My stomach sank as I got onto the plane. “Holy shit, I’m actually doing this” I thought to myself as the perfectly polite Japanese staff walked us through the safety features of the plane. There was no going back.
My orientation was a blur. I was quickly brought to a hotel in Narita, given a hurried description of where and when to meet, and that was that. The next morning, I had my first misunderstanding because of the language difference: I thought we were eating breakfast together as part of orientation, but apparently I was supposed to go on my own. If you know me, I am the definition of “hangry” (so hungry you are angry). So, being in a foreign environment with only some vending machine coffee in my system was not setting me up for successfully adjusting to my new setting. I met seven other new JETs in the lobby. We all loaded into a van and were off to Tokyo. The other JET participants seemed more fluent in Japanese, which, along with the lack of calories, surged my anxiety level through the van’s roof.
We arrived in Tokyo to an overcast sky, which seemed to complement the shade of concrete Tokyo is made of. After a quick run-down of the bureaucratic structure of JET, CLAIR, and my CO (contracting organization), I was shuffled into Tokyo Station, told to eat lunch, and then I was off on the shinkansen (bullet train) to my town. The train ride was a blur, but I just remember thinking “Wow, I’m actually here”. Futons hanging from clothes lines. Signs in walls of kanji (the Chinese characters the Japanese language uses). Streets littered with bicycles. People wearing hospital masks to prevent spreading the flu. The place I had seen pictures of, read about. I was finally there.
I was quickly greeted at Shichinohe-Towada station by a local ALT and my supervisor. After some half Japanese, half English salutations we went to the supermarket. I was given a chance to quickly buy some groceries (I bought the bare minimum, as I could only recognize about half of what I saw), and was brought to my house. A quick demo of how to use the appliances, signing my official contract, and my ambassadors were off and I was left in my strange Japanese house by myself.
My house was full of great surprises: It talked to me to tell me the hot water was on, the faucets turned on the opposite way that they do in America, my only source of heat was a kerosene heater. Despite this, I could finally take a breath.
I will not lie: The culture shock has hit me as hard as the cold of the Tohoku winter has. My brain had a 404 error trying to process real, living Japanese. Although I have had an introduction to the language, my chances to practice speaking were essentially nonexistent. Shopping takes about three times as long as it does at home, as I spend a lot of the time trying to figure out what I’m buying (at least I’m getting more kanji practice).
This cold has been the coldest cold I have ever felt. That’s quite the statement, considering I have lived my entire life in the tundra of Minnesota. The lack of central heating makes staying warm a struggle, both to stay warm and to get out of bed. I dream about the radiators at Cahoots nearly every night.
Driving on the other side of the road reminded me of bicycling in Copenhagen: The first journey was short, thrilling (read: terrifying), and made me audibly gasp/curse. Although it takes a bit more mental energy to remember to stay on the left side, adjusting only took about a week’s practice time (A side note: I am glad I live in 2018, where Google Maps has mapped the entire world. I might have been writing this from inside a rice paddy had I not had Google Maps).
Despite these surprises (along with the millions of others I cannot recall at the moment), I have become comfortable in my new environment. Maybe it is better to say I have made peace with being uncomfortable. I have accepted my preschool literacy and infant conversational skills. Every day I make small victories. Driving is easier, shopping has become routine, and I have become better at accepting ambiguity. Small kindnesses go a long way helping me feel like this journey was worth the effort. Whether it is a coworker suggesting music to me or the lady who works at the soba restaurant saying hi to me in the grocery store, these small things help me feel like less of an outsider, and more like a welcomed guest.
My welcoming party helped assuage my fears that I was the stupid gaijin and nothing more to my Japanese coworkers. People really warmed up to me after a couple drinks and said things they wouldn’t dare say during a normal workday. They urged me to stay another year, which shocked me as many of them had barely spoken to me during my first three weeks. In particular, one coworker I had never heard speak opened up and we chatted about baseball, fishing, and traded turns belting out karaoke. I sang Hitori Bouchi (in America: Sukiyaki), and received a knowing nod from the Super Intendant. In that moment, I felt a strange acceptance of my own foreignness. I will never be Japanese, but that doesn’t mean I can’t respect Japanese culture to the best of my knowledge and ability.
Although many times I feel like a gaijin monster destroying all that is precious about Japanese manners, I look forward to continuing to learn the language and culture of Japan. One of my favorite writers on learning Japanese, Koichi of the fantastic website tofugu.com, says the best way to learn a language is to make as many mistakes as possible. I need to remind myself that you learn a language by using it, not studying it. My natural tendencies to analyze things at an analytical distance need to take wayside to me stumbling and mumbling through the language, building a vocabulary, and hopefully being able to be understood a little better every day. I’m building intelligence, not just knowledge. Knowledge is just a set of facts. Intelligence is knowing what to do with those facts.
Moving forward, I am looking forward to building a disciplined daily routine. I am excited to begin a study regiment for Japanese, rebuild my Zen meditation practice, and to continue writing music. Before leaving home, I wrote a list of things I needed to do while in Japan. I remind myself daily of these goals and make sure I am working towards achieving them.
There are so many other things I’ve experienced that I can’t recall at the moment, but I will end my first update with this: I’m known to one of my friends as someone who enjoys very subtle humor. Here’s a list of some things in Japan that I find endlessly amusing:
-People back into parking spots only. Seeing my car being the only one facing the wrong direction in the parking lot is a pretty apt metaphor for my experience trying to navigate Japanese culture.
-The muzak in thrift stores is basically 90s video game pause screen music
-Everyone brushes their teeth after lunch
-There are no towels or hand driers anywhere.
-On that note: Public sinks only have freezing cold water
-Music is played on the hour at 6am, Noon, and 6pm no matter where you are. It is always some sort of MIDI version of a classical song everyone in the West forgot about. Light, whimsical music plays at school during the students' cleaning time, to which the students descend into their cleaning regiments like something out of a Disney movie
-My school bell is a Yamaha DX7, one of the synthesizers I own
-No one drinks water here. They found it very interesting that I drank a glass of water.
