Kawase-san is sixty years old. He sits in the agura position, crossed legged, on the tatami mats in his home in the Japanese countryside. Incense burns from plates on the floor, the smoke writhing and curling above his head. Shoji screen walls border the room. A low table hunches in the middle of the floor. Six sitting cushions are evenly distributed around the table. Kawase-san’s mustache is neatly trimmed, grey at the tips and black under his nose. The crow’s feet that branch out from his almond eyes extend past his temples, to his hairline. His features are kind and wise, his manner, patient and deliberate. He wears a dark red t-shirt with the words “Grand Canyon” printed on it.
I enter, eager to start learning Japanese. Kawase-san stands and I present him with a bottle of sake. I bow and say yoroshiku onegaishimasu, nice to meet you. He smiles with delight, bows, and begins to open the sake.
“Sumimasen Kawase-san, but I drove here.” I mime ‘driving’. “Sorry.”
He smiles, and sets the sake down. In English he responds, “Okay. Next time, we drink sake.”
Through Mayumi, my friend, translator, and go-to help for all my pragmatic needs while in Japan, I have arranged to meet her uncle in order to start a Japanese-English exchange. The plan is an hour of English and then and hour of Japanese. I’m hoping that the plan will help me take a step forward in the language which, as of now, is still stupefying me. When I meet Kawase-san for the first time, I know it will be a good exchange.
“Joshua-san,” he begins. “Tell me. What does the word ‘yippy-kay-yay’ mean?”
I can’t help but smile. I guess we’re starting with English first.
“Well…that’s a good question. I suppose it means, something like, ‘Yeah! Let’s go!’”
As soon as I finish my definition I realize that I missed the mark. How do you define ‘yippy-kay-yay’? Regardless, Kawase-san scribbles a note into his notebook. Mayumi looks on, also intrigued by the new word.
“Joshua-san.” Kawase-san begins to ask me again. “What about ‘Yee-haw’?”
I laugh. I’m starting to notice a trend.
“Well. I guess it’s pretty similar to ‘yippy-kay-yay’. Except I think you use ‘yee-haw’ when you’re riding a horse.” I pause for a second. “These are interesting words. I think that you like Westerns.”
“Ah, so, so, so,” he affirms. Knowing that I am far removed from cowboy culture, I still say proudly, “I’m from the West.”
Suddenly Kawase-san’s eyes brighten. “Ah, yes?”
“Oh yeah. I’m from Colorado. We have a saying—The West is the best.”
He chuckles and looks eager to ask another question. I can tell he is trying to recall the right words to use.
“So, you ride horses?”
Uh-oh. He’s calling my bluff. “Well, no, not exactly. I have ridden a horse. But I don’t do it all the time.”
The gleam in his eye fades slightly, but he continues smiling. He replies, “Oh, I understand. I understand. But, maybe, you have a gun?”
Again, I look away slightly, breathe in quickly and try to think of a politician’s response. “Well, no. I’ve actually never even fired a gun.”
Now the hopeful gleam in Kawase-san’s eyes fades visibly, but the smile remains. I feel bad. I’m not the cowboy he was hoping for.
Suddenly, I raise my voice, startling Kawase-san. “I have a word for you! ‘Giddy-up’!”
He looks intrigued. The gleam in his eyes surfaces again. He silently mouths the syllables: gi-di-up. “I have heard this. What does it mean?”
“That’s how you tell your horse to move faster. You yell, ‘Giddy-up!’ and the horse shoots off.”
He scribbles the word into his notebook and writes more notes. I struggle for something else to say that will prove that this exchange is worth his time.
“Here’s another one, Kawase-san. It’s used with cowboys all the time. ‘Ya’ll’.”
Now he’s smiling even bigger, as if I was the secret link to his transition into full cowboyhood. I might not be a cowboy myself, but I can teach him the ways of the cowboy.
“’Ya’ll’,” I repeat. “As in, ‘Ya’ll come back now, ya hear?’”
Kawase-san is now scribbling at high speed. He wants to get every word down, every accentual fluctuation, every accompanied hand gesture. I explain the meaning of ‘ya’ll’ and ‘Ya’ll come back now ya hear?”’ and suddenly the conversation takes off. Somehow my knowledge-well of cowboy culture is refilled and we talk about rodeos, famous bandits and robbers, line-dancing, and gold rushes. I tell him how my great grandpa met Buffalo Bill, and how you can still see cowboys today in Colorado. Kawase-san’s eyes remain fascinated now, and he continues to jot down notes and new words. His wife comes out and brings us dinner. His grandson and his grandson’s friend join us. Mayumi takes my small plate and fills it with sushi, then noodles, then egg-tofu. I continue to describe the culture of the American West, and realize that I do it with pride. Though I know I’m not a cowboy, something still rises in me to think that I’m not too far removed from it. Kawase-san seems to understand and accepts my experience as good enough for him.
