Aside from unpacking my things and eating Pringles and drinking coffee, this is what you've missed so far:
"Oh honey, come here!"
I go to the living room with my coffee to where my Dad is. He's pointing at the television.
"Look, look! They're repaving the walk because a tree uprooted it! Isn't this exciting?"
I end up watching the show with him for a good twenty minutes and learn a lot about digging up roots that are lifting up the cement walk in front of your countryside home. Followed by a helpful guide to visitors of Wisconsin in how to identify the many types of cows you may see while driving down a Wisconsin highway.
I fold laundry while talking to my mom. I fold up a shirt and set it down. She picks up the shirt I just folded, opens it up again and re-folds it.
"Mom. Why."
Grif: Hey, Haley, how was Japan?
Mom: Well, we got lost going to the airport!
Dad: Lin, he asked Haley how Japan was.
Grif: How did you get lost with a GPS?
Mom: Well we got a little turned around near the terminals and which one to take...(continues on)
Never did get to tell him how Japan was.
(Dad lays down and puts newspaper over his face to block out the sun during his nap)
Me: You know, they make eyemasks for exactly this sort of situation.
Dad: I know, I made one. (Pats hand on newspaper)
Me: Hey Mom, now that you have the whole family together again, are you going to start cooking every night like you used to?
Mom: ...
Me: Mom?
Mom: ...What?
Me: Cooking, mom. Do you remember what a stove is?
Mom: ...I...What...? (glances shiftily out window)
Dad: I try to turn the knobs on it once in a while to make sure they still work.
Gizmo (my pet bird) : Tweet tweet, bitches. (No, but in actuality he did start going on a chirping frenzy when I walked in through the door. He is currently twittering and squeaking a little melody out right now. Birds are actually fantastic, social, underrated pets.)
Aaaaand it's not even 11 AM.
It's good to be home.
Update: We just ordered food from Pop's. I'm getting my cheeseburger, fries, and shake. I also plan on gaining 30 pounds. Because America, that's why.
Sunday, May 27, 2012
Monday, May 21, 2012
The Things I've Done
I've done my laundry.
I've packed up my big luggage bag and had it delivered to the airport.
I've cleaned the kitchen of the dorm, along with my own room.
I've got the last of my possessions in a bag sitting next to my desk, where only my laptop, which I use now, occupies it.
I've said goodbye to my first, wonderful, talkative, welcoming, warm, host mom. I said goodbye to my second family long ago.
I've received my certificate from Nanzan University, stating that I have successfully completed their Japanese Program.
I've gathered the papers I'll need at the airport.
I have four more days, but I'm still reflecting on the things I've seen and done in my nine-month stay in Japan.
I spent a week in Tokyo, my first week in Japan. I saw my first temples and shrines and rode the trains and the subways, and got lost when I went alone. I kept my cool, made it back to my cousin's house, and I felt proud.
I got to Nagoya and met my first host mom, the person who has taken care of me better than anyone else in this city. She fed me, she talked with me, laughed with me, joked with me, encouraged me, supported me, and consoled me when I got lost...again.
I went to school and every weekday morning from 9:20AM to 12:35PM, I studied Japanese. Grammar, vocabulary, complex chinese characters, stories, newspaper articles, projects, speeches, papers, drafts, short tests, oral tests, and exams.
I met David and Jeff, and we spent our weekends at bars or karaoke or restaurants.
I met Lisa, Julie, Valerie, Shelley, Erika, and Kate, and we spent more time at bars, karaoke, restaurants, and going on day trips.
I went to see mummies in a town nearby, went to Ise, Nagoya Castle, trips to see a mummy in temples in the mountains. I went to Disney Sea and traveled around Tokyo with Ayame, and I participated in a Japanese wedding in Shikoku where I was the flower girl and gave a toast at the ceremony. I spent a fantastic weekend with my friend, seeing the oldest hot spring Japan has to offer, along with Matsuyama Castle and more.
I went to KFC with a large group of friends for Thanksgiving. I ate Christmas cake on Christmas. I had an incredibly busy, exhilarating, Japanese New Years'.
I switched host families and spent many days in museums and the zoo and parks and gardens. I traveled to Kyoto, Nara, and Osaka with Ayame. I traveled to Hiroshima and Miyajima alone. I went to Gifu, Utsumi, and Inuyama. I saw temples and shrines and gardens and parks and monuments and history.
I bought a new coat and boots and was told I looked like a Japanese girl, and that more impressive, I sounded like one. I came to read Japanese novels and watched Japanese shows and movies, and I understood them all.
I made friends from all over the world; Japan, France, The Netherlands, Jordan, Germany, India, Indonesia, China, Africa, and of course, America.
I have seen and loved so much, and I have only gained in my time spent in Japan.
Thank you for reading my blog, for supporting me, for caring about me. I may continue it even when I'm back in the states, as I will no doubt cope with what's called "Reverse Culture Shock." So check back now and again and maybe you'll be pleasantly surprised with a new post.
Thank you, everyone.
For everything.
I've packed up my big luggage bag and had it delivered to the airport.
I've cleaned the kitchen of the dorm, along with my own room.
I've said goodbye to my first, wonderful, talkative, welcoming, warm, host mom. I said goodbye to my second family long ago.
I spent a week in Tokyo, my first week in Japan. I saw my first temples and shrines and rode the trains and the subways, and got lost when I went alone. I kept my cool, made it back to my cousin's house, and I felt proud.
I went to school and every weekday morning from 9:20AM to 12:35PM, I studied Japanese. Grammar, vocabulary, complex chinese characters, stories, newspaper articles, projects, speeches, papers, drafts, short tests, oral tests, and exams.
I met David and Jeff, and we spent our weekends at bars or karaoke or restaurants.
I met Lisa, Julie, Valerie, Shelley, Erika, and Kate, and we spent more time at bars, karaoke, restaurants, and going on day trips.
I went to see mummies in a town nearby, went to Ise, Nagoya Castle, trips to see a mummy in temples in the mountains. I went to Disney Sea and traveled around Tokyo with Ayame, and I participated in a Japanese wedding in Shikoku where I was the flower girl and gave a toast at the ceremony. I spent a fantastic weekend with my friend, seeing the oldest hot spring Japan has to offer, along with Matsuyama Castle and more.
I switched host families and spent many days in museums and the zoo and parks and gardens. I traveled to Kyoto, Nara, and Osaka with Ayame. I traveled to Hiroshima and Miyajima alone. I went to Gifu, Utsumi, and Inuyama. I saw temples and shrines and gardens and parks and monuments and history.
I bought a new coat and boots and was told I looked like a Japanese girl, and that more impressive, I sounded like one. I came to read Japanese novels and watched Japanese shows and movies, and I understood them all.
I made friends from all over the world; Japan, France, The Netherlands, Jordan, Germany, India, Indonesia, China, Africa, and of course, America.
I have seen and loved so much, and I have only gained in my time spent in Japan.
Thank you for reading my blog, for supporting me, for caring about me. I may continue it even when I'm back in the states, as I will no doubt cope with what's called "Reverse Culture Shock." So check back now and again and maybe you'll be pleasantly surprised with a new post.
For everything.
Saturday, May 12, 2012
Tuesday, May 8, 2012
Life has been busy
Well, it was busy. As of late I've been spending a lot of time doing nothing, which is equally great, but two weekends ago I was busier than ever.
On Saturday, I went shopping with Ayame and her friend, Janie. We looked at a lot of stuff but I found a whole lot of nothing, though Janie found some great finds and put a dent in her wallet. We met up with Shuji later and ate some AWESOME Indian curry with naan bread and it was delicious and amazing, 5/5, would go back again. Afterwards, we went bowling, and it turns out I'm about as good as bowling in Japan as I am in America. That is to say, I have crap skill. But it was still fun, and a few strikes were had, and then we went to a Purikura machine to end our night.
On Saturday, I went shopping with Ayame and her friend, Janie. We looked at a lot of stuff but I found a whole lot of nothing, though Janie found some great finds and put a dent in her wallet. We met up with Shuji later and ate some AWESOME Indian curry with naan bread and it was delicious and amazing, 5/5, would go back again. Afterwards, we went bowling, and it turns out I'm about as good as bowling in Japan as I am in America. That is to say, I have crap skill. But it was still fun, and a few strikes were had, and then we went to a Purikura machine to end our night.
It's the only way to properly end an evening in Japan.
I had left so late that I almost missed the last train back, but thanks to Shuji, I made it back on time, and made it safely home.
We had that Monday off, so me and many others decided to go to Little World, where you can visit over 18 countries in a single theme park! Each country had its own village, which included food from there, along with typical attire to wear for that culture, and stores where you could buy souvenirs, jewelry, clothes, food, etc, all from the country you were visiting. It was actually really fun, it made me feel like a world traveler. I won't show you all the pictures - they're on my facebook - but a few snippits to get the idea.
We started with Taiwan!
Inside a Taiwan house
They had a village for America pre-colonization
My friends!
To Peru!
And Indonesia!
Yah, yah, Deutschland!
Yah, yah, Deutschland lassies! Wait what
Italy in the distance
My friends dressed up as a prince and princess in Italy. Or was it Romeo and Juliet...
On the way to Africa
India!
The French wearing Sari
And Thailand!
A glimpse of Korea
After Little World, my day was not done - I hopped on a train and headed to Komaki, Ayame's hometown.
I love trains.
Ayame's family had invited me to a BBQ at their house, and I accepted. It was DELICIOUS. Nothing wrong with some good meat on a fire, that's for sure. I talked with Ayame's dad in English a lot that night, per Ayame's request - he's an English teacher and I imagine he doesn't come across native speakers too often. We had a lot of discussions - friendly guy, good English, and a knack for conversation. Ayame's mom was also really nice, and I got along well with everyone else. Ayame's boyfriend was there, who I met for the first time, and it was just a really nice gathering with delicious food and cocktails and I really enjoyed myself.
The following day, I went out with Ayame to lunch for her birthday. We ate at a buffet and they gave her a brownie and ice cream for having a birthday! Great. Great.
And this is a picture of the park I walk past on my way home from Nanzan. I just really like fields.
Sorry I didn't put a lot of emotion into this post, but I wanted to let you guys know what I've been up to.
I'll be returning to the states in two and a half weeks. I seriously can't believe it. I knew from the beginning, before I even came to Japan, that at one point I would be saying, "I can't believe how fast time has gone, I'm already going back home," and I STILL can't believe it. I remember the first four months really well for some reason, but the last four months have been a blur. I remember being busy with school and having a few festivals and going out but it just went so FAST. I know that's how time works but, damn. It's crazy.
I remember arriving here like it was yesterday, I remember seeing the shore of Japan for the first time ever, far above the ocean in an airplane. I've seen and experienced so much. I love Japan and the friends I've made here and how far my Japanese had developed. I've really grown and changed.
But I guess you'll see that for yourselves in a few weeks!
Saturday, April 28, 2012
Update from the Rainbow House
Things are great. Like, really great.
This week I thought I would be stressed with my Japanese presentation (ten minutes about whaling in Japan), or my Politics paper (2500 words) or getting all of my stuff organized because I moved (sorting out money, telling the post office my new address, going to the ward office and filling out forms for my foreign registration card and insurance card), but I handled it well. Though, not at all alone.
