Negativity, negativity, negativity

Negativity, negativity, negativity

The study abroad adjustment curve does not seem to be working this time. One is said to start super-excited, reach the lowest point in a few weeks and then go up from there. Well, not me. For some obscure reason, I’ve started pretty low, skipping the first few weeks of excitement. I’ve been trying to keep things in perspective. Yet, no matter how hard I try, I cannot see much light at the end of the tunnel. I’m sure I’ll be the upbeat and optimistic Rene in no time. But until then: negativity, negativity, negativity. Ay! What happened?

First, at the beginning, there was…Quatar Airways. 90 minutes before my flight to Japan, I was told I couldn’t leave without a return ticket – but hello, I’m in Japan for a year, without any idea of when I might be returning. They didn’t care. So, in 10 minutes I went on a crazy splurge and bought a trip back to Europe over Christmas. Did I wanna go back for Christmas? Probably not. Did I wanna be forced to decide whether I wanna go back over Christmas? Definitely not!

Then, I was told that I couldn’t carry but one piece of luggage at 20 kg. What?!? Yes. Allegedly, if you’re traveling “across the ocean” your luggage allowance is 2 pieces at 23 kg each. Yet, if you’re flying “across the land” (no matter how big the “across the land is” you can only bring a little baggie. So now, I surely have to go back over Christmas. Especially, since I have no winter clothes.

Second, jet lag has been hitting me hard. I wake up either at 3 AM or 3 PM. Not sure which is worse. I don’t understand! Everybody in the program seems to be doing ok. But me? I get to experience the changing of the shifts at the local 7/11. Great!

Third, jet-lagged-wrecked and with no will to perform, I failed the placement test. Now I’m stuck in a class practicing hiragana with Itikawa-sensei. I’ve been begging other teachers to let me move up to a different class. But here in Japan: rules are rules. And there’s no way around it. Tomorrow, I’m planning on holding a strike. Hopefully, that’ll work out. If not – I’ll at least know hiragana really well (and will have enough time to skype with all the lost, and regained, kindergarten friends).

Last, I’m definitely running into major communication issues with Japanese people. When in Tokyo last summer, I never truly interacted with real Japanese for longer than a few hours. Here in Osaka, I have a Japanese roommate. There’s no linguistic barrier, yet there seems to stand pretty big cultural differences between Takaki and I, mostly due to the absence of any form of direct communication. Everything is perhaps, maybe or somehow – if at all. I’ve noticed that the same applies for everyone that I encounter. “I’m maybe 18 years old.” “My name is maybe Suzuki.” “Perhaps, I’m Japanese.” What!?! You’re either 18 – or some other age. Your name is either Suzuki or something else. YOU DEFINITELY ARE JAPANESE! I always thought that it was the others who faced problems with cultural diversity – not me. To be honest, I never really paid attention to any of the Light Fellowship “diversity talks.” (Sorry, Kelly. Sorry, Erica). But I should have. Now, I find myself getting frustrated at something I should not be. Hopefully, I’ll soon learn, at least, not to mind the perhaps-maybe-not-sure mentality. Until then, however…my name is maybe Rene; I’m maybe 22 years old. And I’m maybe a foreigner. Not sure though.

イン ザ・ミソスープ In the Miso Soup

イン ザ・ミソスープ In the Miso Soup

My flight routine was as usual – two pills of benadryl, a glass of bad on-board wine, an episode of the Office and then nine hours of airplane dozing between Doha and Kansai International. When I got to Japan, I was really confused. No wonder though: I’ve been traveling a lot in the past few weeks- Brussels, Prague, Krakow, Rome. Is this the long desired final destination? At the Osaka Airport, I went through the immigration procedures. A shy Japanese official in a surgical mask asked me to look into a tiny camera. Blink! My face showed up on fluorescent screen framed by Sakura leaves with Mount Fuji in the Background: a perfect Hello Kitty souvenir. At that point, I knew I had arrived safe and sound. I knew it was Japan.

