Lasting Impressions

 

It would be so easy to sum up Japan with stereotypes like, "Japan is the intersection of pop and traditional culture, and that's what makes it great" like I did in my first post. But to be honest, being in Japan was an amazing experience because it's all new to me, and I used it as an excuse to play all semester.  I'm just going to be frank now, and say what I'm supposing a lot of people are thinking. The reason I go to shrines and temples is because it's a reason to go outside, hang out with friends that mean everything to me, and eat delicious food. The picture above really sums up my experience in Japan well. People from all different countries hanging out under cherry trees together, and eating sushi, strawberries, whatever. Maybe I didn't experience Japanese culture to its full extent, but in my opinion, that's ok because I had an incredible time and made a thousand memories I never want to forget.

I've learned a lesson this semester. I took initiative this semester and went to see things in Kansai area as an excuse to have fun, not learn. When I talk to Japanese people, they so often say, "Arashiyama is famous, but I've never been there." To me, a tourist disguised as a student, it's unthinkable to not take advantage of these things less then an hour from your house. It also makes me wonder... what haven't I seen in Washington that's famous? What haven't I seen in Pullman? I feel like I have something new to look forward to when I go back to that little nowhere town- exploring the attractions in the area. Even if I do just end up back at the Daily Grind chatting with friends, I love talking to friends and drinking tea, so I'm game!

I love Japan, and I intend to come back one day. I will meet more awesome people, eat more awesome food, and see some more awesome sights. I realize this may not be the anthropological conclusion you were hoping for me to reach, but I'm happy with it because I feel it benefits me more then making some lofty assumption about Japanese culture and people. My motto of life is to live and learn, and above all have fun.

Matsuri

Japanese culture is rich with traditions, but by far the most fun is the matsuri. Matsuri translates to festival, but in my experience far exceeds any typical American festival I’ve ever witnessed. I find it fascinating that almost every town holds a matsuri (or several!) every year. Matsuri have their basis in Shinto religion (“the way of the gods”). The origins of each matsuri do differ, but a common purpose is to pacify or please the gods. There may be a goryo, or malicious spirit haunting an area, so the Japanese will set up a shrine, and then celebrate this god to keep it appeased. Of course, if you ask a young Japanese person why they go to a matsuri, they’ll most certainly tell you it’s for the great food and fun atmosphere.

There’s nothing quite as magical as walking down a narrow street in Japan, dimly lit with lanterns that cast a red glow on everything.  Furthermore, street is lined with game and shop tenants shout out egging you on- why don’t you try catching a gold fish? Meanwhile, you can’t help but buy a little something from every taiyaki, kasatera, kakigouri, takoyaki, yakisoba, frozen banana, mizuame stand you see. The most magical scene of all is to see girls fancied up in their summer yukata, walking alongside their geta-clad boyfriends. At your own pace, you fine the shrine or temple the matsuri is dedicated to and pay your respects and say a prayer. Toss a coin, clap your hands, shake a bell, say a prayer, buy a fortune and hope for the best.

Matsuri is a uniquely Japanese experience, and a certain must-do while visiting Japan.

High school Sport's Festival

Trending Vending Machines in Japan

A solar powered pop machine in Kyoto with the usual drink options

In the steaming summer of Japan you’re covered in sweat, the thick air is getting harder to breath, and all you can think of is how badly you want a cold (insert drink of choice here). But hang in there! For this is Japan, and Japan has a hardy supply of vending machines anywhere imaginable. Outside shrines, inside cemeteries, wedged between two buildings in an otherwise unusable space; wandering down any street in Japan, no matter how desolate or rural, you’re sure to cross one. Let’s face it, it has sort of become a trademark of Japan.

I remember the peak of summer three years ago when I’d be lying on my futon in an un-air-conditioned house. It was impossible to get comfortable so I’d just lie in a sticky heap without the energy to do anything. When the situation became unbearable, I’d finally be drawn out of my house by the incenting thought of a nice cold Pine Cider. I’d stand by the vending machine in our small neighborhood dominated by elderly Japanese women, listening to the semi and staring hopelessly into the thick forest surrounding the area. Who refills all these things?  I’d wonder while my brain melted into a puddle. Then I’d return home to collapse on my futon without giving it another thought.

