The earmark of my third week here in Ye Old Nippon having passed, I find myself coming back to the OIP Blog to report some rather startling news: I, Georgetown junior, Nashville-raised, blond gal, have begun to assimilate.
I’ll write the next few sentences with little content assuming that the majority of you are either chuckling to yourselves at my attempt for wry humor, or staring at the screen thinking that perhaps I need to look in the mirror. So, I’ll say it again, dear readers. Assimilation has started. Cue the background music themed for narration.
Less than a week after I arrived here, thanks to the help of some friends who I am forever indebted to, I was able to jump into life alone in the city pretty quickly. Armed with the directions to a 100Yen shop, a metropolitan Tokyo map, and the knowledge not to mess with the elderly women of the nation (ever, really. This isn’t a joke. These women are fierce. My goal is to have some small percentage of their iron will by the time I’m 60), I was able to forage for meals, find my way to Keio campus and maintain my legal status in Japan. There was a lot of shrugging and going “what the hell, it’s fine I got on the wrong train, I can take a detour to Hokkaido” and “well, if it’s in a grocery store, it has to be edible, am I right or am I right?” in that first week, as you can probably guess.
But by the second week, something changed. Armed with not only a few pots and pans, but also a cell phone and a rice cooker, I began noticing that whenever I got on the train I was overwhelmed by an urge to snooze. I’ve commented on the fact that everyone here tends to ignore everyone else in their general vicinity, especially when forced into crowded spaces like trains, and the best way to do that is to sleep, or at least pretend to. I was freaked out by this at first; getting onto a train and having it look like everyone’s been knocked out by some sightless sleeping gas isn’t the best visual. I depended on my iPod or the fact that I had no idea where I was actually going to keep myself occupied. But after the second week, I now step on the train for Tamachi, and as soon as those doors close, my eyes close too. It’s almost Pavlovian.
Perhaps the biggest key to my assimilation is my reaction to other foreigners which began just recently. The international students who I’ve begun to be acquainted with and the friends who arrived in Japan with me around the same time have all remarked on the same, odd occurrence: when we run into another foreigner we don’t know, say on the street, in the store, sitting in a train, we are shocked, almost disproportionately so. It’s almost as if our brains are saying “What are you doing here?,” like we have more of a right to be on that street, or in that store, or sitting in that train. Now, what I’m trying to figure out, is whether we’ve started to be surprised in this way to other foreigners because we feel that they are going to attempt to replace us – like they can fulfill our roles as international students or workers better, as speakers of different languages – or whether we’ve begun reacting like this because, for the most part, this is the reaction we receive every minute of every day from everyone around us. And, if it is the latter, then this means that we have begun to see ourselves as part of the Tokyo community so much so that we perceive outsiders, and yet don’t perceive ourselves as being part of that category.
While some may think this is harsh, and other think it is proving Japan is xenophobic, the only thing I can tell you is that both sides are wrong. One has to come to Japan to know that the people may not exhibit the easy, on-the-street camaraderie that Americans so prize, but the Japanese are none the less affectionate and friendly, and will stop at no ends to help out a friend. You can’t come here and expect every person on the street you brush by to smile and offer you dinner suggestions. The Japanese have a much deeper expectation for friendship, where each person must truly get to know the other before departing from what some may call the “homogeneous” mold the Japanese are so often criticized for. Diversity is here, as is humor and joy and goofiness. You just can’t expect to see it out on the street. But once you make a friend, someone who you really have something in common with, and share meals with and enjoy their thoughts and opinions, oh, the diversity you’ll see.
I’ll be the first to admit that Japan has its drawbacks, but hey, so does every country (don’t even get me started on the election. Frankly, I’m happy to be out of D.C. for this year…) And every drawback has its reasons, and its rewards if you twist it right. So what’s better? Relationships founded on the simple, talking-to-strangers-in-the-grocery-store-is-totally-okay idea or the deep, soulful, one must truly connect to their partner before they can discuss their true selves and dislikes idea? I frankly don’t know. Because I really do enjoy talking to random people in Kroger about brands of bacon. But I also like knowing that when my Japanese friends start telling me about their favorite bands, it means that I’ve earned their trust, and it makes me want to work harder at keeping our relationship important.
But back to the topic at hand. I’m pretty sure the ladies at the local market, Inageya, have started to recognize me, because they no longer not stare in fear when I put my basket of things down to be rung up. And the obaa-san, (elderly woman) who runs the little fruit-and-flower shop on my way to the station has started to incline her head just a teensy bit when I pass by (which in return, I almost fall over myself to bow back to her). So, yeah, assimilation is happening. Maybe assimilation isn’t the best word for it; maybe it should be something more along the lines of “getting to be known” or “making my own place in a little Tokyo suburb.” Whatever it is, I think I like it.
And for those of you who skipped the post entirely, I offer pictures of my dorm room and the view. It’s pretty well decked out for Japan, with its own kitchenette, bathroom (with shower) and laundry machine. Enjoy!
