Life vs Adventure in Japan

Last week I was busy teaching Survival English to ten students who are leaving for New Zealand at the end of March for four months of studying abroad.  It would be safe to say that  I am thoroughly jealous of their impending adventure. I asked them repeatedly what they were hoping to do when they arrived, with thoughts of my own dream vacation in NZ floating around in my head. 

Have you thought about bungee jumping? 
Backpacking? 
Maybe some mountain biking? 

I expected murmurs of excitement, but all I got were blank stares.  They were travelling to NZ for different reasons other than sightseeing.  After some poking and prodding, I found out that their wish was not to solely experience NZs array of adventure sports, but to live with a family, learn English, and experience life as a New Zealander.  It seems like a simple request, but it's more difficult than any adventure sport I'll ever encounter.

I spent my time abroad in South Africa taking classes about everything South African, traveling, and volunteering.  Homestays weren't common, and none of us learned more than a few words of IsiXhosa, IsiZulu, or Afrikaans, three of the 11 national languages of South Africa.  Our study abroad wish was to travel to try to begin to understand South Africa's tumultuous history and how it has affected the present situation through different lenses including literature, politics, health, music, and education.

I often compare my experience in South Africa with my college roommates' experiences in Guatemala.  Courses were focused on learning Spanish, and they stayed with host families.  We had vastly different experiences simply because of our living accommodations and purpose, nevermind the obvious differences between Guatemala and South Africa as nations.  Despite this, I feel like neither experience was better than the other; they are simply incomparable.

I like to think that Japan has given me the chance to sample different abroad experiences - initially I was the typical tourist, always moving around the city in an effort to cover that Lonely Planet Top 10 Places To See in Tokyo list.  Now, I'm still a tourist, but I have "reduced" my Japan experience to going to the grocery store, cleaning my apartment, hanging out with friends on weekends, and going to work during the week.  I'm attempting to learn basic Japanese, and even though I'm not living with a host family, I get to experience Japan' second home: the work environment.

The past few weeks I've been especially restless. I've hit that moment where I'm tired of touring Tokyo; I want to experience familiarity, yet there's this little slice of guilt that haunts me, reminding me that I have yet to see so many places in Japan.  I have resorted to reminding myself of the NZ study abroad group - focus on life in Japan.  Be thankful for the every day situations and relationships.  Revel in your trips to the grocery store.  Study the language.  Enjoy life as a Japanese would. 

It's time when things start blooming in Tokyo - soon the cherry blossoms will be a big attraction

Things I'll miss... or not.

I just purchased a plane ticket to Hokkaido (Japan's northernmost island) today.  My contract with Bunkyo Gakuin University is up come March 24, and the plan now is to move up to Hokkaido to hang out and travel with Tom for a few months.  That means I have only about a month left in Tokyo, which has made me particularly reflective. 

Hokkaido, specifically Tomakomai, is much different than Tokyo as requires a little more work to be comfortable.  I was just in Hokkaido last weekend for the Sapporo Snow Festival, and during my stay I was reminded of the differences in living situations between Tom and I.  I have a convenient little apartment in the middle of Tokyo, which was built only a few years ago so the appliances are new and efficient.  I can easily rely on trains and buses to get me around, as the train station is a 3 minute walk from my front door and the a bus stop is even closer.  Tokyo has little to no snowfall (last night's inch of snow was the exception), so staying dry and warm is usually not an issue in the winter.  Let's just say I'm really comfortable in Tokyo, and frankly, a little bored.

A mini-convenience store located on the subway platform with more things than I could ever want

Hokkaido was an experience this last weekend.  It was filled with snow and ice festivals, skiing, mountains, and trips to coastal cities.  It was also filled with cold showers, old apartments, kerosene heaters, icy sidewalks, and long walks.  Tom's apartment is far from new and has experienced years of misuse.  The shower is a crank-and-light, gas-heated, piece-of-crap that has a less than desirable water pressure.  The kerosene heater heats one out of the five main rooms in the apartment, so everything has been centralized in one room including the bed, mini-couch, washer, kotatsu (heated coffee table), and TV.  The local train station is a 25-minute walk in the snow and ice-covered sidewalks, and the trains leave half as frequently and are about twice as expensive than Tokyo.  The temperature fluctuated last weekend between -5-10 C and required a lot of gear to stay warm at the many festivals and outdoor activities.  Everything that is avoidable or a non-issue in Tokyo became a challenge in Hokkaido.  Despite all of these frustrations, I found myself happier there. 

The main living space in Tom's apartment

Convenience is nice, but it leaves something to be desired.  When daily life is easy, it leaves little for you to work for.  Working and waiting for the apartment to warm up made me appreciate the heater.  Same with a warm shower.  Trips to the grocery store became more meaningful and rewarding.  There's something especially satisfying as you defrost from a long day skiing over a hot bowl of ramen or dry off after a cold shower in front of the heater.

