (or so my aching muscles tell me) and Mark and I bonded on the rock overlooking the bay. It’s impressive how close you can become so quickly with these people when you’re all so isolated. It’s not surprising how rampant student in-dating is here—the bonds form fast and deep.
Having said that, I would give my right ovary right now for an apartment with a working internet connection, without a curfew (I have to be back in by 11 because they lock the front door), and for Japan to experience a sudden drop in average temperature (it’s averaged about 90F daily). I asked the bento lady if it was this bad every year—she laughed and told me “Welcome to Japan.”
My friends here are great. Mark is a little... over-friendly. Sampath’s a great, very relaxed dude. Adrian’s cynical, Chinese, and has a British accent (read: super-awesome). Sarah’s funny and cute, if significantly too immature to be traveling on her own. (She blew through 700 euros in her first week here, which is half of the money she’s got.) I’ve made a handful of friends at the bar—Aaron, Ken, Andrea, and “the Good Swede,” though I don’t know his actual name. (Nicknames run miles here.)
2 Comments:
Hi! Just want to say what a nice site. Bye, see you soon.
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A few comments in response to your blog:
"In Europe, if I walked into a grocery store, it’d be okay. I wouldn’t be even remotely conscious of everyone’s stares"
Yes, in Europe it would be cushy and safe because you'd be just like everyone else. What would be the point of that? That's why you came to Japan, right? To experience something completely foreign?
"there’s always a consciousness that people are looking at me here."
Because they are. You stand out like a sore thumb. Use it to your advantage rather than getting bogged down by it. You don't seem too upset in your post about the two Japanese guys chatting you up at the izakaya and complementing you non-stop. There are advantages and disadvantages to being a gaijin in Japan, but you must realize that all is still in balance. What counts is what you focus on, so focus on the advantages.
"It’s incredibly isolating."
If you choose for it to be, yes.
I write these things not as criticism, but as a reminder to you of what you have now, where you are at.
By the way, people in Tokyo stare less. You're in a kekkou inaka place and so it's to be expected.
Also, if you continue on with your post-Japanese education in Japan and take a course on a different subject in a classroom of Japanese peers, you will find the atmosphere to be quite different. The us/them barrier will dissolve or if anything you will be closest to "their" side. This was my experience during my study at a recording school in Tokyo. We attended the same classes and same drinking parties alike. We all threw parties for one anothers' birthdays. We bonded quite tightly. At Yamasa you are kakomareteru with gaijin friends, which is also fun, but cuts you off from from society. However, without that period of initiation you couldn't know how to interact with Japanese people within their cultural context in order to make such friends after you move on from Yamasa - if you choose to do so. There is no stage in the process during which you are not growing.
And realize this as well. If you ever do assimilate Japanese culture to a certain extent...you will feel as a gaijin even after you return to the States. Because you will realize there are many Japanese customs you've grown to love and have come to take for granted. You will no longer fit in entirely in either country because there will be parts of you in each. In Japan you stand out on the surface because of your physical differences, but in the States you will struggle because of what is inside of you that has changed. The things you can't express in the U.S. because people just won't get it.
And through the dichotomy you will discover which parts of you are your cultural programming and which parts of you are just you.
Sincerely,
A random Yamasa alumni/senpai you've never met who stumbled upon your site, has been where you are, and can relate.
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