Wow, do I have a lot to say with the experience of cab drivers here in Japan, especially with the way that I see foreigners talk about them.
But for now, today's story.
Murakami Haruki, a famous Japanese novelist who is famous outside Japan for the translation of his novel "Norwegian Wood," wrote a short essay about cab drivers in Japan. A friend told him that you can tell where a Tokyo cab driver is from based on his willingness to start a conversation. If he starts up a conversation, he's not originally from Tokyo. If he doesn't start up a conversation, he's probably originally from Tokyo. The ramifications of that are for another post.
But it got me wondering, would it be the same with a foreigner (with me)? Would the same non-Tokyo but still Japanese people so willing to start conversations with other Japanese also be so willing to start one with a foreigner.
Well, I've taken a lot of cabs since I've read the essay, and I can answer "yes!" They ask some questions about where I want to go, and then based on my apparent Japanese ability, the conversation comes. And so far, it's 8-0. 8 non-tokyo people started conversations and 0 tokyo people did (I asked them where they were from during the conversation).
Today's cab driver was from slightly north Japan, a part I had been to so I said it was beautiful. He said simply "Japan is a mountainous country so obviously that comes along with it." That was interesting. Not just that I thought what he said was true, we're all used to seeing mountain scenes and all that, but also because he was presenting his idea of Japan (his home) to me (someone visiting his home) so directly and humbly. That is of course part of Japanese culture.
We talked about a lot of things, but I'm tired so I'll end it with this.
When I told him I came to Japan from America, he asked me about America and then asked me about Bush. The Bush thing was interesting because usually cab drivers don't bring up things like that, and also, political affiliation is something of a taboo to talk about in the US.
And then he asked me about what Ithink about Bush. I told him my thoughts and we agreed on a lot of things. And then he told me...
Actually as a person that sees hundreds of people a day in his cab, he always asks foreigners, especially Americans, about what they think about Bush. It was his little study.
The result, he said about 80% say Bush is awful, and 20% say he's great. It was interesting that he said that out of the 20% that told him that Bush is great, almost all (or maybe all) of those people work in finances.
Monday, June 25, 2007
Thursday, June 07, 2007
Photos and Video of my walk home through Minato-ku 1
Here are pics and vids and I'll try to caption best I can though most speak for themselves.
As for the videos of the forest, that's in Shiba-kouen (Shiba Park) very close to my home and Tokyo Tower. The park is really big (think maybe Central Park in NYC) and beautiful, full of flowers in the right season.
Dusk / Twilight in Japan is a very mysterious time, especially in a forest. There is a sort of mist or haziness that comes that you can't put your finger on. A look into the origin of the word for twilight/dusk "tasogare" in Japanese is essential! It's one of the most beautiful images of old Japan.
The word was originally "tasokare" which was basically a phrase at that time. Imagine a misty foggy dusk in ancient Japan. A girl in kimono is waiting for her boyfriend to return home. She's outside the slatted old house, maybe in the village square, waiting and looking. Over the rounded wooden bridge many people pass, and when she thinks she seems through the mist someone that looks like her boyfriend, she says "kare?" ("him / my boyfriend?").. and the person walking replies "tasokare" which means "who's him?" It's a sort of call and response in the dark and a play on sounds. As the word means dusk, it's sort of like the "who's him?" means "it's only twilight [playing tricks on you]".
AND PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, if a photo looks interesting, click on it to see the full size version. These little pictures do NO justice at all. I don't get money or anything if you click it, just the satisfaction that someone is able to see a little bit of what I see.
Maid cafe sign
Thai restaurant sign with muay thai fighter
Various street pics on the way
KARE? TASOGARE! Entering the woods
VIDEOS!
The walk up to Tokyo Tower
Walking out of the woods to Tokyo Tower again
The woods in the park
The final road (Sakurada) home
As for the videos of the forest, that's in Shiba-kouen (Shiba Park) very close to my home and Tokyo Tower. The park is really big (think maybe Central Park in NYC) and beautiful, full of flowers in the right season.
