On Japanese Classmates

SUPPORT

I live in a small town, small for Japan at least.  For me it is big enough, almost too big actually.  30,000 people call Kashima home.  Back in Minnesota, Detroit Lakes was home to 9,000 people.  I'm used to the small town air of life, and Kashima has that.

Small town life also bleeds into school life.  You know just about everyone because their sibling is your classmates, your neighbor, or they go to the same shops as you.  It's kind of like that here in Kashima.  I have a small radius that I spend most of my time in, and I am recognized in it too.

The dollar-store women know me, the cashiers at the super know me, and the police know me because I bike in front of their office every day.  I'm well known in the circuit I run daily, or at least every other day.

My classmates recognize me everywhere.  

I could be standing in line at the grocery store, and BAM.  A classmates walks up (if she is a girl and I know her well I get a hug, if not known that well they touch my arm.  If a boy they wave and smile or walk up and touch my arm) and starts talking to me about one thing or another.  Usually what I am getting, where I am going, and what I have been up to.  Questions seem more like an interrogation when coming from a bubbly Japanese girl.

I get asked just about every questions under the sun.

Have you eaten rice before?  Yes, I love it.

What is your favorite (Japanese) food?  Miso, we don't have anything like it in America.  I also really like Matcha flavored chocolate!  Their reaction is hilarious, Miso is like bread and butter to Japanese.

Do you know....? Insert anything you can think of, appropriate and inappropriate.  I gently guide the inappropriate questions away from the topic if it seems like they really don't know what they are saying, just parroting something they heard somewhere else.  If they seem like they mean it, they get ignored and brushed off.

The appropriate questions are pretty fun.  It's like they are trying to dig deep and see how much research I did.  If I was truly prepared for Japan or not.

They ask what animes and mangas I've read.  Japanese cartoons and comics for those of you who don't know.  My classmates are thrilled that I can answer with the Japanese names and can describe my favorite characters (My characters have English names that aren't like their Japanese counter parts usually, if they are then I am lucky!)

They ask about my school in America.  What textbooks, teachers, school rules, classrooms, classmates, and anything else they can think of that they really want to know the answer to.  I don't mind sitting there answering in broken Japanese and strangely accented English.  It makes them happy.  They are curious.  For some of them I am the first foreigner that they have actually talked to and been face to face with.

My favorite questions they have asked me so far, was what is my dream?

That one threw me through a loop.  You see, my dream was coming back to Japan.  To return to the land of the rising sun for a whole year.  I planned, plotted, and worked three years for this.  It's hard to explain that you are living your dream.  That you really don't dream for much else.  I'm living in the long term goal I had set the moment I had my feet firmly planted on American soil.

I don't really have my next big goal set.  That made me feel a little lost.  College is not a goal.  No, it is a mission I will complete.  There is no "not going to finish college" thought in my mind.  I'm going to go to college, complete it with a degree, and move on to the next big thing.  I have that planned out.  It's not really a goal.

So the best answer I could give them was that my goal was to come back to Japan after finishing college.  It's the best I could come up with on short notice!

They have a bottomless fascination with my hair, eyes, glasses, and body in general.

I warn those that are coming to an Asian country, be prepared to shrink the radius of your comfort bubble.

You may bathe among complete strangers, naked.  You may be touched and prodded, by strangers.  You may be pushed and hit around a little (softly but still).  There are many differences in how people treat each other physically here.

My classmates slap each other on the back of the head when they act stupid, say something mean, or are just being funny.  They hug and lay in each other’s laps, boys included.  They hold hands and lean on each other.  They play with each other’s hair.  They eat from the same chopsticks, feeding their friends.

I have had all of this done to me, I don't mind physical contact at all.  I have a pretty small bubble and that can shift even further depending on the situation.  I just go with the flow.

Good thing.  I would have lost my mind a few weeks ago.

They borrow my glasses, makes funny faces with them and walk around.  They take my hair out of my bun to play with it and try and put it back up.  I swear they could sit there and brush it for hours.  They poke my chest, only relatively close friends do this, and it's not in a malicious or sexual way.  It's like they have a childish curiosity about a body that is nothing like theirs.  They marvel at my eye colors.  I have two, light brown and dark brown, and I also have two different pupil sizes.  This is something basically unknown here in Japan.  They hug me close, they hop up for a piggyback ride.  They hold my hand to guide me.  They are always close.

So, prepare yourselves!  It may be just because this is a small town, and I go to a small school (only two hundred students), but they are very touchy-feely!

