Nihongo wa muzukashii desu yo!

I have always been good with language.  Well, I have always been good with my own language. Words come easily. My thoughts are in words (as compared to pictures or mathematical formulas). I approach the world through words, understand it's beauty through words, and express myself with words.

But because of this, learning a new language has been very difficult. I tried learning Spanish in high school and college. I studied for six years, but never really mastered more than basic conversation. Mostly because I was not interested in fluency. There was no real point. It was not necessary for my survival. Just convenient since I was living in the southwest.

Japanese is a different story. I really need to be able to speak and read. It is necessary for my survival. But my head is struggling to rewire itself from English to Japanese.  Naïvely I assumed I would learn language quickly by immersing myself. This is partially true. I have learned several useful phrases. I am able to conquer the small activities required by daily life, like buying groceries or asking which train I should take to get to X. but my lack of knowledge of sentence structure, verb conjugation, basic vocabulary, and kanji makes most simple activities difficult and frightening for me.

Thankfully I have an amazing support system here in Japan, including several people who speak almost fluent English. I have also found several apps and programs to help with the mechanics. And some good friends to practice on. I am working on it, but it is a long road.  Emersion might be easier in a more similar language, but what I have realized is language learning takes dedication, hard work, and patience.  Also a decent amount of courage. 

Omiyage: The perils of travel in Japan

Japan is a generous culture.  Part of this is because I am a foreigner (I do the same for my own guests), but part of it is Japanese culture itself.  In japan, gift giving is far more important and prevalent than in America.  Almost every occasion requires a gift.  First day of piano lessons? You need a gift.  Promotion at work? You need a gift. Starting a new job? You need a gift. Returning home from a trip (even the funeral of a relative)? You need a gift for just about everyone you interact with on a regular basis. This particular type of gift is called omiyage, and it is something I have struggled with understanding and mastering.

Omiyage is usually translated to souvenir in English.  This was my first stumbling block because it is definitely not a souvenir, at least not in my mind.  Souvenirs are special gifts you get for yourself of a very select few of your nearest and dearest.  They are personal (usually) and almost always things (toys, key chains, clothing, whisky flavored condoms, etc.)  Honestly, in my opinion, the less touristy the better, but sometimes you just have to pick up something cheesy for that one friend.  I always search long and hard for the perfect souvenir.  It has to pretty much scream the intended recipient’s name.  Usually it enforces an inside joke or otherwise capitalizes on some aspect of my relationship with that person.

Not so with omiyage.  Omiyage should be edible.  In a country with a very limited space, this is important. So no snow globes or tiny spoons.  Omiyage should also be a specialty of the region visited.  Each area of Japan has specific specialties: Minoh specializes in tempura maple leaves; Kyoto has green tea.  And you should buy in bulk. Omiyage is not something you agonize over. You want the most bang for your yen since you will need to share with everyone. There is good news for your wallet, though, as a foreigner you are not expected to have omiyage.  But be prepared for an overwhelming sense of guilt because you will receive omiyage from every Japanese person you know.

And this is where my frustration with omiyage really starts.  Working at a school, I have an extensive list of colleagues (about forty in total).  I also have four people that live with or near me.  So that is almost fifty people who routinely give me snacks from the places they have traveled in Japan.  I actually had one teacher give me a wafer cookie she picked up on the way back from her mother's funeral. Omiyage is that important.  Now maybe it’s my southern upbringing, but when someone gives you a gift, you are honor bound to do the same in the future.  That is just common courtesy.  Add to that the crippling need for fairness American children are indoctrinated with, and suddenly I was feeling like I needed to have fifty gifts from each adventure. I did not want any of my new friends and colleagues to feel left out when I had gifts for some and not others.

So when I took a trip to Mount Koya, my first trip outside the city, I made sure to bring about fifty dollars extra for omiyage.  I made sure to tell the tour guide I was with that I absolutely needed to buy omiyage.  I spent the whole trip trying to decide if I should buy in this shop or wait for the next. My travel companions kept assuring me we would all have time to buy omiyage, but I noticed some shopping as we went.  When we did stop on our way out of town, I spent several minutes on each item, trying to figure out which had the most individually wrapped packages inside. I ended up with a tin of something with thirty-six pieces and a box of twenty delicious ginger cookies (they had samples). I also picked up two larger gifts. One for Otose, who has been amazing. And another for my first kimono lesson on the following Monday. I was set! Sunday night I joyfully packed my omiyage in my backpack, excited to finally take part in this important Japanese tradition.