While looking for inspiration for my blog, I just had to glance around my room. My room is littered with empty bottles. The classic “Evian”, the popular “namacha”, the interesting… “Jabaramaru”? What the heck is this? Yes, the variety in Japanese vending machines fascinates me to no end. When you see grape soda with jelly inside or crème brule latte, how can you resist?

The Japan Vending Machine Manufactures Association says there’s as many as one vending machine for every 23 people, which is pretty incredible, I think. These aren’t all for soda though! Somehow Japan has an amazing market for cell phone straps. It’s not uncommon to see 10 gaudy straps hanging from one itsy-bitsy cell phone, but that’s a different story. There are regular snack vending machines like in America, but also beer, cigarette, and sock vending machines. I even hear they have a vending machine that sells women’s used panties to perverts (or to whomever else in the market for them).

Built for convenience, it’s undeniable that vending machines are becoming an image of advancing Japanese culture. I’ve yet to see one of these elusive vending machine refillers, but  they are true heroes to those of us on the verge of heat-stroke in mid-summer. 

Stray Cats of Japan

A young stray queen missing an eye, Fukui, Japan

Last week as I was walking to school, I saw an orange tabby lounging in the morning sun in an empty driveway. I had seen this particular tom stalking the streets often in the evening, and I wanted to take this opportunity to meet him. You see, I’m very much a cat person. I crouched down beside the scruffy tom, extended my hand, and stroked his back gently. It was obvious as I withdrew my hand. He was dead. Regardless, I watched him closely, hoping I was wrong, and that perhaps the wind ruffling his fur was actually him breathing. A young Japanese man in business attire stopped next to me, and gasped a quiet, “Ara!” He looked from me, to the cat, and then back to me before consoling declaring the cat dead. I nodded and stood, then took my leave quite abruptly. Helplessness and agitation were already setting in as I marched onward towards the train station.

Poor tom. What could I have done? Even as I think this, other toms are marking their territory and doing their rounds. Queens in estrus are calling to them.  In another two months, she will bring another four to ten homeless cats into Japan’s alleys. It doesn’t end. Don’t Japanese people care about cats? I thought as rage bubbled up inside me. Is it so hard to spay and neuter your pets? The question is destined to loom over me for my entire life, regardless of my country.

Tom takes shelter in a shrine at Neyagawashi

The one intolerable thing about Japanese culture is their refusal to properly alter their pets. That’s right Japan, I’m calling you out. You have a stray cat problem. The problem is very simply understood, very painstakingly solved. First, Japanese don’t spay and neuter their pets because it’s expensive and inconvenient. These choices are then justified with weak claims about the animal’s freedom to reproduce. The sparse Japanese animal shelters don’t even spay or neuter their animals because they know no one will claim them; Japanese people rarely buy used things. Stray dogs and cats will be euthanized in a short two weeks time, but at least these animals won’t face starvation, lethal illness, or a violent death. Finally, well-intentioned people feed cat colonies, thus allowing them to thrive and reproduce. The Japanese feeding these cats don’t realize their cat colony will increase exponentially until they simply can’t afford to feed their cats anymore. If Japanese people could come to understand the ill effects of refusing to spay and neuter their pets, I believe these compassionate people would make the right decisions.

A black stray at Fushimi Inari clearly suffering from sickness

A dusty stray living near Hirakata Station

A cat from Neyagawashi's shrine's colony

An inquisitive stray with a slight eye infection

Photography of Annie Leibovitz and James Nachtwey

           I know people who vehemently oppose posed photography because they think it’s fake. Annie Leibovitz would disagree. To Annie Leibovitz, I believe posing a photo is an art form about trying catch a glimpse into the person one is photographing. The most interesting thing that stood out to me about her is that she denies having brilliant ideas, she says they are stupid, very simple ideas. Regardless, she has the confidence to carry through with these ideas, and an amazing eye.

          The first photo of Annie Leibovitz I want to show is a portrait that despite its simplicity, stands out to me as beautiful and insightful. One characteristic of her style is that it’s often very flashy or dramatic, and always posed. The second photo I chose exemplifies this. It’s beautiful and fun to look at and to try find or create hidden meaning.