I actually like my classmates.  They make my generally boring day at school a little livelier.  They add spice and fun, sometimes a dash of homesickness because they remind me of my friends back home.  It's all okay in the end.  If I feel sad I can just walk up to one of them and ask for a hug.  It's that easy.  Just a simple question and I'm swamped by girls who want to hug the American.  My friends here hug me because I'm me though, and that makes everything all good.

They help me with my studying.  Sitting with me during breaks between classes and having me read out of the books I am translating to learn the written language.  I stumble, fall over syllables, wreck paragraphs, and make a general mess out of the beautiful language.  They don't care and have me do it over and over again until it sounds just right to them.  They explain a Kanji if I can't read it, putting it into Hiragana and Katakana for me when I ask.  I have their support.

They always tell me to fight, to try my best, and good luck.  I take those words to heart.  They help push me along when I read a wall with the language barrier.  Their attempts to comfort me with English also help, telling me its okay I screwed up even when I'm honestly not mad about my mistake. They try just as hard as I do.

During lunch I sit with my group of girls and eat with them.  Laughing and relaxing.  You could almost call it bonding, but I call it just being friends.  They make me smile and laugh, laugh so hard they join in with me because I sound funny to them when I giggle.

I teach them English foods and they teach me Japanese.  I teach them English terms and they teach me Japanese ones.  It's a trade, and everything helps.

We share food between our bentos and I bring American candy sometimes when I have some (I'm out right now....).

Two worlds meet during lunch, casual conversation over bentos about the differences and similarities.  It never ceases to amaze me.  I'm in awe at these people.  I'm grateful for their help, support, and cheers.  They are proud of every step I take with them.  Every Japanese word I utter is welcomed, every English lesson looked forward to.

People who would have never met are laughing and sharing stories, mixing up two languages to make it work.  People I didn't know that I needed in my daily life for their fun antics and guidance in a culture where I thought I knew what I was doing but really had no clue.

They help me.  I realize that these are the people my heart will break over when I have to leave and return back home. These people are the ones I will keep contact with, send letters, and treats to. These are the people I will bawl my eyes out for because I'm not ready to leave them and their help, their support and gentle guidance.

See You Soon

Mata chikaiuchini

また近いうちに

On the Daily Life of a Student Expat

A List of Typical Daily Activities!

Every day, school and non-school days, starts abruptly at 6:00 a.m. sharp.  The local alarm plays a song over loudspeakers.  My house is rather close to these speakers.  I groan, roll over, mutter, and fall back asleep.  These days I sometimes wake up only for the last half.  Must mean I’m finally getting used to it!

It scared the crap out of me originally.

On Days I Do Have School:

I crawl out of bed at around 7.  I wash my face, visit the toilet, and give myself a once over before I stumble to the table.  I’m not much of a morning person, I still say my “good mornings”, but I’m just half functioning until I eat some food.

My breakfast consists of a small bowl of rice, miso soup or pumpkin soup, a bit of various meat, and maybe a small pancake.  This actually fills me up.  I blame it on the rice absorbing the tea I drink and swelling up to make me feel fuller.

After I give my thanks, I go to the laundry room and grab my school shirt.  I have two shirts, while one is being washed and dried, the other is worn.  I take my shirt to the hallway, plug in the iron, set up the small table, and wait for it to heat up.  I then iron my shirt and take it back to my room.  I pick up my bento box along the way (Japanese lunch box).  That my host mom makes every day for me.

My uniform consists of a shirt, skirt, and socks.  All of which are specific to my school.  There are two others, but those are for spring/fall and winter.  The skirt is thicker, we get a vest for spring/fall, a jacket for winter, and a small tie that is clipped to the front for girls.

I got smart and bought thin shorts to go under my skirt.  I put on my uniform, shorts and tank top for under my shirt included, slip on my socks, and start packing my bag.

My school bag is a traditional high school bag, the same one all of my classmates use.  The only thing that makes them different from each other is the charms, plushies, and knick-knacks attached to the handles and sides.

Once the school bag is packed I back my Kyudo bag.  This has my Hakama shirt, tabi, school gym uniform, and my small bag of necessities.  Band aids, tooth brush/toothpaste set, antibiotic cream, extra glasses, my cute towel, my artificial sweat stuff that smells awesome, and my small inner gloves for Kyudo.

