Natural Night Beach Party

Toyohashi Gion Festival

Yin and Yang: From the Outside In

It’s very easy to discover your inner cynic in Japan.  I’ve been here almost a year now, and I can feel some measure of pessimism building in my veins.  Before I go any further, I’ll start with a disclaimer of sorts:  I don’t, for a second, feel any disappointment about coming here.  Japan has given me everything I could have possibly asked for when deciding where my next destination would be a year ago.  As I have continuously written in many a past post, every little thing is different.  That was exactly what I wanted to experience when I left.  So in traditional blessing/curse fashion, I got what I wished for. 

There are small things (see previous “Micro-aggressions” post) that will continue to eat away at your optimism the longer you are here.  Only one affects me thus far: “Oh!  You can use chopsticks!” 

I’m not sure why this question gets under my skin so effectively, but it does.  Just last weekend, while at dinner with friends, a woman across the table asked me three separate times if I can use the little devils known here as hashi.  The first time, I brushed it off without a thought.  The second, I looked her in the eye and nodded along with my “yes, I can.”  The third time, I did much the same.  It wasn’t until our meals arrived that the woman pushed me over the line.  As I grabbed my hashi and started going to town she belted a loud “segoi!!!” (Japanese equivalent to wow!), complete with an applause.  I set my chopsticks down, turned to her and asked, “Can you use a fork?”  She looked at me with a confused expression and slightly tilted puppy face and replied, “Hai.”  Since sarcasm is not a cultural norm in this society and it is nearly impossible to translate, I’m sure the woman had no idea why I had asked such a ridiculous question of her.  After thinking it through, I think I’m happy that’s the case.

I have since questioned my action here.  It is my goal as well as my responsibility to respectfully adhere to the culture of my host country.  I’m sure this woman was, in some way, honestly impressed by my ability to finesse her continent’s culinary tool of choice.  Even so, my patience has begun to wear a bit thin.  Such a feeling is a major part of doing what we do and, in many ways, why we do it in the first place.  Japan is a flawed country.  America is a flawed country.  Lichtenstein is a flawed country.  The uniqueness of the negative traits is what allows you to truly get to know a place.  It’s not a trip to Japan if you don’t feel the pressure of being in the minority.  So many of us, me included, have no real concept of what this feels like.  Foreigners in Japan will find themselves the helpless victim on some front.  Experiences like this are inevitable.

There are phases that all travelers will experience when living abroad.  That is a well-documented fact.  Personality, prior experience, and preparation can all ease the drastic shock, but every person will experience highs and lows.  It’s part of the fun.  Don’t let this scare you away from traveling because experiencing and overcoming adversity is the only way you’ll come home feeling different than when you left.  You’ll feel like you have a little more idea of what makes the world the way it is.  While I become more aware of the injustices experienced in one of the wealthiest, most stable, and safest countries on the planet, I can’t help but notice how similar things can often be in my own country.  We have all been on the opposite side of that chopstick conversation at some point in our lives.  One might argue it’s only right that expats endure the signature Japanese naïve (or sometimes ill-intended) condescension once for every time we felt superior for sitting at the cool table in junior high or quickly shunned a person because their English was elementary.  Without a doubt, Japan continues to surprise me.  For every arrogant, condescending, or impatient person I come across, I can easily name ten of the kindest, most selfless souls I could have ever hoped to meet in my life.  It takes only 12 seconds with one of these people to absolve you of any anger or contempt you may develop at the immigration office, at a restaurant that refuses to serve gaijin or the local driving center.  For every moment you feel like Rosa Parks, you’ll have five that you feel like Brad Pitt and ten that you’ll feel like you just hugged a Care Bear.  That is what is so unique about these people: they both admire and fear Westerners.  Like all countries, there are both shiny and rotten apples.  It’s just important to take the good with the bad and realize that it will only make your experience more real.   I both love and despise aspects of this country, but very rarely do I feel any negativity for more than a few minutes.  Japan has shown me some of its deepest flaws and left me feeling more lost and helpless than ever before but I can’t help but feel thankful for it. 

Spring '12 - New Classes

Origami

Ground Golf

A few weeks ago, I was invited to take part in a morning ground golf tournament in neighboring Shinshiro.  This game is particularly popular with elderly Japanese and is often played in more rural areas.  Essentially, it is a cross between miniature golf and croquet. Using a large wooden (or aluminum if you're a stud) club to strike a plastic ball, players attempt to knock their own piece into a metal basket "hole."  Strokes are counted in the same fashion as golf.  Here are a few pictures and videos to help visualize this uniquely Japanese pastime.

Played on either gravel or grass

The game is finished with a single put challenge

History

Traveling and experiencing another culture is supposed to be about opening your eyes and mind to alternative perspectives.  At least this is what I hope my endless wandering around the globe will result in.  Last weekend, I had one of those moments that make a person stop and look at the big picture. 

A friend and I have found a quiet little British-style pub in Toyohashi.  It’s far enough from the station to avoid the crowds, and we usually only share it with a few business men stopping in for a martini to end their work week.  Every so often, we’ll meet up there for a couple of European beers and a quiet foreigner-free night out. 

The owner is a very nice man who has spent many years in England and, as a result, speaks very good English.  This particular visit was the first time we had spoken beyond the polite pleasantries of an introduction.  It lasted over two hours, most of which filled with nothingness I fail to recall.  I do remember a few minutes somewhere in the middle when I asked him, “How long have you owned this bar?”  Seems generic enough, right?  The answer was anything but.

He told me that the bar, as we know it, has been around for a few decades and has been updated many times.  The business, however, has been owned by his family long before the Second World War.  Now, anytime the war comes up in conversation with the Japanese, I feel a bit uncomfortable.  Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had many wonderful discussions about how each nation’s generations have moved beyond the conflict.  Even so, my contributions to the conversation tend to be more timidly presented than normal.  Having never visited Hiroshima or Nagasaki, I’ve avoided many of the sensitive locals until that night.

The area around Toyohashi Station

What few people know is that Toyohashi and Toyokawa were very high on the list of targets for atomic bombs when the US military was planning its attacks.  Being powerful industrial cities, Americans thought them perfect places at which to cripple the Japanese economy and force the military’s surrender.  As we all know, Hiroshima and Nagasaki were eventually chosen as the most effective locations and targeted as such.  Between the two atomic bombs, Toyokawa and Toyohashi were flattened as well by American bombers.  Much of the part of my new hometown where businesses are centered today was covered by the ruins of factories 70 years ago. 

What I learned at the bar was that my favorite place for a night out was the result of his family’s losses during the American onslaught.  The original business owned by his family at that same location was destroyed during the less-famous American bombing campaigns between the two atomic bombs. 

Ushikubo, the nearest JR Line station to my
apartment.  Located in the part of the city bombed by the Americans.

I didn’t really know how to respond to hearing this.  The conversation itself was completely innocent.  He didn’t mean for me to feel uncomfortable, as he was simply answering my question honestly.  Even so, I couldn’t help but feel a bit sorry. 

His pub will continue to be my choice location for a Belgian-white, but I won’t be able to visit without thinking about its historical connection to my country and, perhaps, its greatest “victory.”  

Byodo-in and Kiyomizu - Kyoto