Small Things

When all is said and done, what I hope to remember from this trip is all the small things that have really mattered to me.

            Making takoyaki from scratch with my host mother and little sister in the living room, laughing as we spill the batter, flip the takoyaki, and giggle at my little sister grilling and eating the tenkasu plain.

            The meals shared with my host family; all of us together at the dinner table, setting everyone’s place, figuring out whose chopsticks are whose, and finally arranging the food in a pretty way. “Itadakimasu!”

            Walking down the side streets near Doshisha with friends or by myself whenever there’s free time.

Getting lost and just enjoying seeing the houses, temples and small shrines that are everywhere.

Enjoying the different kinds of silence I find: the peaceful silence that exists just within the gates of the shrines, the gentle silence near houses and shops which hints of life and households going about their daily activities, the hospitable silence between yourself and the people you meet on the street when you share a glance, a soft smile and a small nod...

Sitting in the living room of my host family’s house with my homework. I always internally chuckling when I see my host sisters or mother looking inquisitively at my work, and end up turning it so they can see it better at which point we laugh at its content or work on my problems with it together.

Doing homework with my host little sister. She helps me with my questions about Japanese, and I help her with her questions about English. Together we end up understanding what we’re looking at better and enjoy the process a bit more.

            Sitting with friends and talking till the wee hours of the morning, or procrastinating from doing homework by going on late night convenience store runs.

            Going to karaoke with a group of friends and singing regardless of whether we think we can sing or not. Eventually we all end up singing almost every song that comes on together and having a grand time.

            Meeting people through friends, karaoke, school or my host family and talking with them right off the bat, leading to a budding friendship that I treasure.

            Making dinner with friends in our tiny apartments and laughing as we all talk over each other and maneuver ourselves around.

            Exhaustedly stand on the train or metro going home and talk slowly with a friend, or just enjoy the silence, the rocking movement and the clicking sounds of the wheels on the track while relaxing.

            Coming home from school and sitting with my host mother (and host sisters if they’re home) and just talking for a couple hours over tea.

            Learning Japanese with my host mom, and helping refresh her English. I always chuckle when my host mother runs excitedly to get her Japanese-English dictionary, and I keep my electronic dictionary nearby for reference purposes.

            Looking out the window of the kintestu train on my way to and from school from my host family and marveling at the beauty that surrounds me. The rows upon rows of rice fields, the mountains in the far distance, the rare stork (heron or crane) that I see hunting for its food amidst the green fields, and the houses that gracefully rise out of the greenery.

            The knowledge that even though I’m not in a place I was born in, have lived in for long, or speak the language fluently, I’m comfortable here and am not worried about having any serious problems.

            Though this is not a complete list (as if I could compile that), among other things these are what have made this trip memorable. There are larger reasons that I’m enjoying this summer, but I would be remiss if I said that those were the only reasons. It’s the little things that really make every day special, and it is these that I wish to remember.

Hiroshima and Miyajima

This is going to take a different path than my previous posts, as it is simply a recollection of what happened the last few days.

Bright and early on Thursday (7/7) everyone in the CLS Japan program woke up, picked up their belongings from their home stay or apartment, and headed to Kyoto Station. I had woke up the previous day feeling absolutely miserable and having troubles speaking because my throat hurt, so when this persisted throughout the day I ended up conceding and buying a mask to wear while we traveled. So with this bump and a couple others along the way, we all managed to get to Kyoto station and board the Shinkansen to Hiroshima.

Straight from Hiroshima station, we went to the Peace Memorial Park and Museum. It had started raining by that time (it’s the rainy season here), so we all walked around the park getting mildly wet, taking pictures and listening to the history of the monuments we were seeing. Lucky for us all, we had a tour guide who planned out our three day trip, so she had arranged for someone to give us a tour. Walking around the peace park, you can’t help but feel the heaviness of the air around you. There’s a sereneness to the park, but there’s also a devout sadness that touches the deepest corner of your heart. It’s painful, yet touching. It’s probably best summed up by the message on the unmarked grave: “Let the souls here rest in peace for we shall not repeat the evil.” While I don’t agree with the phrasing, the meaning translates through. There was a terrible mistake that was made in the past by many different parties, and people are trying to learn from those mistakes. That point kept on being hammered in the entire time we were in the peace museum. Yes, I’d gone before with Chrissy last year, but even so the experience just knocked me out. Reading about the event from the American and Japanese viewpoints, the facts about nuclear and atomic warfare, and seeing the artifacts that people left behind (clothes, hair, shadow imprints on stone) from the day of the bombing, is a truly humbling experience. There’s nothing quite like reading the explanation of the U.S. for dropping the bombs (which can be summed up by one line that said something relative to: The decision to drop the atomic bomb was based on the fact that there were no pow camps there, Japan was in a weak position, and the U.S. wanted to justify the money spent creating the bomb as well as be in the position of power at the end of the war.), and seeing the aftermath of that decision.