              James Nachtwey is famous for his poignant war photos. These are photos of what’s really happening in this world, and he is tries to make points about the importance of peace. I chose the above photo because of the impact it had on me, and likely has had on others as well. When I was studying journalism in high school, his quote, “If it’s not good enough, you’re not close enough” had a large impact on me. I took it literally as well as figuratively. Instead of relying on my camera’s zoom function, I always got right into the middle of the action. By doing this, I was able to understand the people’s feelings who I was photographing. I never went as far as James Nachtwey though. I must admit, even though James Nachtwey has the best intentions, I think he may be a little too insensitive to the people he’s photographing at times. He tries to be respectful, but because he makes his living photographing other people’s suffering, I imagine it’s hard on him and those being photographed. I understand people want their story told, but I know how it feels to be photographed in a miserable situation (I was infinitely frustrated by the photographer at the scene of the car accident that disabled my mother).

           The type of things Annie Leibovitz and James Nachtwey photograph are opposites, but their photos are both dramatic and inspiring with the ability to make an impact on the observer.

Sources for photos, from top to bottom:

http://www.google.co.jp/imglanding?q=annie+leibovitz&um=1&hl=en&biw=1090&bih=698&tbs=isch:1&tbnid=wjnCZrgZ1B1tWM:&imgrefurl=http://behindblondiepark.com/2009/09/08/photographer-leibovitz-could-lose-portfolio-due-to-debt/&imgurl=http://behindblondiepark.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/09/annie_leibovitz_jude_law.jpg&ei=CPaCTdL2JIPEvQO_k9HUCA&zoom=1&w=1200&h=813&iact=rc&oei=5vWCTfy-DITEcMTbgYQD&page=4&tbnh=117&tbnw=169&start=67&ndsp=21&ved=1t:429,r:4,s:67

http://www.google.co.jp/imglanding?q=annie+leibovitz+best&um=1&hl=en&biw=1090&bih=698&tbs=isch:1&tbnid=Y3ejROOaZ61FBM:&imgrefurl=http://www.fashion-lifestyle.net/photography_en_broi15&imgurl=http://www.fashion-lifestyle.net/images/broi15/2_Valchitsata.jpg&ei=i_WCTdnXIIHcvwOUtezaCA&zoom=1&w=500&h=333&iact=rc&oei=L_WCTabnBYe8cLrTyJ0D&page=4&tbnh=103&tbnw=154&start=67&ndsp=24&ved=1t:429,r:7,s:67

http://www.google.co.jp/imglanding?q=James+Nachtwey&um=1&hl=en&sa=N&tbs=isch:1&tbnid=q3gHgnH_f-Kj5M:&imgrefurl=http://whatstheuse.tumblr.com/page/15&imgurl=http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lb19sm81Q01qc21cto1_500.jpg&ei=8_aCTfuCK4m3cOak2J0D&zoom=1&w=420&h=283&iact=hc&oei=8_aCTfuCK4m3cOak2J0D&page=1&tbnh=124&tbnw=211&start=0&ndsp=16&ved=1t:429,r:9,s:0&biw=1090&bih=698

A Glimpse into Natsumi Hamai

Kind and agreeable, my host sister Natsumi Hamai laughed when I asked to interview her for this blog. “Ii yo,” she said, settling down by the coffee table across from me, having served me strawberry milk and a donut. At 24, she’s already an exceptional hostess, but I suspect this is only the beginning. My host mother and father describe her as bright and easy going, a “my pace” girl. I wonder if this comes from working at the bakery where she’s custom to welcoming consumers with a smile and non-intrusive greeting. Although her gentle disposition might suggest otherwise, Natsumi is not your ordinary Japanese girl.

Natsumi has one passion in particular that has been shaping her life, and that’s travel. Indeed, the reason I know Natsumi today is because of this hobby. In high school, her year spent studying abroad in Australia opened her up to a world of new experiences. Since then she has been to Thailand, Canada, Korea, and Seattle creating a global army of friends. Upon asking Natsumi what she learned abroad, she thought carefully before answering, “I learned to thank family.” She went on to explain her humble answer: until you leave your house, you don’t realize all the little things your family does for you and what a big difference they make in your daily life. Because of her experience abroad and because of her easy-going nature, I consider Natsumi to be noticeably more open-minded and understanding than other Japanese women in her age-range.