Tom and I on Mount Isola at the Rusutsu Ski Resort in Hokkaido

Sure, I'll miss the 7-11 around the corner from my apartment and the temperate Tokyo climate, but I more look forward to face little challenges in life to make life more meaningful in Hokkaido.

Culinary Creativity

I've always thought myself to be inventive (or at least flexible) when it comes to cooking thanks to years of Food Network conditioning and food "experiments," but after five months in a foreign country where I don't speak the language, I can now be confident in my culinary creativity.

After my arrival five months ago, I quickly found that unless I wanted to spend a fortune on groceries every week buying food that's easily recognizable and Western like cheese, butter, meat, cereal, peanut butter, etc. (things that are not-so-coincidentally unhealthy), I had to adapt and start cooking food that's popular in Japan.  That means venturing into the grocery store with an open mind and a good dose of patience.  That's an interesting box of... green stuff.  I wonder what it is...? 
  
My grocery runs have become more of a guessing game than anything, so I've now begun researching recipes and writing down the Japanese kanji for the item to try to find in the store.  It makes for long trips, scanning the isles for those two kanji written on the back of my hand, but I don't mind.  This method has allowed me to learn some kanji and to leave the store confidently knowing that I indeed bought rice wine vinegar, or at least something similar with vinegar, not cooking sake.
  

  
Japanese curry complete with a cute Pooh and Piglet

As long as there are pictures, I usually do OK.


The WORST is when a Japanese label is slapped over English instructions; I usually allow myself a few minutes to attempt to remove the label before relenting.


Some foods I've been able to latch on quite fast because it's cheap and fairly healthy (and easily identifiable in the store).  This would be true with curry.  I'd compare Japan's fascination with curry to the State's fascination with Mexican food.  Japan has taken curry and made it its own, found in the plethora of curry options in the isles of the supermarket, similar to the U.S.'s Taco Bells.  Japan's curry is sweeter and milder than Indian or Thai curry, and definitely not as spicy.  Despite this, I'm still able to find Thai and Indian spices for curry.  My new obsession is to make a red Thai curry with Japanese vegetables like lotus root and Japanese sweet potatoes, which are much more affordable and accessible than some of the familiar vegetables like bell peppers or vegetables that are popular in true Thai/Indian curries like peas and lemongrass.  When I say obsession, I mean obsession; curry has been my meal of choice for the past two days and there is still some waiting for me in the fridge for lunch and dinner.
 

The makings for a Japanese-Thai curry: Japanese sweet potato, carrot, potatoes, onion, green beans, ginger, lotus root, coconut milk, sesame oil, and red curry paste

All of these culinary excursions have exercised my creativity and made me a little more outgoing, both concerning food and socially.  I'm not afraid to ask for help in the supermarket, I have been trying new restaurants and foods, and I'm excited to share my new meals with friends.  The one downside is my need to counter my eating with some exercise.  That's what the walk to the store is for, right?

Homemade red curry, mango lassi (to cut the heat), and naan. Om nom nom.

Side Street Adventures

This weekend I don't have anything planned.  Last weekend I remedied an open schedule with a solo adventure to Enoshima Island south of Tokyo which was a success.  Despite it being a day trip, expenses quickly mount up in Japan, especially when you are near Tokyo. I spent $35 just in train tickets, plus $20 for food and $25 in souvenirs; a day trip cost me $80.


View from West side of Enoshima Island

 It's about time for my loan payments to be deducted from my bank account, so I'm looking for a cheaper entertainment option this weekend in Tokyo.  My number one cheap choice: going on a walk around my neighborhood.

It sounds simple, and it is, but I get more out of these side street walks than many other excursions I make around the city.  Plus, you get the added bonus of exercise if you make it long enough (another thing that's expensive in Tokyo are gym memberships).  Tokyo is an old city, old enough to be developed before grid-patterned city planning was popular.  The result is a maze of streets, both large and small.  I'm always discovering new ways to get to my favorite grocery store, and I usually encounter something new and fascinating on these adventures. 

I have yet to get my bearings in Tokyo; I have no idea where north is, and I don't know if it would be useful to know.  I get turned around when I enter a new alley, but that makes the adventure that much more exciting.  I do stay around my neighborhood, so when I pop out of the maze work of alleys, I can identify where I am rather than becoming completely lost in a new area.  I make sure to wear comfortable shoes and to bring along my camera, and then I see what I can find.  In the past I've come across interesting architecture, interesting stores, a hidden pond, beautiful gardens, a park, a great restaurant, a tea shop, a handful of shrines, friendly cats, English-speaking natives, and great views of the area I've called home for five months. 