Dusk / Twilight in Japan is a very mysterious time, especially in a forest. There is a sort of mist or haziness that comes that you can't put your finger on. A look into the origin of the word for twilight/dusk "tasogare" in Japanese is essential! It's one of the most beautiful images of old Japan.
The word was originally "tasokare" which was basically a phrase at that time. Imagine a misty foggy dusk in ancient Japan. A girl in kimono is waiting for her boyfriend to return home. She's outside the slatted old house, maybe in the village square, waiting and looking. Over the rounded wooden bridge many people pass, and when she thinks she seems through the mist someone that looks like her boyfriend, she says "kare?" ("him / my boyfriend?").. and the person walking replies "tasokare" which means "who's him?" It's a sort of call and response in the dark and a play on sounds. As the word means dusk, it's sort of like the "who's him?" means "it's only twilight [playing tricks on you]".
AND PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, if a photo looks interesting, click on it to see the full size version. These little pictures do NO justice at all. I don't get money or anything if you click it, just the satisfaction that someone is able to see a little bit of what I see.
Maid cafe sign
Thai restaurant sign with muay thai fighter
Various street pics on the way
KARE? TASOGARE! Entering the woods
VIDEOS!
The walk up to Tokyo Tower
Walking out of the woods to Tokyo Tower again
The woods in the park
The final road (Sakurada) home
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
Japanese politeness - reverse culture shock
This is a great read. Taken from http://firefly.yourjapan.jp/post/2/358
I had spent one full year living in Japan. I had battled with cultural shocks, I had battled my own pre-conceived ideas about life and culture. I had sat on a crowded train carriage, to look around and notice I was the only foreigner around. I had 1 year of ups and downs and sideways curves. 1 year of struggling with the language, and just plain struggling to fit in. 1 year of stress and problems at work caused by Bill and Shane. I wasn’t yet ready to leave Japan, but god was I ready to go back home for a holiday.
When I came to Japan, naturally, I was extremely open to the Japan experience. I was a big Australian sponge, ready and primed to extract meaning and experiences from everything around me. I had eaten lots of Japanese food, I had even studied a smidgeon of Japanese. I had made some Japanese friends in Australia in the weeks prior to my trip to Japan. I was locked and loaded for Japan. As such, when I landed, nothing really took me by surprise. I had no singular “culture-shock”, that all the travel books like to talk about. I said “wow, that’s interesting”, and “hm, that’s a bit different” more times than I could count (and I still do!), but nothing seriously hit me in the face, or took the wind out of me.
When I went into a shop in Japan for the first time, everyone looked at me, smiled, and almost shouted : "Irraishaimase!". I was a bit confused, and had no idea how to appropriately respond, so I simply nodded my head, smiled awkwardly and proceeded with my purchase. I later asked a Japanese person what "Irraishaimase" means. He said : "It is for when you go into a shop. The shop people are welcoming you. If they do not welcome you, it is very rude in Japanese culture, because you are the customer. You don't even need to respond, because you are the customer!" He explained.
Even after he told me that it was not necessary to respond, I still had a lot of trouble with this. Naturally, I was brought up in Australia to respond to people who talk to you. When you walk into a shop, and 3 people drop what they're doing, flash you a big smile, and say heartily "WELCOME TO OUR SHOP!", it's hard to ignore that. Once I tried to reply back. A staff member looked right at me, and said "Irrashaimase!", and I looked back, smiled, and said "Arigatou Gozaimasu!". She looked at me uncomfortably. I looked back. She slowly turned back to her work, obviously unsure of how best to respond. I realised this approach wasn't working either. All I was doing was transferring the awkwardness I was feeling back onto her.
Another time, I went into a shop with a guy who had been living in Japan for a couple of years. He walked in first, so a couple of staff looked at him, and said "Irrashaimase!" and he brushed past them, not even looking at their faces. This horrified me. Later that week I went into a shop with a Japanese friend, and of course, the same thing happened. I started to realise that not acknowledging these people is not a bad thing, it's just a natural part of the culture.
