Kimono ga hoshii (free-form)

I probably spelled that wrong, but I believe the meaning is clear enough: I want a kimono. Or perhaps at least a yukata. If I have a brain in my head (which is highly disputed) I will probably buy one before I leave, but if not, I will have to live with the pictures that I will hopefully soon recieve from my okaasan's (host mother's) cell phone. Today, she took me to the international community center for a large-scale event where they introduced kimono tsuke (kimono wearing), ikabana (flower arrangement), sado (tea ceremony) among other things that are a part of Japan's culture. My host mother asked me if I wanted to go, and I thought it would be a day of demonstrations and, as such, interesting. What I did not expect was that I WAS the demonstration (I might have done my hair if I knew, for example) and that I would soon be standing in a six-tatami mat room with twenty other women, five of whom were intent on getting me into a kimono (worry not, I was not the only one being so garbed).

So, for those who do not know, there are many layers to a kimono. I will perhaps at some point have the motivation to go and look up all of their names and functions, but at the moment, I will simply list them by perceived function: 1) a cloth robe covering my cami - one cannot wear pants or shirts, of course, 2) a second cloth robe, heavier, 3) sash around waist, 4) two towels covering the sash, 5) another sash, 6) if I remember correctly, the actual kimono, which was quite beautiful, 7) another sash, 8) the support for the obi, 9) more towels, 10) the obi (the decorative belt in images of kimono), 11) another sash, colorful and clearly visible tied above the obi, 12) a decorative rope that ties around the obi and holds everything in place, 13) those nice two-toed socks whose names escapes me at the moment, but which are actually the first thing to go on. They tried to do my hair with no success - it is long now and a bit heavy, but clearly not what any Asian would be used to working with, and I do not blame them in the slightest. Presented with Asian style hair, I cannot make even a passable ponytail much less a nice bun or other up-do. The sashes are all pulled quite tight, and I had to repeat many times that they were not too tight. In fact, I rather liked the tight feeling around my waist, and it made standing up straight and sitting up straight easy. It was not at all uncomfortable, and very warm. On another note, the kimonos were surprisingly easy to move in, at least side to side, but required a bit of shuffling from front to back when walking (yes, I went to the bathroom in my kimono, and no, it was not a problem).

In fact, I attended the rest of the day's activities in my kimono, and discovered that seiza (the Japanese style of sitting) was probably developed because of the kimono (probably everyone else already knew that). I ended up having my picture taken many times, recieving many exclamations of "it suits you" which is very typical for any gaijin who attempts to fulfill a Japanese custom here in Japan, and even getting to eat lunch in a fancy restuarant before I returned my borrowed kimono. These events, as I mentioned, included tea ceremony and flower arrangement, and also calligraphy (I still want another try) and cloth dying (for which I got to have my sleeves tied back...cool...). Thank you so much, okaasan! You are amazing!!

Now, I will explain why you see a Japanese ninja at the beginning of this post. Firstly, I needed some images to break up the text while I await the development and / or discovery in the local post of pictures from today's events. Secondly, my friends and I attended a welcome party the other day that was an all you can eat sweets buffet that took place in a "ninja labrynth." Yes, my friends, what we went to was a ninja cafe, and the waiters/waitresses and so forth were all ninjas. They posed for pictures (if they knew you were taking them) and read our menu off of a scroll. The sweets buffet had some real food as well, but if there is one thing I have noticed since coming here, it is that my ability to consume massive amounts of sweets in one sitting has exponentially increased (could this be some sort of response to the tea? I have a theory in the making that Japanese sweets can be so sickeningly sweet and still taste good precisely because they make many other sweets with tea, which is horribly bitter...but since you ate something so sweet before, that bitterness is refreshing...is this circular?). After five full plates of cakes, mochi, and so forth, I decided to eat two or three slices of tonkatsu, and rounded out my meal with ice cream and cornflakes. I think I had all the food groups - pink, green, red, brown, white, and black. Yum. As for why it was called a labrynth, I though the floor plan was a bit confusing, but not all that bad, so if I had not left when I did, I would have said that this was just a dramaticly funny name for the place. Alas, I left when I did, and when I met a poor gaijin family (replete with many small children) who clearly spoke not a single word of Japanese and were surrounding some poor ninja and asking with increasing exasperation "exit? Exit? We can't find our way out. Fine, it's this way" (at this point they started towards the bathroom) I decided to take pity and guide them out of the shop. Please, learn the word for exit before you come to Japan, or bring a dictionary, or don't become so frustrated by the locals' inability to speak English that other people feel they have to take pity on you. I fully understand their frustration, coming from a big family myself, but still, I hope the rest of their experience here will not be so difficult.