Just one of the thousands of alleyways in Tokyo, and a happy fat cat enjoying the sun in Ueno Park

I've discovered how fun it is to look at something like you've never seen it before; it's difficult to disassociate yourself, but once you get past the familiarity it works wonders.  Soon you notice things you've never 'seen' before.  Even though Enoshima Island was new and exciting, I'm just as anxious to step out of my apartment for an affordable adventure around Bunkyo-ku.

What is American culture?

I've been busy preparing lesson plans for a few groups of students who will be studying abroad in the United States and Canada.  It's more difficult than I had imagined.  We (my co-worker and I) will be teaching the students 'Airport English' (i.e. how to get through customs), how to introduce themselves with a little more fluidity than taught in the average Japanese high school (Hello. How are you? I'm fine.), and how to interact with a host family.  I asked another co-worker, a Japan native who studied abroad in Australia, what information she might have wished she had when she first went abroad.  The first thing she said was, 'How to explain Japanese culture.'

Funny, isn't it? 

I'm biased and naïve, but I think Americans have a particularly difficult situation.  At least that's what I felt the first few weeks in the chat lounge after trying to answer an American culture-related question.  The United States is a relatively new country; only about 300 years old.  It's made up of a conglomeration of cultures and traditions and is consistently morphing into something new.  In contrast, Japan is a nearly homogeneous nation (over 90% Japanese) that is well over 2,000 years old.  I could probably give a more thorough overview of Japanese culture than American right now if I was asked, and that's precisely because we're never asked to explain our culture when we're living it every day.

When immigrants arrive in the United States, whether it be Hmong in the 80s and 90s, the Irish and German in the 1700s, or the Latinos today, people come to the United States with the idea that things will be better in the U.S.  I'm currently reading a book about a displaced Hmong family that fled from the war from Laos to Thailand, and when the refugee camp closed down in Thailand, to St. Paul, Minnesota.  They came to Minnesota to begin a life filled with hope.  Parents wanted their children to assimilate and get an education to have a better future than they did; it was difficult to maintain Hmong traditions while working graveyard shifts and taking care of children.  They assimilate, but to what?

My great-grandmother and family on a farm in Iowa

I've been asked to explain American culture before.  Usually it comes down to being loud in public and not being afraid to hug someone.  The geographical scale of the U.S. creates more issues. I'm often asked what people are like in the United States, and I start talking about 'Minnesota Nice.'  The entire land mass of Japan can fit into the state of Montana, so maybe it's better to think locally. 

I've heard about the 'melting pot' theory.  It sounds nice, but doesn't sound so believable when broken down: people come from all corners of the earth to the U.S., leave their traditions and heritage behind, and melt into one big, steaming pot of American-nes.  I wonder what kind of melty blob we create...?  A college professor opened me up to the 'salad bowl' metaphor; I'm a tomato, you're lettuce, we're individuals but we complement one another.  I prefer this allegory as it acknowledges that we may all be living in the same serving container, and we may all be covered with the same salad dressing (take that as you will), but we still have individual mannerisms, beliefs, and traditions.  Sure, there are probably quite a few generalizations to make about American culture.  We favor individualism, low power distance relationships, straight-forwardness, and the avoidance of personal questions (don't you DARE ask me how old I am).  Beyond that, we're just a cucumber here, an onion there. 

The W-Curve

I've found myself a bit lost lately.  Lost in the sense that I don't know what I should do with myself. 

It's now been a little over five months since I arrived in Japan.  The first four were filled with trips to Hokkaido, the exchange students were a daily challenge, and graduate school was always on my mind.  Then December 23rd hit, I said goodbye to the exchange students and my old apartment, and Tom and I were on a plane back to Minnesota for a 10-day holiday to celebrate Christmas with our friends and family.  Despite the seemingly short time at home, I came back to Japan refreshed and ready to start a new year that was to be filled with free time and hobbies that have been placed on the back burner for months and years. I stocked up on painting supplies, I bought a Japanese language book, I was armed with new books on my Kindle, I was in a new apartment, I was ready to enjoy myself! 

Flash forward to today, January 26.  It hasn't been a month since our return from the States and I'm already frustrated with my empty calendar.  What was once used hourly, my planner has just become another forlorn object in my bag.  There aren't daily 'to do' lists, my graduate school applications are filled out and sent in, the University I work at has cleared out for spring vacation and assignments are getting thin. 

