Japan: A conversation in a valley somewhere
1 Comments Published by nico on Sunday, February 17, 2008 at 9:42 pm.
The final full day started with a visit to a local junior high school to teach a year 9 class. I like that even in their architecture tends to exhibit a higher degree of thought then that of Australian space.
Like wooden walkways that encourage thought as you cross over between buildings. There is an ideal behind most public spaces. I like that, someone decided to actually think and create something beyond basic utility.
On our little walk around we drop in on art class. For me art class was always a lovely escape into expression and freedom.
There is no doubt that Japanese kids have great artistic merit but I think I would have struggled if I was to have been exposed to Japanese style art classes in my youth. The concept of expression of self in Japan is interesting process, one I could never fully grapple in my time on planet Japan. To constantly be taught to think as a group is to at some level give up a sense of self. The kids are consistently asking for feedback from the teacher, if they are doing it correctly. I don’t know about you, but I remember just being let loose to do something in Art. I was never concerned with doing art the correct way because for me, it would not be art if there was only one way, one style, one pattern to apply. I never understood the Japanese self or notions of self-expression. In the end not even Tokyo helped to explain how or if it functions.
We continue the tour around the school as we wait for the next period to begin so Nicola can commence teaching.
As I’m introduced to another class I’m being very accustomed to the three standard questions leveled at Nicola every time we enter a classroom or meet new people. I think there is this well founded notion that Japanese people are Uber polite and with not talk about a lot of issues for fear of offending someone. That said, it seems to be perfectly ok to directly ask Nicola the following questions after I’m introduced;
1) Is this your boyfriend?
2) How old is he?
3) How tall is he?
Yeah it’s cool to mention this but don’t discuss anything else about someone’s personal life. The rest seems to be taboo.
Nicola and I had agreed to tell everyone that I was her best friends boyfriend. Seemed to do the trick, stopping the small village rumour mill kicking into full gear.
The class goes well, with Nicola and I taking on marking of classwork duties. I’m taught how to mark Japanese work, with a little circle drawn instead of ticks and the underlining of errors with suggestions. My personal favourite is when a student does something perfect you simply place the pen in the middle of the page, holding it by the end and draw a spiral out that covers the whole page.
So we are off to have lunch with Ayami in Sagara. It is the closest thing to a frank discussion as I’ve had thus far with a Japanese person. Ayami has studied in Seattle, USA and has since returned to help out with the family farm. Her English is very good but it has this slight American accent which when mixed with Japanese kinda sounds like a softer rhythmic toned version of ‘international’ English.
We all seem to go for the Japanese lunch box set, which is a wise choice given how it looks and how it tastes. Awesome.
Discussion turns to life and other such things. I sense that Ayami is not so much resigned to a village life but something is going on. When I gently quiz her if she plans to travel again or move to a bigger city she replies, “No. I will stay here forever’. I truly don’t think a statement like that is lost in translation but certainly it is an example that Japanese people are very direct is some interesting ways.
I don’t really understand why but I have this really odd desire to marry Ayami and spend my days looking after rice, tea and mushroom harvests. Maybe making a rope swing for the kids that visit the weekend shop, try to build a separate guest house and other such things. That desire passes me by as fast as it arrived but I make a special note to remember what it feels like to dream a life that is 'of the other'. Nicola also takes this opportunity to rub salt in my crappy blue paper crane effort using her chopstick wrapping.
After spending a few minutes trying to find the family that run the restaurant so we can pay, it is time to roll out for a drive up to check out the shiramizu take suspension bridges.
Random riced up van. Ah Japan, never to far from something random.
A challenging drive up the valley for Nicola but we are rewarded with some lovely views and a very peaceful walk around.
The bridges themselves are funny because Nicola cannot work out why they were created in the first place. Maybe one of those over-engineering moments in Japanese life.
As I cross the bridge, the cold weather mixed with the movement of the bridge as you walk across causes the most disconcerting ‘creeking’ sound. You know those action films were the guy has to cross the dodgy old bridge and just before the wooden slat cracks it makes this ‘creeeeeaaaakkkk’ sounds. That is pretty much the sound every freaking step made. The only time it didn’t make that sounds what when I stepped on the CLEAR PLASTIC mid sections!
Note the offending clear plastic sections. Maybe some more prayers required here?
We stroll back to the car and head back towards home.