Slowly, but surely, my view on this was changed. I became used to walking into a shop, looking at a staff person, the staff person saying "Irraishaimase", and me either nodding, or not even acknowledging it. This became the normal routine for me : walk in, Irraishaimase, ignore, proceed with shopping.
One time, someone saw me walk into their shop. They DIDN'T say irraishaimase. Of course, I'm a foreigner, and I look like a foreigner, but I was used to my regular routine, and I felt upset that someone had messed with it. I stopped in my tracks, and stared at him. He stopped and looked back at me, and after a few seconds of awkward pause (for him, I knew I was in the right so I didn't feel awkward at all), he coughed nervously and said "uh.... irraishaimase." In this case I smiled back to defuse the tension, and proceeded with my shopping.
After a while, I realised that this is the culture, and I adapted. If the FOB Firefly ("fresh off the boat") saw the "one year living in Japan" Firefly, I can tell you he would be absolutely shocked at how I was treating shop staff. He'd shake me and say "What the hell is wrong with you? She just looked right at you, and welcomed you for coming into the shop! Say something!!". Of course, I would simply smile and pat him on the back, since his conversion into the non-reactive shopper would already be in the making.
Anyway, returning to the first paragraph, I had spent one year in Japan, and I was due to go back home to Australia at Christmas time. I was brimming with excitement. I would be able to see my friends, my family. I'd be able to go to a beautiful Australian beach. I would be able to sit down at a coffee shop with an English newspaper, breathe in the fresh air, and drink a cappuchino. I'd be able to buy some Vegemite! Eat a Tim-Tam!
I arranged the administrations side of my trip, and before I knew it, I was on the plane burning a path across the Pacific Ocean. I jumped at the chance to catch up on a couple of recent movies that was showing on the entertainment system, then I went to sleep.
I was nudged awake by a member of the Quantas staff. "Noodles or the eggs!". Groggily, I opted for the eggs. Both choices are incorrect actually, but the eggs are the lesser of 2 evils. A short while after consuming the packaged meal, the sun intensified within the cabin, and the captain came onto the intercom, and advised us that we've already commenced decent into Sydney, and we'll be landing at 6:35am. I bounced up and down in my seat.
Finally, the plane landed. I didn't even wait for the seatbelt sign to turn off, I jumped up from my seat, grabbed my bag from the overhead locker, and bounced to the front of the queue. Some of the cabin crew shot me a distasteful look, but immediately softened their expression upon seeing the excitement in my eyes. The hatchway opened and I bounded into the terminal. I was overcome with emotion. The air was clean and fresh. All of the signs were in English. People walked past me, speaking in English. I walked through duty free - all foreign products! I mean, all Australian products!!
I bounced along to immigration. The main sitting behind the desk took my passport, looked at me, and asked :
"Where have you been young man?"
"Tokyo, Japan!" I replied, excited to speak English.
He looked at the computer screen, and paused.
"Welcome home." He closed my passport, handed it back to me and smiled warmly.
I smiled back, grabbed my passport, and went through to baggage collection. I waited for a few minutes for my bag to appear from the conveyor belt, and walked out the exit. My parents were due to meet me, but a quick glance around confirmed that they weren't there. I stood in the airport, among the English din, surrounded by foreigners (I mean, Australians), and just smiled.
I suddenly realised my throat was dry. Mount Franklins water!! My favourite brand of bottled water. I looked left and right, and quickly located a convenience store. I walked over, and entered the shop. Behind the counter was an Indian guy, looking busy with his work. I walk into the shop, plant my feet down, and look at the Indian.
He looks up at me for a moment, and then returns to his work. I remain frozen in place, staring at him. He continues work for a few more seconds until his eyes flick up, and he sees that I am still there, staring at him.
I'm excited, but also very tired since I didn't sleep much on the flight, but on some level I dimly realise that I am waiting for him to say "Irraishaimase." I continue to stare.
