Mr. Ichikawa

Mr. Ichikawa

Koniti wa. Louder! Ko-ni-ti wa! LOUDER. KO-NI-TI WA!!! Good! Every day, Mr. Ichikawa made us greet him with fervor and energy higher-than-Mt.Fuji Mr. Ichikawa was radical. He used to teach Japanese salary men how to be proper salary men. He used to work in a “real Japanese company” – as he told us. For some obscure reason, however, we found ourselves having Mr. Ichikawa as our teacher for the first few weeks in Osaka…

Mr. Ichikawa’s class felt like a boot camp. Every morning we bowed and got scolded if the bow was not deep enough. We shouted “ohayoooo gozaimasu” and were shouted back at if we did not scream with enough vigor. Mr. Ichikawa put us into teams of four based on assumed geographic location of our origins. Elly was the Taipei-Team (I think her parents lived in Taiwan at some point, but I’m not sure…) Rika was the Pittsburgh-Team. I was the Czech-Team. Desiree, Hispanic girl from New York City, was the Caribbean Team. Has she ever been to the Caribbean? Nope. Mr. Ichikawa couldn’t care less, however. She looked Caribbean so she was the Caribbean-Team. What’s the big deal?

After the second week, I noticed that Desiree seemed a bit disconcerted that she was racially profiled on a daily basis. She seemed troubled by her membership in the Caribbean-Team. So, I decided to have a man-date with Mr. Ichikawa after class. I told him that in America people get sometimes offended when they are put into Caribbean teams when they have in fact never been to the Caribbean. Mr. Ichikawa looked puzzled for a while but then exclaimed: Naruhodo! Got ya! He seemed to understand my point.

The next day Mr. Ichikawa said he had to make an important announcement before the beginning of the class. “Dear Teams, I would like to share a childhood dream with you. As a child, I always wanted just one thing: to go on a cruise. There are many cruises in the Pacific but I only wanted to go on a cruise in the Caribbean because I think the Caribbean is the most beautiful part of the world. With Palm Trees, Bananas, Beaches and Pirates. I have nothing against the Caribbean. Please understand. Are we cool now, Caribbean-Team?!?” Desiree just nodded. We all said we had also wanted to go on a cruise as children (which was a lie on my part). With his wide smile, Mr. Ichikawa shook our hands. And the class went on as usual.

Mr. Ichikawa had a very specific way of teaching Japanese. He made sentences for us that we had to repeat after him. Sentences such as “I take my girlfriend to movies every weekend” or “By the age of 25, I will be married and happy.” I told Mr. Ichikawa that I don’t really have a girlfriend. He smiled, shook my hand, and then he said, “Between us guys, I know what you mean.” I did not know what he meant. Taipei-Team told him that she did not want to get married. Mr. Ichikawa corrected her Japanese. He said: “You mean you don’t wanna get married TODAY.” She said she just did not want to get married EVER. Mr. Ichikawa ignored the comment.

One day, we all got a bit frustrated by Mr. Ichikawa’s fervent endorsement of the marriage-agenda. We had asked him whether he was married himself. First, Mr. Ichikawa pulled an Ichikawa: he pretended not to hear. We didn’t want to let that one just fly by. So we insisted. Mr. Ichikawa got nervous. He started sweating (and sweating he used to do a lot). With a strange tick in his right eye, he said: “Is that because I don’t have a ring? How did you guys know!!!!” He told us to go take a break. He took out a handkerchief and started wiping off sweat from his forehead. We never talked about the issue again. And so, I guess Mr. Ichikawa wasn’t married either.

Mr. Ichikawa sounds like much fun. But he was pretty difficult to listen to for four hours a day. He wanted us to become his perfect teammates, perfect employees of the Ichikawa Company. But we were probably too undisciplined for Mr. Ichikawa’s great plan. Our worlds were just too far away from each other. We told him not to put us into Caribbean-Teams based on our skin color. He played a dead fish when we asked too many questions…Mr. Ichikawa was just like the Pokemon– entertaining, high-energy but also a bit odd….

Last week, Mr. Ichikawa got fired. On Friday, we took a picture with Mr. Ichikawa and on Monday we got a new teacher,Mrs. Fuganawa. She calls us by our names (we’re no longer teams), she does not make us take our girflriends to movie-theaters and to get married at age 25. She doesn’t seem to care much about the Caribbean. She does not require us to bow or shout “Good Morning” every morning. She’s married with a ring and doesn’t get embarrassed when talking about her husband. She probably never worked at a real Japanese company.