On the spur of the moment Nicola suggests showing me Kyoko’s house. Kyoko is a lady who attends her Wednesday night conversation class. Nicola does not have her phone number so we do the very un-Japanese thing of just showing up. Lucky for us Kyoko’s home and is happy to show us around. The place has been made by hand, inspired from her travels to Bail and India.
During summer this whole area is opened up to a café style area. You can hear the river flowing in the background; I close my eyes and can imagine it with the cherry blossoms out.
Kyoko is perhaps the most interesting person I’ve met in my travels thus far. We are invited to sit in the guest dinning-room-come-bedroom.
She certainly has led an interesting life, she is one of those people who has the capacity to think outside the square. Being very-very generous with her time and her house we share some of the most amazing tea I have ever had.
I could sit and drink this stuff for years. Then we are treated to the awesome milk jelly. Bonus!
Yum!
Conversation turns to life, music, art and experience. I’m totally fascinated by Kyoko’s perspective and insights into the Japanese psyche but also the way she herself says, hides behind the complexity of indirect suggestion based conversations. Everything said has multiple layered meanings. She does manage to imply a lot about what it is like to be Japanese. Nicola and I both take to the piano and Kyoko takes out one of three African drums she acquired on her world travels. We have a little jam session and then she attempts to teach us an African rhythm.
It appears that in Japan I’m still a white guy when it comes to rhythm.
That night we head out to English conversation class. It is an interesting night were a lot of faces I’ve meet over the past few days come together under the guise of learning conversational English. Feeling a little brave I decide to really push it by asking heaps of questions about Japanese culture and custom. Naturally Kyoto rises to the challenge. She says she feels there are three faces in Japan. The warrior face, the farmer face and one other I forget. There is so much to that I do not understand.
After conversation class we head out town another restaurant to sign off my last night.
Itadakimas! (sounds like 'ee-ta-dakie-maaaaaaaaaaaaas) We make friends with the two guys manning the bar come cooking area. After which Nicola is giving the strongest tequila sunrise I’ve ever tasted.
We chat about the usual suspects and I notice that Nicola was not joking this Japanese habit of buying a bottle of So-Ju, in the case shown below, a variety with bee’s in it, then going to a local restaurant and leaving the bottle there for the next time you come back.
The customer on the far right obviously hasn’t been back since 2006. I love it. It’s so Japanese. No one will touch the bottle or pretend it is theirs.
This is my favourite dish in Japan. It is sort of like cheese deep fried in a pastry and then you get this chili source to dip it in. hmmmmmmm.
We ask what the kitchen/bar men behind the counter are up to afterwards, they say maybe some Karaoke at a local bar. We say we’ll meet you there!
We wander down the street, turn left at some car park, through a little walkway between two residential buildings and then through a little hole in a wall and into…
Karaoke time la! The locals roll in and we make friends over some soju and bad English and Japanese tunes.
Due to the rather hammered state both of us we get a tyko (?) home. Now that is the way to travel. Basically you sit in the back seat and some dude drives you home in your own car.
Fair to say the hostess with most-ess and I have shared some lovely moments in this brief time on planet Rural-Japan. As the night falls and pulls us deeper towards the sadness of goodbye, it is done with the honesty and love that makes a good friendship worth it. I keep humming the tune to Tracy Chapman's 'Speak the word'. My mind plays the song, my mouth wispers out the words;
The desire to crystal ball into the future is played out and there is for a brief moment inside me a sense of assured peace in the knowledge that nothing is but assured. I can look at our own struggles, one for a life were change is manageable and the other to find something worthwhile that keeps us in a postcode for longer then 20 seconds, and know that when time and space collude and throw us back over a meal, some drinks and a bucked of friendship, we will look how far we have traveled. What we see will be nothing as we expected and so much more then we could have imagined.
It could be Paris, Sydney or Tokyo. It is immaterial. For the first time in my life I’ve accepted that the journey is enjoyed as much as any sense of departure or arrival but most of all everything is a short plane trip away. Including worlds unknown but worlds with open arms none-the-less.
Sleep catches me and taps me on the shoulder as if to say, “Time does not wait Nico. Let me take you a little quicker towards your goodbye”. I wake up feeling cheated. Nicola and I roll on towards Kagoshima. I leave her with thanks beyond my own understandings and as I pass through the security gates I hushly say to myself, “So then Nico, onwards to Tokyo.”