Ganbatte ne :)

inu ni au - okashina Lloyd (free-form)

Today I will tell you just a bit about the dog who I am currently living with (note that as with many dog people I frequently say "dog I am currently owned by," but I believe that if anyone was "owned by" Lloyd it might be a disaster of monsterous proportions). This is the face that will melt your heart:

Yes, this, my friends (and anyone else reading), is Lloyd. Lloyd has many nicknames; I frequently call him okashina Lloyd (which sounds something like oh-ka-she-na Loy-do) meaning funny Lloyd, silly Lloyd, or just plain "Lloyd, you are a ham." I less frequently call him mendokusai Lloyd (meaning troublesome Lloyd, which might happen when he jumps on me and knocks me over or tries to steal food of the table), hidoi / warui Lloyd (meaning horrible / bad Lloyd, for when he takes my host brother's socks), or occasionally, "abunai yo Lloyd!" I openly admit that the last nickname there is not really nickname, but an exclamation that means "Lloyd, you are about to die by being impaled on my pencil" which happens a lot because he likes to jump on me while I'm working. Similarly, he might get omoi Lloyd (heavy Lloyd) or just "mmf."

In fact, he thinks he is a lap dog, and spends a great deal of time trying to weasel his way onto me. Amusingly, he is also the only creature I know that is so terribly bothered by their profusion of hair, as his attempts to lay on me usually end in him spending fifteen minutes trying to get the hair simultaneously out of his eyes, mouth, and nose. He walks around with his mouth hanging open, and if something goes in, he tastes it or bites it and moves on (be it my pencil, a chair leg, my arm, etc.) He drools like crazy (because he never closes his mouth), and will randomly smack his head on me to get my attention. Endearingly, he spent thirty minutes earlier trying to get me to pull my host brother's sock while he held the other end, which meant having him relentlessly stick the slobbery thing into my hand, wait for me to move, and then ecstatically jump away. If nothing else, he certainly amuses himself (don't worry, I don't just ignore him all the time, and eventually I decided that since no one cared to rescue the poor sock, I shouldn't worry too much). He is also a living garbage disposal, but I don't know how to call him that in Japanese, so okashina Lloyd it remains.

On an unrelated note, I have resigned myself to mosquito bites and am quite used to itching. They (mosquitos may be best referred to as THEM) live downstairs in our house, and though I thought I had beaten them by wearing pants today, I have found three new bites on my arms in the time it took me to write this piece. They are quite evil, and I shall not feel the slightest remorse when I one day turn all of my scientific purpose to making sure they NEVER BITE ME AGAIN (mwahahahahaha - be scared, be very scared!).

Kiyomizu-dera ni itta

Today, as with most Saturdays, I settled down with every intention of doing homework after my obligatory 2 hours of anime. Every intention, I say, but within an hour I was remembering a facebook post about an event at Kiyomizu-shrine, which, may I add, I had never been to see nor did I have the faintest clue where it was actually located. At any rate, I am not good with planning anyway, and so within fifteen minutes I had changed my clothes and was wheeling my bike through the front gate, my lovely okaasan prophetically reminding me not to forget my kasa (umbrella). Well, I did have a map, and of course the help of a week of biking through the streets, so I did not (NOT) get lost. I did end up illegally biking through a rather busy outdoor mall, though I saw the posted signs quickly enough that it was not a problem (may I note, most Japanese people did not seem overtly bothered by their illegal bicycling habits, and they weaved around me quite cheerfully). If you want to know what it's like to bicycle through many of Japan's busier streets, simply imagine biking through the busiest mall you have ever visited - very quickly, you learn to weave, stop, and calculate the smallest possible space into which you can squeeze yourself at a reasonable speed...For those who are perhaps planning to ride these streets in the future, I might also caution that Saturday's around 5:30 pm seem so far to be quite dangerous. I can only imagine that the weekends are one of the few times the people here take their cars for a spin, and they are all in a rush to get home for dinner, but there are a large number of small side streets and no concievable reason for either car or bicyclist to stop as they cross them...(for those unable to read between the lines, there are some underreported reported and rather dangerous collisions in Japan).
Anyway, on to happier topics. I arrived without incident, parked in front of someone's house while praying my bike would not get impounded (since there was only one other bike there, I thought people were unlikely to actually call for a tow) and followed the crowds. What I found was this:

Perhaps other people would have also gone back to check with the policeman that they had gone the right direction, for I was surely thinking I had stumbled into a cemetary...or perhaps that was only me. To briefly step to another aside, for which I appologize to those who would like to read something with of a more linear inclination, the most interesting thing I have so far realized about most of the people I interact with (non-English speakers) is that I must have a very blank expression - and by blank I mean ditzy. People tend to explain perfectly rational things to me (policeman: "Yes, Kiyomizu-dera is this way. It takes about 10 minutes, but it's uphill.") to which I nod and say think you (in terrible Japanese, I am sure) and so he feels the need to search for the English word for "uphill" among others...not that I mind how very helpful everyone is, but I feel bad for the amount of effort they go to to explain to me very simple concepts, either in Japanese or English. To questions where my normal response would be yes, I say yes, and people feel the need to explain to me why yes was my answer...other times, they ask me very strange questions (someone asked me the other day what would happen in my archery class if someone intentionally shot a person) and I stare at them with what is meant to be a puzzled expression, for the answer seems somewhat obvious - so they explain their question again. Oh well, that is a useless rant, and not at all meant to express any ill feeling on my part. On the contrary, I remain quite amused.
To get back to the point, this was the entrace to the cemetary, just to prove that I did not begin randomly walking through a large number of headstones.

I think the scenery requires a bit of explanation. It was a pleasantly stuffy day, for the most part because the sun remained hidden behind a smokey veil of clouds, no doubt thanks to the coming typhoon. I had stumbled down a quiet road, and the only sound was the steady echo of my footsteps and the gentle whisper of the wind. Sometimes, I would hear some voice in the distance, but for the first time since I came to Japan, there was no living being within sight. As I pondered the calming nature of my solitude, a deep rumble began in the distance; thunder. The sound seemed to roll across the mountainside, and I imagined that I could feel like a physical thing. Perhaps I could. Sometimes I feel thunder is one of the most singularly striking sounds in all of nature. Anyway, as I earlier said, my okaasan prophetically reminded me to bring my umbrella, and since thunder here surely portends torrential rains, I was now glad that I still clutched the thing in my left hand.

And so I meandered onward, until finally I reached a cluster of very otera (temple) looking buildings. Following the steady stream of Japanese people, I reached a sign that stated, "300 yen, Adult" and decided to pay (what the heck, it's only 3 bucks, maybe it's worthwhile). Note again that I did not actually know where I was going. This seemed like as good a bet as any, particularly since everyone seemed to be in quite a hurry. Well, as it is I walked into a large wooden building and barely five minutes later was shocked by the reverberating sound of some sort of woodwind (I do not profess to know much about the ceremonial instruments here, or anywhere, for that matter). Shortly, the sound of wood being clapped together followed, and I saw this:

which might have been creepy, especially after they started chanting, if there had not been such an air of expectation and awe among the gathered throng.

There was a very spiritual feeling to everything. That may seem like both an odd and vague comment, but allow me to explain: around the time this all began, a refreshingly cool breeze picked up in the mountains, and the sky opened up and let loose. Within maybe two minutes, it was pouring so hard that those without umbrellas were surely soaked to through. Then, these gorgeiously apparelled women then came to pass something out to those who came to see them -sometimes white or red paper, by the looks of things. I will have to research the specifics of the ceremony to determine what this was all about (did I mention that I left 15 minutes after realizing it was happening today?).

Then, finally, what we had all been waiting for!!! (OK, so maybe just what I was waiting for). The dragon!! This was the best picture I could capture, since there was a great deal of excitement over the beast, and I had stepped away to escape the crowds earlier. Once the object of my excitement had moved on to excite other people (many perhaps younger than me...) I went to stand at the edge of the temple and watch the rain fall. I will go on yet another passionate rant for a moment here. There is something lovely about the rain, no matter its form or the time or place. When one is happy, to see the rain fall is to see the dramatic transformation from a static world to one where all things seem to suddenly come alive. The leaves in the trees bend and rustle, the gray asphalt fills with puddles that ripple and dance while reflecting the gray sky, and it seems as if, for a moment, one can touch the sky itself. When one is angry, it seems that the gentle hiss of the rain is a dear friend, comforting and cooling, both whispering condolences and raging against us at the same time. When one has made a grave mistake, it seems the rain can wash it away, and I might not be alone in saying that I only feel that I, or perhaps my soul, is clean when the rain is pouring down over me - as if by letting the world rage against me for a moment, I have fundamentally accepted some part of myself that I would hide away from as surely as the outside elemnts. And of course, when one is sad, it seems that you have a companion in the world itself. Yes, rain is wonderful.