And so the Osaka days go by without Mr. Ichikawa. Sometimes I pause during Mrs. Fuganawa lecture on Japanese honorifics and imagine what Mr. Ichikawa is up to. I wonder whether he lives alone or with his mum. I wonder whether he had started wearing a fake-wedding ring to avoid further inquiries about his marital status. I wonder whether he went back to a real Japanese company. And in fact, the more I think about Mr. Ichikawa the more I see him as an otherworldly Pikachu. Upbeat, restless, and bizarre, he really was like the Pokemon. No matter how hard you try, you can never catch’em all.

The Art of Shopping, Friends-Making and Zen

The Art of Shopping, Friends-Making and Zen

This Music Makes One Really Sleepy

This Music Makes One Really Sleepy

I have just been taught an atomic theory: the high-low context-culture thing. Allegedly, some cultures (US) communicate in a low context mode, and others (Japan) find themselves on the other end of the spectrum. Japan is a high-context culture, the US just the opposite. Or in other words: Americans say what they want while the Japanese don’t want what they say. So it goes… However, I am not quite sure whether I am buying it.

Surely, living with a Japanese roommate, I’ve had to search fo hidden meanings in between his words. Surely, Kazutoshi has expected me to understand a lot of mundane things without actually verbalizing them. It took me a few days to figure out that…

“This music makes one really sleepy” = “I don’t like your music. TURN IT OFF.”

“This food is really hot, isn’t it? It can burn one’s tongue even!” = “Your cooking sucks. Starting tomorrow, I’m taking over.”

“Isn’t this little train timetable useful?” = “Why can’t you remember when the last train is!?”

“The bathroom floor can get a little slippery.” = “Clean after yourself.”

“I wonder what the strange smell coming from kitchen is.” “Wash your dishes”

“You must have many friends at home.” = “Stop skyping all the time!”

“Would you mind if I take a picture of this dish?” = “Wow, your cooking really does suck.”

Indeed, trying to figure out what Kazu-san (read. the Japanese) really wants can sometimes be challenging. One thing about spoken Japanese is that most of it is unspoken. One simply has to learn to read between the lines. And to do so, much has to be considered – social hierarchy, regional differences, economic differences, or just the all-encompassing wishy-washy term: culture.

On the other hand, however, there are certain topics unobstructedly discussed in Japan while frowned upon in the US. Money, for instance, turns the entire high context-low context classification upside down. Unlike the Americans, the Japanese discuss financial issues unashamedly. “Oh, I like your shirt. HOW MUCH WAS IT?” And depending on the amount, if they believe they couldn’t afford it, they let you know immediately, exposing their own financial status. : “That much! I could never buy such an expensive coat!” I have been asked other money-related questions, as well: “Where do you get your money from? How much do you get paid at work? How much do your parents earn.” I was flabbergasted when my friend Natsuko asked me: “How much money is in your bank account?” I did not quite understand what she meant (or did not really believe my ears). “You mean how much money I usually earn at work?” I asked confused and dazzled. She quickly responded: “No, I mean how many dollars EXACTLY do you have in your bank account right now.” Other CET students have experienced a similar cultural gap – a girl in my program told me that her roommate looks over her shoulder when she checks her bank account, often commenting on how much money there is/isn’t. Just imagine your college roommate in the US staring at your computer screen when you’re on the Bank of America personal site.

The Japanese might communicate certain issues via verbal puzzles. With respect to some topics, however, they are more than direct. In terms of money, for instance, there certainly isn’t much unspoken in spoken Japanese. You either have it or not. It might be an Osaka-specific feature, it’s a merchant town after all. Yet, in my interactions with even Kanto people, I noticed that the Japanese stand clearer than a sparkling blue sky when discussing personal finances. And so I cannot but conclude that though money might not buy you happiness, it certainly has the power to shatter the atomic theory of intercultural exchange. With money, the Americans seem to find themselves on the high and the Japanese on the low context side of the cultural communication scale. With money, strangely enough, Americans become Japanese and Japanese become American. Although in Japan slippery floor might be the code for dirty sink , some issues carry no high-context façade. While here in Japan sleepiness might epitomize annoying music, MONEY is just MONEY. And so to paraphrase Bo Derek, whoever said money can’t buy you happiness, obviously didn’t know where to go shopping in Umeda.

My life next to Life

My life next to Life

And there's also the boss of it all.
I live next to a supermarket called Life.

