Now even more jaded...

I'd really hate to think that the day I arrive back in the States and people ask me about my fantastical journey the most impressive thing I would be able to muster up would be "Well, the buses ran on time" or perhaps something involving the words "attractive" and "girls". Perhaps I left more orientalist than when I came.

It's all a bit anticlimactic. This city has been my home for eight or so months, and while I feel I've become used to being here there's no sense that I am nearer to what constitutes Hirakatashi, let alone Osaka and heaven forbid Japan in terms of people and culture than when I first arrived.

What being here has helped me to realize, however, is that people are people. Not to homogeonize, but to help distinguish and better communicate and attempt to mesh with folk of both the Japanese and foreign varieties. My impressions when I stepped foot into the country were not of geisha and samurai or wholly neo-Tokyo cyberpunk with buxom anime girls and neon signs dotting every square inch of land owned by mega-corporations, but I did brace myself for unbridgeable gaps that might never be overcome. I did find some, but I found just as much common and uncommon ground as I did when I shifted from Chicago to Florida, or from high school to college.


There are temples and shrines. Yes, you can find katanas and geisha, there are blindingly bright areas in Osaka meant to confuse you into buying Asahi Super Dry or a nice new digital camera, but these things are mostly superficial, I've found. Too many people are caught up in living their lives just as they do in the ever-ambiguous "America" to worry about being Japanese.

Even so, my experience here has been as little more than a student. If I return as something else my impressions will most likely change depending on my priorities. I feel that my journey's only halfway done, if only because I've had my share of green tea but have so far missed out on the onsens.

Japanese People: Quite a few in Japan

That high Japanese population doesn't leave much room for cultural sensitivity (aside from the Little Black Sambo book I had to explain to a young lady why "lynch" might not be the best word to use in most situations).

Moving along. One can't help but be amused at the reactions of a Japanese person who hears that a foreigner enjoys eating nattou. Of course I can't be counted among those, never having so much as touched the stuff, but it's entertaining nonetheless. The idea of a someone so devastatingly non-Japanese consuming a Japanese food seems to be quite mindblowing to much of the population.

This glares into the face of many of the resident population whom I've spoken to that recoil at the mere mention of the word nattou, Japanese-ness notwithstanding. It's one of many examples of the citizenry's tendency to self-homogeonizing, painting a stark line between Japanese and foreign. This is not a trait that's uniquely Japanese, but stick with me for a moment.




The peace sign in photos, origami, insane fashion senses, (relative) purity of spirit, group-mindedness, corruption and trickiness in the female population (at least according to some members of my current family), these are also results of the cultural paintbrush that may or may not be withdrawn once someone takes the time to think about themselves as an individual as opposed to a faceless member of a cultural whole which only exists in the most abstract and general sense.

People continually attempt both inside and outside of Japan to define what it means on a whole to be Japanese, despite many Osakans claiming that they can't stand Kantou-ben and many Tokyo-ites complaining that Osakans are rude sons-of-guns (of course, save for the occasional reference to exotic Hokkaido and questionably "Japanese" Okinawa, 90% of the rest of the country is left out of the comparitive equation). They forget that Japanese people are indeed people, and beyond the basic cultural foundation which is itself quite varied, they are themselves and not part of an imaginary, whitewashed block of sameness.

Backlog - Just do it: Sports in Japan

"So I was at the park one morning and there was a dad there with his three sons. They were running around the track and he was timing them."



Hardcore.

Even beyond the rapid fandom of national competition (Hanshin Tigers, anyone?) sports are apparently big in Japan, not just as something to watch but to do. The number of tracksuit clad students and adults alike, both outside but especially on the campus of our wonderful school, could possibly be said to boggle the mind. You do have your requisite sendentary population, but many of the people I've met here do something, from conventional sports such as basketball to the ever raised-eyebrow inducing Sepak Takraw of which I was a member at Kansai Gaidai for several months (with very little progress, I may add)



It sticks as well. Many of the people who join clubs here were doing the same thing in high school and many of the people in high school were doing the same thing in middle school. This is not sports specific, but seems to be a characteristic and any acitivity that has club-potential in it. The sports folk just seem to wear snappier and more recognizable uniforms. Well, if a tracksuit can be considered to be snappy. That and they turn a toasty brown color in warmer weather. And the bag which has a 50% chance of being Puma-made.

Oh, how their smiling faces lie...