Two things always hit me the hardest at that museum: the diagrams of what Hiroshima looked like before the bomb and after, and the engravings of every letter that the mayors of Hiroshima have sent out ever year after the bombing to governments who are doing nuclear weaponry testing to ask them to learn from what happened there and stop. The last one especially makes me stop for more reasons than I can explain. The people there are so hopeful, and with good reason. They don’t want to see anything like that ever happen again; they know the results.

We were actually honored with the opportunity to talk to a hibakusha (someone who survived the atomic bombing). I won’t recall here what she told us because it was a very personal experience, but I will say that she lived through so much that no one should ever have to, and by the end of her talk when she lost the ability to speak due to emotional overload, we were all so heartbroken that none of us could speak either. One of the things that made her talk so personal and touching is that it was purely in Japanese, with no interpreters. We all knew the connotations of her words, and why she spoke using the words that she did, and the connection between those and the context touched every one so deeply that we were all left in silence after she finished. A friend made the point that we probably only got to hear that story because we can all understand a certain level of Japanese. If for no reason other than that, learning Japanese was worth it. Just to hear the words of someone come out in their native tongue, describing a deeply personal experience… that’s not something that can be replicated through translation.

            After we listened to the hibakusha, we all went to the hotel, which turned out to be a ryokan. If you don’t know what that is, it’s a traditional style in with tatami mats, tea preparation materials in the room, hot springs for bathing, traditionally served meals, and yukatas to wear as you walk around. In other words, an absolutely blissful experience. I took full advantage of everything, and was a very happy human indeed.

            The second day in Hiroshima, we all went to the coast to fish. When I say fish though, I mean we all worked with a family of fishermen and, from the coast, pulled in net full of fish. It was good to have my muscles working again, and the labor felt wonderful. When we finally pulled the net in, we had a superfluously large amount of aji (a type of fish), five octopuses, four squids, one puffer fish and more jelly fish that we can count. The puffer fish and anything that was poisonous were left out (and ran back to the ocean by yours truly) while everything else was collected and taken to the cooking station. Honestly, I don’t know how the group kept putting up with me because I kept running around with a plastic bowl collecting fish that were being left to die because they were poisonous and running back to the ocean like someone on a holy crusade (which I was to a point. There’s no point in killing something you’re not going to eat, and I’d prefer to save lives rather than take them). Moving along. At the cooking area we split into three groups: sashimi, octopus/squid, and miso soup. Theeen there was my group, which was cleaning the aji of seaweed, battering them, and frying them. There was so much fish cleaning, chopping, gutting, frying etc that by the end of the day no one wanted to see another fish again in their lifetimes. At the time though, we were just happy to do what we were told and reap the rewards at lunch time, which is when we dug into all the fish we’d just caught. (As a side note, I got to play in the ocean and even got to swim a little bit due to an accidental push. Good times. ^^)

            At the end of all this, we all returned to the hotel only to realize just how ridiculously sunburned most of us were. With that wonderful realization, we all spent a few hours relaxing, healing, showering (!!) before we went to dinner where, just to add insult to injury, we were served a whole fish. Ah karma, how you love to come around.  ^^

            After this lovely meal we all went (most of us in our yukatas from the hotel) on a night cruise to go see the torii at Miyamjima which was surprisingly close. The next day we all left to actually go to Miyajima and we were in luck: it was low tide. For those of you that don’t know, on Miyajima (among other sites) is a very famous torii gate that is in the ocean in front of the shrine and when it’s low tide you can actually walk out to it. I was really excited about this because last year Chris and I hadn’t managed to get there in time for low tide so this was my only chance to walk out to the torii. Walking swiftly, skirting the deep patches of seaweed, jumping over crabs so as to avoid crushing them, I finally made it to the torii. It’s supposedly 16 meters tall, but it felt like more. It was truly wonderful to be out there in the water with this gate, just staring at the sea in front of me with a sacred island behind me. I would have stayed there and explored every nook and cranny if I could have, but we simply didn’t have time. Therefore, I quickly ran around with some friends, bought some gifts, and joined the rest of our group to return to Kyoto.

            At Kyoto I went home with my host family (I’ll be staying with them until I come home) and finally met the whole family: my host mother, father, older sister, sister who’s the same age as me, and my little sister. Spending time with them, seeing where my host mom works, telling them about New Mexico and my animals, getting to know them better, I started to really relax. While I was a little anxious about how this would work out, I’m glad that I’m getting this opportunity to be with this family and share a small part of their lives during this summer. ^^

            As this is the conclusion, I’m going to doze off and catch y’all on the flip side. Take care in whatever adventures you’re going on.