This is my favorite octopus store.

I sometimes take train from this station.
Every morning, Takaki and I eat rice and drink green tea.

There's also a vending machine that sells my favorite coffee line: The Quality, the Creamy and the Hard
There's a vending machine next to my house that sells booze (you can get a monthly membership card, called Sake Pass)
Next to a cute smelly river.

I live in a cute little house.

Every Morning I wake up in my little futon.

Freaks & Geeks

Freaks & Geeks

Osaka Gakuin University has a 4-billion Yen Rolex Clock Tower. Its library is smaller than an average college library at Yale. Its main gym has a total of two weight-lifting machines. Every day, the dining hall serves two lunch sets: Fried Chicken with rice and miso soup on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays; Pork with rice and miso soup on Tuesdays and Thursdays. With its Rolex Clock Tower, however, Osaka Gakuin University is swingin’ in style. Like many of its students (both female and male) who’d rather starve themselves for a several weeks than miss the unique handbag sale at Louis Vuitton, Osaka Gakuin is all about appearances.

It’s a rich kid’s college. Or at least so they say. Its students are nonchalantly aware of their status as perhaps not the smartest but surely the coolest kids around the block. You would never see them do any work. Why would they? Their classes are painfully easy. My roommate’s weekly homework assignments don’t cease to amaze me: every Monday, he has to write three sentences about the past weekend. That’s it. One of his sentences said: “On Saturday, we played soccer her on flu but we lost; so not happiness.” His teacher marked it as correct. Osaka Gakuin students never study for their tests as they’re impossible to fail. Osaka Gakuin students have each been taking English for the past twelve years. My roommate belongs among the most capable English learners. The rest has one phrase prepared in case they’re approached by a foreigner: “My name is Haruki. I like Michael Jackson, Bon Jovi and Lady Gaga. Do you like too?” I usually say I do.

I still haven’t figured out what most students do with the loads of free time on their hands. 3S seem to prevail: sleeping, shopping and smoking. They don’t really watch TV; they don’t really do drugs; they don’t really drink much alcohol. They just hang out.

It’s in fact a great fun to watch them do so. As at any rich kid’s institution, there’s a rigid hierarchy. The jocks, the cheerleaders (yes, there are cheerleaders in Japan), the freaks and the geeks. They don’t really appear to differ much from their counterpart at Beverly Hills High. With a few exceptions: Osaka Gakuin jocks wear capris, puma sneakers, golden necklaces and are happy (even eager) to carry their girlfriend’s Prada bag. They love shopping. The cheerleaders have extremely long fake eyelashes, falsetto squeaky voices and LOVE McDonald’s. Japanese Freaks and Geeks and their American counterparts are identical: punk rock, make-up, leather jackets, on one side, manga, anime and complete disinterest in preventing BO, on the other.

Each group occupies its own little table at the dining hall. They only talk to members of their own group. They become immediately quiet if a member of a different clan approaches them (God forbid a foreign student). Each group has its own brands, that they worship: the Cheerleaders and Gucci/Prada/D&G; the Jocks and Puma/Adidas/Armani Exchange; the Freaks and unknown/alternative gothic clothiers; Geeks and Uniqlo’s cheapest line (they’re shopped for by their mums).

Despite their (innate) differences, they all share one sentiment: contempt for foreign students. They deem them fundamentally weird, hairy, smelly, uncouth and most importantly NOT JAPANESE. And the ones who express some interest in hanging out with foreign kids are in fact the ultimate losers. They’re neither jocks, nor cheerleaders, neither freaks nor geeks. They’re gaisen – foreign lovers. The weirdest weirdos among the weirdos.

And so in the beautiful city of Osaka, I’m facing an unprecedented dilemma. Should I try the impossible and become a Japanese jock/cheerleader/freak/geek? Or should I satisfy myself with the gaisen, becoming a weirdo of their own? Hmmm, I wonder.

I’m gonna give it a few more days before I make the final fantasy decision. Until then I’d appreciate your input – D&G or gothic lolitas; LOL or B.O.? How do I stay cool even when deemed weird and hairy? How do I become Japanese? Come on, guys. How do I become cool again? I’m gonna give it a few days. The Rolex Clock Tower final countdown has just started – and I fear and I tremble. If successful in becoming Japanese, I don’t have much to look forward to. On the other hand, however, in case of failure, I will face grave consequences. I will be stuck with the gaisen. And you know what that means. Michael Jackson, Bon Jovi and Lady Gaga. I like not.