Beautiful.

Soothing.

This picture is unrelated to the temple itself, but was one I stopped to take on the way home, after I had ridden my bike nearly the entire 45 minutes return trip, and was aboslutely drenched - so of course, the rain had stopped. At any rate, there were a few more things to note, but I believe they will not fit in this post, as my computer has already begun to fail with this many pictures. I shall add two more,

and there I will stop lest horrible things befall my post. At any rate, today became a day of many firsts - my first time going to a temple alone, my first time seeing such a busy mall, my first ogura (red bean paste) crepe, and my first time wearing pants without underwear (though briefly, and only because I forgot them when I went to shower).

Nihon ni Au (free-form)

So, I had originally planned to write today's segment about Japanese toilets, but alas, you shall all have to await the "my potty chronicles" a little longer (because I have a short attention span, and I took different pictures today). Instead, you can hopefully sit back and enjoy a few images from Kyoto, namely of 35 minutes or so of road (if you are the crazy American who walks everywhere - until this weekend, when I will officially become a jitensha - bicycle - user!) between my school and the place where I have just begun studying kyudou. 



Now, this first image is relatively straightforward, I believe. This is the hallway leading to here:

which is the classroom where I spend 90% of my time at school (the remaining 10% is spent in the cafeteria or the bathroom - break it down however you like). Actually, there aren't that many of us who have all of our classes in the same room, and I get to be one of the lucky few :)

At any rate, I believe I had earlier remarked on the truly extraordinary fashion in which ancient Japanese traditions and modern life have come to infringe on one another. This is a busy highway, by the way, and I happened to catch a shot between cars at a red light. Yes, that structure there is a Japanese shrine, right in the middle of the city. I wonder if they built the building around it...

It really is awesome. There are similarly interesting juxtopositions in the states, but they are not as wide spread. Of course, right down the street I snapped a picture of this:

which happens to be my first Pachinko parlor (first one I've seen, I mean - I would never be brave enough to actually go inside). I knew they existed, logically, but I still was a bit shocked when I actually saw it. Why? I really don't know. I felt the same way the first time I saw a firefly - you know they exist, but until you see one, they have about the amount of existential credibility as a unicorn... (I think I made up some words just now).

Anyway, if anyone has ever suggested that the Japanese have no sense of humor, I now say that I have pictures to prove them wrong. Look:

You might need to zoom in a bit to read the sign, but really, you have to admit that's funny. I mean...white elephant...right (just in case somone out there has no clue what they're looking at)? The building itself is a bit shady since there are no windows, so I, once more, was not brave enough to step inside. I don't know what what elephant means to the Japanese after all...I will leave it at that. Of course, wearily walking back from my 2 hour kyudou practice, I was staring at the brick road, and happened to see this:

I'll have you know I actually went back to take a picture of it. I had to keep going for a while first to make sure I wasn't crazy. Completely normal road, no patterns, just these occasional lighter blocks...and then a heart. Again, tell me this isn't funny. I wonder if anyone (I mean, other than the person who laid the bricks) is aware that there is a blatant heart pattern on the road...it is only about two feet wide, after all, and the road goes on quite a ways. Thus I assert - the Japanese have a sense of humor, you just have to look for it sometimes.

So, in the end, I walked for the better part of an hour and half for this class, and that ignores all the other walking I did throughout the day. In other words, this is a great way to get my exercise and see the country at the same time! It's both hot and humid, but really, I've been having a great deal of fun. Still, by the time I returned to Imadegawa, I was ready to catch the densha (train) rather than walking home (as I had originally planned - it was even worth the 250 yen). The inside of the train looks something like this:

Tilt your head; I was trying to be discreet when I took this picture. I like the trains here, since they are quiet, comfortable, and move quite slowly and smoothly, as opposed to most American trains and the few European ones with which I have experience. I am sure, however, that it would be a slightly different story in Tokyo. At any rate, I also had to finally take a picture of this, because I still have no idea how they do it:

How do people get their bikes up there? Better yet, how do they get them down? Let me just say, parking garages (for CARS) are the same way. There must be some secret, and eventually I might even exert the effort of figuring out what that secret might be. As for now, we can wonder together (unless of course you know already, in which case you can laugh and shake your head knowingly). I will soon be among these bike-riding hordes, though I will be the funny American with the helmet :) As for the toilet segment, I'll keep you waiting a bit longer, but really, there's no suspense; there's not that much to say.