My land lady, who is super awesome and welcoming and who laughs considerately at my jokes, took me to the ward office and helped me with all my forms and waited with me and was great. The CJS office workers helped me with my postal forms and also handled the money situation for me - so that I didn't have to do a single thing. See, I left my home stay early, so I get money back for that - and the dorms are an interesting situation, where I get half my money back for a month's rent. Anyway, it got all taken care of.
After my presentation, I went to Starbucks with the French and got this new, delightful drink which is called, "Double-chocolate cookie crumble blend with pudding" or something, and yes, it was amazing. The weather has been pretty good in Nagoya - a little rainy now and again, but it's been warming up since the end of February (I hear Wisconsin is not so lucky), but the weather has been absolutely beautiful aside from the occasional rain. Right now its 73 degrees and sunny, and it looks like the rest of the week is in the high 70's. As such, I got a little burned yesterday when Lisa, Valerie, Julie and I spent time outside between and after classes in the Green Area on campus (it's a big grass clearing surrounded by trees, some of which are cherry blossom trees [the blossoms are long gone now] with a fountain and some benches...awesome place to hang out on nice days).
Afterwards, after much complaining on my part because I had been hungry all day, and after making two inchworms fight each other (okay, to clarify, I thought that they were friends because, I mean, same species? Only it turns out they weren't really friends, so instead I held an inchworm championship where I got two inchworms on twigs and then put the twigs together and whoever didn't fall off won. And the little guy won all three times! It was great. I found more inchworms later but I couldn't find the champion so the challenges were called off. It was all very official. I thought it was really interesting, my French friends did not, and accused me of being Autistic) the girls finally decided to feed me and we went to Pastel, a pasta and salad place.
We ate some *delicious* food, and after stopping by the super market for ice cream and umeshu (sweet flavored sake), we headed back to Lisa's dorm and watched Aladdin while drinking and eating a bit more. What a great movie. We couldn't agree on the next Disney movie though, and the Little Mermaid was in Japanese and nobody would have that, so we ended up watching Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone before we had to leave at eleven (dorms have curfews for guests). Then we all stumbled on home, and Valerie and I hung out in my room having the best girl talk I've had in a WHILE until two in the morning. It was very fun and we laughed a lot and it was just really good to have that, because it's been too long since I've had a good girl talk, giggling and chatting on my bed wrapped in blankets and attacking each other with my stuffed animals (Valerie had Mr. Squishy Ball, but I had my small elephant, whom I named Wumbo last night).
And I'm just in such a good place right now. One of my classmates remarked that I seemed happier and more energetic than usual. I'm walking to and from school everyday (45 minutes one way) and it makes me feel healthier. I'm eating what I want, when I want, and spending my free time how I want (Gilmore Girls, reading, and as of late, playing Kingdom Hearts: Chain of Memories on my DS, when I'm not out with my friends). And I feel so free. And light. And happy.
I'll be meeting Ayame and her friend to go shopping at three, and then we'll be catching dinner with her boyfriend later tonight. It's been a while since I've seen Ayame, so I'm pumped. Plus I wanna see what her boyfriend looks like, since she's really picky when it comes to Japanese guys, and he is one, so. Should be interesting.
So, if you were wondering, I'm doing great. I'm doing better than great. I'm incurably optimistic, and incredibly happy. I'm exactly what I need to be.
This week I thought I would be stressed with my Japanese presentation (ten minutes about whaling in Japan), or my Politics paper (2500 words) or getting all of my stuff organized because I moved (sorting out money, telling the post office my new address, going to the ward office and filling out forms for my foreign registration card and insurance card), but I handled it well. Though, not at all alone.
My land lady, who is super awesome and welcoming and who laughs considerately at my jokes, took me to the ward office and helped me with all my forms and waited with me and was great. The CJS office workers helped me with my postal forms and also handled the money situation for me - so that I didn't have to do a single thing. See, I left my home stay early, so I get money back for that - and the dorms are an interesting situation, where I get half my money back for a month's rent. Anyway, it got all taken care of.
After my presentation, I went to Starbucks with the French and got this new, delightful drink which is called, "Double-chocolate cookie crumble blend with pudding" or something, and yes, it was amazing. The weather has been pretty good in Nagoya - a little rainy now and again, but it's been warming up since the end of February (I hear Wisconsin is not so lucky), but the weather has been absolutely beautiful aside from the occasional rain. Right now its 73 degrees and sunny, and it looks like the rest of the week is in the high 70's. As such, I got a little burned yesterday when Lisa, Valerie, Julie and I spent time outside between and after classes in the Green Area on campus (it's a big grass clearing surrounded by trees, some of which are cherry blossom trees [the blossoms are long gone now] with a fountain and some benches...awesome place to hang out on nice days).
Afterwards, after much complaining on my part because I had been hungry all day, and after making two inchworms fight each other (okay, to clarify, I thought that they were friends because, I mean, same species? Only it turns out they weren't really friends, so instead I held an inchworm championship where I got two inchworms on twigs and then put the twigs together and whoever didn't fall off won. And the little guy won all three times! It was great. I found more inchworms later but I couldn't find the champion so the challenges were called off. It was all very official. I thought it was really interesting, my French friends did not, and accused me of being Autistic) the girls finally decided to feed me and we went to Pastel, a pasta and salad place.
We ate some *delicious* food, and after stopping by the super market for ice cream and umeshu (sweet flavored sake), we headed back to Lisa's dorm and watched Aladdin while drinking and eating a bit more. What a great movie. We couldn't agree on the next Disney movie though, and the Little Mermaid was in Japanese and nobody would have that, so we ended up watching Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone before we had to leave at eleven (dorms have curfews for guests). Then we all stumbled on home, and Valerie and I hung out in my room having the best girl talk I've had in a WHILE until two in the morning. It was very fun and we laughed a lot and it was just really good to have that, because it's been too long since I've had a good girl talk, giggling and chatting on my bed wrapped in blankets and attacking each other with my stuffed animals (Valerie had Mr. Squishy Ball, but I had my small elephant, whom I named Wumbo last night).
And I'm just in such a good place right now. One of my classmates remarked that I seemed happier and more energetic than usual. I'm walking to and from school everyday (45 minutes one way) and it makes me feel healthier. I'm eating what I want, when I want, and spending my free time how I want (Gilmore Girls, reading, and as of late, playing Kingdom Hearts: Chain of Memories on my DS, when I'm not out with my friends). And I feel so free. And light. And happy.
I'll be meeting Ayame and her friend to go shopping at three, and then we'll be catching dinner with her boyfriend later tonight. It's been a while since I've seen Ayame, so I'm pumped. Plus I wanna see what her boyfriend looks like, since she's really picky when it comes to Japanese guys, and he is one, so. Should be interesting.
So, if you were wondering, I'm doing great. I'm doing better than great. I'm incurably optimistic, and incredibly happy. I'm exactly what I need to be.
Saturday, April 21, 2012
Why I left my host family
Okay, since I promised a blog post.
I think I knew from the beginning that it wasn't going to work out with my new host family, and there were many times that I considered leaving.
I had had my mind set on doing a homestay for the entire year - looking back, I'm not really sure why. Probably because I wanted to work on my Japanese as much as I possibly could. Actually, yeah, that was it. I wanted to get practice in.
My first homestay was great - it was really just me and my host mom most of the time, but we could sit down and talk and laugh for hours. We joked, she explained Japanese to me, I explained English to her, we watched TV together, we drank together, we always had a good time. On Sundays we would go to a restaurant, and we went to the movie theater a couple of times. We went to an aquarium and we went to a big ferris wheel. That is to say, we went out once in a while. My host mom accepting me for who I was and fed off of my energy the same way I fed off hers; we grew to understand each other's personalities and way of thinking, even though they weren't identical. We understood each other. Because we tried.
That was my first experience - and, after getting warnings from CJS not to compare host families, I went into my second host family with an open mind.
My first host family dropped me off at the second one's apartment building and I said my goodbyes. It was hard for me to say goodbye to them because I had had a really great time and we never had any problems - unless you count me not telling my host mom that I hated an omelette-rice dish combination and her figuring it out later, and then us laughing about it.
I remember the elevator trip up to the seventh floor with all my bags up into the apartment building. Silent save for the hum of the lifters, the slight rattling every few stories or so. I remember wondering why they weren't saying anything. I remember sputtering out how glad I was for them to take me in, and how thankful they took me in early so I could enjoy Japanese culture during the holidays (New Years, specifically).
I remember talking with Host Dad, and absent-mindedly putting my stir-spoon for my coffee into my mouth after using it, and then my chagrin when I realized there was only one spoon at the table and Host Dad put his milk into his coffee and let it mix itself.
I remember looking forward to hang out with Host Mom, because I knew it was her I would spend most of my time with, as Host Dad had a full-time job and Host Mom stayed at home with Host Baby, who was 17 months at the time.
And man, do I remember how badly I wanted them to like me.
Days passed. We were extremely busy with New Years plans and found time for conversation. I was enjoying myself. We saw their family often and it was nice to have that family-feel after so long of being away from my own family. I was worried about my impression on them, too, but I felt that I meshed well with the others and I think my spending time and playing with the kids was a plus for the parents. It was nice.
After the holidays, I went on a trip to Kyoto, Nara, and Osaka with my friend Ayame. I had a blast and saw so much and was excited to tell Host Mom the details about it when I got back.
I walk in after my 4-day trip, go to the living room, open the door and find Host Mom and say, "I'm home!"
And she said absolutely nothing.
My spirits fell. My throat was filled with the things I wanted to tell her about the things I saw and the places I went and what I thought and how much fun it was. Instead, I close the door and put away my bags and grab the souvenirs, thinking I can at least warm up to her by giving her things I bought for her while I was away.
She accepts my souvenirs, but she doesn't ask about how my trip was or about the things I saw. She's cold and silent and cooking dinner. I fumble for things to do in the living room and settle for folding laundry.
She never did ask about my trip, that day. I had to bring it up myself at dinnertime during my usual panic of looking for things to talk about.
Host Mom isn't a big talker, which is fine, but as I wanted to practice my Japanese I found things to talk about, urged her to respond and over time she gradually began to warm up to me at dinner. By the end of January, almost a month after I had arrived, I managed to make her laugh. I remember feeling so proud, that I had made a break-through.
Host Mom had been very strict about rule-keeping in the house and told me a lot about what I could and couldn't do. Words I couldn't say in front of Host Baby, things to do around the house to help her out (folding laundry, doing dishes, playing with Host Baby, etc), keeping the toilet seat down (two notes to remind me that one), how the bathroom should look when I'm done taking a shower, to close the drawers all the way after putting things away, table manners and holding a rice bowl or miso bowl properly, waking up at nine on the weekends, which coffee to drink from (make instant, or drink what's on the table? I didn't find out until February that I could drink the coffee on the table and Host Mom started preparing enough for all three of us) - the list goes on and on. Small things she seemed concerned with. I kept to the rules and was careful to double-check every room before I left it to make sure nothing was out of place. At dinner I always checked my posture, my hold on my bowl, how I scooped food from the serving dish to my own.