I've never been one to adhere to the social rule of avoiding discussion of politics or religion in sensitive situations. Due to this I decided to question my host mother about the issue of Kimigayo and Hinomaru as she was moseying about my room one sunny afternoon. More specifically I asked what she thought of Kimiko Nezu and her crusade against tyranny. The response was immediate and sharp:

"She's a moron"

Ten exciting minutes later I learned that my host mom leans somewhat right-wing, belonging to the section of society that believes that a Japanese citizen's duty is to honor the flag and the national anthem as an innate part of their Japanese-ness. She also mistakenly believed that everyone in the United States sings the national anthem and salutes the flag as proper members of their nation. I was forced once again to dispel another "Ideal America" myth.

She does not, however, oppose people who don't wish to stand or sing during formal occasions. Her not-so-friendly attitude seems to stem more from her personal experience of anti-Nationalist protesters causing a ruckus at both her daughter's graduation ceremonies. Those are experiences that shouldn't include especially disruptive personal agendas on the menu, she said in so many words. Other incidents of flag burning probably didn't help either. Silent protest is golden.



Especially concerning politics there are more than two sides two every story. In fact, each issue is damned-near prismatic. While there is certainly no lack of cause for grief from the side of the teachers and others who stand against compulsory patriotism, one has to be careful of the media and words that come from anyone who has a specific goal in sight.

From the mind of WIll Smith/Bob Sapp/Barack Obama

A friend and out were out celebrating a mutual friend's birthday party somewhere in Amemura when I happened to nod and greet another African-American man who happened to pass by us. The following (paraphrased) conversation ensued:

"Do you know him?"
"Nope."
"So why'd you nod?"
"Not entirely sure?"
"Is it a 'black thing'?"
"Possibly, yeah."
"That's such bulls**t."
"When you're here do you nod at another foreigner if you pass by them?"
"Well, yeah."
"Exactly."

Many of us are most likely familiar with the phenomena of the Gaijin Nod, the sometimes obligatory acknowledgement between those in a country where we all tend to be lumped into the ambiguous category of "foreigner". My experience has been much the same as that of the author: a visit to Tokyo yielded nothing exceeding a quick glance in my general direction while my time in Kansai has sparked many a knowing smile or small wave (or a rather loud "Hey!" in Umeda station) if not a long conversation detailing why exactly said person ended up in Japan in the first place.

Whether or not we have anything substantial in common becomes a moot point much of the time, it's the illusion of that shared experience in Japan that can often breed affinity between two perfect strangers. My friend took my acknowledgement of a person on the basis of skin color as a sign of being exclusivist, but being crammed under an umbrella where one's identity as an individual tends to be washed out often leads us to reach out to those who might have an appreciation of our experience. So long as we try not to forge such connections in order to keep others out of our own personal illusion of what it means to be traveling through exotic locales there should be no problem expending a second or two to let someone feel that they're not alone.

It's like a bag of Lay's brand potato chips...

It's a curious thing, to say the least, that thing being Japan's religious presence. Temples, shrines, protective symbols on the Keihan bus line...perhaps it's my sue-happy origins combined with my you-gotta-be-something-and-only-that monothiestic upbringing, but it wouldn't seem far fetched to think that someone might have raised a fuss about whose deities and religious installations should be on display in public and whose shouldn't. Maybe I'm just a sucker for theological conflict.

Too long a while (you can see the result in the timestamp) I tried to wrap my mind around the best way to describe it. Peaceful coexistence was, surprisingly enough, too violent a term (relatively speaking) to apply to many of this country's citizens internalizing several distinct ideologies without so much the bat of an eye.


Compatibility seems to never come up as an issue. While I suppose it could be compared to Christianity's absorbtion of various pagan holidays and rituals that are still widely practiced even among the secular public or various hybrid religions such as Candomble in Brazil, the aforementioned phenomena usually involves the source material being altered and twisted somehow in order to minimize ideological conflict; despite the alteration a person is still a practictioner of one religion. Here a person is Shinto and Buddhist while wearing a crucifix 'round their neck (of course the cross is almost always strictly for fashion).

The mind warps, but it also helps to take into consideration each person's level of belief in their religion(s) of choice. I spent one fall afternoon wandering about Kyoto with a friend and her associate taking in the sights of the kouyou at various temples. We were speaking about religion and my companion said something to the effect of "A lot of people don't really think about their religion, but they might pray if they're in trouble," along with "We go to temples and shrines because they're pretty." What with my being well familiar with the concept of the Sunday Christian, I can't say I was too surprised. The symbols that surround people and what they call themselves can often have little effect on their spiritual indifference.


A footnote of sorts: This scroll is from a tour that my resident mother and father took with their parents (on my fathers` side) through the temples of the Kinki region. The gold pattern ran them about 3000 dollars.

