Changing Impressions

My impression of Japan during my time living here have gone through many phases. Some good, some bad; ups and downs. They aren’t impressions I’d say are uncommon, and it’s likely that a similar pattern would have been seen no matter where I were to study abroad. However, I definitely learned a lot about myself living in Japan that I would not have experienced studying abroad elsewhere.

It all started with the common mix of fear and excitement when departing to live in a place literally halfway around the world for a year. I expected abundant differences and struggle to adapt to them. These expectations were quickly expelled, but perhaps aided by attending a heavily internationally oriented school. Either way, my biggest surprise was coming to see just how similar Japan and Japanese people are to home and the people I used to live with. The longer I stayed here and the better I got to know people, the more I came to realize that we aren’t in fact different at all.

Imposing my goofy side on an unsuspecting student.

This revelation, however, was only really due to my heavy false expectation. It turns out the cultures are vastly different, but instead only when it comes to the countless smaller nuances: from the exceptionally friendly yet so impersonal retail and restaurant service industry, to the undying commitment to becoming so good at whatever it is your passion might be.

A friend of mine becoming acquainted with the natives.

My greatest lesson was learning the proper way to deal with people different from you. One approach, and probably the more intuitive one, is to try to think like the other party. It seems intuitive, since it’ll make them feel more comfortable talking to you, and thus they’ll open themselves up more easily. The thing is though, it’s likely that they’ll do the same, in which case the point is lost. Instead, it is a better idea to simply be yourself and how you would act in your own country, being conscious of cultural differences and being ready to adapt, accept, and forgive differences. This isn’t something that simply applies to meeting people from other cultures, and is, I feel, a more widely applicable life lesson.

Grease Your Non-Teflon Pans

There have been times where I have been introduced to by a Japanese person, observed their mannerisms, and thought “not again,” and didn’t have much an interest in spending time getting to know them. Admittedly, this is a horrible, horrible thing to think (and I have only done so on bad days), but I digress… The thing is, there are definitely two or three distinct cookie-cutter Japanese personalities, for each gender, and no more. Perhaps it is due to this that it is so difficult to remember the names of those you have not met more than once.

A group of Japanese students effortlessly hiding behind their outer-shell personalities. They are completely serious, and are not expressing any hidden emotions what-so-ever.

That was entirely a lie; a cultural misconception that I still find myself falling for (but only on bad days). The truth is, this is just an outer shell of a personality that people hide behind before opening others up to their true personalities. And Japanese are just as full of personality as anybody else in the world, and hinting at anything otherwise is completely wrong. The thing is, however, it seems unusually difficulty to get to know the true side of a Japanese person in particular (and of course there are exceptions… these people I instantly fall into friendship with).

In Japan, it seems like portraying one’s group or circle comes far before individuality when interacting with strangers. Of course, it can’t be said that the same doesn’t apply to other cultures, but this is definitely very characteristically Japanese. It can sometimes be frustrating, as expressed earlier, to meet someone you feel like you’ve met many times before. I often forget to wrap my head around the idea that this is a projected self, and I forget that if I spend time getting to know them, they could turn out to be fantastic company. And it has happened more than enough times where I have met someone I felt unmotivated to get to know and they turned out to be amazing company.

"May we ride together?" -- Getting to know someone isn't always difficult.

There are of course other factors that can be blamed for this, such as the language barrier, and there being similar feelings in the reverse perspective. Regardless, I’m fairly sure that this is not an observation shared by many, however it is definitely heavily exaggerated.

The Prospective Journey to Presumed Glory!

Like many other children, when I was little I played video games. I generally played games of a story telling genre known as an RPG (Role Playing Game). In particular, a series known as Final Fantasy. It is among the largest of RPG franchises, recently having released the 13th installment (not including countless spin-offs). The company which produces this series originates from and resides in Japan. The games are first released natively, then later translated and sent overseas.

I have always been a fan of the series and have enjoyed their stories since I was a child. However, since coming to Japan, I’ve been able to reflect on the stories told within these games and see small ways in which they relate to Japanese culture. Even if it is not the point of a story to express these things, there are definitely at least a few common aspects of many of these stories which can be easily paralleled to Japanese culture.

A display of ability to suspend disbelief.

It seems like a common aspiration for (real-life) Japanese students to study overseas, for example. Since Japan is a single, relatively small island, one would have to travel overseas to a presumably larger continent in order to do so. It is not uncommon to see this situation set up in Japanese RPGs: The young hero lives on a small remote island with its own unique culture and way of living, aspiring to one day travel to a faraway land (“America,” per se). The hero one days dreams to experience the grandness of the rest of the world. Within the story, an event then naturally follows where this hero is forced to do so (maybe as cliche as an evil empire invading their remote island).

Our hero departs on his long journey. What lies ahead?!

