I had to go to the Iwate Agricultural Junior College yesterday to teach some English and make a presentation about American customs. These are kids right out of high school, who are learning how to work the fields and grow vegetables - learning English is not number one on their priority list. The Japanese teacher told me to “have a conversation with them, real casual” and I had trouble getting more than a “Hi, my name is ~” out of them. To be honest, that’s always the way it’s been for me, “teaching” English, from the most advanced high school to the backwaters school in the sticks. Even if a Japanese person knows English, they seem to be pretty reticient at showing it (that, and, I’m a horrible teacher of English! that could be it).

These students were about to embark on a school trip to America, where they’d study for about 2 weeks at a local college and get to see the sights. So I was to be there as sort of a “first-encounter” native, or something. I went over what to say at the immigration desk, and I told them that even if I was speaking clearly and correctly, that the immigration officer might use more, how shall we say, real English. They’re all like 19 and 20 though, so I don’t expect them to really listen to me, but…they’re 19 and 20, and they’ll be just fine. I told them stuff like how to pay with a credit card and how to easily calculate tips for restaurants, and basically just smile and be happy because that will get you through anything. It’s worked for me!

The teacher was disappointed, wishing that the students would be more excited about this trip. There were some boys napping while I spoke, and girls chatting with their friends. I just sort of figured that they had no idea what it would be like, so it was almost pointless to explain all of this to them. You never really know until you get to a place what it’s going to be like, so it’s a waste of energy to worry about it *tell this to my 21 year old self, itching to go to Ritsumeikan and not getting contact from them for six months lol.

On the way out, we stopped at a tiny farmer’s market the students had set up, with fresh-cut flowers and juicy, sweet-looking tomatoes and peppers. These kids were tan, muscled, and dirty, and they looked liked they knew the land and what they could grow from it. I never knew that kind of stuff. I never even thought about it. I think it’s great that Iwate, still abundant with farmland, has young people around to take care of the next generation. I can’t think of anyone I grew up with that wanted to be a farmer. One of the students chatted happily with the teacher I was with about how they got the tomatoes to turn orange, and what vitamins were in them, and how good for you they were. And it’s just one more proof that being smart has nothing to do with what grade you got in English class.

Two young girls ran up to us and chatted with me and the teacher for a while. They were pleased that I could speak Japanese, and chatted freely and energetically - not a trace of that classic shyness that I always get whenever I try to talk to people in a classroom. And I thought, maybe this is it - it’s not English and it’s not the teaching that’s the problem here. It’s the classroom. Once Japanese people are outside the classroom, outside that huge group of students that they may feel the pressure to conform to, it becomes so much easier to talk to them, even with me being a huge scary foreigner. One of the girls was cradling tomatoes in her shirt and handed me one, and it was the juiciest, sweetest tomato I had ever eaten. I don’t even like tomatoes.

While we were walking through the hallways a group of boys started talking to us, and a loud boy with spiky hair shouted, “HELLO! My name is Shigeki!” in English to me. And then another boy gasped and said in Japanese, “What? No, I’m Shigeki, he’s just playing. He’s Yutaro.”

I called to the first boy in English. “Hey, Yutaro. You lied to me!”

He turned around, shocked. “PARDON ME?” he said in English, mouth agape. He meant it was “excuse me, I didn’t understand,” but it still sort of fit the situation, now didn’t it. Sometimes I feel like what I do is not really that important, but it’s moments like that, those perfectly strange moments, that make my job worth having. Communication is not perfect language skills, it’s something much deeper and more intangible, and I feel once someone realizes that is when they realize the joy of learning another language.

This commercial gives you about everything to know about why Japanese people want to study English. They want to be able to interact and help foreigners in their own backyard. And that’s a great goal. But there’s absolutely no thought put into what happens after you reach that level (which many Japanese don’t, because they’re too scared to talk to foreigners to begin with). English is a skill that makes you look “cool” here but there’s absolutely no need for it. Many Japanese dream of being able to go to meetings with English speaking businessmen and “doing business” in English, but that’s not really a goal. That’s a dream of a cooler person than yourself.

“Well, we always just say ’Makku’ or ‘Makudo’ instead of Makudonarudo, since that takes too long.”

“Hahah, makudonarudo. Mcdonalds~”

“Har har. Don’t you have any sort of nickname for it in the States?”

“Well I know they call it Mac in Australia but the only other name for it I heard in America was ’Mickey Ds’ and that was only because my dad called it that.”

“Mickey D’s! Mickey D’s. I wonder where that even came from.”

“That’s about the same reaction I get there. It’s a legitimate nickname!!” 