Like wooden walkways that encourage thought as you cross over between buildings. There is an ideal behind most public spaces. I like that, someone decided to actually think and create something beyond basic utility.
On our little walk around we drop in on art class. For me art class was always a lovely escape into expression and freedom.
There is no doubt that Japanese kids have great artistic merit but I think I would have struggled if I was to have been exposed to Japanese style art classes in my youth. The concept of expression of self in Japan is interesting process, one I could never fully grapple in my time on planet Japan. To constantly be taught to think as a group is to at some level give up a sense of self. The kids are consistently asking for feedback from the teacher, if they are doing it correctly. I don’t know about you, but I remember just being let loose to do something in Art. I was never concerned with doing art the correct way because for me, it would not be art if there was only one way, one style, one pattern to apply. I never understood the Japanese self or notions of self-expression. In the end not even Tokyo helped to explain how or if it functions.
We continue the tour around the school as we wait for the next period to begin so Nicola can commence teaching.
As I’m introduced to another class I’m being very accustomed to the three standard questions leveled at Nicola every time we enter a classroom or meet new people. I think there is this well founded notion that Japanese people are Uber polite and with not talk about a lot of issues for fear of offending someone. That said, it seems to be perfectly ok to directly ask Nicola the following questions after I’m introduced;
1) Is this your boyfriend?
2) How old is he?
3) How tall is he?
Yeah it’s cool to mention this but don’t discuss anything else about someone’s personal life. The rest seems to be taboo.
Nicola and I had agreed to tell everyone that I was her best friends boyfriend. Seemed to do the trick, stopping the small village rumour mill kicking into full gear.
The class goes well, with Nicola and I taking on marking of classwork duties. I’m taught how to mark Japanese work, with a little circle drawn instead of ticks and the underlining of errors with suggestions. My personal favourite is when a student does something perfect you simply place the pen in the middle of the page, holding it by the end and draw a spiral out that covers the whole page.
So we are off to have lunch with Ayami in Sagara. It is the closest thing to a frank discussion as I’ve had thus far with a Japanese person. Ayami has studied in Seattle, USA and has since returned to help out with the family farm. Her English is very good but it has this slight American accent which when mixed with Japanese kinda sounds like a softer rhythmic toned version of ‘international’ English.
We all seem to go for the Japanese lunch box set, which is a wise choice given how it looks and how it tastes. Awesome.
Discussion turns to life and other such things. I sense that Ayami is not so much resigned to a village life but something is going on. When I gently quiz her if she plans to travel again or move to a bigger city she replies, “No. I will stay here forever’. I truly don’t think a statement like that is lost in translation but certainly it is an example that Japanese people are very direct is some interesting ways.
I don’t really understand why but I have this really odd desire to marry Ayami and spend my days looking after rice, tea and mushroom harvests. Maybe making a rope swing for the kids that visit the weekend shop, try to build a separate guest house and other such things. That desire passes me by as fast as it arrived but I make a special note to remember what it feels like to dream a life that is 'of the other'. Nicola also takes this opportunity to rub salt in my crappy blue paper crane effort using her chopstick wrapping.
After spending a few minutes trying to find the family that run the restaurant so we can pay, it is time to roll out for a drive up to check out the shiramizu take suspension bridges.
Random riced up van. Ah Japan, never to far from something random.
A challenging drive up the valley for Nicola but we are rewarded with some lovely views and a very peaceful walk around.
The bridges themselves are funny because Nicola cannot work out why they were created in the first place. Maybe one of those over-engineering moments in Japanese life.
As I cross the bridge, the cold weather mixed with the movement of the bridge as you walk across causes the most disconcerting ‘creeking’ sound. You know those action films were the guy has to cross the dodgy old bridge and just before the wooden slat cracks it makes this ‘creeeeeaaaakkkk’ sounds. That is pretty much the sound every freaking step made. The only time it didn’t make that sounds what when I stepped on the CLEAR PLASTIC mid sections!
Note the offending clear plastic sections. Maybe some more prayers required here?
We stroll back to the car and head back towards home.
On the spur of the moment Nicola suggests showing me Kyoko’s house. Kyoko is a lady who attends her Wednesday night conversation class. Nicola does not have her phone number so we do the very un-Japanese thing of just showing up. Lucky for us Kyoko’s home and is happy to show us around. The place has been made by hand, inspired from her travels to Bail and India.
