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. 