All said and done I leave the house, get on my bike, and go the seven minutes it takes to get to the front of my school.  My school is up a hill, not fun biking in the morning but awesome when I go home!  I usually meet up with one classmate or another when biking and go with them.

I place my bike in the back rack with the number 1 over it and the script that I think reads girls.  I didn’t know this and it was a lucky chance that I put my bike in the right area the first time around!  I lock my bike with the small key attached to the locking mechanize that wraps around the back wheel and goes between the wheel spokes.  I’m a paranoid American that is used to having things disappear, my bike is important and I don’t care that no one else really locks their bikes.  Better safe than sorry!

My school day starts at 8:30, but I like to be there early.  It lets me unpack my bags and mentally prepare for the day.  I like to be early to just about everything, I love being the first.  It irritates me to no end when I am late or feel like I am running late.  I can’t tell you how many times I got frustrated with my parents or rides when I had to be somewhere important and they didn’t seem to worry whether or not we were late.

My daily schedule changes every day, I know a few of the classes but most of them are over my head thanks to the language barrier.  I get science and English class though!  The rest, not really.  I know I am going to be helping out the English teachers by sitting in on classes or giving lectures when they ask.  I don’t mind helping them, it lets me see the rest of my schoolmates.  All two hundred and something of them.

I eat lunch with my classmates in room 1-3.  We share food that we’ve bought and food packed for us.  My group sits around a group of tables pushed together towards the far end of the classroom.  You can really eat anywhere though.  I’ve eaten in the stairwells, outside the class, and outside on the walking path.

I also help clean the library with my classmates when it is time to clean the school every day.  That in itself is strange, in America we have janitors.  I like it though, it’s something interesting that adds new flavors to my day.

My day ends at around 4:30.

My Kyudo club starts whenever school ends.  I help set up, clean, and ready the dojo.  I change into my Hakama and practice the forms needed to fire the bow and watch the others to learn everything else I need to do.  I haven’t fired my bow yet, I can’t.  I can after competition though, which is only a few short days away.  I don’t mind just sitting by and watching, everything is very interesting to me so far.

Club generally ends at around 7:30 to 8:00, I stay after that to hang out with the girls before heading home.

The bike ride home is awesome.  It had cooled out, the heat during the day is nearly unbearable with the humidity (my school isn’t air conditioned either).  There are only a few people out and about.  It’s dusk so it’s quiet.  I race down the hill, braking constantly but still moving so fast I feel myself flying.  I take tight turns, three to be exact before I’m spat out onto the main road.  If I time it correctly I can shoot across the intersection while it is in my favor.  If not I brake and wait not so patiently to fly again.  I take one more turn and I am home.  I’m finally getting used to flying with a skirt, a troublesome piece of clothing I never really wore back home.

Once I’m home I call my hellos and head upstairs to change before coming back down to eat dinner.  I hang out with my family, play with my Pet-chan cousins, and help out with small things in the shop.  I usually clean, but then again I like to clean.

All said and done, I retreat from the noise and busy chaos upstairs where I sit down at the table in front of the TV and study out of my own Japanese books since I don’t have much in the sense of homework.  I study my brains out in school too when I know the teacher doesn’t care what I do as long as I’m quiet.  They are so lucky I’m responsible and want to learn the language!

When I can’t focus anymore, I give up for the night.  I take a bath.  I’ll talk about the bathrooms later on.  I let my hair air-dry in front of the TV while I watch some kind of drama, news, or strange game show with my host family.

I usually call it a night at around 9 and hole up in my room.  I either blog, write, read, and relax for a little bit before I go to bed at around 10.  I’m dead beat most days, my mental capabilities exhausted on daily conversations and constant translations between English and Japanese, and back again.

Repeat five times and you have my school week.

On Tuesdays:

I have Rotary meetings every Tuesday without fail.  I get out of school at around noon, and don’t come back till a little bit after 2.  I get fed, get out of school, and get to be around cool people for a few hours.  I’m pretty pumped for the meetings!  I have a lot of friends and helpers in my club, I’m grateful for them!

What can I say, I appreciate Rotary and all it has done for me.

Repeat once a week.

On Saturdays:

I’m awoken by the alarm at 6.  I groan, mutter, complain a bit, and roll over.

I crawl out of bed a little bit after 7 to go through the morning routine of a day when I have school.  I have club on Saturdays, and I have to wear my uniform even if I am going to school for a little over three hours.

I leave the house at around 8:30 to get there when the other girls do.  Club starts right at 9:00, and ends at noon.

