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.