I am one of those classic gaijin - I eat McDonalds at least once a month. It’s not even that I hate Japanese food or that I miss “home” (I almost never ate McDonalds at home) but I guess I would definitely call it a comfort food. It just…once I get a whiff of those fries! It’s the chemicals! I read Fast Food Nation! I know they put some sort of addictive cancer causing chemical in there somewhere. I know, but I can’t help but eat it anyway. And then when I finally succumb to one of those horrible cravings I end up eating McDonalds for a whole week or something ridiculous, because I can’t stop thinking about it. After the last binge I think ate this one chicken sandwich like three times in one week (at least it was chicken, I’m sure that’s marginally better for you). And the only thing worse for me than someone who shares my love of Mcds (which is almost all my friends) is someone who hates it. Man, who are those people who say “ew gross mcdonalds, i never eat that.” How have you not succumbed to this?! Although, yes, I do rather wish I was one of those people who “hate” fast food. Seems much easier on the waist, for one thing.

I used to eat it a lot more but the branch near my house closed down about 2 months ago and it’s just too inconvenient for me to grab McDonalds on the way home so I’ve cut down a lot. I hate actually eating at the store (no matter how clean the stores are here), and if I have to wander to town and then get take out and then wait for a bus and then take that home and then walk all the way back to my apartment - well by that time my fries have gotten soggy and cold and I can’t figure out why I even like them *a pretty damning indictment of McD’s fries. All that stuff about Japan McDonalds being really clean and wonderful are mostly true, but they’re always full of obnoxious teenagers with dumb barrettes in their hair who just STARE at me (and why do only high school students wear those dumbass barrettes?). It doesn’t even matter to me that the menu is different, because while I do think the Japan-only items are pretty great, I almost always get a double cheeseburger anyway.

My friend H-chan used to work at the McDs before she started working at the office in April. I used to go so often that I would recognize her as the girl who would always apologize profusely for taking more than a minute to serve me my fries. I would just shrug, having putting time into food service myself. These things happen. One morning my friend K-kun asked me out to lunch so I could meet the new girl who had started working in his office. As we met downstairs, she looked at me and I let out a gasp of recognition. “Oh!” she said. “‘Double cheeseburger’, right??” Eff, now everyone knows about my unhealthy habit!! However, a great friendship has arisen from that kind of awkward not-first-encounter, and she told me once she always appreciated how I always just smiled and said “no problem” whenever I had to wait for food. Apparently most people didn’t.

Recently I stopped in the main street McDs with my fellow CIR to grab some late night alcohol-absorbing food. We had just gotten ripped off at like two different places - one place was just too expensive for what they were serving, and the other charged us on stuff they specifically told me there was no charge for. “Is there a seating charge?” I asked. “No!” and then we get “Snack/Refreshments Charge” on the bill. Snacks and refreshments we couldn’t refuse even if we wanted to, because they serve them to everyone as part of the 400 yen snack charge. I mean, are you serious? You knew what I was asking for when I was asking about a seating charge, but you didn’t tell me because you were afraid I wouldn’t understand the Japanese - NEVERMIND I had just been conversing with you in fluent Japanese. This is why I need to bring along Japanese friends, so I don’t get hosed.

Anyway we went to the McD’s, and the server was really nice, and we were just a bit inebriated, and we told her about these horrible places that gypped us. “They were horrible,” R said. “They tricked us!” I said. “That’s horrible,” she said with a sympathetic smile.

“But it’s okay,” I said. “McDonalds is always there for us!”

They really do indoctrinate us at a young age.

After about the third time someone told me that I had been in the newspaper over the weekend, I fished out the paper from our division archive rack and flipped around until I found this little photo in color. We were participating in a carnival for kids that the international association was holding, and my team was us foreign kids, this little baby, and her parents. Yep, that’s right, our competitive team had only one actual child on it, and she was two. She was adorable though, in a tiny baby yukata and the sweetest little face. Iwate’s international events may seem dinky to some people, and I won’t argue that it’s just not a huge priority for the prefecture, but I’m glad I get the opportunity to take part in them. A lot of people work very hard to present the world to the citizens of Iwate. It’s something that I realize I’d love to do more and more in the future, as opposed to translating/interpreting work.

Plus, F-san at the association has the most adorable smile :)

Usually when people ask me what I hate the most about Japan, or what gives me the most “culture shock” or whatever, I don’t know how to answer them. I’ve been here too long to be shocked by anything anymore, and usually things that bother me are more on a personal individual level as opposed to a cultural barrier. And then it gets warm, and the sweltering summer heat descends, and I remember the one thing I absolutely can’t stand about Japan.