Oh yeah, there is also a noon and 5 p.m. chime on the blasted fog horn outside my house and school.  I don’t hear them most days because I’m out of the ear shattering range, but if you listen closely at the right times you can hear it.

I watch, practice, and hang out with the girls until noon.  The boys of the club don’t interact much with the girls, but I’ve noticed that everywhere here.  The sexes may basically be equal, but they don’t mingle.  Yes, they are basically equal.  Most of the papers I read on Japan said how low the females were compared to the men.  Maybe it’s because this is a small town, but they are equals in the work place I hang around in and the school I go to.  They just separate by choice.

I race down the hill, flying at top speeds while testing just how far I can push my tight turns, and go back home.

I change.  Eat lunch in the shop with my family and the assistants.  Help in the flower shop my family owns.  Study for a few hours. 

I go on bike rides.  I hang out at parks when I want to go out and do something.  Sometimes my family and I go out to eat.  A pretty basic day.

It ends at around 9 like any other, and I’m at around 10.  I watch TV, bathe, and crash.

Repeat once a week.

On Sundays:

Once again it starts at 6 a.m. sharp.  This time I groan and throw blankets over myself.  This blocks out the early morning sunlight that likes to invade my room at around six too.  This action lets me sleep in till about 8.  Then I let myself doze until around 9.

I get out of bed, wash up, eat breakfast if it has been placed on the table or make myself some toast and soup.  If I’m lucky there is milk for a bowl of cereal!

I get dressed and hang out with my family in the shop.

Sometimes I go with them on deliveries, seeing various parts of the town.  I’ve been to shrines, funerals, traditional arrangement houses, and many other places.  I also go to the other flower shop they own. 

I hang out with my Pet-chan cousins.  I clean my room.  I really do whatever I feel like.  I usually study in front of the TV or help my host sister with her English most Sundays.

I really like going on bike rides on Sundays though, a lot of people are out and about.  I go to parks and get to enjoy the peace and quiet for a bit before I go back to the hectic house.  I love it though, I don’t think I could have done as well as I have if I weren’t busy with the Pets.

I eat dinner, either on the main floor in the shop or up on the top floor with my family.

Watch TV, bathe, and call it a night at 9, going to sleep at around 10.

Repeat once a week.

On Bathrooms (Toilet Version):

They can be scary if you never opened a book on Japan.  I have been here before and was mentally prepared for the squat toilets, bidets, and lack of paper towels.  My first host family has a mix of all three kinds.  We have a normal toilet (no fancy features), a Japanese bidget one (all those fancy gadgets), and the Japanese squat one I am terrified to use.

Not for the fact that I can’t use it, but for the fact that I really just don’t want to have an accident….

It appears the Japanese have a varying sense of humor with bathrooms.  My own bathroom that is just a door away from my room is strawberry themed.  The toilet looking just like one, the floor mat resembling one, and the whole deal is pink.  Everything.  Toilet paper and all.  The wall tiles, the floor tiles, the cupboards, everything is pink.  I have yet to find normal colored toilet paper.  It’s pink, blue, or green.

Public bathrooms are typically a mix of traditional and Japanese bidget.  My school is all traditional and scares me just a little.

A word on bathroom features.  I have found out recently in my school bathrooms, there is a button on the wall you press to create a noise similar to that of a toilet flushing.  It’s to drown out the noise of you doing your business.  I honestly though this button was in case of emergency.  It’s big, it’s red, and it has a hand on it.  All of the above in America mean emergency.  I didn’t press it for obvious reasons.  Until I found out what it can be used for!

Sinks are also iffy.  Sometimes there are sinks, sometimes not.  And there is usually no paper towels or hand driers.  ALWAYS CARRY A TOWEL ON YOU!  A words from someone who has lived it, just always have one on.  You wipe sweat with it, you dry your neck, you dry your hands, and you can hide your face with it.  VERY USEFUL!

On Japanese Bathrooms (Bathtub Version):

Bathtubs and toilets are housed in separate rooms.  Kind of nice actually!!

You wash yourself before you even think about touching that bathtub.  You never get the water dirty by putting your sweaty, nasty, and smelly body in it.

There are small stools to sit on, even in the house.  There are a multitude of buckets and cups to be filled with water to tip over your head and body.  You can also use the showerhead if you don’t feel like being adventurous! (Your loss!!)