When there weren't things to do, I went to my room semi-often. I wanted to talk with Host Mom but she didn't seem to want to comply; Host Dad didn't get home until late and I would sometimes go out to talk with him, but Host Mom had created this strict, no-nonsense atmosphere so that I was always nervous about what I should say, how I should act, what I should do, where I should stand, what I should do with my hands. Over time I had come to worry about every single thing, every small detail, in order to not be scolded for doing something wrong.
I told myself it was culture. It was her way of thinking. It's her way of living. In order to become a family, I should follow the rules and not make a big deal of it. Because it wasn't a big deal. I should meld my life to fit theirs - not the other way around. This is the way she lives and this is how I would live for the next five months.
I think Host Dad must have sensed my discomfort - though I was trying desperately to melt into the scene and do as I was told and act casual about it, as though it came naturally - because at one point he brought up, as though it were an obligation to remind me, that if I were unhappy at any time I was free to go.
Part of me thought he knew that I was trying so hard to please them and it was making its toll on me - I even noticed I looked more tired than usual, more worn. School had just started again and I was stressed and trying to fit into a new schedule.
But the other part of me realized that if he did notice this, then I wasn't trying hard enough. I told him, No, I like it here. I have a little more adjusting to do but I want to stay.
It was true. I did want to stay. And I realized that being timid around them, or going to my room instead of trying to communicate, wasn't the way to get to know them.
From the end of January on, I put forth even more effort. I put the rules and the strictness to the back of my mind and again excused it as their way of living. I continued to try to not put a single toe out of line, to be the model host daughter. I made time to play with Host Baby even when I had homework and projects. I started speaking to Host Baby in English, per Host Mom's request, even though I had fuller conversations with the toddler in Japanese and more practice with her than with her parents. I still spoke my mind and joked and laughed, but on the inside I was timid. I had to summon courage to go into the living room, had to replay what I wanted to say to Host Mom a few times in my head several times before spluttering it out. I spent less and less time in my room and more time trying to please her.
I even started taking social cues from her - I stopped looking at her when we were talking because she never looked at me when talking (unless I was being scolded for something). And gradually, making eye-contact with other people became more and more uncomfortable and I hardly looked at anyone at all when I spoke to them. This might be a weird thing to notice, but when I was applying to my first job when I was 15, my future manager told me that I made great eye contact and that it was surprising for someone my age. I continued to notice this about myself from then on out, so to see that good social trait leave me seemed almost like a psychological side-effect of being around Host Mom for so long.
With Host Dad, conversation was always easy-going, was always relaxed. When I didn't understand something, he explained (when I didn't understand something with Host Mom, she waited silently until I did - this method usually didn't work, strange enough). He taught me things about Japan and about politics or economics and we had a lot of deep conversations - from the divorce rate to gay people to the places he's been and the things he's seen. When he joked, I laughed. When I joked, he laughed and called me stupid. We fell into an easy relationship that was simple to maintain and I felt more and more comfortable around him over time. He reminded me a little of my first host mom, in that respect. He also rented a lot of movies and we would watch them together - Japanese movies, American movies, British movies - it was nice to look forward to some nights.
Despite Host Mom's cold demeanor, I had started to think of us as a sort of family.
There were still misunderstandings with Host Mom - that's what I started to call them, misunderstandings - like when she demanded I say thank you for doing my laundry (I had offered in the beginning to do my own but she said that nobody up until then had understood the washing machine so she would just do it for me) and from then on I said thank you everyday, every time I took my clean laundry.
Or the time I told her I would be out and then she called me that night asking when I would be home for dinner. I reminded her that I told her I would be out and she cut me off mid-sentence and then hung up with a click. We messaged each other and she scolded me for only telling her in a phone message that I wouldn't be home. I apologized and said I'd take care to be less absent-minded in the future. When I got home, before bed, she scolded me for not apologizing in person. The conversation was icy and left me feeling shaken, that she thought I was a bad person, a bad host daughter, that she thought I was inconsiderate - when I tried so hard to make sure she knew where I was, all the time, from giving her my class schedule to my contact information whenever I went on a trip to letting her know when I wouldn't be home for dinner on weekends because I would be going out. I was visibly shaking with concern and I went back out to ask if she was mad and she said she wasn't - even though the conversation beforehand implied otherwise. I went to my room and cried, feeling like shit and missing my first host mom and my real mom more than ever. I told myself that she must have been having a bad day or I thought she was angrier than she actually was - just a misunderstanding. Or maybe she had her period and was in a bad mood, or hormones or whatever.
Or the time Host Baby was crying to be breast-fed and I suggested giving her the milk that was sitting on the table. Host Mom went into a long rant about how Japanese bodies don't respond the same way to milk as other people's bodies do and I should stop pushing this 'milk' conversation (she said once they ate fish for calcium - I asked her if milk had more calcium. This had happened a few days earlier, apparently it really affected her) and that milk isn't always the answer blah blah blah. When she was finally done, I pointed out the milk on the table in Host Baby's cup, saying that if it had been juice, I would have suggested that, and then went to my room. I shook with anger until I came back out and they had started breakfast without me, without saying anything. I ate angrily and then went to the park with Host DAd and Host Baby. I told myself that it was because Host Mom had a cold that she was a little sensitive today.
But there were good things about Host Mom, too, besides her delicious cooking. Like when she made me an onigiri (a rice ball) everyday for lunch (per my request) - I thanked her everyday for that, too. She was really helping me out there because I was able to save money for lunch, and I really appreciated that she made that for me. It required little effort and even less money, as it was one ball of rice, but I still prized her highly for it because it seemed to be a breakthrough. Over time she would make a sandwich and include little snacks or candy in my lunch, too. And sometimes she even initiated conversation at dinner, started asking me questions about myself or about America. She tried to joke and I laughed and joked back. It seemed like we were finally getting somewhere, even if we did have a few bumps in the road. I told myself the good outweighed the bad.
Host Dad started taking me out on Sundays with Host Mom and Host Baby. The zoo, gardens, the museum - to name a few. For a good two months we managed to fall into this rhythm of going out together on Sundays like a family. At first, I thought he was pushing for us all to go out. Even on days I really didn't feel like going, I went out in order to improve our relationships further. I thought it was a great opportunity to make our relationships stronger and after a while, Sundays kind of turned into a sort of family day. I started doing my homework early so that I would have free-time, knowing that Host Dad would want to do something on Sundays. And sometimes I would search for things to do, too, and brought them up as ideas and we would go off to do them (like seeing Sherlock Holmes 2, or going for a picnic under the cherry blossoms in their full-bloom). It turned into something we did together almost always as a family, and I really came to enjoy Sundays. I considered them a huge success. I had never gone out that often with my first host family, and although I knew it must be getting expensive for Host Dad, I never dreamed it was a problem - because he was the one who wanted to go out, after all.
Cue this Wednesday night. I was having dinner with Host Mom, and she was talking a lot more than usual - in the back of my mind, I felt a little warning ping go off. Something was up. We talked about the breaks coming up and about whether or not I had any plans, we talked about school and exams and when I would leave Japan. The conversation branched and suddenly I was talking about how when people give me too much, or buy me too much, or pay for me too often, I feel kind of awkward and don't like to accept (this was the case when I went to my friend's wedding back in December. It was beautiful and I was honored to be a part of it, but her family paid for everything for me, from my plane tickets to my meals to a carriage ride to my souvenirs. They offered to fly me down again, and I would love to go and see them, but I don't want them to pay for me again and I don't have the money to go myself - so I had to refuse the offer. I just don't want to be a leech).
So after I told her this - that I feel uncomfortable accepting so much from others - she said, "Oh, but if it's me and Host Dad, it's okay?"
To say that I was taken-aback is an understatement. I wasn't even sure I heard right - but I had. My Japanese has developed well enough that I knew exactly what she was saying and what she was implying, but I didn't want to believe it. So I diverted the conversation, but in another topic that I sprung, she managed to turn the conversation again and repeated herself.
I stared at my meal, telling myself not to cry in front of her, but tears are building up and she tells Host Baby, "Haley looks like she's going to cry." I force a laugh and say, "Is that how it is?"
Then I asked her what, exactly, she was talking about.
She goes into a short explanation. Apparently, Host Dad thinks (more on this in a moment) that I seem to really be pushing going out on Sundays, and that we don't always have to go out. She already knew beforehand that I didn't go out a lot with my first host family, so she was like, "Why us, then?" Pairing this comment with her earlier one, that implied I liked to leech off of people, I realized that she thought the only reason I was going out with them on Sundays was because I liked getting free stuff - as Host Dad always paid for me, even though I offered to pay and he would always decline. Basically, she was implying that the reason I went out with them at all was to get a free-ride. Free meals, free trips out, etc etc.
I gaped at her. Then I launched into a long-winded explanation - by this time I'm crying and can hardly breathe - about how the only reason I was going out with them was because I thought Host Dad wanted me to. And more than that, as I started to want to go out on Sundays too, the reason I was going out with them was because I wanted to spend time with them as a family, because I wanted to make our relationships really good and to spend time with them was why I had a host-family in the first place - to experience things and converse and have fun with each other and be a family, in Japan, learning about their way of life. That was my intention - never to take money from them.
She doesn't say anything for a while. I fill the silence with reiterating how much I enjoyed spending time with them and that we could hang out in the house too and I'd be fine, and how this whole time I was just trying to make her happy, not the other way around.
"But don't you get tired of trying to please people all the time?" She asked.
"No," I refuted immediately. "No. Because what's the point of trying to get along with people if I only think of myself? You can't make good relationships like that."
Some silence, then:
"Ah, so you're a good person." Something about the way she said it sounded like it was a joke to her - like she was only filling the space with something to say, something she clearly didn't mean.
"Apparently, I'm not." According to you, I wanted to add, but I was distraught by the entire conversation and I couldn't find any more words. I apologized for being so sensitive. She apologized for being the opposite.
We finished dinner, I did the dishes, took a shower, etc. I found this specifically distressing because it was the first time Host Dad and I had had any disagreement or miscommunication about something - and he had seemed kind of distant in the last week and suddenly I felt like I understood why. Unlike Host Mom, however, I felt comfortable enough to talk to Host Dad about this issue.
When Host Dad got home and after he finished dinner, I talked to him about what I talked to Host Mom about. He seemed confused at first - as though he didn't know what I was talking about - and then he seemed to gradually understand. He told me that going out on Sundays was fine - he used to go out alone a lot but with the foreign exchange students, he likes going out, too. He told me if it was the money I was worried about, that it wasn't an issue, money wasn't important to him when it came to these kinds of experiences. He said that maybe if I was having him take me to Kyoto every weekend, yeah, that would be a little much. He said that there were other things more important in life than money.
I told him about how much fun I had had up until then and that I really enjoyed myself. I apologized for being a burden. I told them I had only wanted to make him and Host Mom happy and I wanted to make good ties between all of us. That I had wanted us to be like a family. I even joked - it was funny, how I thought that it was him who wanted to go out this whole time, so I went out to please him, but really it seemed that he thought I was the one who wanted to go out, and he would take me out to please me. It was funny in that weird way, like that story where a girl chops off all her beautiful hair and sells it to buy a silver wrist-watch strap for her lover, and he sells his watch-face to buy her silk ribbons to tie her beautiful hair back. And when they go to exchange presents, he can't use the watch strap because he sold his watch; and she can't use the ribbons because she sold her hair. It's like that, I thought. Just another misunderstanding.