Yeah. See those gloves, and that parasol made out of lace (LACE!), and that sickeningly sweet smile. I hate hate HATE the women who walk around on 90 degree plus days covered head to toe just so the sun doesn’t touch one sliver of skin on their body. There’s no reason for me to hate this. They’re not hurting anyone - it’s irrational! But! This hatred!!! It boils up uncontrollably whenever I see some pale, frail Japanese lady teetering down the street while I’m huffing and sweating and generally boiled myself.

Most of the time these ladies are 30+, skinny as rails with a pursed, prissy expression. No wait, I may just be projecting - but like whatever! Before all yall say I’m just jealous of these women who are fulfilling the Societal Expectation of having skin pure as snow, Imma let you know right now that there is no way I am jealous of having to cover one’s entire body before going out into the sun. I enjoy not sweating and tanning in the summer and not having to carry an umbrella even when it’s sunny. And like, I know! I shouldn’t generalize - maybe these ladies have some sort of skin affliction. Maybe they’re super conscientious about skin cancer. Maybe they’re cold! But I see too many ads on tv for “skin whitening cream” to think of this as any more than pure vanity from most of these ladies.

It’s an irrational pet peeve, I KNOW. I don’t spend nights awake thinking of this, okay? It’s just annoying to me how far these ladies go in order to acheive that porcelein skin. That’s exactly what they look like - fragile dolls. Which is pretty, in a way, I guess - but who are they doing this for? Whose judgment is so important to them that they suffer to reach that ideal? Do these ladies just not want to play outside, or go to the beach, or even feel the summer breeze on their arms? It just feels like a really huge sacrifice of freedom for something that doesn’t matter to most people here anyway - only about 5% of all the ladies on the street will do something like this. I just can’t understand it, and it pisses me off. It makes me feel like a big, clumsy, fat, sunburned chimp, I guess.

But I’m sure there’s something I do that Japanese girls can’t understand and get annoyed with. Like my refusal to shave my only-just-noticeable arm hair (to be fair, that shit would be ANNOYING to maintain). But seriously guys. I literally huff and roll my eyes whenever I see one of these ladies. It’s not that I can’t be friends with a lady who wear arm gloves and visors, but I do like the sun and I’m afraid they would melt.

We were in a crowded Tokyo train line, on a business trip with the business already over. We had the whole night, just the two of us. He was so close, sitting right next to me, but so far away, in so many ways. Sometimes, we would talk, about our lives, about our relationships, about how we felt about things. Sometimes, it felt like he didn’t even want to know me. Sometimes, it felt like we were so close. I’ve never felt this way about anyone. For a long time, I wanted to get over it, because obviously it wasn’t going to happen, and I needed to move on, because it was stupid to be so obsessed with one person. But lately, I’ve almost…given up. I’ve looked for other people, and I can’t find them. All I have is him, and our intimate yet distant friendship, and I realized that what I’ve wanted all along, to feel this passion for another human being, has happened. I’ve gotten to feel what I’ve always wanted to feel. He just doesn’t reciprocate.

“You went to Okuma-san’s farewell party the other day, right?” I asked quietly, and then looked at the floor, studying the feet of all the commuters that surrounded us. “Did you see A there?”

“Yeah, I saw him. I didn’t say much to him though.”

“Why not?”

“Well, like, I know about what happened, with the two of you and like…I just didn’t have anything to say to him.” He crossed his arms and muttered, “He’s an idiot.”

“Oh,” I said, my face hot. “How was he? Did he look…happy?”

“Yeah, he looked fine. I didn’t really get to ask him, but he looked happy,” he chuckled.

“Good,” I smiled, and I meant it. “As long as he is happy, then I’m okay.”

“That’s a very noble way to feel. Not many people could be that way.”

“Well, it wasn’t like we were even really dating,” I said thoughtfully. “And I was so uncommitted to it, you know? I had that other guy that I liked the whole time, even though nothing will ever happen with him. It really wasn’t right for me to be in a relationship.”

He went silent for a long time. “That guy that you like…is he older?”

I fiddled with the straps on my purse, fingers trembling. “Should I answer that?”

“Ah, no, you don’t have to, sorry. We’re on a crowded train and everything. Forget about it.”

Maybe if we had been somewhere different. Maybe if I was braver. Maybe if he was. But it was another missed opportunity, from a year of missed opportunities. And I’ve realized that maybe it’s not so much that I’m scared he doesn’t feel the same - I’m terrifed that he does.