Michi o Mayotta (serious)

So yesterday I decided to go for an adventure; I got a bit more than I bargained for, though not to say that it was all bad. Michi o mayotta, for those who don't know, is to lose one's way, so in effect, to get lost. I decided to attempt walking home, armed with a plethora of maps and  pre-determined route. I have to say, it didn't help me overmuch. I missed a turn after about 15 minutes of walking when I couldn't find the correct road (a main road, by all appearances, but one that I still have not found after retracing my steps). Now, as I said, it wasn't necessarily a bad experience. It was a pleasant day for a walk, not suffociatingly hot and humid as it has been the last couple of days, and I had at least two hours until darkness would blanket the land in a somewhat impenetrable layer of obscurity (there aren't as many street lamps here on residential roads). I stayed on a single main road knowing I could turn around at any time, winding my way through houses built in both the old Japanese style and the new western style, and shops with isles so narrow that some people, I'm sure, would not be able to move and should have to call a store attendant to find the item they desired. The occasional shrine could be found in a niche or recessess between buildings. In short, I was wandering through quite a cozy part of town.

One of the most beautiful aspects of Kyoto, of course, is the natural scenery, and I saw a fair bit of this as well. I passed over a major river, where red-crowned herons and gray herons both mingled with tourists on the grassy banks at the water's edge. Looking upstream, houses and businesses framed the heavily wodded mountains of the Kyoto area, which surrounded the city seemingly on every side. Sometimes I would find that, as I walked, the smaller businesses evolved into tremendous (though perhaps small by American standards) department buildings and offices, and then rapidly tapered off into long stretches of greenery, particularly whereever a temple reared its mighty gates. I walked for a while, suffice to say, before I decided that I was not just understimating the distance I had to travel to "my" road, but that I had passed it up entirely. Not too far, but far enough.
Somewhat discouraged, I starting reading the bus stop schedules to find one going to my station - a difficult task when your kanji is not up to par! Fortunately, I looked discouraged enough to be stopped by a pair of visiting students from Malaysia on a two week conference trip, who were happy to offer some help and, lo and behold, spoke excellent English. From them I learned that to reach my station, I could either pay for a bus or walk, but either way, only the Imadegawa station (the opposite direction from my university) would have a train to take me home. So, I bid them farewell and took off back down the road, a bit worried now that the sky had begun to turn from a striking blue to a deep purple blush. Fifteen minutes later, and with my feet a bit sore (laugh all you want, I wore sandals and bought textbooks that day, so I was carrying quite a bit of weight), I reached the station and boarded my train.
Adventure over, yes? Well........no. I got off, but underestimated the distance to my wonderful host family's home. Thus, I spent the better part of an hour walking up and down the street, trying to no avail to remember the face of the house I had seen onha once, and had thought rather distinctive (well, maybe it is a bit, but not that much!). The sky darkened and darkened further, until it was pitchblack overhead, and I do mean pitchlback - I could not see a single star. I called, but they were not home, which I suspect may have been part of my problem; expecting the lights to be on, as I was just barely scraping in in time for dinner, I mostly ignored the houses dark and devoid of residents. My mistake. Discouraged once more, I finally sat my weary bottom down at the corner next to a dental clinic and under a streetlamp, I'm sure looking like the saddest little lost gaijin puppy in the world (I had homework after all, and was not inclined to begin working on it until I had found my way home - I still believe I was going to be late for dinner).

