Pagoda of Seiryu-ji Temple in Aomori
When I’m in the United States, I’m the first person to criticize my country. I see all its flaws and sometimes despair that it will never make progress (especially when I hear that this absurd Ron Johnson person is beating Russ Feingold in the polls). I take the good things for granted, seeing them as natural rights to which everyone is entitled, and focus mostly on the negative, politically, culturally, and historically. However, a funny thing happens to me when I get to Japan: I turn into an ardent defender of America. If a Japanese person criticizes the country, or implies that the Japanese way is better, I get my back up and go to great lengths to explain why we’re a good country. I guess America is like a family member – I can criticize it, along with other members of the family, but no outsiders can.
Not only do I suddenly develop a strident patriotism, but I no longer take for granted America’s many good qualities. In particular, I start to appreciate the diversity of the United States. Even though we’re branded a racist, narrow-minded nation (and of course there are many Americans who deserve that label), we’re afforded the opportunity to see a much wider range of people from all different backgrounds in the United States than in Japan, and therefore are inherently more open-minded. In all cities in the United States you will see people of all races, and most don’t get a second look. Even in mostly white communities there are people of different European backgrounds and heritage, and in the most white-bread, conservative towns people can turn on the tv and see people of different races interacting. Here in Japan, “gaijin” (or foreigners, as they call white people), are stared at like they have spiders spewing from their ears. When I go for a run in Kodomari, old men pull over their trucks to watch me in a way that creeps me out and intimidates me. When we turn on the television, we see no one but Japanese people. By and large, the people of Kodomari have been rather cold to Trevor, not going out of their way to welcome him or attempt to learn about his culture. So, though America obviously has a long way to go in terms of racial harmony and acceptance, we’re still miles ahead of other nations, just by the fact that on a daily basis most people interact with others of different heritages, religions, and backgrounds without giving it a second thought. Living in Japan has made me grateful for that.
Me with some of the Eikaiwa members last November
Because so many people in Kodomari are distant to Trevor and me, I am all the more thankful for those who are kind, welcoming, and go above and beyond to make us feel included. The people in our English conversation class (Eikaiwa) are especially wonderful. The class meets three times a month on Tuesday nights, and we chat, play games, exchange stories about our respective cultures. Whenever I have a question about Japan that I can’t find out on my own, I turn to them and they are delighted to help; likewise, they are intrigued by how we live in the United States (when we introduced our friend Mami to the idea of cake with ice cream – a combination they don’t do in Japan, apparently – she said “I will tell all my friends!”). There are only five of them – Mami, Yasuko, Tetsuko, Megumi, and Yudai – and their English levels vary, but I find it touching that in this small town, where knowing English can in no way matter to their daily lives, they want to learn and improve just because they like it. And, I hope, because they like us.
We’ve formed friendships with them outside of Eikaiwa. They bring back gifts for us when they go on a trip. They invite us to their houses, and when Trevor’s mom visited they came over for a party. Mami, the youngest of the group at 24, spends an occasional Friday night with us and we exchange music, she introducing us to independent music we wouldn’t know about otherwise, us burning her a CD with M.I.A. and Janelle Monae.
Mami and Me
I give Yasuko and Yudai private lessons outside of Eikaiwa, as well. Yasuko is an English teacher herself, giving introductory lessons to elementary and junior high school students, and I help her with her plans, explaining difficult words and concepts (“I was wondering” turns out to be a more complicated phrase to explain than one would think). Yudai – the lone male of the group, who Trevor and I refer to as “The mysterious Yudai” due to his evasiveness about his age – has extremely impressive English comprehension and also loves to sing Broadway songs, so each week I teach him the lyrics to a new Broadway number. I’ve been an unabashed musical nerd all my life, and it’s been a great joy to introduce him to some of my favorite songs and use them as a gateway to wider discussions about American and western culture. “It Sucks to Be Me” from Avenue Q proved to be especially enlightening.
There are a few other very kind people outside of Eikaiwa, like Toshiko, the owner of the restaurant we often visit, who gives us free cake and ice cream on our birthdays. But without our Eikaiwa group, it would be pretty lonely for the both of us here. It will be a relief to return to America, where I’m comfortable with the culture, language, and won’t get stared at, but I hope Trevor and I will stay in touch with the Eikaiwa group. I hope they’ll remember us over the years, as new JETS come and go; I know I will always remember them with fondness and gratitude for welcoming us into a town, a country, where many people are not so friendly, and for being the types of people who would never stare.