Towa, Natsumi’s beloved pooch loyally sits by her side, eyeing her plate piteously. She pats him mindlessly while watching for my non-verbal cues politely. She has an uncanny ability to read into my posture and expressions and intuitively predict what I’m thinking. As we nibbled our donuts and sipped our milk, Natsumi and I went on to discuss deeper and more personal questions. Natsumi’s favorite saying is “ichigoichi” which roughly translates to “a once in a life time chance.” This goes hand in hand with her most important belief, to try everything. Her mind set that you may only get one opening to do something, so try it while you can, is admirable and courageous. Natsumi patiently takes the opportunities that become available to her without complaining during the stretches of unwavering monotony. To emphasize her relaxed nature further, Natsumi’s only wish is for good health to her and those around her, while insisting that how and when she dies is of no concern as long as it’s painless. She does mention, however, that as much as possible, she’d like to travel before her end.

I honestly mean this when I say it, Natsumi is hard not to like. As angelic as she seems, she still has her human pet-peeves. Natsumi values sincerity and those who follow through with their promises. She’s frustrated by people will frivolously cancel their appointments with her last minute. As someone who places significance on choosing occasions wisely, she hopes people will respect her time.

Natsumi looked into her glass of strawberry milk and blushed as I pressed her for any last words. I leaned forward, my pencil in hand. At long last she says sheepishly, “What’s this assignment for again…?”

Moriguchi, Where I'll be Straying the Next Few Months

Moriguchi, precipitating. Something it's been doing too much of recently.

What do I know about Moriguchi? I know how to get there by train. I know how to get to my house. And I know how to get back to the train station, which is very important, because everything I do is beyond here. I know that Moriguchi is a suburb of Osaka, just a stop from Kyobashi. The limited express doesn’t stop at this poor overlooked city with few attractions.

Despite the three weeks I’ve been here, the things I know about Moriguchi are essentially what I can gather by staring out my window. I’m on the fourth floor, so I recon my view is first-class compared to other Moriguchians, though admittedly, today is the first time I’ve actually parted my white lace curtains to observe the view.

There are streets and streets of tall narrow houses, gardenless, with just balconies littered with drying underwear and towels. They’re all very similar, with often the only distinguishing feature being a door decoration. Indeed, this is how I learned to recognize my home. My house is wedged neatly between two other houses. Only emaciated cats can pass through the six inch wide corridor that runs between them, though it’s not something I’ve seen at my house yet. The neighbor’s house is lined with old water-filled pet bottles, which I vaguely remember to be some sort of superstition said to ward off cats- ominous, stigmatized, strays. The city is full of them. Toms patrol their blocks, and queens call out to them like cheap prostitutes. It’s one of the more obnoxious sounds that fill the night. Otherwise, it’s the typical droning siren, buzzing motorcycle, barking dog…  Oh, that’s just my family’s mutt, Towa, who for some inexplicable reason barks at the rain. But it’s all slowly becoming white noise to me anyway.

Maybe I’m just an uncultured dolt with bad eye for distinguishing city from city and little appreciation for the surely complicated social connections between the people of this town, but… this sure seems like the living space for busy people who commute to Osaka every day. I get the sense that with the exception of the elementary school children who enjoy each other’s company on the playground, Moriguchians keep their life at their work place, and come home Moriguchi because living is more affordable here. It’s not like I have nothing to compare it to. I was fortunate to live in Heisenji, a small community in Katsuyama-shi, of the sparsely populated Fukui-ken for five months. Heisenji’s small coffee shop, conveniently owned and run by my host mother, was the gathering place for all sorts of odd community members who came to her for the most recent update on the Tanaka family, or the collapsed wall just down the hill, or Fujima’s boy- did he pass his entrance exam?  I was in the loop. Living in Moriguchi, I don’t get that feeling anymore, not even in the slightest, but can you blame me? I’m at school from nine to six almost every day.