By the end of the night the English lesson far outweighs the Japanese one. The majority of the time was spent with me teaching esoteric idioms from the ole west. At this point in my time in Japan I sorely need to learn more Japanese. I was hoping that by the end of the night I would have some new phrases and expressions to try out. But it appears that my Japanese will have to wait. I’m fine with waiting. A moment that makes me smile, laugh and feel welcome in this new country is well worth it.
Thursday, August 25, 2011
Sweaty Gaijin
During a formal Japanese business introduction it is important to be dressed in your finest business attire. A suit with a white shirt and black tie is ideal. Your clothes should be ironed and clean and not stray from the standard professional dress expected in Japan.
When entering a building where it is required to take off your shoes, step out of your shoes into the guest slippers placed at the foyer. Keep your outdoor shoes in a pair and place them with the other outdoor shoes, toes facing toward the exit of the building. In some cases, you can take your slippers from a locker and put your outdoor shoes in their place.
When meeting new people during these formal introductions, bow properly, with your hands to your side, keeping your back rigid and bending at your hips. Say, “Hajimemashitte” (Nice to meet you) and then introduce yourself with, “Watashi wa ___________ desu” (I am ___________). Conclude by saying Yoroshiku onegai shimas (another way of saying nice to meet you) and bow again.
It is important to receive a business card with both hands, admiring the card for some interesting detail, and then of course, bowing upon receipt of the card. Never put the business card into your pocket, nor bend, dog-ear or otherwise mar the card. When receiving multiple cards, place the cards on the table in front of you, face up, and order them from left to right according to importance.
At the introduction you will be asked to sit. Do not sit. You will be asked multiple times, but refrain from sitting until the most important person sits first. You will also be offered tea or coffee by the head of the meeting. Do not drink the tea or coffee. Wait until the most important person has taken a drink first. Make light talk about your plans. If you are a new gaijin English teacher in the area, light talk means discussing how excited you are to be working in Japan, asking about the students, and going over your tentative schedule. Do not talk about how successful you will be teaching the students English, nor about your past accomplishments. Be humble. Be quiet. Let the heads of the meeting guide the conversation.
When the introduction is over, you will be asked to stand. That’s right, don’t stand. Until? Now you’re catching on. Once the head of the meeting stands, you may do the same. Again, bow and say Yoroshiku onegai shimas. Gather the business cards given to you, stacking them from top to bottom in order of importance, and keep them in your hand. Bow multiple times upon leaving to show how thankful you are.
If you can follow these simple rules to a formal Japanese introduction, you will surely be successful.
* * *
I couldn’t stop sweating. There are few things more uncomfortable than a sweat soaked, starched, Target brand collared shirt with a tie cinching it down against your neck. I wasn’t nervous though. Despite all that I had been told to do at my introduction to the Board of Education, or BOE as they call it, I wasn’t nervous.
A heat wave had been breaking record highs in Japan for the first week of my arrival. While I sat in the BOE office, in full business attire, my face showed clear signs that I couldn’t handle the heat. Luckily, in Japan the custom is to have a handkerchief with you in order to wipe the sweat from your brow. I had brought mine, but a handkerchief only does so much when it has already soaked through. I also chose to use the handkerchief sparingly because I had had it since I was five years old and I was not sure if the tattered ends and holes in it would appear as the most hygienic of sweat wiping devices to the Japanese. I also doubted that the snarling tiger image on it would convince them of my professionalism. My only other option against constantly wiping the sweat from my face with a 22 year old handkerchief was to let the sweat pour and then act like I had no problem with it. Maybe the Japanese would think that in my country extreme perspiration is a normal thing.
But again, I wasn’t nervous. I felt like I knew what I was supposed to do. I had practiced the bowing, the business card holding and admiring, and the introductions in Japanese. I even made a point to take my shoes off every time I entered my own apartment, in order to start forming the habit. Mayumi, my translator and cultural liaison, before entering the office, had asked me if I was nervous. With a smile I said, “Of course not. I’m excited!” Now, with rivulets flowing down my face while talking with the head of the BOE, she must have thought that I had been lying through my teeth.