The washing apparatus is usually something like this.  It has three nobs.  One for temperature, usually marked with roman numbers and red/blue markings.  Another is for pressure but also turns off the water when put down all the way, to put it up higher or lower to suit your needs.  The last one is for directing water towards the faucet for you to fill your buckets and cups with.  The shower head typically have a button you can press to make the water either come out or stop the flow from the head.

The bathtub itself varies.  It can be very deep but not very long.  It can be very long and very deep.  It can be huge but shallow.  It all depends on your home, hotel, or onsen.  My first host family has a very long, very deep, and very green colored one that I like to soak in.  A word from a long haired girl, women and girls, tie your hair up.  No one wants hair floating in their water when they take a dip!  The water is shared, since you are CLEAN before you get in it.  My family runs the bath water once a night, that’s it.  It’s used between all of us.

On Japanese Laundry:

Laundry in my home is done once a day, right at the end of the day.  Everyone in the family, when they take a bath, strips and puts their clothing in the small washing machine next to the door to the literal ‘bath room’.

It’s small, primitive looking, and is super-fast.  My clothes come out clean and smelling good so I have no reason to complain!

There are no driers in Japan.  Only in launder-mats and that is iffy at best.  We hang our clothes in the morning to dry by the next night so they can be folded and distributed back out to the family.  There is a room dedicated to drying clothes in my first host family’s house.  I don’t know if it was meant to be a drying room, but it works perfectly!  On warm days with a slight wind, we open the glass sliding doors and let the breeze help the clothes along.  On days when it’s raining or no wind, we use fans.  Artificial wind!

The racks to hang and dry the clothes are pretty cool.  It’s like one of those fake Christmas trees, with the arms sticking out from the center.  Except these arms have a folded over end that clothing can be slipped up to make sure it stays in place.  The top tier of ‘arms’ have small clips hanging from them that you clip small items or socks to.  There is a pole outside the glass doors that the heavier clothing is put on, or blankets, so they can dry without tipping over the drying tree.

I hang my hand washed blankets on the outdoor pole, using clips to secure them, and let the wind do all the work!

There is also a pole inside hanging just in front of the doors, we put the clothing there when it’s raining that would usually be on the outdoor one.

Just a a bit on my daily activities.  If you have anything you want specifically addressed, leave me a note in the comments!  I'm happy to help those that are curious about Japan!  I have a few other posts that need to be started, edited, and wrapped up!  Be ready to read them!

Thank you! 

See You Soon

Mata chikaiuchini

また近いうちに

On Kyudo

PEACE

Archery.  It was something I loved to do in America.  I may not have done it on a regular basis, but I did it in my free time.

I had formal instruction for a few months on my compound bow when I was in ninth grade.  In tenth grade I used the dirt pile next to my house as a base to put my target.  In eleventh grade I would go out there during the summer and pound a few good arrows through the Styrofoam to relieve my stress of the day.

I’m not much of a physical person anymore.  I don’t like running much.  I don’t mind riding a bike, I actually like bikes.  I don’t like playing sports unless it is for fun, I’ve lost that competitive streak in me.  I really like to stretch my brain.  To make it work.  I love it when I can bury myself in studies.

Yes I am a teenager.  Yes you read that right, I fricken love books.  I like studying.

Archery to me was like studying.  I have brute arm strength.  I throw a wicked fast ball.  I pick up and carry children in both America and Japan.  I’m pretty strong.  In archery you need strength and a sharp mind.

I think about it scientifically.  How much higher do I need to tip my arrow up to make it to the target?  How much further do I need to draw back on my string to add enough speed and force to the arrow?  Which direction is the wind coming from, do I need to compensate for it?  How long can I hold the bow, strung and knocked, as I aim correctly?  Is my stance correct?  Am I breathing properly?

All of that goes through my mind as I stand in the traditional ‘t’ stance, knock my arrow, draw back, and aim with my finger and sights

Breathe in.  Breathe out.  Don’t think except for placing your mind on the very tip of the arrow.  Nothing exists.  There is nothing to bother me.  Nothing to make me worry.  It is meditation to me.  Relaxation.  Taking comfort in the stark rules and procedures one must follow when competing.

I have never hunted with my bow.  It is for relaxation for now.  It is something I take pride in.

It’s not very tall, it’s not very big, and it only has a fifty pound draw on it right now.  In the world of archery it is used for training, but it’s my baby.

I kept it clean and orderly.  I kept the arrows in line and kept the fletches free of dirt.  You could almost place it up there with worship with how I treated it.  I hate to ramble about it, but seriously, I love my bow.

