Where I Intended to Be

Rebel Rebel August 21, 2009

I think that one of the good things about living overseas is that it gives Americans the opportunity to experience “culture” in a way that I don’t think is possible in the United States.

In the States, we certainly have our national customs and rites of passage. Regardless of religious affiliation or race, I would argue that most Americans have experienced Easter chocolate, Mother’s Day flowers, Father’s Day neckties, long summer vacations, the autumn back to school season, Thanksgiving parades, and the Winter Holidays – just to name a few. Yet, whenever one of my students or Japanese friends asks me to describe/explain some facet of American culture, it’s always difficult for me. I often sound like I don’t know what I’m talking about.

 “Tell me about Thanksgiving, Julie.”
“Well… it’s usually the fourth Thursday in November, and we generally get together and have a special dinner.”
“What do you eat?”
“Usually turkey. Then, it kind of depends. Some people eat mashed potatoes, green beans, stuffing, or pumpkin pie.”
“That’s it?”
“Er, no. I mean, you can eat whatever you want. I guess.”
“For example?”
“Well, not everyone eats turkey. And some people don’t like pumpkin pie.”
“What do they eat instead of turkey?”*
“Pizza Ham? Or lamb? I’m not sure. Lots of things.”
“…are you sure this is a real holiday?”

And so forth. I have conversations like this regarding what American schools are like, what American school lunches are like, what the winter holidays are like, and even what summer break is like. The United States is such a large country and it has so many people, that I generally feel as though by Japanese standards I fail at being a representative of America. I am more like, “A Representative of those born in Florida, semi-raised in Ecuador, further nurtured in Florida, guided under a firm institution in Maryland and consistently influenced by Latin American and Polish culture.”

Oh, and then I moved to Japan.

And in Japan, it’s different. Very different. There are systems and customs that go back thousands of years. There are patterns and behaviors that unite the entire country, regardless of locale – take schools for example. Even though each institution has its little quirks and traditions, I believe that the following can be said of every Japanese school:

– Students have their own classrooms and the teachers all share one staff room.
– Students have to excuse themselves before entering and leaving the staff room.
– All schools are divided into class periods (I didn’t have official class periods until I got to middle school).
– All students participate in yearly culture festivals and sports festivals.
– These culture festivals and sports festivals are so ingrained and the format so standardized that parents (and even some grandparents) can attest to having done the same kinds of races and games when they were in school.
– All elementary and middle schools have some kind of school lunch that is served by the students.
– All middle and high school students have the same uniforms for class and P.E.
– All middle school students have some kind of nifty name-brand sports bag made out of shiny vinyl that attaches to the back of their bicycles.
– Come to think of it, although students certainly do ride school buses to school, bike riding to school (with uniform helmets, overcoats, and rain suits) is another thing you’ll find everywhere in Japan.

I could go on, but you get the idea. Japan is very much all-on-the-same-page.

(Additionally, you can bet on the entire country getting sick once we hit January. I remember that when I got the flu my first year here, I was positively elated because it gave me the feeling of being able to bond with the community. Like my neighbors and coworkers, I, too, was full of annual disease.)

Granted, this sense of simultaneous nation-wide behavior and attitudes is not all that remarkable if you look at other countries with a relatively solid native population (like Europe or other parts of Asia). But, I think that it’s particularly noticeable in Japan given the way the rest of the country seems to function. Also, consider that I’m experiencing all of this against the backdrop of American culture, where store managers train under professional jugglers to learn how to cater to all of the specific groups of people that potentially reside within a community. Here, it’s very simple. During the month of December, Japan prepares for the New Year. There are, of course, Christmas-related items around, but it has nothing whatsoever to do with catering to Japanese Christians (who, I may add, will still be celebrating the New Year).

I suggested at the beginning of my post that I think it’s good for to have this experience – and I still maintain that. I find something comforting about these rhythms – especially when I become accustomed to them and fall into step with everyone else. I’ll admit that I am always extremely proud of myself whenever I can participate in some kind of event with full knowledge of what’s expected of me and what needs to be done. These aren’t my traditions and I didn’t grow up with them, but I can learn and be an active participant. (I would warrant that my sense of accomplishment goes above and beyond what is necessary or due, but I digress.)