If my sweating was offensive, the others didn’t let on. They maintained a very amiable yet professional demeanor. I did my best to do the same. I collected business cards and laid them on the table accordingly. I talked about being happy to be teaching in Japan, and Mayumi translated for me. Meanwhile sweat came down in streams. It was just too hot. It was 90, with humidity at 80 percent. The fact that the others weren’t in my same condition shocked me. There was no way that anyone could adapt to such heat.
Okay, maybe the sweat came because I was a little nervous. As I recall, there was one point during my time at the BOE where my nerves may have initiated the deluge. Again, I had rehearsed the greetings for days before the meeting. One statement, Yoroshiku onegai shimas (Nice to meet you), I made sure was well etched into my head, as it was the most complicated. Having practiced, when I arrived at the BOE office, I was confident that I could execute the phrase with perfection. As I entered, the whole office stood up, I was introduced, and everyone, in unison, said to me, “Yoroshiku onegai shimas.”
I recognized the phrase instantly and I knew that my job was to repeat, bow and then sit back and feel good about properly introducing myself. With the best pronunciation I could muster I did just that.
“Yoroshiku onegai shimas” I said, with what I believed was excellent pronunciation.
I bowed, and right as I was going to settle into the feeling good about myself part, I realized that they were doing it again. They were bowing a second time and saying Yoroshiku onegai shimas. I wasn’t prepared for a second time, and I didn’t know the proper response. Nothing at orientation covered a second Yoroshiku onegai shimas, nor did any of the pre-departure readings that they gave me in tomes. Perplexed at the situation, I thought it best to follow their lead. For a second time I bowed and said Yoroshiku onegai shimas, except this time with a questioning inflection at the end. When I stopped, I saw that they were going down for a third bow, with a third Yoroshiku onegai shimas! We were like pinball machine paddles going back and forth at each other, but instead of hearing the bells and whistles of the pinball machine, what filled the room was a perpetual echo of Yoroshiku onegai shimas. No one gave any sign that this was unusual so I repeated my bow and said Yoroshiku onegai shimas for a third time.
Somehow, eventually, I was ushered to a meeting table and I wasn’t sure if I had totally messed up, or if that was exactly how it was supposed to go. That is when I noticed the sweat begin. That’s also when I noticed how uncomfortable my clothes were.
I made it through however, and performed all the ceremonial traditions as well as any new gaijin to Japan can. When the meeting at the BOE was ending, I remember thinking, “Thank God that these introductions only have to happen once.” Mayumi and I left the office, bowing and saying Yoroshiku onegai shimas even more, and then we made way into the hall. I started to walk down the corridor, but Mayumi hesitated.
“You’re not coming?” I asked.
“Uh, yes” she responded. “But we have to wait for Suzuki-san.”
“He’s going back home with us?” I joked.
“Uh, no. He is going to introduce us to the three other schools you will be working at. We have three more introduction meetings today.”
She saw that I was surprised and asked, “Are you nervous?”
When entering a building where it is required to take off your shoes, step out of your shoes into the guest slippers placed at the foyer. Keep your outdoor shoes in a pair and place them with the other outdoor shoes, toes facing toward the exit of the building. In some cases, you can take your slippers from a locker and put your outdoor shoes in their place.
When meeting new people during these formal introductions, bow properly, with your hands to your side, keeping your back rigid and bending at your hips. Say, “Hajimemashitte” (Nice to meet you) and then introduce yourself with, “Watashi wa ___________ desu” (I am ___________). Conclude by saying Yoroshiku onegai shimas (another way of saying nice to meet you) and bow again.
It is important to receive a business card with both hands, admiring the card for some interesting detail, and then of course, bowing upon receipt of the card. Never put the business card into your pocket, nor bend, dog-ear or otherwise mar the card. When receiving multiple cards, place the cards on the table in front of you, face up, and order them from left to right according to importance.
At the introduction you will be asked to sit. Do not sit. You will be asked multiple times, but refrain from sitting until the most important person sits first. You will also be offered tea or coffee by the head of the meeting. Do not drink the tea or coffee. Wait until the most important person has taken a drink first. Make light talk about your plans. If you are a new gaijin English teacher in the area, light talk means discussing how excited you are to be working in Japan, asking about the students, and going over your tentative schedule. Do not talk about how successful you will be teaching the students English, nor about your past accomplishments. Be humble. Be quiet. Let the heads of the meeting guide the conversation.