Only, when I opened my tin of thirty-six cookies, they were in packs of six.  My twenty ginger cookies? Packs of two.  So for all my fretting and searching, I only had sixteen treats.  For forty people.  My heart sank. Full of self-loathing and regret, I gave treats to the three English teachers I work closest with and the three vice principals that sign my time card. I couldn't give out the rest since I could not find a way to choose some teachers and not others to share with. I started wishing we didn't all share the same staff room.  I could be selective in private. As it was, the treats sitting on the desks of those I did share with were a burning badge of shame as teachers filed in Monday morning. I had utterly flailed. Not only was I short on treats, I was showing favoritism.

Thankfully this was all in my head, according to the teachers I did give treats to. I was assured that I was not expected to bring omiyage (they were delightfully surprised I did), and if I did bring it, those not receiving it would not feel bad. I am not sure how much I believe them, though. Even it if is true, I would like to show my appreciation to all of my coworkers.  They have all done so much to make me feel welcomed and accepted.  So I will just have to try even harder on my next trip.  I will have to make sure that each item is individually wrapped. That way when I buy thirty-six, I get thirty-six.  I will also need to research the local specialty - in this case Kyoto. And I will need to make sure I have everything before arriving at school.

The omiyage tradition is interesting and can be a really fun experience. But it can also be a double edged sword for foreigners. Cultural and moral differences really get in eh way with this one. On the other hand, trying to understand why I was struggling with such a simple tradition led me to a greater understanding of the differences between home and Japan.

A relaxing soak: Bathing in Japan

One of the most frightening and horizon widening adventures for any American in Japan has to be the onsen or sento.  Our country was pretty much founded by people who thought England wasn't uptight enough, so it is no surprise that public bathing is a huge hurdle for many of those traveling and living in the Land of the Rising Sun.  The subject of American prudishness could fill volumes, so suffice it to say I, like many foreigners, took a little while to build up the courage to disrobe in public.

My first experience with a bathtub in Japan was in the privacy of my hotel room the first week I was here.  

If this looks tiny, that's because it is.  So tiny!

As a fan of a good, long soak, I filled the tub with hot water and prepared to unwind.  But the tub was terribly uncomfortable.  I am used to having to choose between stretching my legs out straight and keeping my torso underwater.  Even tubs in America aren't long enough for that.  But in this case, stretching out wasn't even an option.  I would have to spend the bath with my knees pulled up close to my chin.  That would have been okay, if it weren't for some other Japanese design features that made use of the tiny, tiny space that was the hotel bathroom.  Rather than the gentle sloping back of my tub at home, my hotel tub was straight up and down.  It was also very narrow (to the point my wide hips almost didn't fit).  So I spent an uncomfortable five minutes with my knees pulled up to my chest and my arms crossed over the top of my knees before I finally gave up. 

Surprised I could last even that long.  Hotel bathrooms are like coffins here.

My second bath would not be for a few weeks.  While my share house has a shower, it is an older style house so there is no bath, just neighborhood sentos.  I had to wait till my first trip to a Japanese family home, outside the city, to try again.  I was at Otose's family home.  This second attempt at bathing had its own set of obstacles.  

Roomier, but still problematic.

The tub was huge and the water nice and hot, but, in true Japanese fashion, it was not fresh water just for me.  I was the second one to use the water in the tub that night.  Now Japanese bathing requires the bather to first wash outside the tub, so the water remains mostly clean from one bather to the next (unlike medieval European traditions that gave rise to that amusing idiom about babies and bath water).  Still, I was a little unsettled to be soaking in the same water as strangers.  The fact that I was not the last one to bathe also weighed heavy on my mind and I was only able to manage fifteen minutes before giving up.  So I returned to Osaka and my shower only house still longing for a long, relaxing soak.