When the hero eventually ends up on the “mainland,” they often seem lost in cultural differences and have to quickly learn to adapt. You witness them go through the experience of dealing with these kinds of situation and learning what to do, while seeing new things never before experienced in their homeland. This poses somewhat of a message to the intended audience of these RPGs. It seems like they are at least partially written with the intent of inciting hopes and aspirations for this audience to experience these kinds of things in real life, or at least allowing people with these hopes already to live them vicariously through the characters.

Babel Robot

When I meet a Japanese student for the first time, I usually, depending on the situation, introduce myself as Tekeshi and proceed to say I am from Hokkaido. I go on to say that I am a full blood Japanese with two Japanese parents, and that the way I look is due to old recessive heritage in the gene pool. All the while deliberately using oddly structured Japanese. Admittedly, I’m a goof, and Japanese people get to know me as one. This is my persona of a foreign exchange student learning Japanese, and it vastly differs from the usual me that I present myself as when I meet English speakers.

I am a level 5 Japanese student at Kansai Gaidai University. Levels range from 1 to 7, 7 being essentially fluent. Although I wouldn’t revere myself as being anywhere near the top of my class, I do feel comfortable enough with the language to communicate at an intermediate level. Despite this, I’m far from capable of controlling the language well enough to express myself and my way of speaking in Japanese as I do in English. Essentially, I project a “fake” Japanese personality. Otherwise, I would simply be dull to converse with and incapable of communicating at a level I would enjoy.

A typical foreigner emitting their typical foreign persona.

Naturally, I feel this goes both ways. I definitely get the impression that when I meet a Japanese student studying English, I am seeing their English persona. Either the language is commanded as though it’s approached mathematically, or it sounds oddly quirky, in a way that a native would never speak. Either way, it’s difficult to get to know one’s true personality. And let’s not even start thinking about attempting to interpret such things from a native Japanese speaker firing off at a mile a minute.

A meeting made possible thanks to fake persona antics.

I definitely, without a doubt, have some very close Japanese friends. We’ve seen each other at our lowest and helped each other through times of need (dealing with the language barrier during situations like these is rather interesting). I get the feeling that once you’ve seen people at times like these, you start to understand how the act in certain situations and come to know them far better. It seems almost offensive, but I can’t say I know these said close Japanese friends as well as I’d like to. Perhaps the nuances in how one speaks during times like these, or other such subtle hints that tell me what they are like personally, are completely lost in translation. Getting to know someone at this level, after all, depends on much sub-conscious interpretation of mannerisms.

Commitment to Vision Acquisition

It takes a lot of commitment to be among the best at what one does. One might even go as far as saying that one would have to make their life revolve entirely around that one thing, and sacrifice immeasurable amounts of time that could be spent on other things. In terms of photography, it could be said that Annie Leibovitz and James Natchwey have accomplished this. Although there are many differences between the two when concerned with the specific methods each professional uses to achieve their results, there are also many similarities. It is apparent that the two, for one, fully commit their lives to finding the most efficient way to produce the best photography they possibly can.

Specifically dealing with photography, the differences the two have to face to achieve their results are quite apparent. Natchwey must face life or death situations to achieve his results, while Leibovitz must completely temporarily immerse herself in the lives of real people, or in a fictional vision. Concerning personality, the two also seem to heavily contrast (according to what was conveyed by the films, anyway). Regardless of these differences, the two have so much in common. Above all else, they both treat their profession like art, and seek to tell stories.

photo by James Natchwey; source: http://www.jokerartgallery.com/

 What is truly astounding is how neither artist inherently treats their photography like a job. When a poet writes a poem, they do not sit down and decide “I need my salary. I’m going to write a poem.” Likewise, a (“good”) musician will not sit down and decide “Time to get paid; time to write a song.” And likewise with films, and basically any form of art. The best of the best always starts with a vision (unlike, for example, Air Bud 7). Leibovitz and Natchwey also approach their photography with such an artistic philosophy. Both artists, before they take a photo, always have a story or a message they hope to convey. They use photography to shape this story or message into something their artistic medium can represent.

source: http://www.artknowledgenews.com/

The unfortunate fact seems to be that in order to become truly good at something as Leibovitz and Natchwey are at photography, proportional sacrifices must be made. Consider that Leibovitz, while photographing for Rolling Stones Magazine, had to literally devote her life to immersing herself into the touring lifestyle. Consider that Natchwey is considered by some to be unnaturally sheltered, always putting photography before perhaps even his own life. What these artists do is truly inspirational for anyone in artistic career field, however the cost of becoming this good at a particular form of art comes at the cost of absurd amounts of dedication, which only the truly, truly devoted could even begin to conceive.

Beneath Dissimilarities

On the outside, it is apparent that there are many things different about Japanese and North American culture. And by saying that these differences reside ‘on the outside’ is not to say that they are not real. It is just that before coming to Japan, I figured that the more and more I would get to know about it, the more and more I would learn about what is different about it, when in fact, it was just the opposite. I came with the preconceptions of knowing things would be different, and they are, however the more I got to know about it, interestingly enough, the more I got to know about what commonalities our countries share.