Japanese archery is similar.  Kyudo has many rules, many positions, many forms, and many traditions to go with it.  One cannot fire a bow before taking up each of these stance, and in doing so, doing them correctly.  If you mess up you have to restart from the very beginning of the lineup.

It’s grueling.  It’s discouraging.  I love it.  Makes my brain hurt and body ache.

I have only been taught how to walk, hold the bow, and fire it dry.  For those of you who don’t know archery, firing dry is when you draw back as if you had a real arrow knocked, and release your hold.  I was doing this with a bow meant for that purpose.

YOU NEVER< EVER< EVER< fire a bow WITHOUT an ARROW!  EVER!  Bad, very bad.

When approaching the firing station, your feet must not leave the ground.  You shuffle, purposefully, you shuffle.  You approach the station and straddle the line in a ‘t’ shape.  You drag your left foot to the left, follow it with your right, then your right foot returns to the other side of the lines.  Your feet never leave the ground.

Here’s the list of stances you have to take before you can fire.

Ashibumi

Yugamae

Monomi

Douzukuri

Uchiokoshi

Daisam

Hikiwake

Kai

Hanare

Zashim

Yudaoshi

Monomigaeshi

Ashitogi

I don’t know exactly which is which, but my form is pretty good if the expressions on their faces are the thing I go by.

My strength comes into play here.  I did the conversions.  My draw poundage back home was 50lbs, here it would be 22 kilos.  Most of the bows the other girls seem to be using are only 12 kilos.  They tried at 9 kilo bow with me and I nearly bent it in half with just a drawback.  We are obviously upping the poundage of my school lent bow.

Before we even start up the day, you pay respects.  You bow as you enter the training room.  You bow deeply three times, clap your hands twice, and bow deeply once again before following it with a slightly less deep bow.  This is to pay respect to the dojo and the resident god in the shrine.  You take off your shoes before you enter the room.  You put your bag in the back and change into the uniform, be it your gym one or the traditional Japanese Hakama.

I use both.  I have a hakama lent to me by the school and I use the gym uniform given to me when school started.  Both are nice, but the hakama is far more comfortable.

Either way, you change in the changing room.  One for girls, one for boys.  You store your school bags in the back too.  Each of have a personal cubby for our bags and clothes.  I’m lucky, mine is up high and easy for me to reach!

You relax for a bit.  You take a drink of water.  You clean the floors, push up the garage styles doors that protect the room from the elements when not in use.  You wet down the sand on the far side so it doesn’t fly up when arrows punch through it.  You lines up the targets accordingly.

The yumi (Japanese longbow) must be strung and tested, all using the same steps as you would if you were actually firing the bow in a competition.

A few words on the Japanese yumi.  It is beautiful.  A work of utter art.  The making of a bow takes a master years to learn how to do and is an art in itself.  The Kyudo bow is an instrument of religion.  It is used to banish bad spirits, to kill them, and to guard the innocent.  Monks and Mikos (shrine maidens) use them to cleanse the air and grounds of the shrines.

It is very tall, taller than my own body and a half.  It is curved delicately and the handle is right below a straw wrapped section.  It is just beautiful to me.

The gloves are also works of art.  Expensive works of art.  I am borrowing one from the school.  You do not fire with the first two fingers of your hand, but with your thumb.  The glove covers your pointer, index, and thumb.  The glove is made of leather that is hardened around the thumb, the pointer and index still flexible.  Under this main glove you wear a thin cotton glove to protect the leather one from the oils of your skin.

On top of this, the uniform is traditional dress.  A Hakama is a loose fitting outfit that looks to be made for comfort and minimal sewing.  It’s actually pretty cool looking.  You use the hakama when taking part in competitions.  I said before, I use both my gym uniform and hakama.

Now, onto one last addition to the whole uniform.  The chest guard.  Women wear them because the string of the bow goes right over your chest.  When it is released it snaps back and slides over the majority of your chest cavity.  For us of the female gender, ouch.  For you guys out there, nothing big about it.  The guard is a simply designed leather plate made to form around your chest and put a layer between you and the violent string.

After the warm-up and readying period, we gather in the center of the room and line up in a pattern I can’t quite explain.  I don’t understand it myself, I just know that I sit on the edge with the younger members.  We meditate for a little bit, sitting on our knees and breathing deeply.  We turn to the taicho (captain), she speaks a bit, and we bow with an answer back.  We turn to the field and pay our respects, bowing low to the floor and nearly touching our foreheads to the ground.  We stand, bow three times, clap twice, and bow two more times to the shrine.  Then we break and the practice truly begins.