My host parents (my host siblings are more or less indifferent according to my mother) identify as Nichiren buddhists, but only became serious practitioners after the death of an uncle and several others. Having attended several funerals and witnessed such stunning revelations myself perhaps we are united in the connection between piety and the realization of our own and others' mortality.

Or maybe I'm still confused.

Just so long as it entertains...

Japanese art, as anyone who has been within Japan's borders for more than five minutes will understand, extends beyond Sumi-e and into the infinity of what can be classified as such.

It quite literally lines the streets, though said lining often takes a form of questionable legality



(on a side note I've still to investigate Japan's seemingly disproportionate amount of graffiti...and I still don't know who this Flash is)

It's not hard to find a person near JR Osaka Station, Kyobashi (a young lady I bought a picture from explained that she's there on certain days of the week depending on whether or not she's shooed by the police), or Shinsaibashi (the station or the walkway itself) vending their wares. The vast majority seems to be beyond the scope of what would considered traditionally Japanese; from my experience Sumi-e folk seem to be nonexistent in these places and even Japanese calligraphers tend to take a non-orthodox approach in their characters, going more for personal aesthetic than "traditional" cultural adherance



or prints of pictures in a variety of styles for every nearly every shade of the palatte, so long as one is not looking for anything beyond what might be considered the apparently phillistine. What you can find out on the street seems more reserved for people who would place it on their body or perhaps set up in a small apartment than for those that would discuss a piece over a snifter of brandy.

Traditional who in the what now? (delays due to technological difficulties)

I have read Miyamoto Musashi, I have perused the Wikipedia article on the aesthetic of the world of Wabi-sabi (with the knowledge of the name itself gleaned from a manga about breadmaking)...yet some way, somehow I still felt that my expertise concerning the true essence of traditional Japanese culture. Second hand knowledge was no good; I would have to find out myself.

Donning a hakama and substituting a convenient butter knife for a wakizashi I set out for the countryside in hopes of finding the true spirit of Japan`s traditions. Perhaps I would also hone my skill as an artisan of death with my trusty sidearm.



An hour into my walk and I was yet to find the long, winding roads calling me to my destiny. However, I did stumble upon a teahouse in which I might be able to lighten my wallet in exchange for a calming, comfortable atmosphere.



Perhaps I should have taken the sign promoting it as a teahouse as a warning. It was not the establishment I was expecting. After being ousted rather violently I continued my journey.

Perhaps it was the mild concussion I sustained after being hoisted out by the waistband on my undergarments, but my continued journey produced no sword emporiums, an excess of garish and noisy pachinko parlors, and vending machine after vending machine...I did find solace in a refreshing can of Mitsuya Cider (TM).

I]ll spare my beloved readers the analyzation, but will once again state that much of the traditional culture that many feel is missing was more the tradition of the minority (if not the elite) that that of the overarching notion of Japan. Many seem to take unchanging physical manifestations as a sign of tradtion rather than the customs themselves.

To give a more concrete example, last year I attended a lecture concerning David Rumsey`s Historical Map Collection. One of the maps shown was less a dry, overly-lined geographical map than a colorfully detailed picture noting where travelers could find places in order to make the most of their trip. Who exactly had access to such maps was not revealed, and it it could very well be another example of activities kept from the general populace, but judging from the number of agencies not only dealing in international but domestic travel show that the business of providing informed access to areas unknown to Japanese folk is quite alive and well.



As with the "teahouse" above and the example of travel, tradition doesn:t seem to be so much a matter of keeping secrets closely guarded within specific communities, but what becomes reproduced (or poorly mimicked...damn the teahouse once it has the potential to do so.

Globalization and why Japan is ruining my college dietary habits

The trend continues: a continued influx of odd foreign culture into the once pure nation of Japan. Baggy pants, loud music, garish makeup, with those who choose to wear such dastardly facepaint having the audacity to apply it in public places. Even the apparent innocence of a magic show is naught but the Grim Reaper knocking on the door of good culture. Goodbye, o halcyon days.



Or so some say.

While criticisms of Japan's modern, "less-Japanese-y" age are not always leveled at the menacing spectre of foreign influence, such alarmist views are by no means hard to find.

The idea of sullied or somehow unpure "modern" Japanese culture becomes a bit more ludicrous, if not laughable, when one takes a step back in order to realize that the trend has been continuing since the Meiji restoration, where land reformations begat tales of "Poison women" using new systems to exploit others and the rebellious youth were flowing from their cozy agricultural lives to thriving urban centers, forsaking the old ways. Finishing schools for the modern woman and new housing structures putting emphasis on filial harmony with little regard for tradition threatened to destroy what is and always has been(TM). All that and it's not even 1930.