But then when I woke up the next morning, I realized some very important things:
1) Either Host Dad had faked his confusion when I brought up the topic, or Host Mom was the one who was actually bothered by the money issue. Both make sense, either of them could have been worried about the money it takes to go out - Host Dad earns it, and Host Mom keeps track of it. The latter seemed more likely to me, but I acknowledge my biased experience with Host Mom, and she could be taking the fall for her husband (though I find it unlikely, as she doesn't seem to like him very much).
2) I would never be able to accept anything from them again. From a simple rice ball for lunch, to going out to dinner, to going out on "day trips" to wherever - I could never accept it. I either couldn't go out with them, or I would go out and I would feel awkward and ashamed and tension would be high and it would pack on an insurmountable amount of stress, on top of the stress I had already been feeling in trying to please Host Mom everyday of my life for the last four months.
3) I WAS tired of trying to please people. But not just people - Host Mom. She was the one I had been trying to please this whole time. She was the one whose good side I was trying to get on. She was the one who I wanted so desperately to like me. To accept me. And it was clear that she either never would, or that she would put up a front of liking me and I would never get the acceptance I craved so much from her. From her, especially - it's not like I do this with everyone, but I feel it's especially important to at least like the people you're living with. It was her, she was supposed to be my Japanese mother, and aside from her feeding me, she was doing nothing - had done nothing - to make me feel at home, to make me feel welcome.
4) I had made excuses for her up until now. I had told myself I wasn't trying hard enough, told myself that my complaints about Host Mom were the "complaints of a sensitive, insecure, passive person, who, instead of doing things to fix problems, blamed them all on the other party," according to my notes in the journal that Delaney and Kayla gave me to record my Japan adventures in. I sacrificed my self worth - I sacrificed the person I really thought I was and told myself it was my fault, I wasn't trying hard enough, I didn't do my best. But it was clear at this point, that Thursday morning, as I lay on my back on the futon on the floor staring up at the ceiling, that I had tried damn hard. I had done everything within my power to make her like me, to at least get her to warm up to me, and it hadn't worked, because
5) She honestly - or Host Dad, I might add, but I have a strong feeling this is all Host-Mom-oriented, considering her record - thought that I was a bad person. She legitimately felt that I was swindling money out of them (and I don't use the word "swindling" often) - and felt it so much that she felt the need to say something, and Host Mom is, as I have said, not a big talker. More than that, despite getting to know each other for the last four months, after pouring myself out to her and telling her pretty much everything about me that I could think of, after spending so much time with me, she was still bent on turning things that I thought were great - Sunday afternoons - into something bad. She was bent on making me out to be a bad person.
6) I am NOT a bad person. And I will not stand to be called one.
That morning, that instant I woke up, all of these things occurred to me. I dropped the timid, insecure demeanor I had picked up while living with that family, and I found again the strong, independent girl that came to Japan on her own, leaving everything she knew and everyone she loved behind, for her dream. I sought that girl out, hidden away behind excuses for other people and an obsessive desire to get Host Mom to care about me, and I grabbed that impossibly strong girl by the hand and pulled her up and out, the passive girl naturally dropping away when she realized she didn't belong here anymore.
I went to the office in charge of the home stay program. And I told them everything.
My French friends, Lisa, Julie, and Valerie - the last of whom had stayed with this host family the first semester - came with me to the office to support me. They had heard my complaints about Host Mom, heard me trying to cover up her attitude as "bad moods" and "period weeks" and had been with me through it all. Valerie understood the most, as she had lived with them before, though her tactics had been quite the opposite of mine - she stayed in her room everyday, and stayed silent at dinners, as Host Mom fed Host Baby and Host Baby threw food on the floors. A very different strategy, but she lasted a week longer than I had.
But you see, even though I had made my decision, by noon that decision was already wavering, which is why I needed my French friends to urge me to go to the office in the end. I was already creating more excuses to stay - because Host Mom wasn't a bad person, and it was a misunderstanding, and she must have been in a bad mood, and it was only five more weeks, and I had just bought my train pass and it would be a waste of money if I moved and couldn't use it as often anymore - but the three of them were firm. Lisa and Julie said that the last of my five weeks should be enjoyed thoroughly. I agreed with them - I should be able to think only of myself and my relationship with Japan in my last weeks here, because I want to be here and I want to have fun, free of other worries and burdens. I want to make the most of my time here. Valerie said that a psychiatrist costs a lot more than a month-long train pass. And they all agreed that I needed to stop making excuses for Host Mom.
I was told I would probably be able to move in the next two or three days. They said they would call Host Dad to talk with him and explain what was going on. I thanked them profusely.
That night I messaged Host Mom, saying I wouldn't need dinner, and I stayed out with the girls. We had some really delicious ramen near our school from a Chinese place, and me and Lisa went to her dorm afterwards to hang out with the others. I was supposed to do my homework, but instead I talked with Mackenzie and Amanda about their host family experiences - good and bad - and they inquired about what happened with mine.
When I got home that night, I did the usual, "I'm home," and they said, "Welcome back," and I went to my room. I waited to see if Host Dad would come to talk to me. He didn't. I showered and went back to my room, and then paused at my door as I had so many times before. Thinking of what to say, how to say it, worried about what would happen.
And then something beautiful happened. I realized I didn't have to care anymore. Summoning that brave, courageous girl that I re-found this morning, I charged into the living room and sat down across the table from Host Dad. Host Mom was stretching on the floor near the TV.
"Did you eat dinner?" He asks.
"Yeah, I went with Valerie and Lisa to a Chinese restaurant and ate some really good ramen," I say, sitting down.
He nods, looking as his book, not looking like he was going to say anything more.
"Did CJS call?"
He corrected my Japanese promptly - I had missed a particle that doesn't affect the English translation - and I repeated my question, this time correctly. His tone had been harsher than usual, but it was easier this time to remind myself that I didn't have to care anymore about what they thought of me, that I didn't have to worry about what I was saying or if I made a mistake.
"Yes, they called."
Pause.
"Did they say anything that I should know about?"
"They'll contact you."
I shrugged. He had turned somewhat cold, somewhat like Host Mom. I wondered briefly if Host Mom had learned it from him and he had been warm towards me out of consideration, or if he was echoing Host Mom's demeanor because it was easier to not care, to not feel, like I was doing as well, though I tried at least to give the conversation a light air to it. It didn't matter. I would be gone soon. I turned to go.
"That is, I think they'll contact you, tomorrow. I think." He said this in a nicer tone and I smiled and nodded.
"I understand. Thank you," I added. This time when I went to stand, he didn't add anything. I said goodnight, both Host Dad and Host Mom echoed it back, and I went to my room. I realized afterwards that for the first time in four months, I made eye contact with him as I spoke. It had come incredibly effortlessly, as though knowing I wouldn't have to put up with Host Mom anymore had allowed me to revert out of the passive-aggressive woman I had been mirroring in my journey to get her to like me.
When I woke up that morning, I felt as light as a feather. I had slept extremely well, and looked more well-rested than I had in - well, about four months. At school the home stay office contacted me and told me I could move that night - at six.
I got home from class at four, where Host Mom and Host Baby were outside, just hanging out, probably deciding whether or not to go to the park or not. Host Mom greeted me and then told Host Baby (she does this a lot; talking to Host Baby in order to talk to other people) that I had to go pack so I couldn't play (as Host Baby was going "Ne-ne, ne-ne, Neeeee-ne!" which is toddle-speak for, "sister! sister!", whining to play with me). I agreed and she told me there were garbage bags on the table for me if I needed them.
What happened next can only be described as a miracle - I separated my trash, threw things I didn't need away, packed everything I own and took out the garbage in an hour and 45 minutes, which has to be some kind of world record. Better than that, I managed to get everything into my two big luggage bags, plus my backpack (told you I didn't have to worry about it, mom!). Host Dad came home right at six and took my bags and went down to the ground level to put them in the car.
I gave Host Baby her favorite stuffed animal of mine - Nyan-nyan, or "Meow-meow," she would always call it, then snatch it and run away from me whenever she came into my room. I handed it to her, saying, "if it's all right..." and she promptly took it from me and squeezed it and when, "Nyan-nyan!" I laughed and said, "Well, I guess it's all right."
I bowed and thanked Host Mom sincerely for cooking delicious meals for me everyday and even choked up a little while thanking her for taking good care of me. She replied in Japanese formalities that are kind of hard to explain in English, but in this case I guess it could be translated as, "It's I who should be thanking you," or whatever.
Host Mom went to get ready to walk me down and Host Baby toddled back into my room. I knelt down and thanked her for playing with me and she agreed vehemently that we had fun everyday until the end. Even writing this now makes tears spring to my eyes, but then I remind myself I would have had to say goodbye to that cute little squirt eventually, anyway.
The elevator ride down to the ground floor was spent with me and Host Baby making faces at each other. Host Dad met us at the bottom and we went to the car together. I turned, bowed and thanked Host Mom and Host Baby again for everything - Host Mom spoke for Host Baby when she said, "Thanks for playing with me!" - and I suppressed tears as I climbed into the car and closed the door behind me.
The car ride with Host Dad was more or less quiet. He told me that the office would figure out the money situation - where the extra money from the last month would go and such - and that I should talk to the office workers and I said thanks for letting me know. I thought about saying more, but I couldn't. If I thought too much, I felt the need to cry, so I emptied my mind and occupied the car ride by staring out the window and thinking of things that had nothing to do with emotion.
We reached the dorm and we got all my bags out. Valerie, as she lives at this dorm, too, and an office worker that had helped me up until now with my "case" were there and greeted us and led me inside. The office worker was there basically to neutralize the tension, and Valerie was there to greet me and hang out with me as we waited for my land lady. I brought all my stuff in and turned around to say goodbye to Host Dad.
Bowing deeply and several times, I managed a, "Thank you so much for taking care of me," and was in the middle of my second thank you when I broke down. Host Dad was grinning and he returned my bows and thanked me back, and then I turned away from him and into Valerie, who rubbed my arm and told me that if I kept crying she would cry, too.
I met with the land lady and she was great and explained everything to me, about how the place works, the security, the rules, et cetera. She showed me to my room - it's twice the size as the one I had at my host family's, with big windows and glass doors to the outside, and three dressers and a desk and best of all -
A bed with poofy, warm comforters, under which I fell asleep easily last night, after leisurely hanging out with my new rooommates (four other girls besides me and Valerie) while eating and laughing and joking and sharing stories.
Why did I cry about leaving? Because it's not simple. They fed me and provided me a room. We lived together for four months. We had a lot of good and meaningful discussions. We learned to joke and laugh with one another. We watched movies and went out. I had believed we became a family. But that last comment did it for me - as many good times as we had together, the bad times tried too hard to outweigh them. And in the end, I had to go. I had to go anyway, at some point, but I definitely had to go after I was accused of only liking them because they took me places.
I don't regret it. I could have left at any time but I didn't. My determination and naivety urged me on to try to fall into sync with that family, and in the end, I couldn't manage it. But I know that it wasn't from lack of trying on my part to fit in with them. If I had left any sooner, I would have chalked it up as me not trying hard enough, and I would have been disappointed in myself for not sticking it out. But I tried. I tried so hard, I really did.