It took a while, but finally I could not take life without a tub any longer.  I convinced Otose to take me to the local sento, playfully called New York, and show me the ropes.  I am not going to lie, I was very nervous.  My experience with public nudity over the age of five or six was limited to a handful of times, usually when I had been drinking and there was a body of water nearby.  I had visited a Roman style bath in Albuquerque, but always with a friend and swimsuit bottoms.

But I made it through the door.  I managed to get undressed.  I stepped into the bathroom and sheepishly made my way to one of the faucets.  No one looked.  No one acknowledged me.  No one cared.  The three older Japanese women who were there just went about their bathing.  It was still a little uncomfortable to be naked around strangers, but it was not as bad as I was expecting (honestly, I expected a lot of staring, since many Western women had told me this would happen, but I was the one staring as I tried to figure out what to do).  But the onnanohitotachi kept to themselves.  One offered me a larger stool, which was much appreciated, and showed me how to use the shower head, but the woman's side of the bath house was quiet overall.  From the opposite side, the men's side, we could hear splashing and children playing.  I had seen a man enter with his two young children at the same time as me.

This is nicer than my local sento, but I thought it might help to have a visual.

All in all, my first sento experience was my most successful bathing experience yet.  There were four large tubs at this sento.  Three were very hot and I could only stay in them for a few minutes.  But I found the fourth to be just right.  I enjoyed my soak for about ten minutes before boredom set in.  Combined, I spent about twenty five enjoyable minutes soaking.  However, it would have been better with friends to talk to.

My final judgment on Japanese bathing - it is fun, but I still like my big, white tub at home the best.  Not because of the privacy or anything like that, but because I can enjoy a glass of wine and book as I soak away a long day.  Not to mention all the bubble bath and Lush bath bombs.  That is the kind of bath I like.

2015 - Year of the Ram

This January 1st was the first time I have celebrated New Year’s outside the United States - away from confetti, streamers, Times Square broadcasts, Dick Clark, and Auld Lang Syne.  Personally, it was a little underwhelming.  But that was my own fault.

New Year is one of the biggest celebrations in Japan.  It is a time for family, rest, travel, and new beginnings.  Very different from my American celebrations.  This year I spent the holiday between both worlds.  I was traveling in Tokyo with watashi no ryoshin, so I missed the champagne soaked gaijin revelry in Dotenbori, but I also shied away from crashing traditional Japanese celebrations at the larger shrines in Tokyo.  Not only did I feel it would be irreverent, but I was also uninterested in dealing with the epic crowds.

Instead I was in bed early, as happens more New Year’s Eves than not.  Dad was snoring, not so softly, nearby, and between episodes of anime I thought about my New Year’s guidelines. 

I call them guidelines because resolutions seems so rigid.  Also because I hear the word in Geoffrey Rush's Captain Barbosa voice -

This year, however, I feel confident I can follow my guidelines.  As I lay in the rented apartment in Tokyo, trying to ignore the snoring, I thought about what I truly wanted to accomplish by living in Japan one more year (as compared to moving back in March).  What would haunt me if I didn't do it?  What was superfluous fluff I would never accomplish?  What goals could I set to become a better person?  I had already accomplished one of my perennial guidelines - lose weight - just by moving here, so what would I set out for myself for 2015?  Well, here it is.  Short and sweet.

-Learn Japanese

-Write more - especially on my blog

-Cook more Japanese food

And, most important

-Take every opportunity to travel and do Japanese things

Learning Japanese aside, I am doing a pretty impressive job of fulfilling these.  I am excited to spend this year abroad, doing all I can to better myself.

While I may have been asleep at midnight, I did make it to Kiyomizu Kannando in Ueno Park on January 1st with Okasan and Otosan where this interesting guy gave me my fortune for the new year.

Here's what it said -

In the valley nightingales are singing, and under the edge of eaves plum blossoms are beginning to open.

Hard time has gone.  You are becoming happier and happier like flowers beginning to bloom.  Try everything with confidence.

Happy belated New Year from Japan.  I hope you will all have a happy and prosperous 2015.  Even if you can't keep all of your resolutions, I hope you are able to achieve the ones that will make you a happier person.  Ganbatte and akemashite omedetou gozaimasu.