Outsiders on the Inside

I've been living in Japan for about four years now, and every time I mention where I reside I hear the same couple of phrases.

"Japan? Oh my gosh!  It must be amazing!!"

"Japan? Wow! You're having a great adventure!"

"Japan! Oh my god I've always wanted to go to Japan!  It's just like in all the animes and stuff right?? Kawaii!!!"

Everyone that's never been to Japan - or that's only been to Japan as a tourist - can only think of Japan as this grand, amazing place.  And a lot of it is amazing.  The views here are phenomenal.  The sunsets are gorgeous.  The people are indeed very kind.  And the food is fantastic.

And yet I find myself here, after one year of college, two years as a conversation partner and one year of teaching English to 5th graders, in this beautiful country feeling as lonely as anyone can ever imagine.

And it's not just me.  My friend, who is married to a Japanese man, has Japanese kids and has been living in Japan for almost half of her life, has said to friends that she "feels lonely in a room full of people" here.  And I completely understand what she means, even though I've only been here for four years.  I, indeed, can feel lonely in an entire shopping mall of people.  I feel lonely in my entire neighborhood full of new families.  I feel lonely even with my friends, and even having a boyfriend.

It all goes to the "Insider-Outsider" part of Japanese culture.  The part that a lot of people would rather skip over.

Basically, if you are Japanese, you're in!  You're in the first circle, anyway - after that there's age, gender, career, and position within the company, as well as many, many more.  As in any country odd kids are picked on; but I find it especially cruel how they're bullied.  An autistic child, for example, may or may not be bullied in school, and the teacher would make every attempt to thwart it.  The fat kids, weird kids, and otherwise different kids, however, are on their own - the teacher may not even check himself from making comments.

But I'm off topic.  Being a foreigner, I am automatically out-zoned.  I will never be in the "in" zone, even if I become a Japanese citizen.  I will never be in the "in" zone even if I live in the same neighborhood for 30 years, marry a Japanese man, take his name and have kids that go to the local elementary school.  I will never be in the "in" zone even if I take over the PTA meetings (as if they'd let me).

I mentioned just yesterday how lonely it feels in my new neighborhood.  When I moved in, it was nothing but rice paddies: Rice paddies to the right of my apartment, rice paddies (and a small factory) in front of my apartment, rice paddies behind my apartment.  I moved in with my boyfriend and we made every attempt to be friendly with our new neighbors.  We followed the dying Japanese tradition of knocking on everyone's door and introducing ourselves, and then presenting a small gift.  We did this for a few reasons, one being that I would've liked to make friends in the same building.  Another was that a few days before moving in, we read online about foreign neighbors that never introduced themselves, and the comments came in.  Not that people in general are becoming colder these days (which they are), but specifically that foreigners are so unfriendly, and thank god I'm Japanese!  Just because the foreigners didn't introduce themselves, they made a name for all foreigners to come in those people's minds.

And yet, even after introducing ourselves... I can't tell you a single neighbor's name.  I don't know anything about them, because out of the five neighbors we visited, one told us her name.  And it was a year since I've seen her, so unfortunately I don't remember.  The neighbor below us didn't bother; luckily her name's on the door.  Not that I'd ever talk to her - the last time I tried to help her with groceries, she vehemently denied my attempt.  Her kids are nice enough, though - they at least greet me when they see me.

But it's the truth - as a foreigner, we are "out," and there are only two modes of interacting with us.  One is the "Teach me English!!" mode.  It's pretty self explanatory.  The other is the "ALIENS!" mode - where they will ignore any of your attempts at speaking Japanese, however fluent, and instead avoid you or speak as slowly as humanly possible (or try their best at English, which doesn't always go well).  There are actually two more modes - Talking with Genuine Curiosity, which tends to be limited to adorable little old ladies and men, and "Professional" mode, limited to cashiers.

In the year since I moved in, houses have gone up all around my apartment building.  Two houses to the right; five (?) houses behind.  The houses behind the house all share a street, so it's like a cul-de-sac, and in Japan people typically don't buy houses unless they're having or have children.  So all of these new families move in, and greet each other in the street.  Oh, your baby is so cute! Ours is 7 months.  Oh, how nice!  Well if you need anything, don't be afraid to call. Oh, when did you move in? Wow, that's so far away!    They stand in the street and chat like it's a 1950's TV show.  They wash their cars and wave at each other.  Their children run around together.

And I sit on my balcony, alone, watching the scene.

In the four years since I've come to the country, I've noticed how much I've changed.  I'm much more introverted now.  I want to see friends and have parties, but I'm actually a little afraid to.  It's draining, because I'm always worried I'll say something wrong and offend someone (my own special brand of language disability, heh.)   I've stopped greeting people on the street.  In my old neighborhood, everyone greeted everyone.  Kids greeted grannies, mothers greeted fathers.  I'm sure babies even blew kisses, although maybe that's just the reflection from my rose glasses.

But when you were trying clothes on at the mall, strangers would compliment how you looked.  You could have an in-depth conversation with the clerk about what they would recommend for a party.  You could talk about just about anything with the clerks, actually.

But here?  Nothing.

It's not that this kind of off-the-cuff conversations don't exist in Japanese culture.  They definitely do.  I've waited patiently behind an old woman at the supermarket, who was chatting her little granny butt off with the equally-aged cashier.  But as soon as I'm up?  Professional silence.

Greeting people on the street is a mixed bag.  They either ignore me (most of the people my age and a bit older), say hello with a completely bewildered look on their face (middle-aged/older people), or greet me warmly (again, mostly old grannies and grandpas.)  Let it be written down for posterity some of the best people found in Japan are all in the elder generation.

