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.

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.

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 ;)

O-san has been coming by every day to my division, with his familiar staccato “haro” and his meandering conversations. I think he hasn’t had much work to do ever since he got promoted, but it’s fine with me because I get about 10 minutes of trying to figure out what he’s trying to say before he leaves abruptly without saying goodbye. It’s interesting, at least. “O-papa” takes my mind off the stillness of my work for a little while, as he makes friends with X and glances, from time to time, at the poor oblivious boy beside me. It’s nice, but I’ve found myself missing his other half, C-san. I haven’t seen her since Golden Week, when I hung out with the two of them for the day (after meeting their son and calling him “Big Brother”) and she bought me my own cup and bowl and chopsticks for when I have dinner at their house. “I miss her,” I said to him. “I’m going to message her today and see if she wouldn’t mind me coming over for dinner tomorrow.”

Later that night she messaged me back. “I’m sorry. Tomorrow I have guests coming over and next week I’m quite busy. Just wait til everything calms down and we can spend some time together…” I was a tiny bit disappointed, but she has been really busy lately - she’s vice chairman of an art committee, they’re putting on a show in a few months, and she’s had some personal problems to deal with. I couldn’t blame her for being too busy to entertain the local foreign girl.

(well, yes, I guess I am at the point where I am getting rejected by my AARP friends too, heheh!)

(more…)

In the midst of a party at a local izakaya for the new JETs in Iwate, I got a message from A, and I couldn’t stop smiling as soon as I saw the kanji characters representing his name on my little cell phone screen. We had already agreed to hang out during the weekend, so his message, “Are you free tomorrow? let’s go out to lunch!” left me pleasantly surprised. I’m still so unsure sometimes, that he even likes me, because he doesn’t give the cues I’m used to seeing from boys who like me (and I’m not sure I’m giving enough of the ones that say I like him, because I’m scared, and nervous, and…), but other times I realize he’s been giving the cues; they were just too subtle for me to pick up at the time.

(and he’s Japanese, so it’s not like I can, god forbid!, ask him outright!)

(or maybe that’s just an amanda problem)

“I’m free, lunch sounds fun~” I texted back, attaching stars and smiley faces to be cute. I’ve gotten to the point where a naked sentence (ie, a normal sentence with proper punctuation and everything!) feels odd to me - I’ve gotta paste a star or a doodad or some other emoticon my phone has in its memory. I’m just following what everyone else does (and some girls do it worse than me, even if they are cute in their sparkly excess), but sometimes I miss the days when it was normal to just write a simple text, you know, one that says what you mean without having to dress it up or hide it with silly cell phone hooha.

(uh then again, when what you “mean” is to meet at 7:30 for a movie, you don’t really need to stress “honesty in text messaging” now do you?? i mean, that’s what i used my phone for in 2005, i dunno know about all yall)

“Let’s meet at 12 in the lobby” I responded again, attaching a few hearts. Even if I’m not brave enough to say “I like you” out loud, maybe I can convey it through hearts. Folks, I think I’ve touched on the Japanese ideal. I think this is it. I imagine myself a bold, frank person (after all, I let you fine people know everything from my breakup stories to when I’m taking a dump), yet in real life I still manage to be the same girl from high school who couldn’t be brave enough to confess to the boy she liked. I felt like I shouldn’t have to say it. If it’s meant to be, words aren’t needed. I don’t know if that’s a good way to feel or not, but in Japan I feel like everyone is on the same page regarding (a lack of) talking about our feelings.

“Okay, great - I’m thinking of the place by Sakurayama Shrine,” he replied, with a little twister at the end of the sentence. A twister(??). Ok, guys. I can only participate in this little wordless game called Japanese society if I know the meaning behind these little symbols and cues that they use instead of words! But somehow, I thought as I sipped my drink and chatted with the new JETs, it was okay. It’s this mystery that keeps everything fun.

(more…)

Went mountain climbing on Sunday, on the border of Iwate and Akita, and while we couldn’t make it all the way to the very top, we still got to see Tazawako Lake sparkling in the distance. It’s not the destination, it’s the journey… Plus (geek mode) this place looked kinda like the last area of Shadow of the Colossus, and I imagined I was standing on a cliff at the end of the world, with my only friend dead and a huge mammoth creature to kill before I could rest. Perhaps I’ll be able to conquer that mammoth insecurity of mine in this place, someday. It already feels like it’s getting smaller day by day.

A small flower in a place they affectionately called Moomin Valley. A couple hours later I was soaking in a hot spring the color of emerald, the rusty smell of the sulfer surrounding me. I always think before climbing a mountain, “yeah! this’ll be awesome!” but when I’m actually climbing, I always whine to myself, “why the eff did I think this would be a good idea??” By the time I get to the obligatory onsen afterwards, I always manage to think, “Well. That was awesome.” Doesn’t everyone who climbs mountains occasionally feel that way?