And yeah, I'm sensitive and I know that I'm sure there were a lot of misunderstandings, and there were times, I'm sure, where I did things wrong or made them mad, without knowing it. But the difference is that I always tried to fix the problems when I knew something was wrong, and I tried to make the situation better. I seriously tried my best, and put up with a lot of insensitive things Host Mom said, or awkward silences, and it didn't work out. I would have expected to feel defeated, leaving early, but I don't. I feel proud of myself for knowing when the time came to go, for saying something, and for packing up all my stuff and making all these arrangements that are kind of a pain in the ass to make.
Instead, I refuse to take anything negative away from this experience. The entire homestay was worth it. I had too many good times to out-shadow the bad. I ate delicious Japanese meals everyday and became part of a family with Host Dad's sister's family, who I saw pretty often in the last four months. My Japanese has improved ten-fold. I saw and did a lot of things with them. We laughed and we joked and I won't forget the good times, because we had a lot of them. No, it didn't work out in the end, but it was such a good experience that I simply can't regret having participated in it. I'm leaving knowing more than when I arrived, and I'm leaving happily.
And at the very least, I have a whole new appreciation for the people that I know who care for me and love me for exactly who I am. From the people waiting patiently for my return to the states, to the friends and loved ones I have made here, I love you all, and thank you for doing me the honor of caring for me in return. And I thank you, too, reader, from the bottom of my heart, for reading my blog out of your concern for me.
And so, I walk away from this experience with my head held high and understanding myself a little better. The person I am, the person I'm not, and that not everyone I come across will accept me for who I am. That there will be misunderstandings and mistakes and that I can't force everything to work my way, even when I try desperately hard to make it so. That this world is filled with all kinds of people who have had all kinds of experiences that make them the way they are, and I may never fully understand their stories.
And that's perfectly okay.
I think I knew from the beginning that it wasn't going to work out with my new host family, and there were many times that I considered leaving.
I had had my mind set on doing a homestay for the entire year - looking back, I'm not really sure why. Probably because I wanted to work on my Japanese as much as I possibly could. Actually, yeah, that was it. I wanted to get practice in.
My first homestay was great - it was really just me and my host mom most of the time, but we could sit down and talk and laugh for hours. We joked, she explained Japanese to me, I explained English to her, we watched TV together, we drank together, we always had a good time. On Sundays we would go to a restaurant, and we went to the movie theater a couple of times. We went to an aquarium and we went to a big ferris wheel. That is to say, we went out once in a while. My host mom accepting me for who I was and fed off of my energy the same way I fed off hers; we grew to understand each other's personalities and way of thinking, even though they weren't identical. We understood each other. Because we tried.
That was my first experience - and, after getting warnings from CJS not to compare host families, I went into my second host family with an open mind.
My first host family dropped me off at the second one's apartment building and I said my goodbyes. It was hard for me to say goodbye to them because I had had a really great time and we never had any problems - unless you count me not telling my host mom that I hated an omelette-rice dish combination and her figuring it out later, and then us laughing about it.
I remember the elevator trip up to the seventh floor with all my bags up into the apartment building. Silent save for the hum of the lifters, the slight rattling every few stories or so. I remember wondering why they weren't saying anything. I remember sputtering out how glad I was for them to take me in, and how thankful they took me in early so I could enjoy Japanese culture during the holidays (New Years, specifically).
I remember talking with Host Dad, and absent-mindedly putting my stir-spoon for my coffee into my mouth after using it, and then my chagrin when I realized there was only one spoon at the table and Host Dad put his milk into his coffee and let it mix itself.
I remember looking forward to hang out with Host Mom, because I knew it was her I would spend most of my time with, as Host Dad had a full-time job and Host Mom stayed at home with Host Baby, who was 17 months at the time.
And man, do I remember how badly I wanted them to like me.
Days passed. We were extremely busy with New Years plans and found time for conversation. I was enjoying myself. We saw their family often and it was nice to have that family-feel after so long of being away from my own family. I was worried about my impression on them, too, but I felt that I meshed well with the others and I think my spending time and playing with the kids was a plus for the parents. It was nice.
After the holidays, I went on a trip to Kyoto, Nara, and Osaka with my friend Ayame. I had a blast and saw so much and was excited to tell Host Mom the details about it when I got back.
I walk in after my 4-day trip, go to the living room, open the door and find Host Mom and say, "I'm home!"
And she said absolutely nothing.
My spirits fell. My throat was filled with the things I wanted to tell her about the things I saw and the places I went and what I thought and how much fun it was. Instead, I close the door and put away my bags and grab the souvenirs, thinking I can at least warm up to her by giving her things I bought for her while I was away.
She accepts my souvenirs, but she doesn't ask about how my trip was or about the things I saw. She's cold and silent and cooking dinner. I fumble for things to do in the living room and settle for folding laundry.
She never did ask about my trip, that day. I had to bring it up myself at dinnertime during my usual panic of looking for things to talk about.
Host Mom isn't a big talker, which is fine, but as I wanted to practice my Japanese I found things to talk about, urged her to respond and over time she gradually began to warm up to me at dinner. By the end of January, almost a month after I had arrived, I managed to make her laugh. I remember feeling so proud, that I had made a break-through.
Host Mom had been very strict about rule-keeping in the house and told me a lot about what I could and couldn't do. Words I couldn't say in front of Host Baby, things to do around the house to help her out (folding laundry, doing dishes, playing with Host Baby, etc), keeping the toilet seat down (two notes to remind me that one), how the bathroom should look when I'm done taking a shower, to close the drawers all the way after putting things away, table manners and holding a rice bowl or miso bowl properly, waking up at nine on the weekends, which coffee to drink from (make instant, or drink what's on the table? I didn't find out until February that I could drink the coffee on the table and Host Mom started preparing enough for all three of us) - the list goes on and on. Small things she seemed concerned with. I kept to the rules and was careful to double-check every room before I left it to make sure nothing was out of place. At dinner I always checked my posture, my hold on my bowl, how I scooped food from the serving dish to my own.
When there weren't things to do, I went to my room semi-often. I wanted to talk with Host Mom but she didn't seem to want to comply; Host Dad didn't get home until late and I would sometimes go out to talk with him, but Host Mom had created this strict, no-nonsense atmosphere so that I was always nervous about what I should say, how I should act, what I should do, where I should stand, what I should do with my hands. Over time I had come to worry about every single thing, every small detail, in order to not be scolded for doing something wrong.
I told myself it was culture. It was her way of thinking. It's her way of living. In order to become a family, I should follow the rules and not make a big deal of it. Because it wasn't a big deal. I should meld my life to fit theirs - not the other way around. This is the way she lives and this is how I would live for the next five months.
I think Host Dad must have sensed my discomfort - though I was trying desperately to melt into the scene and do as I was told and act casual about it, as though it came naturally - because at one point he brought up, as though it were an obligation to remind me, that if I were unhappy at any time I was free to go.
Part of me thought he knew that I was trying so hard to please them and it was making its toll on me - I even noticed I looked more tired than usual, more worn. School had just started again and I was stressed and trying to fit into a new schedule.
But the other part of me realized that if he did notice this, then I wasn't trying hard enough. I told him, No, I like it here. I have a little more adjusting to do but I want to stay.
It was true. I did want to stay. And I realized that being timid around them, or going to my room instead of trying to communicate, wasn't the way to get to know them.
From the end of January on, I put forth even more effort. I put the rules and the strictness to the back of my mind and again excused it as their way of living. I continued to try to not put a single toe out of line, to be the model host daughter. I made time to play with Host Baby even when I had homework and projects. I started speaking to Host Baby in English, per Host Mom's request, even though I had fuller conversations with the toddler in Japanese and more practice with her than with her parents. I still spoke my mind and joked and laughed, but on the inside I was timid. I had to summon courage to go into the living room, had to replay what I wanted to say to Host Mom a few times in my head several times before spluttering it out. I spent less and less time in my room and more time trying to please her.
I even started taking social cues from her - I stopped looking at her when we were talking because she never looked at me when talking (unless I was being scolded for something). And gradually, making eye-contact with other people became more and more uncomfortable and I hardly looked at anyone at all when I spoke to them. This might be a weird thing to notice, but when I was applying to my first job when I was 15, my future manager told me that I made great eye contact and that it was surprising for someone my age. I continued to notice this about myself from then on out, so to see that good social trait leave me seemed almost like a psychological side-effect of being around Host Mom for so long.
With Host Dad, conversation was always easy-going, was always relaxed. When I didn't understand something, he explained (when I didn't understand something with Host Mom, she waited silently until I did - this method usually didn't work, strange enough). He taught me things about Japan and about politics or economics and we had a lot of deep conversations - from the divorce rate to gay people to the places he's been and the things he's seen. When he joked, I laughed. When I joked, he laughed and called me stupid. We fell into an easy relationship that was simple to maintain and I felt more and more comfortable around him over time. He reminded me a little of my first host mom, in that respect. He also rented a lot of movies and we would watch them together - Japanese movies, American movies, British movies - it was nice to look forward to some nights.
Despite Host Mom's cold demeanor, I had started to think of us as a sort of family.
There were still misunderstandings with Host Mom - that's what I started to call them, misunderstandings - like when she demanded I say thank you for doing my laundry (I had offered in the beginning to do my own but she said that nobody up until then had understood the washing machine so she would just do it for me) and from then on I said thank you everyday, every time I took my clean laundry.
Or the time I told her I would be out and then she called me that night asking when I would be home for dinner. I reminded her that I told her I would be out and she cut me off mid-sentence and then hung up with a click. We messaged each other and she scolded me for only telling her in a phone message that I wouldn't be home. I apologized and said I'd take care to be less absent-minded in the future. When I got home, before bed, she scolded me for not apologizing in person. The conversation was icy and left me feeling shaken, that she thought I was a bad person, a bad host daughter, that she thought I was inconsiderate - when I tried so hard to make sure she knew where I was, all the time, from giving her my class schedule to my contact information whenever I went on a trip to letting her know when I wouldn't be home for dinner on weekends because I would be going out. I was visibly shaking with concern and I went back out to ask if she was mad and she said she wasn't - even though the conversation beforehand implied otherwise. I went to my room and cried, feeling like shit and missing my first host mom and my real mom more than ever. I told myself that she must have been having a bad day or I thought she was angrier than she actually was - just a misunderstanding. Or maybe she had her period and was in a bad mood, or hormones or whatever.
Or the time Host Baby was crying to be breast-fed and I suggested giving her the milk that was sitting on the table. Host Mom went into a long rant about how Japanese bodies don't respond the same way to milk as other people's bodies do and I should stop pushing this 'milk' conversation (she said once they ate fish for calcium - I asked her if milk had more calcium. This had happened a few days earlier, apparently it really affected her) and that milk isn't always the answer blah blah blah. When she was finally done, I pointed out the milk on the table in Host Baby's cup, saying that if it had been juice, I would have suggested that, and then went to my room. I shook with anger until I came back out and they had started breakfast without me, without saying anything. I ate angrily and then went to the park with Host DAd and Host Baby. I told myself that it was because Host Mom had a cold that she was a little sensitive today.