He drops the papers he had in his hands, and looks over to me. He opens his mouth to speak. My eyebrows rise in anticipation.
"What the fuck are you looking at?" He says, in a thick Indian accent.
"I... er... what, the... what?" I stutter back.
"Are you going to buy something? Or do I need to call security!" He continued, enunciating the word security with a sharp poke of his finger. He leaned back, waiting for my response.
"Oh, right, yes, I'm sorry. Mount Franklins water please. I apologise." I shake my head to try to rattle out the fog, and hand him over some Australian money I had already converted. He looks at me like I crawled out of a drainpipe, hands me my chance, and doesn't even say "thank you".
I was stunned for 30 minutes after this interaction. For the first time in my life, I had experienced the elusive "reverse-culture shock".
Welcome home.
I had spent one full year living in Japan. I had battled with cultural shocks, I had battled my own pre-conceived ideas about life and culture. I had sat on a crowded train carriage, to look around and notice I was the only foreigner around. I had 1 year of ups and downs and sideways curves. 1 year of struggling with the language, and just plain struggling to fit in. 1 year of stress and problems at work caused by Bill and Shane. I wasn’t yet ready to leave Japan, but god was I ready to go back home for a holiday.
When I came to Japan, naturally, I was extremely open to the Japan experience. I was a big Australian sponge, ready and primed to extract meaning and experiences from everything around me. I had eaten lots of Japanese food, I had even studied a smidgeon of Japanese. I had made some Japanese friends in Australia in the weeks prior to my trip to Japan. I was locked and loaded for Japan. As such, when I landed, nothing really took me by surprise. I had no singular “culture-shock”, that all the travel books like to talk about. I said “wow, that’s interesting”, and “hm, that’s a bit different” more times than I could count (and I still do!), but nothing seriously hit me in the face, or took the wind out of me.
When I went into a shop in Japan for the first time, everyone looked at me, smiled, and almost shouted : "Irraishaimase!". I was a bit confused, and had no idea how to appropriately respond, so I simply nodded my head, smiled awkwardly and proceeded with my purchase. I later asked a Japanese person what "Irraishaimase" means. He said : "It is for when you go into a shop. The shop people are welcoming you. If they do not welcome you, it is very rude in Japanese culture, because you are the customer. You don't even need to respond, because you are the customer!" He explained.
Even after he told me that it was not necessary to respond, I still had a lot of trouble with this. Naturally, I was brought up in Australia to respond to people who talk to you. When you walk into a shop, and 3 people drop what they're doing, flash you a big smile, and say heartily "WELCOME TO OUR SHOP!", it's hard to ignore that. Once I tried to reply back. A staff member looked right at me, and said "Irrashaimase!", and I looked back, smiled, and said "Arigatou Gozaimasu!". She looked at me uncomfortably. I looked back. She slowly turned back to her work, obviously unsure of how best to respond. I realised this approach wasn't working either. All I was doing was transferring the awkwardness I was feeling back onto her.
Another time, I went into a shop with a guy who had been living in Japan for a couple of years. He walked in first, so a couple of staff looked at him, and said "Irrashaimase!" and he brushed past them, not even looking at their faces. This horrified me. Later that week I went into a shop with a Japanese friend, and of course, the same thing happened. I started to realise that not acknowledging these people is not a bad thing, it's just a natural part of the culture.
Slowly, but surely, my view on this was changed. I became used to walking into a shop, looking at a staff person, the staff person saying "Irraishaimase", and me either nodding, or not even acknowledging it. This became the normal routine for me : walk in, Irraishaimase, ignore, proceed with shopping.
One time, someone saw me walk into their shop. They DIDN'T say irraishaimase. Of course, I'm a foreigner, and I look like a foreigner, but I was used to my regular routine, and I felt upset that someone had messed with it. I stopped in my tracks, and stared at him. He stopped and looked back at me, and after a few seconds of awkward pause (for him, I knew I was in the right so I didn't feel awkward at all), he coughed nervously and said "uh.... irraishaimase." In this case I smiled back to defuse the tension, and proceeded with my shopping.