The one interesting thing I’ve picked up on is an event I call “unicorn racing”. Tuesdays and Thursdays when I’m briskly striding along the darkening streets back to my home, anticipating another great feast fashioned by my host mother, I look for the man and his herd of children that are often practicing some sort of exquisite night time sport involving lighted cones in a large grass field. The first time I saw them, they came bursting out of the park, thundering down the street like a herd of wildebeests. Bewildered, I stopped to witness this man being followed by at least twenty children of all ages, much in the same way Ceasar Milan’s pack of dogs might follow him. Into the field they sprinted, and then with great agility, began darting in and out of these mini multicolored cones that light up the field like faeries. It was magical, yet startling. I took a somewhat less magical picture, but it doesn’t do the event much justice.

Stray Bird: Blown into Japan by the Wind of Gods

Hearsay can paint an unbiased mind and poison our good intentions to understand cultural diversity. I promise, I came to Japan with good intentions, but even well intended ignorance can lead to misunderstandings. Naturally, out of some instinct to flatten everything and sort it into black and white, I started counting differences. I based my first impressions of Japan on my expectations. Everything I heard before coming to Japan influenced the way I then perceived it.

Because we all grow up amidst various media sources, no one is dropped into Japan without any expectations. After all, in the States, what are we taught about Japan? We learn a spot about samurai, a smidge about the feudal system, then most definitely about Japanese aggression in World War II and the atomic bombings. Media introduces Pokémon and Yugi-Oh, “cultural” elementary school programs teach us about origami and sumo wrestling, and when we go to Japanese restraunts, we are served almost exclusively sushi. People tend to use their partial knowledge of a country’s practices to make judgments about its society and culture. Rumors about Japan flourish, and we’re left to wonder, what is this place and who are these people? Is Japan some modern metropolis full of anime robots and pounding techno? Is Japan just an archaic society run by kimono-wearing, shrine-worshiping, sushi-loving men? I don’t expect that anyone believes either of these extremes, but I do believe one of the most beautiful things about the rich culture of the Japanese is the overlap of modern, pop, traditional, and convenient culture. It never ceases to awe me when I can find a vending machine full of celebrity endorsed soft drinks right outside of a shrine, or various anime mascots for just one inanimate attraction or sacred temple. This of course is all the usual for Japanese natives who have matured in this same society. Some might pose the question whether this growing demand for convenience and westernization will infringe upon Japanese traditions. I think cultures should be allowed to evolve guiltlessly with the times, as it permits them to become interesting and diverse. It will be fascinating to see what traditions have morphed, emerged or vanished after fifty years. I find that pondering “what could happen” is far more enjoyable then imposing “what should happen.”

Three years ago when I was settling into my host family for the first time in Fukui Prefecture Japan, I felt like I had just landed in the animated movie set of My Neighbor Tottoro. I wonder if my good memories from those times aren’t tainted by my fantasies, the experience seems unreal now. I lived right outside Heisenji Jinja, which is a long mossy stone path leading to a beautiful shrine shaded by the surrounding forest. My house was an old one, and I slept contently on my fold out mattress in my tatami room, bundled up in blankets due to the lack of central heating. I was watched intently as I biked through rice fields to school where I was the only foreigner. When I came home, I walked down the street to catch crabs in the creek for entertainment. It was an enjoyable, simple life. As you can imagine, I had a very one-sided view of Japanese culture for quite a while. This contrasts very starkly with my still enjoyable, but more complex life in Osaka. I live in a very narrow house, four stories tall in densely populated area. It’s a cushy life, equip with a bed, heated carpet, and halogen heater. I take a 30 minute commute by train to school where I’m one of many, even hundreds of foreigners. Come lunch, there’s always an eager salesperson who wants to sell me takoyaki, makizushi, or bread of any sort, and I’m not picky. Recently I’ve taken a liking to those mysterious potato jelly cubes. Then on my down time, I hit the town, leisurely wandering through whatever department store first strikes my fancy. This goes to say, my “second” impressions of Japan have been just as crucial in understanding this complicated Japanese way of life as my first impressions. I know that my mind, already half-full of preconceptions, is mucky. I hope that by keeping my mind open, I can clear away the barriers that stand between me and my understanding of Japanese culture.