That being said, I find it easier just to look at my shoes when I pass anyone these days.

Last but not least, I hate receiving anything in Japan.  ANYTHING.  Japan, as well as most/all(?) of Asia, has a practicing reciprocal culture.  If you are giving something, you give something back.  Did someone send you an e-mail? Reply right now.  A candy? Give them one back.  

It's not that America doesn't have a reciprocal culture; it's just that it's much more lax.  I've only made one person angry that I didn't send a thank-you note for a present -- and I didn't because I received it in person, and usually it's fine to just say thank you there.  I'm also a very easy-going person - I don't particularly care if someone thanks me or not, just so long as they're not rude about it.

In Japan, though?  All right, this is mostly my ex-host mother, but it is scary.  She once yelled at me for weeks about what a terrible person I am.  In her rants included this tidbit - Other people won't tell you this, you know.  They'll just stop calling you.  You'll lose friends!   I would've preferred the silent treatment, thanks!

And that in itself is tiring.  What do I give back?  And when?  When I was a conversation partner and people would give me gifts, was I expected to give them something back?  Or were my lessons considered the reciprocation?   What if someone gives me a big thing?  What if it's a really small thing? Will they still get mad if I don't give something back?


And that's why I'm ready to go back.  I'm tired of being an outsider on the inside, or whatever I am.  I'm tiring of having anxiety that I'm not "doing it" right ("it" being polite society).  I'm tired of being alone in this busy room of people.

Foreign phones in Japan

Hello all,

Just this past week I spent my Friday at work helping out our newest Assistant Language Teacher (ALT for short), who had come from Vancouver already knowledgeable about phones in Japan.

Or so he thought.

Now, it's not his fault. He did his homework, researched the different phone companies, what they offer, etc., and had come to Japan feeling very confident that he would have no problems getting a SIM card for his LG phone and using it with a Japanese service plan.  The company he chose apparently offer this kind of service (the others may not), and as he gleefully handed over his brand-new phone, the desk clerk cheerfully said, "I'm sorry, this doesn't have a giteki mark."

A "giteki" mark?  What's a "giteki" mark?

A giteki mark is a mark of Certification of Conformance to Technical Standards.

It looks like this.

Without it, you may not lawfully receive a SIM card for use in Japan.  It's actually against the law.  Not just selling a SIM card; just knowingly purchasing another phone for the purposes of recycling the SIM card into a new phone is against the law without this little guy.

If you've purchased your phone in Japan, the symbol is almost certainly there (unless it's from a shady, black-market phone dealer?)   Our new ALT had purchased his phone in Thailand.  If there is a giteki mark on his phone, it's within the phone's data and can only be displayed by knowing the correct buttons to push (the clerk helpfully suggested this possibility).  However, it's not under the battery or anywhere along the back of the phone, where it normally would be, and so they could not offer him a SIM card.  

He ended up getting an iPhone 5c, instead.

Thoughts on being a minority, without being a minority

Ferguson, Missouri has been the main source of a lot of sour feelings for the last ten days now.

Anger at the cops, anger at the protesters.  Anger at the media, anger at the racial tensions.

If you don't know what happened there by now, I recommend simply googling "Ferguson."  But in brief, a white police officer shot an unarmed black teenager, in what may or may not have been self defense, for jay walking.  (It was later reported that he had stolen some cigars just before.) The teen, Michael Brown, was shot six times, and lay dead in the street for several hours.  His death sparked protests in the city.

A lot of people in the country seem to be taking one stance or another, and it often seems to be one group, one race, or the other.  Cops or robbers.  White or black.

Nine Things I Learned Owning and Dealing with the Death of a Pet in Japan

From last October up until last Wednesday I owned an affectionate little orange tabby cat named Cello.  In fact, one of the reasons I chose my current apartment was because it seemed feasible for me to own a cat - even if it was forbidden in the contract (I'll get more into that in another post.)  Owning a cat in a foreign country was both easy and extremely difficult - if you can't read Japanese, you'll never know what's in the food you're giving your pet, and even if you do know pet food doesn't seem to be bound by the same restrictions as in the U.S.  Food is usually easy enough to find, but toys and other essentials can be pretty difficult.

The Rules

All right, I've thought pretty long about this.

This blog is not necessarily meant for people to see.  But, at the same time, I would like people to see it.

I want people in my position to know they aren't alone.

I want people to see interesting things.

I want to know that I'm not alone.

The Beginning of an Affair to Remember, Part II

If you haven't read Part I, please read that first.

***

So, in the summer of 2007 I graduated high school.  In those three years I had luckily been able to learn how to do work and get decent grades, and I was accepted to my first choice university.  I wanted to study two things: Japanese language and studio arts.

The Beginning of an Affair to Remember, part I

I don't have much experience with first posts on blogs.

Usually whenever I visit someone's blog, there's already fifty posts or more, and I never need to ever actually read the first post.

But I suppose, upon thinking about it, that the first post should provide the background for the rest of the blog.  So, here it goes.

My love affair with Japan began in 1998, when Pokemon became a thing in the States.  I was eight at the time, and though I didn't know much about Japan, I had an older brother who did. (Well, he at least knew more than I, being in junior high at the time.)  I loved Pokemon, which meant I loved Japan by extension.

I still remember one time in an MSN chat room when I was ten.  That nostalgic question - "a/s/l?" - popped up, and someone said they were in Japan.  (Now that I think about it, that person was probably an English teacher on the JET program.  Heh.)

I FREAKED OUT.