But there were good things about Host Mom, too, besides her delicious cooking. Like when she made me an onigiri (a rice ball) everyday for lunch (per my request) - I thanked her everyday for that, too. She was really helping me out there because I was able to save money for lunch, and I really appreciated that she made that for me. It required little effort and even less money, as it was one ball of rice, but I still prized her highly for it because it seemed to be a breakthrough. Over time she would make a sandwich and include little snacks or candy in my lunch, too. And sometimes she even initiated conversation at dinner, started asking me questions about myself or about America. She tried to joke and I laughed and joked back. It seemed like we were finally getting somewhere, even if we did have a few bumps in the road. I told myself the good outweighed the bad.
Host Dad started taking me out on Sundays with Host Mom and Host Baby. The zoo, gardens, the museum - to name a few. For a good two months we managed to fall into this rhythm of going out together on Sundays like a family. At first, I thought he was pushing for us all to go out. Even on days I really didn't feel like going, I went out in order to improve our relationships further. I thought it was a great opportunity to make our relationships stronger and after a while, Sundays kind of turned into a sort of family day. I started doing my homework early so that I would have free-time, knowing that Host Dad would want to do something on Sundays. And sometimes I would search for things to do, too, and brought them up as ideas and we would go off to do them (like seeing Sherlock Holmes 2, or going for a picnic under the cherry blossoms in their full-bloom). It turned into something we did together almost always as a family, and I really came to enjoy Sundays. I considered them a huge success. I had never gone out that often with my first host family, and although I knew it must be getting expensive for Host Dad, I never dreamed it was a problem - because he was the one who wanted to go out, after all.
Cue this Wednesday night. I was having dinner with Host Mom, and she was talking a lot more than usual - in the back of my mind, I felt a little warning ping go off. Something was up. We talked about the breaks coming up and about whether or not I had any plans, we talked about school and exams and when I would leave Japan. The conversation branched and suddenly I was talking about how when people give me too much, or buy me too much, or pay for me too often, I feel kind of awkward and don't like to accept (this was the case when I went to my friend's wedding back in December. It was beautiful and I was honored to be a part of it, but her family paid for everything for me, from my plane tickets to my meals to a carriage ride to my souvenirs. They offered to fly me down again, and I would love to go and see them, but I don't want them to pay for me again and I don't have the money to go myself - so I had to refuse the offer. I just don't want to be a leech).
So after I told her this - that I feel uncomfortable accepting so much from others - she said, "Oh, but if it's me and Host Dad, it's okay?"
To say that I was taken-aback is an understatement. I wasn't even sure I heard right - but I had. My Japanese has developed well enough that I knew exactly what she was saying and what she was implying, but I didn't want to believe it. So I diverted the conversation, but in another topic that I sprung, she managed to turn the conversation again and repeated herself.
I stared at my meal, telling myself not to cry in front of her, but tears are building up and she tells Host Baby, "Haley looks like she's going to cry." I force a laugh and say, "Is that how it is?"
Then I asked her what, exactly, she was talking about.
She goes into a short explanation. Apparently, Host Dad thinks (more on this in a moment) that I seem to really be pushing going out on Sundays, and that we don't always have to go out. She already knew beforehand that I didn't go out a lot with my first host family, so she was like, "Why us, then?" Pairing this comment with her earlier one, that implied I liked to leech off of people, I realized that she thought the only reason I was going out with them on Sundays was because I liked getting free stuff - as Host Dad always paid for me, even though I offered to pay and he would always decline. Basically, she was implying that the reason I went out with them at all was to get a free-ride. Free meals, free trips out, etc etc.
I gaped at her. Then I launched into a long-winded explanation - by this time I'm crying and can hardly breathe - about how the only reason I was going out with them was because I thought Host Dad wanted me to. And more than that, as I started to want to go out on Sundays too, the reason I was going out with them was because I wanted to spend time with them as a family, because I wanted to make our relationships really good and to spend time with them was why I had a host-family in the first place - to experience things and converse and have fun with each other and be a family, in Japan, learning about their way of life. That was my intention - never to take money from them.
She doesn't say anything for a while. I fill the silence with reiterating how much I enjoyed spending time with them and that we could hang out in the house too and I'd be fine, and how this whole time I was just trying to make her happy, not the other way around.
"But don't you get tired of trying to please people all the time?" She asked.
"No," I refuted immediately. "No. Because what's the point of trying to get along with people if I only think of myself? You can't make good relationships like that."
Some silence, then:
"Ah, so you're a good person." Something about the way she said it sounded like it was a joke to her - like she was only filling the space with something to say, something she clearly didn't mean.
"Apparently, I'm not." According to you, I wanted to add, but I was distraught by the entire conversation and I couldn't find any more words. I apologized for being so sensitive. She apologized for being the opposite.
We finished dinner, I did the dishes, took a shower, etc. I found this specifically distressing because it was the first time Host Dad and I had had any disagreement or miscommunication about something - and he had seemed kind of distant in the last week and suddenly I felt like I understood why. Unlike Host Mom, however, I felt comfortable enough to talk to Host Dad about this issue.
When Host Dad got home and after he finished dinner, I talked to him about what I talked to Host Mom about. He seemed confused at first - as though he didn't know what I was talking about - and then he seemed to gradually understand. He told me that going out on Sundays was fine - he used to go out alone a lot but with the foreign exchange students, he likes going out, too. He told me if it was the money I was worried about, that it wasn't an issue, money wasn't important to him when it came to these kinds of experiences. He said that maybe if I was having him take me to Kyoto every weekend, yeah, that would be a little much. He said that there were other things more important in life than money.
I told him about how much fun I had had up until then and that I really enjoyed myself. I apologized for being a burden. I told them I had only wanted to make him and Host Mom happy and I wanted to make good ties between all of us. That I had wanted us to be like a family. I even joked - it was funny, how I thought that it was him who wanted to go out this whole time, so I went out to please him, but really it seemed that he thought I was the one who wanted to go out, and he would take me out to please me. It was funny in that weird way, like that story where a girl chops off all her beautiful hair and sells it to buy a silver wrist-watch strap for her lover, and he sells his watch-face to buy her silk ribbons to tie her beautiful hair back. And when they go to exchange presents, he can't use the watch strap because he sold his watch; and she can't use the ribbons because she sold her hair. It's like that, I thought. Just another misunderstanding.
But then when I woke up the next morning, I realized some very important things:
1) Either Host Dad had faked his confusion when I brought up the topic, or Host Mom was the one who was actually bothered by the money issue. Both make sense, either of them could have been worried about the money it takes to go out - Host Dad earns it, and Host Mom keeps track of it. The latter seemed more likely to me, but I acknowledge my biased experience with Host Mom, and she could be taking the fall for her husband (though I find it unlikely, as she doesn't seem to like him very much).
2) I would never be able to accept anything from them again. From a simple rice ball for lunch, to going out to dinner, to going out on "day trips" to wherever - I could never accept it. I either couldn't go out with them, or I would go out and I would feel awkward and ashamed and tension would be high and it would pack on an insurmountable amount of stress, on top of the stress I had already been feeling in trying to please Host Mom everyday of my life for the last four months.
3) I WAS tired of trying to please people. But not just people - Host Mom. She was the one I had been trying to please this whole time. She was the one whose good side I was trying to get on. She was the one who I wanted so desperately to like me. To accept me. And it was clear that she either never would, or that she would put up a front of liking me and I would never get the acceptance I craved so much from her. From her, especially - it's not like I do this with everyone, but I feel it's especially important to at least like the people you're living with. It was her, she was supposed to be my Japanese mother, and aside from her feeding me, she was doing nothing - had done nothing - to make me feel at home, to make me feel welcome.
4) I had made excuses for her up until now. I had told myself I wasn't trying hard enough, told myself that my complaints about Host Mom were the "complaints of a sensitive, insecure, passive person, who, instead of doing things to fix problems, blamed them all on the other party," according to my notes in the journal that Delaney and Kayla gave me to record my Japan adventures in. I sacrificed my self worth - I sacrificed the person I really thought I was and told myself it was my fault, I wasn't trying hard enough, I didn't do my best. But it was clear at this point, that Thursday morning, as I lay on my back on the futon on the floor staring up at the ceiling, that I had tried damn hard. I had done everything within my power to make her like me, to at least get her to warm up to me, and it hadn't worked, because
5) She honestly - or Host Dad, I might add, but I have a strong feeling this is all Host-Mom-oriented, considering her record - thought that I was a bad person. She legitimately felt that I was swindling money out of them (and I don't use the word "swindling" often) - and felt it so much that she felt the need to say something, and Host Mom is, as I have said, not a big talker. More than that, despite getting to know each other for the last four months, after pouring myself out to her and telling her pretty much everything about me that I could think of, after spending so much time with me, she was still bent on turning things that I thought were great - Sunday afternoons - into something bad. She was bent on making me out to be a bad person.
6) I am NOT a bad person. And I will not stand to be called one.
That morning, that instant I woke up, all of these things occurred to me. I dropped the timid, insecure demeanor I had picked up while living with that family, and I found again the strong, independent girl that came to Japan on her own, leaving everything she knew and everyone she loved behind, for her dream. I sought that girl out, hidden away behind excuses for other people and an obsessive desire to get Host Mom to care about me, and I grabbed that impossibly strong girl by the hand and pulled her up and out, the passive girl naturally dropping away when she realized she didn't belong here anymore.
I went to the office in charge of the home stay program. And I told them everything.
My French friends, Lisa, Julie, and Valerie - the last of whom had stayed with this host family the first semester - came with me to the office to support me. They had heard my complaints about Host Mom, heard me trying to cover up her attitude as "bad moods" and "period weeks" and had been with me through it all. Valerie understood the most, as she had lived with them before, though her tactics had been quite the opposite of mine - she stayed in her room everyday, and stayed silent at dinners, as Host Mom fed Host Baby and Host Baby threw food on the floors. A very different strategy, but she lasted a week longer than I had.
But you see, even though I had made my decision, by noon that decision was already wavering, which is why I needed my French friends to urge me to go to the office in the end. I was already creating more excuses to stay - because Host Mom wasn't a bad person, and it was a misunderstanding, and she must have been in a bad mood, and it was only five more weeks, and I had just bought my train pass and it would be a waste of money if I moved and couldn't use it as often anymore - but the three of them were firm. Lisa and Julie said that the last of my five weeks should be enjoyed thoroughly. I agreed with them - I should be able to think only of myself and my relationship with Japan in my last weeks here, because I want to be here and I want to have fun, free of other worries and burdens. I want to make the most of my time here. Valerie said that a psychiatrist costs a lot more than a month-long train pass. And they all agreed that I needed to stop making excuses for Host Mom.
I was told I would probably be able to move in the next two or three days. They said they would call Host Dad to talk with him and explain what was going on. I thanked them profusely.
That night I messaged Host Mom, saying I wouldn't need dinner, and I stayed out with the girls. We had some really delicious ramen near our school from a Chinese place, and me and Lisa went to her dorm afterwards to hang out with the others. I was supposed to do my homework, but instead I talked with Mackenzie and Amanda about their host family experiences - good and bad - and they inquired about what happened with mine.
When I got home that night, I did the usual, "I'm home," and they said, "Welcome back," and I went to my room. I waited to see if Host Dad would come to talk to me. He didn't. I showered and went back to my room, and then paused at my door as I had so many times before. Thinking of what to say, how to say it, worried about what would happen.