During summer this whole area is opened up to a café style area. You can hear the river flowing in the background; I close my eyes and can imagine it with the cherry blossoms out.
Kyoko is perhaps the most interesting person I’ve met in my travels thus far. We are invited to sit in the guest dinning-room-come-bedroom.
She certainly has led an interesting life, she is one of those people who has the capacity to think outside the square. Being very-very generous with her time and her house we share some of the most amazing tea I have ever had.
I could sit and drink this stuff for years. Then we are treated to the awesome milk jelly. Bonus!
Yum!
Conversation turns to life, music, art and experience. I’m totally fascinated by Kyoko’s perspective and insights into the Japanese psyche but also the way she herself says, hides behind the complexity of indirect suggestion based conversations. Everything said has multiple layered meanings. She does manage to imply a lot about what it is like to be Japanese. Nicola and I both take to the piano and Kyoko takes out one of three African drums she acquired on her world travels. We have a little jam session and then she attempts to teach us an African rhythm.
It appears that in Japan I’m still a white guy when it comes to rhythm.That night we head out to English conversation class. It is an interesting night were a lot of faces I’ve meet over the past few days come together under the guise of learning conversational English. Feeling a little brave I decide to really push it by asking heaps of questions about Japanese culture and custom. Naturally Kyoto rises to the challenge. She says she feels there are three faces in Japan. The warrior face, the farmer face and one other I forget. There is so much to that I do not understand.
After conversation class we head out town another restaurant to sign off my last night.
Itadakimas! (sounds like 'ee-ta-dakie-maaaaaaaaaaaaas) We make friends with the two guys manning the bar come cooking area. After which Nicola is giving the strongest tequila sunrise I’ve ever tasted.
We chat about the usual suspects and I notice that Nicola was not joking this Japanese habit of buying a bottle of So-Ju, in the case shown below, a variety with bee’s in it, then going to a local restaurant and leaving the bottle there for the next time you come back.
The customer on the far right obviously hasn’t been back since 2006. I love it. It’s so Japanese. No one will touch the bottle or pretend it is theirs.
This is my favourite dish in Japan. It is sort of like cheese deep fried in a pastry and then you get this chili source to dip it in. hmmmmmmm.We ask what the kitchen/bar men behind the counter are up to afterwards, they say maybe some Karaoke at a local bar. We say we’ll meet you there!
We wander down the street, turn left at some car park, through a little walkway between two residential buildings and then through a little hole in a wall and into…
Karaoke time la! The locals roll in and we make friends over some soju and bad English and Japanese tunes.
Due to the rather hammered state both of us we get a tyko (?) home. Now that is the way to travel. Basically you sit in the back seat and some dude drives you home in your own car.
Fair to say the hostess with most-ess and I have shared some lovely moments in this brief time on planet Rural-Japan. As the night falls and pulls us deeper towards the sadness of goodbye, it is done with the honesty and love that makes a good friendship worth it. I keep humming the tune to Tracy Chapman's 'Speak the word'. My mind plays the song, my mouth wispers out the words;
Bring me the wineAt the time it's just a drunk man poorly singing a tune.
The cold night air to clear my head
Gray matter memory house
Master of this trembling flesh
Steady still my doubts
Let me speak the word that precedes bliss
Let me speak the word
The desire to crystal ball into the future is played out and there is for a brief moment inside me a sense of assured peace in the knowledge that nothing is but assured. I can look at our own struggles, one for a life were change is manageable and the other to find something worthwhile that keeps us in a postcode for longer then 20 seconds, and know that when time and space collude and throw us back over a meal, some drinks and a bucked of friendship, we will look how far we have traveled. What we see will be nothing as we expected and so much more then we could have imagined.
It could be Paris, Sydney or Tokyo. It is immaterial. For the first time in my life I’ve accepted that the journey is enjoyed as much as any sense of departure or arrival but most of all everything is a short plane trip away. Including worlds unknown but worlds with open arms none-the-less.
Sleep catches me and taps me on the shoulder as if to say, “Time does not wait Nico. Let me take you a little quicker towards your goodbye”. I wake up feeling cheated. Nicola and I roll on towards Kagoshima. I leave her with thanks beyond my own understandings and as I pass through the security gates I hushly say to myself, “So then Nico, onwards to Tokyo.”
Another great entry Nico!