Politics and history are interesting to me, but I can’t pretend that I’ve read or understood enough to be able to talk at length about it. I just don’t trust myself to have much of a valid opinion on things. Luckily, things like the atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, or the problem of the US military bases still within Japanese borders are things I am never asked about. One time when I was in Kyoto with my ping pong friends, some weird old lady came up to us and said, “Isn’t this wonderful, that you can all be friends. Sixty years ago, your country was bombing our’s!” I mean, she was being sincere about it, but at the moment I just wanted to die. Who says that? Rationally, World War II had nothing to do with me or my friends. It doesn’t stop me from feeling ridiculously awkward about it.

The only thing done in Iwate to commemorate the bombings is a siren blaring for about a minute at the same time the bombs went off, sixty-five years ago now. Last Friday at work, August 6, at quarter past 8 in the morning, I was turning on my computer when a loud siren started blaring and didn’t stop. I looked around, but nobody moved, doing what they normally did, not paying any mind to it, so I frowned and turned my attention back to my computer. K-san came in at that time and murmured quietly, “Ah, yeah. For Hiroshima,” and I remembered what day it was. But that was all the mention anyone made to it, and the siren ended quickly after. I thanked God nobody said anything, and made a silent apology for things I had nothing to do with.

Apparently the US Ambassador made the first appearance ever to the memorial in Hiroshima, as part of Obama’s Nuclear Non-Proliferation Plan. Some people are saying it’s too late for such things, but those people are all really …old. They ran a segment on the news asking people of Hiroshima how they felt about this anniversary, and all the young people, all people around 30 or under, had trouble even remembering what day it was. And I thought, that’s probably the way it should be. It’s probably a sign of healing that people start to forget horrible tragedies. Someday my grandchildren will have a hard time figuring out what the fuss is about September 11th.

And I do wish we hadn’t used the nuclear bomb against Japan. Maybe what we’re taught in America - that it was the only option, and that a conventional invasion would have resulted in ten times more casualties - is true. It’s not like Japan didn’t commit any horrible atrocities either - but this isn’t the Suffering Olympics (even though Japan does use the bombings as a perpetual Victim Card). I just think nuclear weapons are something humanity doesn’t need, and it’s a shame we had to have a real live example to see just how heinous they are.

I have friends all over the world - I can’t see the point or reason in having a war with any country. As X, a Chinese, told me, “There’s politics and fighting between countries, but that’s all to do with the government. When you have people, just like you and I, none of that stuff matters.”

Sekai ga Owaru Made Wa (Until the World Ends)

The movie that always plays in the background when we put this song on karaoke - I knew about this anime for a long time, but it’s only now that our new CIR has professed his love of karaoke that I’ve ever heard this song. And let me tell you - this is what masculinity is, in Japan. I’ve had a bunch of guys my age tell me that I totally have to read this “Slam Dunk” (it’s a series about a high school basketball team written in the early 90s) because it is the “Bible of How to Be a Man.” (wait, are they…trying to tell me something?!) Yes, this is Japan’s version of the Bro. I know dudes here get stereotyped as being a bit, um, feminine, I guess, and maybe they would agree with you, but according to my super scientific research, inside every Japanese man’s heart is a yearning to make a Slam Dunk. Or pilot a Gundam, I forget.

Besides, one of the lyrics reads: Tagai no subete wo shiritsukusu made ga ai naraba, isso towa ni nemurou ka, or, If love is knowing everything about each other, let’s sleep together forever~

Sounds like a man to me ;)

For a while, it’s been easier for me to make friends with boys than with girls.

My interests as a child were always things like video games and cartoons for boys, and I was scared to even touch a tube of lipstick, let alone think about putting that clown “makeup” on my face. I would feel like crying if the majority of presents received on my birthday or Christmas consisted of clothing. I would wear a dress maybe once a year. I just didn’t want to be a girl most of the time, and if I had been even a little bit athletic I probably would have thrown my heart and soul into soccer or something (as it is, I suck at any and all sports, so I just poured my heart into reading whenever my mom told me to stop playing videogames).

I just didn’t relate to most girls my age. That doesn’t mean I even had a lot of guy friends (I had trouble relating to people in general). Instead, I made my closest and dearest relationships with other girls who felt kinda the same. And we would sit and watch anime together, and talk about boys we liked that we couldn’t talk to, and eat junk food, and make fun of the theoretical “slumber parties” that were going on with the stupid girls our own age (even though we were having slumber parties ourselves). It was only when I started high school that I made my first real guy friends, partly because one of them was an ex-boyfriend I had dated for 5 months, and the other was an ex-boyfriend I had dated for 5 weeks, and I sort of made friends with their friends (and then the two groups kinda linked up). And while at the time I would have told anyone that I made “better friends” with guys than with girls, I really wasn’t grasping the complexities that were involved with being friends with people who had previously been attracted to me. All I knew was that it was a different sort of attention that I got, that I didn’t have to or want to reciprocate, but that I enjoyed receiving.