On the express train (aren’t all Japanese trains express?) to dowtown Osaka, I was slept on by two exhausted Japanese citizens – a dozing salaryman on my right shoulder and a Japanese schoolgirl on the left one. I felt liked. Opposite to me (and my two new sleeping friends) sat a Japanese grandma who kept staring me. I tried to avoid her glare but since she sat underneath the subway map, some form of interaction was inescapable. “Hallllooo!” she said with regular Japanese enthusiasm. Hello, I said. “Were arrre yu furomu?” I was not ready for this existential conversation. Yet, adamant this lady was – she kept asking and asking and asking. At some point, I tried to make a joke out of it. I tried to tell her she was a very curious lady. She didn’t know what curious was. I told her it was ok. But she got obsessed with knowing the meaning of the word. It became her holly grail. I tried to explain again but failed. Finally, I pulled out my ipod dictionary and typed curious. She put on her glasses and we both awaited impatiently the result of the dictionary search. SEARCHING THE DATABASE. PLEASE WAIT. SEARCHING….

Oh, here it is! I said - hopeful she’d laugh a bit. I couldn’t read the kanji reading so I just passed her the device. But what a strange reaction! My Japanese friend’s face got oddly pale. The poor lady took off her reading glasses, grabbed her purse and left the car without saying goodbye. Flabbergasted, I only managed to gather my device and get off at the next stop. I couldn’t stop thinking – what about curiosity did she find so insulting? I was just trying to make a joke. Plus, our Yale sensei never mentioned that curiosity was so looked down on. Maybe a generational gap? My mind went crazy. I wanted to search Osaka for my Japanese friend who I insulted so much that she, despite her advanced age, fled the subway faster than SEGA’s Sonic the Hedgehog. I lay down in my capsule hotel room and contemplated. Out of sheer despair, I decided to read the entire section on Japanese etiquette in my lonely planet guide (auch, how painful that was!). Nothing about the dangers of curiosity. I grabbed my ipod to text my parents about my failure.

The screen still held the mysterious kanji reading of “curious.” I clicked on its hiragana transcription: “CURIOUS – TAIHEN; HEN” What??? Doesn’t that mean weird or horrible? Isn’t that the word our teachers used in reference to sexual perverts, social deviants, and subway gropers. Wait, subway gropers? And so I quickly realized that there is not such a thing as curious in Japanese – there’s either weird or not weird. And the poor old lady was told to be the former. I put the goodhearted Japanese grandma in the same category with sexual perverts, social deviants – and subway gropers. Ouch.

…

You never know what you’ll find in the miso soup. Seriously. Most usually there are pieces of tofu and seaweed. But sometimes you can find a chunk of rice, an eggshell or even a small piece of wood from poorly separated chopsticks. Japan is kind of a miso soup. There are love-hotels, express trains, schoolgirls in navy blazers, noodle-slurping salarymen and the ubiquitous hello kitty accessories. But there are also other weird things that one would not expect in the Land of the Rising Sun. Other weird things like clueless Yale boys with bad manners and even worse dictionaries.

And so, at this occasion, I would like to make a statement. I would like to apologize to all Japanese grandmas: すみません、おばあさん。やさしいひとです！たいへんじゃないです！

“Dear Japanese Grandmothers! No matter what I say, you’re not weird. You’re very nice and very kind. You’re neither sexual perverts nor social deviants. AND DEFINITELY NO SUBWAY GROPERS.”

he's goin' to Japan

he's goin' to Japan

His name is Rene Bystron and he will be spending the next year in Japan. He’s just realized it. Sure, it’s been in the back of his mind for a while – like going to college. He knew it was going to happen for many years; still he was flabbergasted when it happened.

A brief summary: he’s taking a year-off between his junior and senior year at Yale to study in Japan under the Richard U. Light Fellowship. He came to Yale as a “2011” and will be leaving as a “2012.”

He did not understand the full extent of his decision while at Yale. Leaving school for a year seemed funky and fun. He thought a year in Japan would make him the coolest kid around the block. It seemed rad. In the whirl of finals, of regular early May busy-ness, he didn’t get the chance to think everything through. Now, on the other hand, he’s home, bored to death, and with a plenty of time to think.

WHAT HAVE I DONE?!? / In a year, I’ll be back/ all my friends will be gone/ But c’est la vie.

He’ll be writing a blog about his time in Japan. Two entries a week. He will be doing so because Light Fellowship requires it, and because he likes writing, and because he wants to let everyone know that he, in fact, IS the coolest kid around the block. He won’t be writing in third person because it’s cheesy, impersonal - and like totally not cool.