Gen-chan, The Wise

This is Gen-chan. Gen-chan is an average Japanese male student of my generation who attends Kansai Gaidai. Getting to know Gen-chan was very interesting. He was interested in learning of North American culture, while I was interested in learning of Japanese culture. I would try to get to know cultural standards by getting to know how he acts, and he would do the same with me. And we did. It’s just that these so-called cultural standards were more universal that we at first thought. While trying to get to know each other, we in fact found out that essentially the only difference between us is the language we grew up learning to speak.

Sophistication

It never occurred to me that the most interesting thing I would learn about the Japanese while studying abroad is that on the inside, there are in fact relatively no differences between us at all. I made friends with the same kinds of people here that I would have at home, be them native speakers of English or Japanese. My friends here enjoy having fun in much the same ways as we do at home. I don’t need to sensor myself to accommodate any cultural differences, and I don’t need to do be weary of anything they would do that might be culturally taboo in North America. Behind the language barrier, we are all the same kinds of individuals.

Kyuu Kyuu Has Perished?!

Shop Kyuu Kyuu: the essence of Hirakata. That is, knowing that everyday, you have the option to go to a familiar place, enjoy a familiar tune, and/or resuscitate such a tune in one’s head. A tune that tells, not only of familiar, happy emotions and gratefulness, but of a place where one may go to obtain any item which can serve any purpose, be it important, rudimentary, or obscurely necessary, for that a price which can’t be beat. Now, what if I were to tell you that such a place, such a tune, such a symbol, has perished into the texts of history?

Rest In Peace

Hirakata is a place which is constantly evolving. Of course those of us who study abroad here do not necessarily realize this (to the extent which we witness it, that is). But it is obvious that we see these things all over: for example, on the road to the east gate of Kansai Gaidai, a building which stood during the previous semester has been torn down. A building which blocked view of the beautiful park beyond the end of the road no longer obstructs such a gorgeous sight. And needless to say, it will not be long before a new building is erected in the same place to once again bring an end to the newly born daily experience this has brought.

The Lovely Lively Park

Those of us who are just starting their time in Japan will not have realized this to the extent of those who have been here for some time. And the longer we are here, the more of such evolutions we witness. Just like those we witness within ourselves. As we ourselves grow more accustomed to our surroundings, we grow more attuned to these evolutions. When we first arrive, we learn basic adaptations, such as how to treat locals, how to behave in the neighborhood, where we obtain food and grocery, and various other basic vital survival techniques. Eventually, however, one will learn of all these things there is to know, but the lessons do not stop. Those of us who are continuing an extended stay in Hirakata will have moved on to new lessons. Things such as getting to know locals, learning community values, meeting the regulars at the local grocery mart and the employees of local businesses, and becoming further attuned with the culture.

As we learn these things, we learn new things about ourselves and how we adapt to such situations. Such situations as when our faithful, relied upon shop of the all things one needs for the low price of ninety nine yen, perishes. A time when we may no longer return to this faithful place when the familiar tune has somehow managed to escaped our minds. We are no longer left with any option. Instead, we are left with a new, different place for similar needs. We who have grown so accustomed to the Neighborhood known as Hirakata, as individuals, have come to know ourselves well enough to cope with such a change. With each change we grow stronger, and we learn more about ourselves as individuals.

The Return of the Honeymoon

Here I stand, staring it straight in the eyes: the start of the adventures of Japan, Part 2. The sequel to this long chapter of my life starts in a place so similar to, yet so different from the original. Here I am, in the same country, the same city, the same town, attending the school, living in the same dormitory… yet everything once again feels so new and unfamiliar just like the start of the previous half of this adventure. Despite having already lived here for so long, what makes it this way?

Japan as being departed.

I suppose it started with the dénouement of the previous iteration: taking the lonesome journey to the airport while overcoming obstacles such as being depleted of cash yet requiring the assistance of a  taxi-san, and finally arriving home to the land of maple syrup, Celine Dion, and snow. A month passes, and then the same steps are retraced, vice-versa-verbatim. However, this time, although I’m returning to the same place, I know I’m not returning to continue from where I left off. And although that would have been nice, what then would be the point of a sequel if it were just to be a recount the tale of a story that has already come full circle?

A return to the same place; a more lively feeling.

I must admit, the journey of retracing those 30 day old steps was a relatively melancholy one, that is up until the first familiar face was met once again after the long break at home. It didn’t take long for everything to fall back into place. From re-meeting more and more familar places, re-registering my laptop, to my first trip to Kyuu Kyuu, and eating at New Delhi. What this semester holds for me is meeting old friends and making new friends, while  holding tightly onto relationships built from the first half of this long journey. Settling back in, accepting that this is where I will reside for the next four months, and knowing it is going to be incredible.

A reunion of reunited friends!