ほかの日本人：Different Japanese People

Being new to this land of apparent oddities has lead me to make hasty inferences about the world and people around me. Without a doubt, much of what I think I know is accurate enough, but the permeating nature of the differences between Japanese and American society has caused my mind to desperately seek out consistencies at my own expense. I have been searching for truths in a land I have lived in for about three and a half weeks if I include my vacation over Christmas break 2009. Slowly but surely my network of Japanese natives is growing, and in this expansion, I have begun to understand again how miniscule my knowledge of this place really is. It has been very difficult to separate what Japanese people do from the more specific family practices of my girlfriend’s home specifically.

Antis

More accurately, while there are endless cultural tendencies of Japanese families, each family or individual places more or less stake in traditions they deem to be more or less integral in daily life. Moé’s family represents that first wave of culture shock that pummeled me going on ten months ago. With them, I learned to slurp my noodles, use a Japanese bath and to never, under any circumstances allow dirty feet or shoes to invade more than the customary five feet or so into the home. I have even wiped the paws of their black lab, Antis, after his walks. I experienced first hand the extent of Japanese hospitality, where every cup of water or portion of food is poured or served by the women of the household, and was forced to demand that I not be treated as something more than the guest I was. That was a very American mistake of me to force the culture around me to change to fit my view of the world.

Host Dad (お父さん) and Moé

I thought the tendencies of her family were the norm, but now that I am no longer overwhelmed by the assault of new sights and sounds, seeking a common ground between all the people of this new society is looking to be more and more possible. I owe this refinement in my observational capacity to the husband and wife I am now living with, my family for the next eleven months. In their old age, both of them seventy, I see the cultural traditions they hold on to the most. The renowned Japanese cleanliness is still integral in the home, but I am not berated for absentmindedly not washing my hands every time I come home. Table manners remain important, but the necessity of getting sustenance from plate to palate takes precedence. Where in Moé’s home the moment a chopstick falls to the ground it becomes dirty and must be washed, my host father has no qualms against retrieving a fallen bit of yakitori from the tatami mat and popping it not so discretely into his mouth. Their floor is clean and food is expensive so down his gullet it goes. Shoes are always left downstairs though, and the bathing room works exactly the same as every other family’s.

Takachan In the Kitchen

Not being treated as a guest but as a family member has been interesting as well. I wash my own plates, and Takachan, my host mom, has been explicitly clear on the self service nature of plate cleaning after she has taken the time to cook a meal for my host father and I. The most noticeable difference between the two families however, is the Ito’s allowing me to make my own mistakes and seemingly deliberate dropping of me into situations where I will get lost and have trouble finding my way home. They do not lose sleep over my absence late into the evening as many host families apparently do, but perhaps this is due to their inability to keep their eyes open once they have had their late night two sips of tea. Every time I have awoken in the past few days, a neglected cup shrugs a good morning to me, half-full from the night before.

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