People and Places

This week has been an exciting week, if not necessarily uplifting. Not to say that I didn't have fun, of course: I did have fun--a lot of fun, to be imprecise. However, it was fun interspersed with reminders of why it's hard to get around in a foreign country, even if you have been studying the language for four years.

First, let's start with the fun stuff: I went to Kakunodate over the weekend, a town near Akita city that boasts beautiful cherry blossoms and samurai houses, only one of which I got to see. The cherry blossoms only bloom in the spring, so I'll have to plan a return trip, but I did get to see tour the house of one of the vassals of that area's lord. It was the house of the Aoyagi family, which goes back to the 16th century.

Unfortunately, I didn't get a full house shot...but I did get some cool pictures of the inside! It's a very immersive experience; they have a katana in a glass case that you can lift from the handle, samurai armor and weapons, and other cool aspects of the house and the family, such as a massive kimono worn for sleeping (that, I learned through eavesdropping, was meant exclusively for guests to the house).

I also came upon the ruins of the castle of the Lord who lived here...which weren't actually ruins at all, but a large clearing on top of a hill with a plaque that I couldn't read. Still, it was worth the short hike to get there, because at the top you're treated to an incredible, sprawling view of the area. It really gives you a sense of how much of Japan is human-inhabited, and how much of it is just pure, unbridled nature. I really couldn't believe what I was seeing at first, but it was very much real. It was one of the cliché moments where I had to stop and think, "yeah, I'm really in a foreign country."

Particularly in a beautiful place like Japan, it's easy to get lost in all the splendor and uniqueness of the area and get into a mindset of pure joy, feeling like you never want to leave. Yet no country is just an empty, beautiful landmass. Obvious as this is, everywhere you travel (unless you're a nomad or something), you will find people. And people are wonderful, in their own way. Without people, I would have no view to look at, and there would be no samurai house or town for me and hundreds of other people to explore. But when you have to interact with people, things can get a little dicey. Even people who speak the same language can struggle to communicate; of course it would be hard to talk when to someone whose native tongue is different from yours--which is exactly the kind of experience I had.

I've noticed, throughout my trip, certain difficulties when it comes to communicating with Japanese students and locals. Not in the sense that the people themselves are difficult. No, the Japanese have a well-deserved reputation of extreme tolerance and kindness towards tourists and travelers. Where that kindness comes from may be a matter of debate, but on the surface level, everyone I've met in Japan has been very kind.

Rather, the language and cultural barrier is something I've found hard to overcome. Even having taken Japanese and having a rudimentary command over the language, I still feel like a child trying to talk to an adult whenever I enter into a conversation with a Japanese person. I speak in broken sentences and unsure words, every other word I hear going through one ear and out the other. On one hand, I feel rather proud; I had a conversation with a bank employee and a woman at an information kiosk desk. I spoke and understood enough to learn what I needed to learn, in my journey to open up a Japanese bank account. I had to figure out which bank to open the account with, and then where the bank actually was--both of which I somehow succeeded at.

But it's a strain, trying to communicate in a language that isn't yours. I feel like I borrowed words, knowing vaguely what they meant through lists of vocabulary and grammar, but never sure if I was using them accurately. When I lacked words I would often just stop speaking entirely, relying on the kindness of others to provide words for me, or if even that failed, resort to hand gestures that I could come out of my stupor long enough to understand.

It didn't help that, after all my work to find the bank, I forgot to bring what I needed to make a bank account so my mission ultimately ended in failure.

I had a good week--perhaps even a great one--but the moral of my story, if I were to assign it one, is that intercultural communication is hard, and so much gets lost. If you can understand even a basic request, command, sentiment, direction, or piece of information, I would consider it a victory. It's a lesson that on paper, I might have known, but experience is the best teacher. 

Still, to be quite honest, it's an experience I wouldn't mind having again. If experience is the best teacher, than I need to fail in order to learn. It's not a fun prospect, no matter how many times I realize or hear it, but I didn't go to Japan to spend a year sitting firmly in my comfort zone!

Also, this is Kiritanpo, an Akita specialty dish, made from rice rolled and mashed into a tube, then toasted, and with sweet miso sauce. It is quite possibly the most delicious thing I've ever tasted. 

Impressions of Akita and Japan, part 2

Last post, I gushed a bit over Akita's nature (all completely justified, I assure you). This post, I want to focus on convenience and conservation.

First, convenience. Japan, is, in my experience, a country of convenience and economy. It makes sense when I think about it; after all, Japan is a small island country, made even smaller by the fact that large swaths of the land is mountainous and thus not adequate ground to build houses, towns, and cities. In Japan, many people live in a small space, so it stands to reason that the Japanese would place great emphasis on economy and conservation. It's only been a few minor observations that have made me jump to this conclusion, but it's not like blogs are held up as the gold standard of cultural insight anyways.

First off, I was (perhaps overly) surprised when I found that the classrooms of Akita International University had a handy hook-like device that holds things like bookbags and umbrellas.