Again, some time later, a business man came up to me and began making a great effort to ask, in English, if I was lost. Joy! I told him I was, to which he asked my address and I offered a set of numbers that made him crinkle his eyebrows and look all the more confused. Perhaps he was doubting my Japanese ability to some degree at that point as well. By a stroke of luck, I had been late picking up my mail the week before, and so happened to have a letter addressed to me for my alien registration. Haha! I was sure my address must be written somewhere on it, and sure enough, what I ignored as a meaningless string of kanji, he looked at and stopped me, saying - ah, there it is! Then he whipped out his GPS phone, spent ten precious moments of his time searching for the address, and even proceeded to guide me down the street as his phone politely listed directions out loud. I had, perhaps, not gone quite far enough to reach my house, though I think I also passed it once. At any rate, we both stopped, he told me that the kanji read "Akioka" on the front gate, asking me if they were the right kanji, to which I of course answered that I had no clue (when I told him I'd only been there 4 days, he laughed knowingly).
So, with a moment's more explanation that I would wait for them to return and search for the key that was supposed to be in the mailbox, I began to appologize profusely (which is the preferred action over thanking profusely here). I, being the dork that I am, still could not find the key, and so called one of the program coordinators, who I'm sure appreciated my late night attention, only for them to tell me, "well, look again." Haha. Of course, the key was there, but the moment I unlocked the gate, my host father appeared around the corner (returning from work), and looked horribly surprised to find me in the dark in front of the gate. Impatience bites me every time!

But there you are. The end of my "lost" adventure. To whoever you were who saved me with your GPS, thank you, thank you, thank you! I will never forget that, and I will try never to forget where I live again! I think I might take the train home tomorrow rather than attempting to walk again...maybe next week. At any rate, I can say I'm more likely to die of mosquito bites and kanji overdose than getting lost, but anyway, ganbarimasu!

A word on Japanese Wildlife (free-form)

The short topic today is Japanese crows. Yup, that's right, glossy black feathered birds that travel in murders and happen to be my very favorite winged friends (who wouldn't love something as fascinated with shiny objects as they are...besides, crows are kind of like cinderella, and I had this dream once...). Haha, to return to the point, there's no picture here yet, though I'll post one if I manage to take one. Japanese crows sound different. I don't know if they really say "baka" (anime reference), though multiple cultures seem to suggest that these lively, intelligent birds are mocking, haughty, and tend to basically spend there time making fun of humans. Still, they certainly don't sound like American crows. Rather than the gravelly caw of the American crow, here there is a sort of throaty "raw" sound, which somehow seems reminiscent of the sound a bullfrog would make when it realized it couldn't fly. Well, anyway, the crow speak a different language for sure, even if the dogs I've met so far (which hardly count as wildlife) seem to speak similarly to their American counterparts.

Nihon no Hajimete (serious)

There is something truly amazing about the atmosphere in Japan. I would briefly speak first about my experiences last night, and then explain why I would say so. After the long day of orientation, we were allowed to go and have dinner with the Japanese students at our university. Mine took us out to enjoy wakaiya – in the case of what I ordered, a sort of noodle and egg pancake ingeniously kept warm on an in-table grill while you eat – and then to walk around Kyoto. Our wanderings quickly brought us to a famous street (ichi…) of Japanese shops and restaurants, which was both quite old and would have been quite crowded by daylight. In the night, it was very quiet in the older sections, where shops had lowered their metal grills or simply left their doors open, garbage piled outside and lights out. From what I've said it may sound unpleasant, but it was anything but, being still well lit and clean. We then moved to a slightly busier section that catered to the night crowds of teenagers, some still in uniform, and other shoppers.

Here we stumbled upon a gorgeous and oddly displaced seeming Shinto temple. I have to say, one of the most fascinating aspects of Kyoto is the mixture of new and old, which has been remarked upon in the past, but that I think must be seen to be believed. One moment, we were standing amidst crowds of shoppers, the sounds of chatter and various forms of music on every side, and the next the world had gone silent, and the air taken on the more natural, earthy chill of undeveloped land. Here we walked more silently, and I watched as the Japanese students performed their rituals or enjoyed the scenery, explaining to us the omamori (charms to hold the prayer’s of those who hold them, and perhaps grant their wishes) among other traditions. Then we stepped out again into the crowded streets, and I swear it was as if we had never been anywhere else. Maybe we were just dreaming a moment while imaging a more ancient Kyoto – of course, I could turn around and see the temple gates, so I know that was not the case. We stopped at an arcade as well, and then took our token photo booth images, of which I can only say family photographers in the states could make use, because they do work wonders to wipe away the imperfections in an image.