While I don't want to delve too deeply into why Japan has never been "Japan" due to general unawareness on the part of both preceding and succeeding generations, it is something to consider. However, the hodgepodge of historical confusedness pales in comparison to the fact that



I can barely eat pizza here. Mayonnaise, corn, teriyaki sauce, all manner of weird toppings is tantamount to blasphemy. While my opinion has little consequence in the matter I have a hard time believing that most anything I find here pizza-wise would be considered anything other than Japanese overseas. Yes, that includes California. I also understand the slightly ludicrous criticism that a food that originated in Italy, made from a fruit native to South America, of which the style I consume was localized in the States, does not translate in the exact same way in Japan.

The idea is that while the views of nay-sayers on the topic of Globalization are not entirely invalid, the tendency for an "influencing" culture to be countered, warped, and localized to the point it becomes unique if not entirely recognizable from its point of origin is an especially strong one. There are quite a few objects, food (PIZZA!), clothing (of course, kimonos haven't been en vogue as everyday attire for quite a while), landmarks (America Town, save for the tiny statue of liberty and being a monument to endless consumerism, has very little "American-ness" about it) most likely would not be easily reabsorbed into the countries which supposedly spawned them.



An issue to ponder is what exactly makes something adoptable? Why does one mode of expression from a "foreign" culture spark a movement in a separate social space where the social dynamic can range from just slightly dissimilar to drastically different. So-called "World Culture" as represented in the myriad of fashions, music, art, and any number of other things is a very real phenomenon. However, the culture in which those foreign seeds are planted tend to give rise to very different interpretations of the same idea.

外人

"Not me. Just the birds and the baby."

This was the reaction upon my whipping out my camera in the park near Hirakata-shi station a couple of weeks ago, followed by a slight twinge of annoyance on my part. This was not only due to my denied opportunity for a nice slice-of-life photograph but also for the man's wherewithal to dictate what I could take a picture of. Of course, as it often does, this particular interaction became a subject to ponder.

The image is presented of Japan through most people's eyes is one of a very group-oriented society where people's awareness of those groups which are inside and outside of their concept of "I" or "we" is incredibly strong. The strength of this awareness is not something I consider to be uniquely Japanese, but that is a moot point at the moment. Why it is relevant is due to the nature of anthropological, or any subject which deals with not only humans but anything within both organic and unnatural environments.

Whether intentional or not the role of the anthropologist is one of an intruder. Regardless of a formal designation as outsider or "native"/insider, the job becomes to step back and observe and catalogue the motions that compose human society. While the ideal is to traverse unnoticed, without disturbing or heavily influencing the setting being observed, in reality it is a goal far from realization.

It becomes even harder when the observer in question stands head and shoulders above a heavy percentage of the population. While holding a rather large camera. Subtlety is not on my side.



Even if that were not the case a more voyeuristic approach is, given by the above example, quite out of the question (well, not quite...). Questions of being rejected by potential subjects aside, it becomes an issue of treading on the private ground of another person even in seemingly public spaces. In the quest for the ever-elusive candid representation of Japan, permission not given is not necessarily denied, but a sly snapshot has the potential to heavily backfire in the form of wrath from the secret snapshot-ee. Oh, the horrors of the communication age.

Being that I am not a ghost slipping through crowded paths with an unnoticeable camera, I find being able to take photos of actual people without obligatory (thought not particularly unnatural and almost certainly anthropologically worthy) peace signs or otherwise not-what-is-normally-done-outside-of-a-photo difficult at best, frustrating at worst.



I was able to take this picture during a random wandering through Nanba with a friend, my curiosity piqued by the unmistakable sound of a Capoiera circle. This is a case of permission given with a hearty and perhaps slightly incredulous "Of course you can!" This is a rare case of my having been given permission to capture and capturing something I believed to be organic, despite the subpar quality of my equipment.

From here I believe my trial to one of opportunity countered by at least small attempts at propriety. As mentioned above, the title of outsider, of "gaijin" can be applied to anyone stepping outside the bounds of their normal life in order to observe. The goal is to work within the rules and constraints of my position and sift through the results to find something truly worthy of being included among those images being truly representative of this country.

Fujisaka and Katahoko: A verbal version of one of those circle things that you do at school

Eloquent, I know.

Fujisaka Sanchoume is, by any standard definition, unremarkable. In contrast to the area surrounding Kansai Gaidai's Seminar Houses, relatively quiet and lacking in the glare of neon signs and (slightly alarmingly) the normal overabundance of vending machines. When matched against Katahoko Higashimachi Fujisaka is a calm sea of middle-class residential tranquility.