So, this sense of homogeneity is what brings me to today’s memory. Because as much as Japan seems to function on a national clock that everyone is synchronized to, there are exceptions and free radicals wandering around, doing their own thing and having a fantastic time. I do believe that I found some today.

If you’ve been keeping up to date on my activities at all recently, then you are probably aware that I have taken a great fancy to a nearby beach and have been going there several times a week to prostrate myself before the gods of skin cancer to relax and get my daily dose of vitamin D while enjoying the beauty of nature.

Last week was a huge holiday week for Japan because of Obon, and so the beach was crowded every day that I went. The line for snow cones was long and cumbersome, and I had more than one errant child step on me during their blood-thirsty-Spartan-esque run towards the ocean. I also invoked my Celebrity Magic  not only by being foreign, but also because I was a woman who chose not to shield myself from the Daystar with long sleeves, a floppy hat, long pants, gloves, and an umbrella. All countries have their standards of beauty, and I’ve been told that the Japanese love pale, flawless skin. As such, summer is sort of a horror season for many Japanese women, as they spend three months doing everything they can to avoid getting even a hint of a tan.

Me? I’m American. I recognize that tans = melanin protecting my skin cells from radiation. Too much sun = wrinkles and mutations in my DNA. But, I also know have this cultural thing where tan = somebody who goes outside – as in, leaves their house and does something that isn’t related to the T.V. or Internet. I was also an impressionable child and I came away from four years in Latin America with an appreciation for bronze skin (and Enrique Iglesias).

So, I slather on sunscreen before I leave for the beach, reapply once I get there, wear my sunglasses and only stay for two hours. Still, the lack of 14 layers of clothing + floppy hat + umbrella makes me an anomaly and last week I felt the additional heat of about 100 sets of incredulous eyes.

But that all changed starting last Monday. Why, you ask? Because Obon was over, and the majority of people felt that it was time to leave the countryside. Given that this area of Japan isn’t exactly Resort Central, most people have left to either return to their daily lives or to go someplace more exciting.

Some, however, have remained, and this is where today’s memory comes from. I got to the beach around 11, and compared to last week it was practically deserted; there were maybe seven or eight families scattered along the shore. To see such a difference in less than a week was incredible. After I finished setting up my spot, I stretched out on to my towel – and then I noticed something. Looking around, I confirmed that no one, no one on the beach was staring at me. And it wasn’t in that, “Oh, we really want to stare at you and maybe we kind of are out of the corner of our eyes but no, really, this rock is fascinating” way. It was most definitely in a, “Hey, we’re at the beach and enjoying ourselves. You are, too. Great!” way.  Given how sparsely the beach was populated, I’d totally expected the opposite.

Furthermore:
1)      I was not the only one braving the elements sans umbrella.
2)      I saw a startling number of tattoos and creative body piercings (both are kind of sensitive issues here)
3)      There were women swimming with their children. 

I hesitated as to whether or not I should mention number 3. Honestly, it’s what stands out in my mind the most about today, but I don’t want to suggest that this is the exception rather than the rule. I remember that last week, I was more struck by how many women were avoiding the water and staunchly staying put underneath their umbrellas and tents. Today, however, I didn’t see a single tent. What I did see was every mother in the water with her children.

Although there were undoubtedly mothers swimming with their children last week, and the beach was simply too crowded for me to take note of it, my other observations together with imaginative disposition suggest another account.

It wants to say that the people I found on the beach today were those that were certainly aware of the national clock and the general need to go back to their homes and regular lives, but they chose to keep a different pace. They were the people that either couldn’t take a break last week or chose to keep on going in this remote part of the prefecture. Unmoved by thoughts of Osaka, Tokyo Disney, large aquariums, or fancy shopping, they decided to use this week the way that THEY wanted to – regardless of what other families were doing.

Maybe that is completely inaccurate. I wouldn’t be surprised – I am, after all, seeing things every day without what many would deem a “proper understanding” of this country. But the part of me that likes to observe things about the people around me maintains that this group today was different from last week’s. They were calmer, less judgmental, and focused on the pleasures of the moment. I felt a kinship with them; we all appear to be determined to see summer through to the very last day.

In the end, they contributed to what was a fantastically soothing afternoon by the sea.

*Don’t even get me started on tofurkey.

“Open up the book of madness,
read the page of life!”