The Sounds of Japan

The clicks of the tickets at the subway entrance.

The wind racing past your ears on the stairway to the trainstation.

The soft hum of cars driving past.

The ring of bicycle bells.

The click of high heels on pavement.

The formal addressing of people walking along the street by people handing out advertisements and flyers.

The shortened casual speech that friends use with eachother.

The strange silence that falls after walking two feet into a temple’s grounds.

The welcoming greeting that store employees say when you step into a shop.

The soft conversations of people on the subway and in the street.

            Regardless of what the sound is, it always seems to have a gentler and softer quality than in the States. Maybe it’s just the culture, or the centuries of Buddhist and Shinto influence, but whatever it is, the everyday sounds of a Japanese lifestyle seem to enforce the idea of being courteous not only to each other, but to the environment and world around you. People seem to be perpetually trying to respect others even through something as simple as bowing slightly when you enter a shop to show that you acknowledge the greeting being sent your way. It’s truly amazing how careful people are, and how deeply respect is embedded into their culture. Every time I go outside, I’m constantly amazed by how the growing metropolis that is Japanese cities still manage to protect their temples, shrines, and make room for nature in their lives. That along with how genuinely kind everyone acts towards each other will always blow me away. Even as a foreigner, I get treated with the same respect and I appreciate the effort they’ve put into creating an atmosphere of hospitality.

One of my friends recently told me that this stems from the original Shinto belief that gods and spirits live in everything: the grass, the rivers, the trees etc. Therefore, so as not to dishonor the spirits they’re careful about preserving and protecting nature. I find that idea very fascinating, and correct. People should respect the world around them and work with it, instead of trying to dominate it.

            I feel that this respect that contributes to the Japanese way of life and the gentleness of the sounds here. Beyond all the temples, the shrines, and the festivals, it is the softness of the interactions that strikes me the most and that I’ll probably remember the most fondly. Staying up at night, looking out of my window at the glowing lights of the city, the wind blowing outside sums up the sounds of this place. It flows, curves, and gently swirls around everything around it; never getting to be strong enough to be roaring, instead always whispering softly. That to me is the sound of Japan.

"Tranquillité"

            There’s a special feeling that stirs within oneself when sitting besides a pool of water in the middle of a beautiful garden, situated within a temple’s grounds. Serenity. Sweet genuine serenity fulfils you as you take in the harmony of your surroundings. The manner in which the water bugs skip and play across the surface of the pond, the gentle silence hanging in the air around you, the beautiful flowers which add delicate touches of color to the green landscape, curvy trees that majestically rise and seem to carry a deep inner peace within themselves… it is all of this combined and more that composes the serenity of a temple’s grounds.

             Even if your thoughts are all jumbled, and your mind is troubled, once you sit within its confines it is impossible to think of anything; the serenity is that compelling. It calls gently to you, and if you accept it, it will sweep into your spirit and exchange all your heavy thoughts with soft wispy whispers which tell you to listen. Listen to the silence of the grounds around you. Listen to the wind moving through the leaves on the trees. Listen to the birds and the insects in the air. Listen to them all, without focusing on a single one. This alone will allow you find serenity. How long you keep that serenity depends upon you and whether or not you’re willing to take to heart the message being presented to you. If you do, that serenity, that peace, can be taken anywhere you go and found anywhere.

Serenity is the strongest emotional cleansing that I’ve ever felt. It’s in the water, air, and earth around us. It can be found in a leaf, a person, an animal, a piece of music, or a flower. Serenity is everywhere, and in everything. You simply have to recognize it when you see it and allow it to have a space in your heart. There are places that exude serenity such as temples, shrines and some gardens, but there are many other places that simply give the suggestion of serenity and allow you to choose whether to pursue it or not. I have found a sense of serenity a long time ago, but I still have to reaffirm that feeling sometimes. In Japan, that feeling has intensified. While I came here for the language and the culture, I find I am being drawn in by the ghosts of monks who created the Zen gardens and temples I love to stroll through; enjoying the serenity they wished to create and share as much as my studies.

So while I will write about my adventures through Japan this summer, my thoughts are swaying gently to the tune of peace and tranquility that I hear in the air everywhere I go. “On the Wind” is an allusion to that and to my love of dance, movement, and travel. On the wind, a person is free to go, stay, or move as they please. This freedom of movement is uplifting, and it is with the intention to move smoothly and gently through the world like the wind does that I will continue my adventures from here on out.