When the introduction is over, you will be asked to stand. That’s right, don’t stand. Until? Now you’re catching on. Once the head of the meeting stands, you may do the same. Again, bow and say Yoroshiku onegai shimas. Gather the business cards given to you, stacking them from top to bottom in order of importance, and keep them in your hand. Bow multiple times upon leaving to show how thankful you are.
If you can follow these simple rules to a formal Japanese introduction, you will surely be successful.
* * *
I couldn’t stop sweating. There are few things more uncomfortable than a sweat soaked, starched, Target brand collared shirt with a tie cinching it down against your neck. I wasn’t nervous though. Despite all that I had been told to do at my introduction to the Board of Education, or BOE as they call it, I wasn’t nervous.
A heat wave had been breaking record highs in Japan for the first week of my arrival. While I sat in the BOE office, in full business attire, my face showed clear signs that I couldn’t handle the heat. Luckily, in Japan the custom is to have a handkerchief with you in order to wipe the sweat from your brow. I had brought mine, but a handkerchief only does so much when it has already soaked through. I also chose to use the handkerchief sparingly because I had had it since I was five years old and I was not sure if the tattered ends and holes in it would appear as the most hygienic of sweat wiping devices to the Japanese. I also doubted that the snarling tiger image on it would convince them of my professionalism. My only other option against constantly wiping the sweat from my face with a 22 year old handkerchief was to let the sweat pour and then act like I had no problem with it. Maybe the Japanese would think that in my country extreme perspiration is a normal thing.
But again, I wasn’t nervous. I felt like I knew what I was supposed to do. I had practiced the bowing, the business card holding and admiring, and the introductions in Japanese. I even made a point to take my shoes off every time I entered my own apartment, in order to start forming the habit. Mayumi, my translator and cultural liaison, before entering the office, had asked me if I was nervous. With a smile I said, “Of course not. I’m excited!” Now, with rivulets flowing down my face while talking with the head of the BOE, she must have thought that I had been lying through my teeth.
If my sweating was offensive, the others didn’t let on. They maintained a very amiable yet professional demeanor. I did my best to do the same. I collected business cards and laid them on the table accordingly. I talked about being happy to be teaching in Japan, and Mayumi translated for me. Meanwhile sweat came down in streams. It was just too hot. It was 90, with humidity at 80 percent. The fact that the others weren’t in my same condition shocked me. There was no way that anyone could adapt to such heat.
Okay, maybe the sweat came because I was a little nervous. As I recall, there was one point during my time at the BOE where my nerves may have initiated the deluge. Again, I had rehearsed the greetings for days before the meeting. One statement, Yoroshiku onegai shimas (Nice to meet you), I made sure was well etched into my head, as it was the most complicated. Having practiced, when I arrived at the BOE office, I was confident that I could execute the phrase with perfection. As I entered, the whole office stood up, I was introduced, and everyone, in unison, said to me, “Yoroshiku onegai shimas.”
I recognized the phrase instantly and I knew that my job was to repeat, bow and then sit back and feel good about properly introducing myself. With the best pronunciation I could muster I did just that.
“Yoroshiku onegai shimas” I said, with what I believed was excellent pronunciation.
I bowed, and right as I was going to settle into the feeling good about myself part, I realized that they were doing it again. They were bowing a second time and saying Yoroshiku onegai shimas. I wasn’t prepared for a second time, and I didn’t know the proper response. Nothing at orientation covered a second Yoroshiku onegai shimas, nor did any of the pre-departure readings that they gave me in tomes. Perplexed at the situation, I thought it best to follow their lead. For a second time I bowed and said Yoroshiku onegai shimas, except this time with a questioning inflection at the end. When I stopped, I saw that they were going down for a third bow, with a third Yoroshiku onegai shimas! We were like pinball machine paddles going back and forth at each other, but instead of hearing the bells and whistles of the pinball machine, what filled the room was a perpetual echo of Yoroshiku onegai shimas. No one gave any sign that this was unusual so I repeated my bow and said Yoroshiku onegai shimas for a third time.
Somehow, eventually, I was ushered to a meeting table and I wasn’t sure if I had totally messed up, or if that was exactly how it was supposed to go. That is when I noticed the sweat begin. That’s also when I noticed how uncomfortable my clothes were.