Within a five-to-ten minute walk of the Seminar Houses there are two supermarkets, two clothing shops, several eating establishments of the mom-and-pop persuasion, and a heavy number of vending machines (including the infamous "Beer Vending Machine"). Endure the horrendous pain of walking for five more minutes and the number of supermarkets increases by two, karaoke of the large-scale and hole-in-the wall variety appears, access to eateries moves up the scale to family style restaurant, kaitenzushi, and the ability to buy high-calorie, low-nutritional value snack foods from the ever-willing conbini goes from 0 to 2. Add to that the sweet temptation of three or four pachinko/slot parlors. There are also fashion boutiques (this is possibly qualified by the size of the shop and the abstractness of its' name). Classy.



The domain of Fujisaka is considerably different. While there are obviously houses and families residing within Katahoko, the environment of the former is considerably more...family friendly. This does not mean that the neighborhood lacks pachinko, conbini, and supermarkets (though it does seem to be completely lacking in seedy dives), but that they are fewer and far between: better hidden and thus increasing the potency of the neighborhood-ish appearance. The supermarkets (side by side) are a fair ten or fifteen minute walk away. None of these places face roads that are not fairly traffic-heavy in terms of cars, people, or trains. The remaining conbinis, bakeries, youth centers, and other commercial establishments hover around other types of buildings.

This may be more a conclusion based on correlation than cause, but the lifestyle of the apartment-dweller seems to demand more the type of structures that surround and permeate the neighborhoods around Katahoko more than that of Fujisaka. Those who inhabit Fujisaka seem to demand those more "family-friendly" structures. The seifuku, gakuran, blazer, and yellow-hat attired children tell of numerous schools, the people jogging in the park or watching their children play give hint to people whose lifestyle has moved beyond the necessity of quick convenience or late-night snack runs in order to keep going through study sessions (euphemisms included). The space that encourages a larger amount of self-indulgence is not totally erased, it is only displaced, if only for the sake of appearance.



Fujisaka is by no means the sterile shadow of life that is modern suburbia, but it's certainly more subdued and not a place for the go-go behavior of those perpetual excitement-seekers. It feels like home.

From the depths of jaded experience...

I would like to take the opportunity to welcome you to the photo blog for my Visual Anthropology of Japan course at Kansai Gaidai University in Hirakata-shi, Osaka.


Welcome.

Despite the title of our first assigned blog entry being "first impressions of Japan" I, being one of the remnant of last semester (with an ever-persistent penchant for youthful rebellion), will be writing from a viewpoint four or so months after my arrival.

One question that I've found myself asked a considerable number of times since coming here, though far behind "How tall are you?" in terms of popularity, is how many guns I own (the answer being none). The more relevant question, however, has been something to the effect of what about being in Japan has surprised me most about the country. The food, perhaps? The small size of everything ("You probably hit your head all the time, right?")? Since starting homestay the barrage of questions regarding my adjustment has only increased.

Not being one to skimp on vaguely controversial allusion, I remember a passage from Salman Rushdie's The Satanic Verses which went something along the lines of, to paraphrase, a businessman traveling in a plane from Bombay(?) to London experiences a less perilous and strange journey than a farmer traversing the road from his village to the city.

At a rather large risk of sounding blasé, I've found my experience to be largely the same. This is not to say I've not experienced new things: going to castles, wandering about the less-reputable parts of Osaka, walking an obscene amount around the lovely industrial city that is Hirakata-shi and surrounding areas. I've had experiences a-plenty, but what has struck me most is the nostalgic familiarity of it all.


It might be seeing the leaves change and snow fall for the first time in eight or so years, but the experiences I've had here do more to call back my (relative) youth in Chicago than my time in Florida ever has. This is not to say there are no differences, as any movement to a new area requires readjustment, but the readjustment from one modernized area to another seems to be considerably less. The comforts that form the foundation of my first-world lifestyle, though they may appear in slightly-less-familiar forms (such as the seemingly-omnipresent electrical towers looming in the distance), are never lacking.

The spectre of culture shock may still loom in the distance for me, but my experience thus far has been one of a place where it's much more likely to find the traditional. New things a-plenty, but this has struck me as a country where, despite images of samurai and geisha, giant robots and pantyhose vending machines being unleashed willy-nilly on the internets (among other forms of media), one will be hard-pressed to find incredibly exotic as opposed to the traditional in contrast to the almost overwhelmingly modern. This may be, given that my period spent here is still considerably short in comparison, a blind assumption. Stay tuned to see exactly when I'll have my ears boxed for an especially serious faux-pas.