Everything in the dojo is quiet.  Except for the hushed talk in the backrooms, the thump the arrows make when the hit the sand, the sharp whack when they hit the target, and the call of ‘yoss’ whenever a target is hit.

It’s therapeutic in the strange world I have been thrown into.  I go from understanding the majority of the conversation to having it all go over my head.  It’s stressful to get and lose the hand I have on the language.  I can only hope it gets better with time.

There are no language skills needed in Kyudo.  Just silent understanding a few muttered words of encouragement as I work my way through each of the poses.  I don’t have to worry about whom I must bow to, everyone is below the shrine and the sensei in charge of us.  We are all equals under them.

I can feel the tension leave my shoulders as I hoist my bow high.  I can feel with each breath I take a release the stress and tiredness of the day leave my muscles.  I can just close my eyes and feel my muscles strain in the odd position I have to hold them in.  They shake and tremble, but I enjoy it all the more.  I push myself to hold the positions as long as I can, perfecting them with each passing breath.  As I relax I gain focus.  I place myself on the imaginary arrow tip, I imagine the long shaft of the arrow pressed to my check, and I hear the string twang gently as my hand shifts for comfort.  I imagine I release, I imagine that arrow wiggling through the air like a fish up a stream, I imagine it landing close to the mark I picture, but I have not truly fired my bow.  I relax my grip and let my hand follow the taunt string back to the position it rests in. 

I would never dry fire the real work of art I had been handed when I asked for something a bit more difficult.

I hate to admit it, but I’m almost afraid to really fire that bow.  To really see my arrow fly across the seemingly short distance to the tiny target on the far end.  I’m not afraid I’ll fail, no I’ve accepted that I probably will for a while before I get the hang of true aiming.  I’m afraid I’ll shatter the peace of mind I gain when I follow the string back and start my stance over.

A word on true firing.  True firing is done with a little aiming and a lot of gut feeling.  I was good at that in America.  Shooting the balloons and knocking down the targets on gut feel alone.  Here, I don’t know the way the arrow will fly.  I don’t know where to aim exactly to start the processes.

I’m okay though, I’m just a little ruffled over it.  I believe in my friends on the team and my own gut to guide me as I finally let that arrow go instead of just thinking about it flying through the air, slicing molecules, and ripping into the sand.

My school's Dojo.

 

The bows everyone use, the arrows are right beside the holder

See You Soon

Mata chikaiuchini

また近いうちに

On Physical Differences

Different

I am an American.  A teenage American.  I have pimples (eww I know).  I am not small, but I am also not overly large.  I’m a nice medium.  I’m not tall either, I’m an average five foot something.  When compared to my friends I’m a bit on the short side.  I don’t have much of a bust, but I’m totally okay with this.  My lower end more than makes up for it.

I am the average American listed above, not large, not too small, not tall, not too short, and my overall body is quite average when put against other Americans.

I am huge here in Japan.

I am tall.  I am rather big.  I have a big bust, and let’s not even talk above the lower half.

In America, it was more than easy to find clothing.  My pant size is one of those nice medium numbers, super easy to find since it wasn’t the largest or the smallest.  Here, in Japan, I can barely find pants that fit.  Good thing I packed a bunch of leggings and shorts from America.  The shorts I find that fit are either ugly to me, or have a stretchy back end.  My waist fits just fine…. But other bits don’t.

For us Medium girls, Japan is horrible for pants.

Shirts on the other hand are the easiest thing for me to buy!  Dresses too!

Anything but pants.

The length doesn’t fit my five foot some frame, the butt doesn’t fit mine, and they are just too darn tight! Makes me a bit frustrated talking about it!

Let’s talk about hair.  I have a nice shade of ruddy brown, you can see so in my picture.  It’s a nice color, I like it.  Just enough undertone that it isn’t boring.  Just enough sun and the top strands get a bit lighter.  It’s also soft.  I like my hair, it’s why I grew it out and why I take good care of it!

My hair here in Japan is an oddity.  A strange oddity.  To the point that when I see a brown head of long hair I instantly think it’s a foreigner.  Has not been the case yet, but you get it.  Long hair, brown hair, both are almost unheard of.