I'm not bored.  I still have my paints, my books, my T.V. shows. After frustrating nights of idleness and contemplating reasons why I don't have any interest in painting or reading for hours on end like I had dreamed of only a month ago, I learned something about myself.  I need to read as a reward, to paint as an escape.  I need companionship, old friends that I've known for years to spend time with.  My first five months in Japan were distracted.  It felt like I was studying abroad for a few months, not living here for a year.  If I would have known better, I would have prepared myself and contacted a group of expatriates that gather on a weekly or monthly basis. 

This comes with the territory.  I'm living in the most expensive city in the world and probably the most over-stimulating city in the world.  I've never lived abroad for more than 4 1/2 months before, and I'm just hitting 5 in Japan.  And what's funny about this is that I learned about this transition period in college as a Resident Assistant training to help us deal with the incoming, soon-to-be temperamental  freshmen - it's called the W Curve.  First you have your first high, the honeymoon stage!  Life is wonderful!  You're living abroad! And then you crash, culture shock!  Then you assimilate, a little bit, get the hang of things; you're at the initial adjustment stage.  Just as I started to feel like Tokyo was familiar (yes, this is about me now), I hit mental isolation.  It's the worst stage of all, or so I think.  This is a time of feeling caught between two worlds.  My new environment is still not as comfortable as home used to be, and home is now not as familiar as it once was. I don't feel like I completely belonging in either place.

I need to bring myself back to RA training and be honest with myself.  This will be a tough time in my life. My future is as certain as... well, something that's not certain at all (I tried to find a Japanese example, but 90% of life in Japan is certain).  I should have prepared myself for this moment, but instead I'm trying to catch up and learn how to be an involved and healthy expat in Tokyo.  With just a little bit of searching, I have found two gathering locations in the city for people just like me needing some companionship.  Next Tuesday an English comedian will be at the Pink Cow, a popular expat hangout, so I've invited my co-worker to go along.  I'm making more efforts to schedule hangouts with Japanese friends who aren't going away for Spring Vacation. 

I'm at a low point, but what's getting me through is the simple knowledge that it won't last forever.  I'm in a developed country, living comfortably, but just more isolated than I hoped.  I can change that.  Soon enough I'll come out of the W-curve on top, at the final stage, acceptance and integration.

To understand or not to understand

I now know a few words I should have picked up months ago.  Wakarimashita (分かりました。), I understand, and wakarimasen (分かりません。), I don't understand.  Nihon-go wa wakarimasen = I don't understand Japanese.  Wakarimashita ka? = Do you understand?  I kick myself whenever I pick up something I should have known from the start.  Knowing these few combinations would have gotten me out of confusing situations more elegantly and, more importantly, a lot faster.  Instead of pretending I understood the Subway sandwich artist's questions and therefore unwillingly getting an entirely different sandwich than I had premeditated, I could have stood tall, said I didn't understand, and finished the sandwich-building process with dignity as I pointed and gestured towards the tomatoes and pickles. 

I see and hear updates from colleagues stationed around Japan.  Some know quite a few kanji, and most at least know hiragana and katakana (if you want to understand what hiragana, katakana, and kanji consist of, check out this website).  I, however, produce giggles from co-workers with my workbook spread out, engulfed in concentration as I practice writing 'apple' in hiragana. 

a glimpse of my hiragana workbook



I don't want to place blame when it comes to my lack of Japanese speaking and writing abilities; the blame should be placed on me, but I'm going to go ahead and point my finger at the GRE. 

This past August through December was filled with study sessions at Starbucks (I need incentives, OK?), graduate school applications, and a preoccupation with the future.  I turned down invitations to socialize, and felt guilt-ridden when I was doing something other than studying.  I could have been anywhere in the world those few months and wouldn't have noticed.  I would be reminded of my international status when arriving at work on Mondays and not understanding 80% of what was transpiring.  Preparing myself for the GRE and applications felt like a full-time job.

At this point I wonder if it's worth it, to put my nose to the grindstone and learn more Japanese.  I'll be finished with my job at the end of March, and I may leave only a few months after that.  Learning hirigana is useful to an extent, but I will need to learn the Japanese meanings in addition to this new phonetic alphabet if I want to make the most of it.  The thing that keeps me going is a recent memory of Tom gleefully reading hiragana at a train station.  Like me, he has an ample amount of time at work to do what he likes (to an extent), and part of that time this new year has been spent learning written Japanese.
His joy found when sounding out a station name has led me to the conclusion that I will continue to work on my Japanese writing and speaking abilities.  Two months is short in the scheme of things, but when I consider how many interactions I will have with Japanese-speaking persons at the grocery store, restaurants, and school, it's a long time.  Maybe I'll only ever use Japanese at Fuji Ya in Uptown, but that's beside the point.  The studying exercises my mind and prepares me for a future filled with at least another two years of formal education and a lifetime of learning.