“It’s not the mountain we conquer, but ourselves.” - Edmund Hillary

(Yeah but it’s not like I climbed this thing by myself…)

Even though I couldn’t be home for Mother’s Day, and even though I had a few moments recently where I just really really wanted to see my mom, listening to a song like this somehow makes it just a bit more alright. I can put “Both Sides Now” on, and remember when she placed her old, dusty well-loved Judy Collins record in our beat-up record player, and listening to it with her, and not really understanding the lyrics. But I associate the song with her, and the message with her, and as I grow older I realize that she went through many things that I am going through now, and she got through it okay. As I grow older, I feel like I understand her, as a person and not as My Mom, more and more, and I like that.

And over the past year, I’ve watched television shows that she used to watch, and listened to songs she used to watch, and I realize that they touch me too, in a way they didn’t when I was just a child and didn’t really care what my mother liked. Whether that’s because I link them intrinsically with my mother, or that I imagine my life with the soundtrack of the 70s, I’m not sure. Think it’s a bit of both, though. I just know that as I grow older and older, I find I know less and less, and I appreciate that my mom has been with me through it all.

(ie, Happy Mother’s Day)

This morning, O-san came by my desk and chatted with me in X’s chair. I was happy that he really didn’t seem to be mad at me for any offense I may have caused, and we decided to go to lunch with X and B. I was wearing a really great dress (that’s probably a little too frilly for the office, but I spent mad money on that thing and I want to wear it!), and he said, “You sure are fashionable today. Do you have a party or something?”

“Nah, I just like to be fashionable.”

His eyes sparkled as he glanced at the empty chair next to me. “You get to sit right next to him.” He said it in an unrelated way, the way he always does in a conversation where he changes the subject randomly and without warning, but this time he hit on the exact reason why I like to be fashionable at work. Maybe it wasn’t so random after all. “Every day must be like hyuu hyuu~ <3″ And at lunch I ordered fish, and O-san cut it up for me so I wouldn’t eat the tiny bones poking out everywhere. I guess everything is back to normal, and I really didn’t have to be so upset, after all. アメリカン娘は帰りましたよ。

On the way back, I was annoyed to see the object of my crush’s desires (at least, I think it is this girl!) walking ahead of us. Ever since I’ve met her in person, I see her everywhere, which to a vindictive girl like me is obviously annoying, since I doubt she knows how lucky she is. Of course, she is a wonderfully nice, outgoing, sweet person, and not some boring, demure beauty with no personality, all which would have made it easier to hate her (or worse, she could have been a petty, insecure narcissist, like me). Well! I suppose it fits that a wonderful person would pick another wonderful person. I nudged X next to me a couple times and whispered cattily, “Yo, I think that’s his crush right over there.” And I turned to her, and it was very obviously not X, but a random Japanese lady.

“Uh…okay,” she said, helpfully.

So yes, today I did prove that I think that Asian people all look the same! 毎日「ヒューヒュー」, indeed.

Lately, I heard about a friend who was ignored at her school’s opening ceremony - they called all the freshman teachers and they somehow forgot her. Another friend was denied treatment for weeks because the doctors just didn’t want to deal with someone who couldn’t speak Japanese. Sometimes, a small part of me wonders. Do Japanese people even see us as human?

Well, obviously, we are all humans. But sometimes I get the impression that some Japanese believe that I don’t cry, feel pain, or laugh like they do. Like they forget that us foreigners are just as vulnerable to feeling left out or that we might not all be outgoing, social butterflies. I don’t mean to point anyone out - everyone in my circle of friends considers me just as “human” as they are, because they’ve been around me enough to understand that I am an individual, not just a creature labelled ”foreigner.” But sometimes, based on how we’re depicted in commercials and on tv, I wonder if it’s really true that Japanese people, as a whole, believe us to be nothing more than caricatures for their amusement.

And then I think again - “Japanese people, as a whole”? Who am I to judge how a whole race of people feels about anything? I want so badly to be treated like an individual (and most of the time, I am), but it’s so easy to fall into the trap of “all japanese people feel this way about this subject.” It’s not true. I know better. And I’m trying to work on it. As I was discussing with someone earlier, it was only after I came to Japan that I realized just what it was to think of people as individuals, and not stereotypes.

(more…)

Our department, the 地域振興部 Department of Regional Promotions, was to be dissolved at the end of the fiscal year and being renamed the 政策地域部, Department of Policy and Regional Affairs. All this means is that my division had to move to the other side of the floor and another department crowded in with us. The whole eighth floor was a mess, with furniture and file cabinets, boxes and whiteboards strewn about, all in preparation of the big move of 20 meters. However, Y, another boy that’s the same age as me and T-san, was coming to the floor, so that brings the number of T-san’s douki on the floor to 3. Douki are people who start working at the same time as you - your “class” so to speak. It seems that in the prefectural office, it’s common to hang out with your douki at lunches and parties, like a prepackaged set of friends. It a pretty sweet system. People start in April and usually they’re all the same age, with a lot in common. It makes sense.

I came to the office in August. Nobody starts in August, so I really have no douki.

(more…)