They also have hooks like these in bathrooms, right next to urinals (along with all the other wonders of Japanese bathrooms, which I think most people with a passing interest in Japan have heard about). It was a small touch, but something I never would have thought of or wanted living in America--yet it made my life a little easier. Instead of splaying my backpack all over the floor, having to awkwardly maneuver it like back in college in Pennsylvania, I could just hook it up on my desk for easy access. This is even more convenient in bathrooms; on a particularly rainy day, one might be carrying an umbrella around, and the hooks give you a sanitary place to put that umbrella (or your shopping bag, or something) while you go about your business. 

Speaking of bathrooms...

This, unlike my other pictures thus far, is just a generic Internet photo rather than one I took myself, because I wasn't feeling the energy to go into a bathroom and take a picture. But it does the job well enough: every single public bathroom in Japan, even ones whose other facilities are plain, has this kind of hand dryer in place of paper towels. The more I think about it, the more incredible I find it. Unlike about half the hand dryers in the US, it actually dries your hands, and they're literally in every public bathroom I've seen. It's a small touch, but in my Western mind it says a lot. In general, Japan is much more conscious of the environment and their natural resources than the States. Granted, the US is much bigger, has many more natural resources available, and has a history of administrations that place big business above the environment, and Japan's strong Shinto roots and traditions naturally incline it towards respecting nonhuman entities more than most countries, but it's still interesting to see a real example of what, till this point, I'd only read about and heard about from people who'd been there before. 

And now that I think about it, I have let a little 'Japanese tourist blog' attitude slip in here. Oh well! I'm not too ashamed; as a Westerner who has no real experience in world travel, there's so much to ooh and aah over being outside of the States, and being in Japan. Of course, I'm not a tourist, and only having been here for two weeks, it's a little early to make assumptions about Japanese culture and society. Because, in fact, there's a lot about Japan that I don't understand, and a lot that surprised me about being here--largely related to the people. 

Ignorant as it might sound, I've had something of a revelation, being in Japan. The Japanese are, well, Japanese...but they're also people. Humans are humans, no matter where you go, and I'm seeing that college life in Japan, in some ways, isn't really different from what I've experienced in my home university in Pennsylvania. People party, they laugh loudly, they break rules and have fun. But those are thoughts for another time, perhaps. For now, I guess the takeaway is that Japan is convenient, efficient, and careful with its resources. And I get to experience that...which, everything else aside, is really, really cool!

Impressions of Akita and Japan, part 1

I've been in Akita for a little over two weeks now, and a lot has happened in that time. So much, in fact, that it's hard to synthesize it all into one blog post. I started this blog with the goal of writing more about my personal experiences than about Japan itself, figuring that knowledge about everyday Japan is a completely oversaturated resource on the Internet. Yet I realize that, as I sit down to write this, it takes a whole lot of mental energy to write about all the thoughts and feelings I've had in Japan, about everything that I've done and chose not to do. I have time to write about personal thoughts and feelings; I'll be in Japan for a while. What's of personal interest to me, right now, is the sorts of places, people, and things I've encountered in Akita.

First, some background: Akita is located on Japan's largest island, Honshu. It sits up north, and though the past few days have seen natural disasters like typhoon Jebi that hit the Kansai region (southwest Honshu), and the earthquake that knocked out electricity for the whole of Hokkaido (Japan's northernmost island), Akita has proven to be quite safe. It's one of Japan's less populated prefectures, and is most known for being the birthplace of the Akita dog, its rice farms and rice farming, and having one of the most famous festivals in Japan. Quite possibly the greatest part of my study abroad experience so far has been experiencing the unique aspects of this prefecture--and, of course, aspects of Japan that I didn't truly understand in the States.

First, I have to give the nature of Akita its due. First, for comparison, here's some of the most beautiful shots of Japanese nature from the medium Americans like myself likely have seen the most: animation. Some are from Ghibli films, others are from my favorite Japanese animated movie, Wolf Children.

And here's what I've seen in Akita:

I'm not a professional photographer, but I think the comparisons speak for themselves. 

Oh who am I kidding; I love watching myself write, so I'll do some speaking too! I took a walk one weekend with a friend to visit a shrine nearby, and we found so much more than we had hoped for. I spent years of my life looking at these gorgeous landscapes in anime films, and it dawned on me that I was really here. I was seeing for myself what I'd seen in some of my favorite movies, and it was even better than I could have imagined. There's something about physically being in that country environment that no film can capture; I felt like I experienced for the first time, in the most unique way, what nature looks like. I'm so used to grass being cut, to trees being chopped down, to nature being reigned in so that humans can live. In Akita, I found an environment that was built around nature rather than over it. Every building and road felt like it was deliberately placed around the environment so as not to disturb it--and people there live not in spite of nature, but in harmony with it. Of course, that's not to say there aren't people who live in harmony with nature in the States; I've met some of them. But here, in Japan, I felt like I'd seen something unique, something that I could never hope to find in my small corner of the world. Whether or not my intuitions about how people live in Akita are completely accurate (I haven't been here long enough to know), that's how I felt. And anything that can create such a strong a feeling in me, I think, has some kernel of truth to it.

And, as you might have guessed from the title, I'll continue these observations in another post, since I want to try and keep these short!