I made it through however, and performed all the ceremonial traditions as well as any new gaijin to Japan can. When the meeting at the BOE was ending, I remember thinking, “Thank God that these introductions only have to happen once.” Mayumi and I left the office, bowing and saying Yoroshiku onegai shimas even more, and then we made way into the hall. I started to walk down the corridor, but Mayumi hesitated.
“You’re not coming?” I asked.
“Uh, yes” she responded. “But we have to wait for Suzuki-san.”
“He’s going back home with us?” I joked.
“Uh, no. He is going to introduce us to the three other schools you will be working at. We have three more introduction meetings today.”
She saw that I was surprised and asked, “Are you nervous?”
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
I Moved to Japan
For those who may not know, I now live in Japan. During my year back in the States I realized that my desire for travel and the specific kind of learning that it brings is still not satisfied. So I arranged plans to teach English in Asia. I was fortunate to get a position in the Fukushima area of Japan (yes, THAT Fukushima) and moved here about a month ago.
The blog has been inactive for most of the last year, though I do have a few stories from the US that I would eventually like to post once I get an Internet connection that isn't just on my phone. I've included one new entry below to give an impression of where I am. Yes, I did write it all from my phone. No, I won't be doing that again.
I hope you are all doing well and find the entry worth your time.
-Josh
The blog has been inactive for most of the last year, though I do have a few stories from the US that I would eventually like to post once I get an Internet connection that isn't just on my phone. I've included one new entry below to give an impression of where I am. Yes, I did write it all from my phone. No, I won't be doing that again.
I hope you are all doing well and find the entry worth your time.
-Josh
Rice Paddies & Grumbling Giants
The rice paddies here grow a brilliant green in the sun. It's a color that I've never seen before which tells me that this experience is good. The road I take to work meanders next to that rich color of life and the movement of the car gives energy to the paddies. They become a wide, lazy green river moving against me. Verdant hills rise from the river and border the serpentine valley. In the forests that cover the hills, Japanese cicadas sing in continuous waves that build, crash and crescendo into one another. My neighbors tell me that they will sing until autumn. The sound is a melody that astounds me. I'm relieved to be astounded again. My senses have been craving something new.
The earth is uncomfortable. He's trying to rest but can't find the right position. You can hear his cantankerous grumble before he moves. The sound, cavernous and dark, builds from the east and undulates toward my door. As soon as I make it out for what it is, the furniture begins to tremble. I hope that the sudden vibrating living room is only a tremor, but the giant whose back on which my apartment rests is capricious.
One night his insomnia was contagious. I laid awake in a loft above my kitchen and the earth decided to move his resting position. He grumbled and rolled and my lofted bedroom became the top of a bobble head doll. At the height of the shaking, I clutched at my toppling desk with one hand and at a pair of pants with the other. I was getting ready to make a run for it. The ceiling beams sounded cracks while the wall beat against my shoulder. I tried to plan my escape but realized that strategy is hard to summon while your home is trembling violently. By the time I convinced myself of how to flee (shrieking and half naked was the best I could come up with) the trembling quieted and then, disappeared. The beams were still in one piece. The walls only shivered slightly and then stopped. And my heart raced. Everything was in one piece, making me believe that the earth had found a position to rest in for the time being.
My wanderlust has brought me here, to green rice paddies and a shaking apartment. I am happy to be here, on the move once again.
The earth is uncomfortable. He's trying to rest but can't find the right position. You can hear his cantankerous grumble before he moves. The sound, cavernous and dark, builds from the east and undulates toward my door. As soon as I make it out for what it is, the furniture begins to tremble. I hope that the sudden vibrating living room is only a tremor, but the giant whose back on which my apartment rests is capricious.
One night his insomnia was contagious. I laid awake in a loft above my kitchen and the earth decided to move his resting position. He grumbled and rolled and my lofted bedroom became the top of a bobble head doll. At the height of the shaking, I clutched at my toppling desk with one hand and at a pair of pants with the other. I was getting ready to make a run for it. The ceiling beams sounded cracks while the wall beat against my shoulder. I tried to plan my escape but realized that strategy is hard to summon while your home is trembling violently. By the time I convinced myself of how to flee (shrieking and half naked was the best I could come up with) the trembling quieted and then, disappeared. The beams were still in one piece. The walls only shivered slightly and then stopped. And my heart raced. Everything was in one piece, making me believe that the earth had found a position to rest in for the time being.
My wanderlust has brought me here, to green rice paddies and a shaking apartment. I am happy to be here, on the move once again.
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