            We then meandered down to the river, slightly lower than the rest of the city and crossed by a somewhat busy bridge. Here we settled our group between and an equal distance away from two sets of couples, who were abiding by the local tradition and enjoying the view. It was a phenomenal sight, if only because these people seemed to abide naturally by unwritten rules, whereas in America there would often by some youthful law-breaker who set out only to ruin everyone else's fun. It turned out to be a beautiful night. The pressing heat and humidity of the day had been replaced by a cool breeze that just stirred the tall fronds of grass growing at the river’s edge, so that the heat that remained became warm and comfortable. Gallons of dark river water rushed past, shimmering over the smooth stones laid down by its passage, and hurtling over manmade waterfalls. Its voice was only a gentle hiss, but it drowned the sounds of traffic overhead, and seemed to welcome the accompaniment of several young men performing their songs higher up the banks. The lights of larger business buildings dominated the skyline, turning the navy clouds overhead to a cottony mouse gray, but it was peaceful nonetheless.

            And so I come to my point that Japan is very different from America. What I refer to is the atmosphere. It, I am sure, is a product of many things, but the two that come to mind or me are the layout of the streets and the community of the people – though I may be premature in my assessment, having been here only two days. The streets are broad in some places, and these are more like the streets of America, though well kept and again, relatively clean. They are very narrow in others, catering to only one car at a time, and I think it is walking down these narrow streets that there is the strangest sense of security. Every two steps is a new door, crammed so close to the last that there is barely the chance of a shadow coming between the light cast by either one. People stand outside, calling out there services or offering flyers. The shop attendants seem to be constantly busy, moving back and forth past the doors and through their merchandise, while the shops themselves are small and give the sense that one can see most everything from outside. And shoppers wander everywhere. The really wonderful thing is that they have a sense of purpose, to some extent, but not in the way that Americans seem to. They walk along, talking, pointing, shopping for something in particular, but seemingly equally open to everything else. Rather than the American way of bypassing everything to find the item in question, the small shops seem to beckon a more casual way of shopping – as a result there is a sense of openness, not unlike the community feeling within a tract of homes when everyone is having a garage sale at once.

            The community I would discuss is something much more complicated. Trust; Americans have typically pointed out that the Japanese tend to tote the phrase “shikatta ga nai” and turn a blind eye to the bad things that happen, but I believe that is not entirely accurate. There is something else at work here. To digress a moment, there seems to be an increasing trend in American schools to include at the doors a metal detector. Now I would love to do a survey on this at some point, but I would say that when I walk into a school with a metal detector, I do not think, “Wow, what a safe place. They even have a metal detector!” I think, “Wow, what a dangerous place. They even have to have a metal detector!” As a result, for however long I am in that place, I will most certainly be looking over my shoulder. Now, one could call this shikatta ga nai, because if the metal detector were not present, much less ignore the problem I might not even realize there was a problem, but if there were no metal detector, I would feel safer. What I mean to say is this – in America, everyone is constantly in a state of looking over there shoulder. I cannot site any scientific knowledge of group psychology for my words, but people’s thoughts are conveyed in their body language, and people’s thoughts do build the atmosphere. If everyone is looking over their shoulder, they are exhibiting distress, and if they are distressed, the atmosphere becomes one of stress, and people cannot help but react to it. People under stress tend to react more violently than would be normal, and…well, need I suggest more? As I said, there is no basis for my thoughts except personal observation, but to return to the discussion of Japan, everyone believes they are safe. As a result, few people look over their shoulder, and I would suggest that the resulting atmosphere itself leads to lower levels of violent crime, increased feelings of security, and the strange sense of safety that the Japanese streets seem to impart. Thus, you can sit on a riverbank at night drinking a cool beer and not feel the slightest bit as if your actions are compromising.

            Again, I have been here two days. There may be places where one would feel overwhelmingly unsafe, and Japan is, of course, not without violent crime. Take it as you will. But I will say that at ten o’clock at night walking down the streets of Japan, I felt no less safe than at 3 in the afternoon – though I did sweat (may I say “condensate”) a great deal less. 

Welcome

Welcome to my blog (= me ranting and / or spouting nonsense) about Japan (and maybe other stuff). I will be serious at times and not others, so I hope you get to laugh, smile, occasionally LOL or BYG (yes, that does = blow your gaskets) and so forth (please don’t cry; it makes me feel bad). If you please, ignore my philosophical wanderings, but be warned that I am verbose – reading at your own risk (of packing your brain so full of fluff that it implodes – nothing explodes in my life because imploding is so much cooler), or just enjoy the pictures (or laugh at them – I know I do). Doozo yoroshiku onegaishimasu!!