To me (my own personal opinion) Japanese hair is designed for this region.  It’s not thick, it’s a deep shade of black, and it is usually short on everyone. It doesn’t hold water well and dries up superfast.  It doesn’t hold moisture, seriously.  My classmates sweat and bam, it’s gone.  Why you ask?  Because they ran a towel over their forehead and through their hair.  It is perfect for the region.  It lets out heat fast, dries easy, and is thin so it doesn’t hold moisture or heat.

Me on the other hand, I’m drowning.  It’s ugly.  My hair retains water to the point that if I take a long shower before bed it can sometimes still be wet by morning.  My hair was designed for cold temperatures, to keep me warm in the dead of winter.  It was designed for the dry air of Northern America, where most water comes in the form of snow or sleet.

The Japanese body is also perfect for this region.  Almost all are short, with short midsections and arms.  They are tiny in my eyes, so small I could pick up some of them and carry them on my shoulders.  That is not always true, but most of my classmates are pretty little.  Boys included.

Their ancestors, in most cases, came from this area.  They farmed the fields, fished the oceans and rivers, and they lived through the harsh summers and mild winters.  Their bodies are designed to withstand the heat and humidity.  They are small, heat is lost easily from small bodies.  They are short, all the better because they need less in general to survive.  Their skin is darker than my own, perfect for reflecting the dangers UV rays.

My ancestors… well I don’t know much of my history.  I just know most were European.  Light skin, tall bodies, long limbs, and large frames usually grace my race.  I am build for cold weather.  I am build for dry heat and dry cold.  I am not designed for this humid heat or the strain it puts on my body.

I’m not really complaining, I got over that hump the second week.  Seriously though, I am just now starting to get acclimated and even that is sketchy.

To put it simply, they are built for this.  I am in no way designed to handle this.

My feet and hands are the same size as theirs.  My legs are just a little bit longer.  My torso towers over theirs.  My arms are extremely long (I keep on getting bothered to join the basketball team).  My head is slightly larger.  My skin is far lighter.  My eyes are huge.  My lips are huge.  My teeth are even big.  My chest is big, my lower end even bigger.  My chin is pointed.  My ears are pierced (an oddity here).  I wear glasses all the time, verses where they only wear them in certain situations.  My hair is brown.  My eyes are light brown compared to theirs.  I am what they consider huge in every sense, even without being truly fat.

I’m still comfortable with my body, but I’ve noticed these things while at school and home.

Another thing I have observed is legs. 

My legs are a medium length, straight, and I have thicker thighs than most.  Normal American Legs.

Their legs are slightly shorter, and females usually have a bend in them (varying degrees have been noted), and thin all the way through.

The bend in the legs is something I am fascinated with.  I loved physical anthropology in school.  It was one of my favorite classes to be honest.

I have come to my own personal conclusion, without looking it up on Wikipedia or asking others, just my own thoughts on the matter.

I’ve gone over the physical difference and there was really nothing there to give a clue as to why there is a bend.  I knocked that out of the hypothesis pretty fast (oh my science teachers would be so proud, me using their methods to find hypothesizes!)  It has to be a cultural thing.

I really liked cultural anthropology too!

There is one major difference between Japan and America.  Japanese sit on the ground, Americans sit on chairs.  A typical Japanese female sits in a traditional pose from a very young age.  With the legs tucked under the body, knees together, and feet with the pads pointed towards the ceiling.  Americans rarely take up this pose.

This pose puts weight on the calves, the entire body rests on four bones, two in each leg.  If I were that bone, I would bend too.  I believe that it is because the women sit in this position from a young age, when the bones are still tender and soft.  (My host cousin who is three takes up this position when she sits at the table in the living room).  Years of this trains the bones.  As they grow they are continuously bent with the body’s weight.  This leads to the bowed legs I find in my female classmates and host family.

Some have sharp curves.  In others it is very subtle. 

As an American, my legs are straight.  I sat in a highchair when I was little.  I sat on phone books placed on a chair as a child, and I sat on a chair as a teenager. 

In Japan, with all the floor sitting, my body doesn’t take it well.  I get leg cramps, charley horses, and other horrible pains from sitting on my knees or cross legged for too long.  It hurts.  My knees will ache, my bones ache, my ankles protest, and my butt even hurts.  I was not raised with floor sitting, nor am I designed for it.

The longer American legs do not help my case at all.

To sum up this lesson, I am not build for this environment.  Not at all.  I’m making it work, it’s no longer awkward, but I am in no way designed for Japan.

See You Soon

Mata chikaiuchini

また近いうちに