After a while, I realised that this is the culture, and I adapted. If the FOB Firefly ("fresh off the boat") saw the "one year living in Japan" Firefly, I can tell you he would be absolutely shocked at how I was treating shop staff. He'd shake me and say "What the hell is wrong with you? She just looked right at you, and welcomed you for coming into the shop! Say something!!". Of course, I would simply smile and pat him on the back, since his conversion into the non-reactive shopper would already be in the making.
Anyway, returning to the first paragraph, I had spent one year in Japan, and I was due to go back home to Australia at Christmas time. I was brimming with excitement. I would be able to see my friends, my family. I'd be able to go to a beautiful Australian beach. I would be able to sit down at a coffee shop with an English newspaper, breathe in the fresh air, and drink a cappuchino. I'd be able to buy some Vegemite! Eat a Tim-Tam!
I arranged the administrations side of my trip, and before I knew it, I was on the plane burning a path across the Pacific Ocean. I jumped at the chance to catch up on a couple of recent movies that was showing on the entertainment system, then I went to sleep.
I was nudged awake by a member of the Quantas staff. "Noodles or the eggs!". Groggily, I opted for the eggs. Both choices are incorrect actually, but the eggs are the lesser of 2 evils. A short while after consuming the packaged meal, the sun intensified within the cabin, and the captain came onto the intercom, and advised us that we've already commenced decent into Sydney, and we'll be landing at 6:35am. I bounced up and down in my seat.
Finally, the plane landed. I didn't even wait for the seatbelt sign to turn off, I jumped up from my seat, grabbed my bag from the overhead locker, and bounced to the front of the queue. Some of the cabin crew shot me a distasteful look, but immediately softened their expression upon seeing the excitement in my eyes. The hatchway opened and I bounded into the terminal. I was overcome with emotion. The air was clean and fresh. All of the signs were in English. People walked past me, speaking in English. I walked through duty free - all foreign products! I mean, all Australian products!!
I bounced along to immigration. The main sitting behind the desk took my passport, looked at me, and asked :
"Where have you been young man?"
"Tokyo, Japan!" I replied, excited to speak English.
He looked at the computer screen, and paused.
"Welcome home." He closed my passport, handed it back to me and smiled warmly.
I smiled back, grabbed my passport, and went through to baggage collection. I waited for a few minutes for my bag to appear from the conveyor belt, and walked out the exit. My parents were due to meet me, but a quick glance around confirmed that they weren't there. I stood in the airport, among the English din, surrounded by foreigners (I mean, Australians), and just smiled.
I suddenly realised my throat was dry. Mount Franklins water!! My favourite brand of bottled water. I looked left and right, and quickly located a convenience store. I walked over, and entered the shop. Behind the counter was an Indian guy, looking busy with his work. I walk into the shop, plant my feet down, and look at the Indian.
He looks up at me for a moment, and then returns to his work. I remain frozen in place, staring at him. He continues work for a few more seconds until his eyes flick up, and he sees that I am still there, staring at him.
I'm excited, but also very tired since I didn't sleep much on the flight, but on some level I dimly realise that I am waiting for him to say "Irraishaimase." I continue to stare.
He drops the papers he had in his hands, and looks over to me. He opens his mouth to speak. My eyebrows rise in anticipation.
"What the fuck are you looking at?" He says, in a thick Indian accent.
"I... er... what, the... what?" I stutter back.
"Are you going to buy something? Or do I need to call security!" He continued, enunciating the word security with a sharp poke of his finger. He leaned back, waiting for my response.
"Oh, right, yes, I'm sorry. Mount Franklins water please. I apologise." I shake my head to try to rattle out the fog, and hand him over some Australian money I had already converted. He looks at me like I crawled out of a drainpipe, hands me my chance, and doesn't even say "thank you".
I was stunned for 30 minutes after this interaction. For the first time in my life, I had experienced the elusive "reverse-culture shock".
Welcome home.
Friday, April 06, 2007
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