And then something beautiful happened. I realized I didn't have to care anymore. Summoning that brave, courageous girl that I re-found this morning, I charged into the living room and sat down across the table from Host Dad. Host Mom was stretching on the floor near the TV.
"Did you eat dinner?" He asks.
"Yeah, I went with Valerie and Lisa to a Chinese restaurant and ate some really good ramen," I say, sitting down.
He nods, looking as his book, not looking like he was going to say anything more.
"Did CJS call?"
He corrected my Japanese promptly - I had missed a particle that doesn't affect the English translation - and I repeated my question, this time correctly. His tone had been harsher than usual, but it was easier this time to remind myself that I didn't have to care anymore about what they thought of me, that I didn't have to worry about what I was saying or if I made a mistake.
"Yes, they called."
Pause.
"Did they say anything that I should know about?"
"They'll contact you."
I shrugged. He had turned somewhat cold, somewhat like Host Mom. I wondered briefly if Host Mom had learned it from him and he had been warm towards me out of consideration, or if he was echoing Host Mom's demeanor because it was easier to not care, to not feel, like I was doing as well, though I tried at least to give the conversation a light air to it. It didn't matter. I would be gone soon. I turned to go.
"That is, I think they'll contact you, tomorrow. I think." He said this in a nicer tone and I smiled and nodded.
"I understand. Thank you," I added. This time when I went to stand, he didn't add anything. I said goodnight, both Host Dad and Host Mom echoed it back, and I went to my room. I realized afterwards that for the first time in four months, I made eye contact with him as I spoke. It had come incredibly effortlessly, as though knowing I wouldn't have to put up with Host Mom anymore had allowed me to revert out of the passive-aggressive woman I had been mirroring in my journey to get her to like me.
When I woke up that morning, I felt as light as a feather. I had slept extremely well, and looked more well-rested than I had in - well, about four months. At school the home stay office contacted me and told me I could move that night - at six.
I got home from class at four, where Host Mom and Host Baby were outside, just hanging out, probably deciding whether or not to go to the park or not. Host Mom greeted me and then told Host Baby (she does this a lot; talking to Host Baby in order to talk to other people) that I had to go pack so I couldn't play (as Host Baby was going "Ne-ne, ne-ne, Neeeee-ne!" which is toddle-speak for, "sister! sister!", whining to play with me). I agreed and she told me there were garbage bags on the table for me if I needed them.
What happened next can only be described as a miracle - I separated my trash, threw things I didn't need away, packed everything I own and took out the garbage in an hour and 45 minutes, which has to be some kind of world record. Better than that, I managed to get everything into my two big luggage bags, plus my backpack (told you I didn't have to worry about it, mom!). Host Dad came home right at six and took my bags and went down to the ground level to put them in the car.
I gave Host Baby her favorite stuffed animal of mine - Nyan-nyan, or "Meow-meow," she would always call it, then snatch it and run away from me whenever she came into my room. I handed it to her, saying, "if it's all right..." and she promptly took it from me and squeezed it and when, "Nyan-nyan!" I laughed and said, "Well, I guess it's all right."
I bowed and thanked Host Mom sincerely for cooking delicious meals for me everyday and even choked up a little while thanking her for taking good care of me. She replied in Japanese formalities that are kind of hard to explain in English, but in this case I guess it could be translated as, "It's I who should be thanking you," or whatever.
Host Mom went to get ready to walk me down and Host Baby toddled back into my room. I knelt down and thanked her for playing with me and she agreed vehemently that we had fun everyday until the end. Even writing this now makes tears spring to my eyes, but then I remind myself I would have had to say goodbye to that cute little squirt eventually, anyway.
The elevator ride down to the ground floor was spent with me and Host Baby making faces at each other. Host Dad met us at the bottom and we went to the car together. I turned, bowed and thanked Host Mom and Host Baby again for everything - Host Mom spoke for Host Baby when she said, "Thanks for playing with me!" - and I suppressed tears as I climbed into the car and closed the door behind me.
The car ride with Host Dad was more or less quiet. He told me that the office would figure out the money situation - where the extra money from the last month would go and such - and that I should talk to the office workers and I said thanks for letting me know. I thought about saying more, but I couldn't. If I thought too much, I felt the need to cry, so I emptied my mind and occupied the car ride by staring out the window and thinking of things that had nothing to do with emotion.
We reached the dorm and we got all my bags out. Valerie, as she lives at this dorm, too, and an office worker that had helped me up until now with my "case" were there and greeted us and led me inside. The office worker was there basically to neutralize the tension, and Valerie was there to greet me and hang out with me as we waited for my land lady. I brought all my stuff in and turned around to say goodbye to Host Dad.
Bowing deeply and several times, I managed a, "Thank you so much for taking care of me," and was in the middle of my second thank you when I broke down. Host Dad was grinning and he returned my bows and thanked me back, and then I turned away from him and into Valerie, who rubbed my arm and told me that if I kept crying she would cry, too.
I met with the land lady and she was great and explained everything to me, about how the place works, the security, the rules, et cetera. She showed me to my room - it's twice the size as the one I had at my host family's, with big windows and glass doors to the outside, and three dressers and a desk and best of all -
A bed with poofy, warm comforters, under which I fell asleep easily last night, after leisurely hanging out with my new rooommates (four other girls besides me and Valerie) while eating and laughing and joking and sharing stories.
Why did I cry about leaving? Because it's not simple. They fed me and provided me a room. We lived together for four months. We had a lot of good and meaningful discussions. We learned to joke and laugh with one another. We watched movies and went out. I had believed we became a family. But that last comment did it for me - as many good times as we had together, the bad times tried too hard to outweigh them. And in the end, I had to go. I had to go anyway, at some point, but I definitely had to go after I was accused of only liking them because they took me places.
I don't regret it. I could have left at any time but I didn't. My determination and naivety urged me on to try to fall into sync with that family, and in the end, I couldn't manage it. But I know that it wasn't from lack of trying on my part to fit in with them. If I had left any sooner, I would have chalked it up as me not trying hard enough, and I would have been disappointed in myself for not sticking it out. But I tried. I tried so hard, I really did.
And yeah, I'm sensitive and I know that I'm sure there were a lot of misunderstandings, and there were times, I'm sure, where I did things wrong or made them mad, without knowing it. But the difference is that I always tried to fix the problems when I knew something was wrong, and I tried to make the situation better. I seriously tried my best, and put up with a lot of insensitive things Host Mom said, or awkward silences, and it didn't work out. I would have expected to feel defeated, leaving early, but I don't. I feel proud of myself for knowing when the time came to go, for saying something, and for packing up all my stuff and making all these arrangements that are kind of a pain in the ass to make.
Instead, I refuse to take anything negative away from this experience. The entire homestay was worth it. I had too many good times to out-shadow the bad. I ate delicious Japanese meals everyday and became part of a family with Host Dad's sister's family, who I saw pretty often in the last four months. My Japanese has improved ten-fold. I saw and did a lot of things with them. We laughed and we joked and I won't forget the good times, because we had a lot of them. No, it didn't work out in the end, but it was such a good experience that I simply can't regret having participated in it. I'm leaving knowing more than when I arrived, and I'm leaving happily.
And at the very least, I have a whole new appreciation for the people that I know who care for me and love me for exactly who I am. From the people waiting patiently for my return to the states, to the friends and loved ones I have made here, I love you all, and thank you for doing me the honor of caring for me in return. And I thank you, too, reader, from the bottom of my heart, for reading my blog out of your concern for me.
And so, I walk away from this experience with my head held high and understanding myself a little better. The person I am, the person I'm not, and that not everyone I come across will accept me for who I am. That there will be misunderstandings and mistakes and that I can't force everything to work my way, even when I try desperately hard to make it so. That this world is filled with all kinds of people who have had all kinds of experiences that make them the way they are, and I may never fully understand their stories.
And that's perfectly okay.
Sunday, April 8, 2012
The life and death of cherry blossoms
I always knew cherry blossoms were beautiful, but I never realized exactly how beautiful they were until today.
I went to Ohanami (お花見）with my host family today. Ohanami means literally, flower-viewing, but to me it feels like so much more than that.
We walked down block after block from our parking spot and strolled down the side of this river. Block after block after block, all lined with cherry blossoms. The walkways were packed:
Because it was a beautiful day in Japan, it's cherry-blossom season, and everyone in Japan knows how to have the perfect day.
With a picnic, of course!
The cherry-blossom season is the perfect time for a picnic. It's not very cold out because spring has sprung - in fact after this picture was taken it got a lot warmer and I didn't even need my coat anymore - and also, alcohol. Everyone likes it.
Drinking, eating, merriment, ensued.
Some pictures taken after we lounged around in the sun and strolled for a bit.
As we lunched, I couldn't stop thinking about how happy I was. The atmosphere, everyone getting together to enjoy themselves, to appreciate the beauty of the cherry blossoms, to enjoy the day...Being with my host family, eating an awesome lunch and soaking in the sunlight...Today was maybe the happiest day I've had so far in Japan.
Cherry blossoms are famous for their short lives. They bloom, they're beautiful - seriously, these pictures don't even do them justice, I kept thinking that as I was taking pictures left and right as the obvious tourist that I am - and then as you enjoy them at the peak of their beauty, they're already dropping away from the branches, and soon the trees are bare once again. The blossoms last maybe two weeks tops if lucky, and their full-bloom lasts maybe a day or two. Most of the trees in Nagoya aren't in full-bloom yet, but they're getting there.
The short lives of the cherry blossoms really got me thinking.
Cherry blossoms are fleeting. They are around just long enough to enjoy them the best you can with alcohol and friends, and before you know it, their beauty comes to an end. They're around just long enough to enjoy them for what they are: temporary.
It got me thinking about my trip. I've already been gone more than seven months, and have only seven weeks to go until I arrive again in the States. And to say that time has flown is an under-statement. Every day I wake up is another day down, and although I'm excited to return to America, I'm also terribly sad to be leaving.
But I've enjoyed every day, every minute. Every memory made, every picture taken, will be treasured forever.
And it's not just about where you are, but the people you're with. The things you learn. The person you become. Suddenly, it's not just about the ephemeral nature of having a good time, but it's about how short life really is. We should enjoy and treasure every day, because before we know it, it'll be all over.
So enjoy today. Enjoy tomorrow. Because life is beautiful, and you are alive.
Saturday, March 24, 2012
Solo Trip to Hiroshima and Miyajima
You haven't missed a lot this last month. School was full of exams and projects and I had no time for anything but studying. But we finally got a week off for spring break and I decided to utilize it the best I could.
My French friends were going to Korea, and Ayame was going to America for a three-week homestay in San Francisco. There weren't really any other people I felt like traveling with. But I should do SOMETHING, right? I thought. You're in Japan, after all.
I talked with my host mom about it over dinner. She suggested I travel alone. I admitted that the idea had occurred to me, but I had quickly dismissed it. After all, I couldn't travel alone in a foreign country, right? I would get lost or I'd be scared or, no. Before thinking too much about it, I ignored the possibility completely.