(of course, a couple of those guy friends are still my close friends today, because there was none of that weird attraction on their part nor attention seeking on my part, and that’s probably why we are still friends, because we treated each other like human beings)

I enjoyed being friends with guys. I enjoyed it because at that time I saw my best friend blossom and start to get attention from guys all over the place - dates and text messages and praise and flattery, while I would get nothing. And at the time I was so angry at her about it. I was so jealous. At the deep dark core inside of me, I realized because it was because I wasn’t worth as much, because I wasn’t as beautiful (no matter how effed up that reasoning was - I was 16 and that’s what sixteen year olds unfortunately think). And I patted myself on the back for having “real” friends who weren’t my friends because of my looks or whatever, but in reality I was kinda doing the same thing. Human beings are complicated, and there’s never just one reason we do anything. But I think one of the reasons I really enjoyed making friends with boys (as opposed to nurturing the relationships with my girl friends) was because it was one of the only ways I could get any attention from boys - but if I’m honest with myself, I never really had all that much fun sitting around and watching them play Xbox.  

I realize now that what happened was that I just always valued my friendships with boys over my friendships with girls. Was it because I was insecure around girls? I don’t know. I always felt that I had nothing to offer really, and that every other girl I knew was more charming and talented than me, and everyone knew it. I would hate when my best friend would come to things, because I knew everyone would pay attention to her and not to me. All I needed was to be a bit more confident and concentrate on being myself, and someone to tell me that I was important too, but only a few of those guy friends were ever genuine enough to encourage that kind of behavior. Most of the time they would subtly egg on this gross female competition. This is just What We Did, as teenagers. And I think I’ve moved past it, for the most part, thank God. My best friend is still my best friend, and after the awkwardness of a few years in high school we’ve grown to be close enough that we can tell each other anything. But even today, I find it easier to make friends with boys - my closest Japanese friend is a boy (if only because I’m totes in love with him).

For a long time I mourned my inability to make friends with Japanese girls. I desperately wanted to talk to Japanese girls about dating and clothes and being a girl (things I’m Very Much Interested In these days), but I found it hard to get past the first few superficial conversations. And now, I have a group of girls that I’ve gotten to know, who have graciously accepted me in their group and genuinely seem to like me for me, not just because I am the Foreign Girl. But I’m plagued by doubt that I will do something wrong, and I’ll break some Japanese Rule, and they’ll hate me forever. As I admitted to my friend H in her car once, “It’s hard enough to be friends with girls without the added cultural barrier, you know?”

But I know, deep down in my heart, the support I’ve gotten from my girl friends (and those few genuine guy friends) throughout the years has made me a lot stronger than sitting around watching Boys I Like play video games.  And that’s why I think I always kept trying.

(more…)

Hi, sorry I haven’t updated in a while. There’s a certain way that I want to write my blog, in a structured way, taking elements of my life and analyzing them and writing about them in a way that it sort of makes sense. Basically I’ve tried to write about my life as if someone was actually writing it, like a piece of fiction. And I’ve enjoyed what I have done so far. But it’s made me realize that the connections and themes that I’ve written about regarding my life are just that - stuff that I have written, stuff that I have made up, that may or may not actually be occurring. And I’ve started to analyze stuff as it happens and think, “oh, I could use that, in my blog.” And you know what? It’s exhausting pretending your life is like a movie.

Things didn’t work out with A, basically. I thought we had a connection, and I wrote that huge entry expounding on that connection. But I guess he didn’t think so. So I’m thinking I want to not be so quick to write about what’s going on currently in my life, and expand more about things I’ve already had a chance to think about. There’s a freshness to an entry that’s posted a day or two after the fact, but I think I also run the risk of becoming inauthentic. I don’t want to get to a place where I make up feelings or situations just so I have better “flow” to my writing (although I suppose it would add an air of mystery to what is true and what isn’t!). There’s things I still need to write about, but I’m just going to take a break and let things simmer in my head for now. I’ll try to update with the “A Morioka for All Seasons” category though, eventually.

At the end of this month though, I’ll have written about every single day of the past year in my little secret diary. I don’t want it to be like Kyoto, where if I didn’t write it in my blog I didn’t write about it at all, because I’ve forgotten too much. It’s so important to me to know what I was really feeling at a certain time, because when I go back and think about it, I almost always think about it in a more rational way, and I lose the rawness of that emotion. It’s not something I want to show to anyone, but it’s something I need to remember. And then hopefully…I can use those words for something more polished, like this blog. We’ll see.