But over the next few days, the idea kept floating back into my head. Travel alone...would need specific plans...no time to look anything up...how to get from place to place...where would I even go? I had been thinking about taking a trip to Hiroshima and Nagasaki, for historical purposes obviously, but it was kind of far, and probably expensive to travel there...
Something else happened in the next few days, but it's hard to pinpoint what. It's like Japanese and I had a breakthrough together. I was suddenly carrying a lot more confidence when I spoke, when I studied. I bought two Japanese novels and started reading one (I'm halfway through it now, it's a cute love story). My jaw dropped when I was told the audience for those books was high schoolers and older. And to be able to understand them...Well, by this point, my confidence was soaring. I felt like I could do anything.
Maybe I should just look. I looked up bus tickets to Hiroshima and found that, oddly enough, there was a discount on overnight bus tickets to Hiroshima from Nagoya. They cost half of what they usually do, the deadline being just after my spring break. Nagasaki was a little farther, but I figured I could plan a trip around going to Hiroshima...
And so I did. This is how it played out.
My French friends were going to Korea, and Ayame was going to America for a three-week homestay in San Francisco. There weren't really any other people I felt like traveling with. But I should do SOMETHING, right? I thought. You're in Japan, after all.
I talked with my host mom about it over dinner. She suggested I travel alone. I admitted that the idea had occurred to me, but I had quickly dismissed it. After all, I couldn't travel alone in a foreign country, right? I would get lost or I'd be scared or, no. Before thinking too much about it, I ignored the possibility completely.
But over the next few days, the idea kept floating back into my head. Travel alone...would need specific plans...no time to look anything up...how to get from place to place...where would I even go? I had been thinking about taking a trip to Hiroshima and Nagasaki, for historical purposes obviously, but it was kind of far, and probably expensive to travel there...
Something else happened in the next few days, but it's hard to pinpoint what. It's like Japanese and I had a breakthrough together. I was suddenly carrying a lot more confidence when I spoke, when I studied. I bought two Japanese novels and started reading one (I'm halfway through it now, it's a cute love story). My jaw dropped when I was told the audience for those books was high schoolers and older. And to be able to understand them...Well, by this point, my confidence was soaring. I felt like I could do anything.
Maybe I should just look. I looked up bus tickets to Hiroshima and found that, oddly enough, there was a discount on overnight bus tickets to Hiroshima from Nagoya. They cost half of what they usually do, the deadline being just after my spring break. Nagasaki was a little farther, but I figured I could plan a trip around going to Hiroshima...
And so I did. This is how it played out.
8 PM, on my way to the station to catch my night bus to Hiroshima.
Going to the station, turns out cameras don't work at night.
Arrived at Hiroshima station at 5 AM, those tickets were half off for a reason, it seems. Feel like death after no sleep, sit at a McDonalds drinking coffee until the rest of the city wakes up.
Time to start my journey!
Heading to the Peace Memorial Museum.
A statue of a woman carrying her kids in front of the Peace Memorial Museum.
The view of Peace Memorial Park, behind the museum.
The museum.
It's called "Peace Memorial Museum," and I figured the topic would be all about the A-bomb that slammed Hiroshima 67 years ago and ended World War II. It was, but there was so much more to the museum than just that.
The beginning was the history of Hiroshima. What the city did before the war started, how it played out during the war. After Commodore Perry re-opened Japan (it had been a closed country; no one coming in, no one going out, for over three centuries), Hiroshima developed technologically, built a convenient street-car (tram) system, and also became a center for Japan's Imperial army. This was one of the main reasons why Hiroshima was targeted by America when it was decided to end the war.
It wasn't an easy decision on America's part to use an A-bomb for the first time in history. As America raced the Russians to make bigger and better bombs, it came to Roosevelt's attention that they could actually do something with what they developed.
After Hitler committed suicide in April 1945, America tried negotiating with Japan. There were a lot of things they wanted to lay down; they wanted to restructure Japan completely, remove Japan's fighting forces, bring the Emperor down from status of "God" to a normal human being. When trying to make arrangements with Japan, America didn't tell them that if they didn't agree to their terms, they would drop the bomb.
Japan didn't agree. America dropped an A-bomb on Hiroshima on August 6th, 1945, and the "Fat Man" on Nagasaki three days later.
The result was a leveled out city and the deaths of upwards to 166,000 citizens, most of whom were civilians that had nothing to do with the war. Roughly 60% dead from flash or flame burns, 30% dead from falling debris, the remaining 10% dead from radiation or other causes.
Inside the museum, as I read through these facts, an American among the Japanese, silently moving from one exhibit to another, I realized that, while the museum was dedicated to that terrible day in history, there was another common theme: Ridding the world of nuclear weapons.
It seems that many organizations in Japan have been begging countries around the world to get rid of their nuclear weapons. Globally there are 23000 nuclear warheads. 13000 in Russia, 9400 in America, and others scattered between North Korea, China, France, etc. Enough to destroy the entire world many, many times. There was an entire floor dedicated to sending letters to Obama to ask him to stop the nuclear tests, pleas that the damage that had been done to Hiroshima over 60 years ago was enough for the world to see that we shouldn't repeat the past. Organizations dedicated to the destruction of every last nuclear weapon, organizations that have members from over 200 countries in the world all asking the same thing. Statues and pictures of citizens around the world begging for an era of peace.
Later, there would be models and pictures of humans with their skin melting off their arms, their faces sagging, their hair burned to a crisp, fire destroying the buildings behind them. Pictures of victims in hospital beds, their bodies charred and black beyond recognition, boils covering every inch of their skin before they breathe their last breath and then die, not knowing how the rest of their family fared.
166,000 citizens dead.
And then there was Sadako's story.
Sadako was two years old when the A-bomb hit her hometown. She seemed to be fine afterwards; she had been far enough away from the center of the bomb that she did not suffer any burns.
Ten years later, the radiation from the bomb kicked in, and Sadako developed Leukemia. Only twelve, she was put in the hospital and tried to fight her sickness. Remembering an old tale in Japan that, if one folds a thousand paper cranes, one's wish will be granted, Sadako set herself to work. She started folding hundreds of origami paper cranes, with one wish: to be healthy again. She folded over six hundred before she eventually succumbed to the leukemia and died.
Her classmates, moved and pained by Sadako's death, finished the remaining paper cranes and demanded that a memorial be built in honor of Sadako and to remember the thousands of children that died from the exposure to the A-bomb. they succeeded, and now this monument stands in the Peace Memorial Park:
Surrounded by it is glass cases of hundreds, maybe thousands of paper cranes, made from children and adults around the world, to remember those that were unfairly lost.
A note written in another language, but with such a clear message.
To say the least, it was very, very moving.
There were many other monuments throughout the park, a bell, a clock tower, many statues and shrines dedicated to those lost.
The following is a picture of the T-bridge, or Aioi bridge, which I had unknowingly crossed from the Memorial Park to get to the next "attraction," the A-bomb dome. This bridge was the target for the A-bomb on that day. It was rebuilt alongside more memorials.
This is the A-bomb dome, or what's left of a building once called, "Hiroshima Prefectural Industrial Promotion Hall," though it hasn't been known by that name since the A-bomb fell. Its remains were kept as a memorial to those killed on August 6th, 1945.
After thoroughly depressing myself until I felt heavy enough that I couldn't even walk, I decided to take a trip to Hiroshima castle. Here's the gates and a bit of the garden inside:
And the castle itself. It was rebuilt after the bomb. The Imperial meeting place where war strategies frequently took place, however, was left in ruins, with only the stone foundation of the building left behind, along with any trace of Japan's army.
A few exhibits inside the castle:
And the view from the top:
Finally, I decided to visit Shukkei-en garden, where its beauty and grandness allowed me to feel a little lighter about the things I had learned and seen that day.
Pretty sure that's bamboo.
So, in the end, Hiroshima and its gardens are beautiful and the trams are easy to navigate. I went to my hotel and conked out by eight PM after watching some really funny TV shows.
Nice, right? Hotel was 50% off too, some other random deal I got my hands on.
Next morning I was up at seven and out of the hotel by eight. Got some pastries and tea
And headed out on tram to Miyajima! After an hour on the tram, I hopped on the next Ferry to the island of Itsukushima.
Once I arrived, I explored the shops a bit before hitting the main attractions. Miyajima was discovered by Buddhist monks who were seeking enlightenment over 1200 years ago. Judging by the way I felt, trying to absorb all the nature and energy of the island, I'd say they found it. It's packed with temples and shrines and gates (the orange gate in the water, which you will see more pictures of, is one of Japan's most beautiful attractions) and trees and halls and history, much like the entire country.
I think that's a Japanese style inn. I'd like to stay in one once before I leave Japan.
Deer were walking around like they owned the place.
The famous otorii, gate on the water.
Asked some Japanese girls to take my picture with the gate. No, it didn't occur to me to stand next to it in the picture. Beautiful place, regardless.
Some Kayakers made it underneath the gate.
I wandered through Itsukushima shrine, which also sits on the water. I was there long enough though that the tide pulled out by the time I was done touring the place, which makes for interesting pictures later.
The tide has pulled out now, but this old-fashioned bridge is still breathtaking.
Like I said, the island is packed with shrines so I don't remember the names of all of them, but...
This is a piece of a tree that was over a thousand years old. I touched it. Felt old.
The "1000 mat pavilion"
Goju-no-to Pagoda
Basically Miyajima was all about light sight-seeing. I wandered the island for a bit while occasionally munching on something called Momiji Manju, which are cakes in the shape of maple leaves with red-bean paste inside. Actually, the inside of the cake varies, and has a ton of different flavors; chocolate, cream, lemon, etc etc. I ate like six, and they were all really delicious.
A rabbit hair tie I bought on the island.
Literally hundreds and hundreds of Buddhas lining a path up to a temple.
Forest on the way to the rope lift to go to Mt. Misen, the island's mountain.
I found a tea place nestled away off a path, got another cake and some green tea. Above was the view. I never wanted to leave. If you look carefully in that picture, you can see people walking around the orange gate, where the tide pulled out, leaving the ground to walk on.
Pressed on, wanting to get to that rope lift so I could get to Mt. Misen summit for more temples and views.
Once I found the ropeway, I rode it up the mountain to see more spectacular views of the ocean and smaller islands in southern Japan.
It was pretty much beautiful.
I have more pictures on Facebook of temples and views, but from there on I basically climbed the rest of the way up the mountain to the summit. It took about thirty minutes, not too bad. Saw more temples - one where the same flame has allegedly been kept alive for over 1200 years, another where it aids in easy childbirth. They were spectacular and beautiful as always.
Eventually, I left the island, returned to Hiroshima, and waited patiently for my midnight bus to show up. I passed the time by sitting in cafes, got a really delicious cherry latte (the cherry blossoms will be blooming soon, so "cherry" is the theme in a lot of restaurants and cafes lately) and read books on my Kindle. Then I got very little sleep on the eight-hour bus ride back to Nagoya.
It was, to sum it up, an amazing experience that I wouldn't mind repeating again - maybe different places, but yeah. I didn't have a single problem or issue on my trip, and knowing that I'm capable of traveling Japan alone fills me with maybe too much confidence. But I'm also really excited about where I am right now, and I try to take advantage of every minute of free time (which is why you haven't seen any blog posts as of late).
I have nine weeks left in Japan. I'm going to make the most of it.
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