I’ve been in Japan for 344 days. It’s been quite a long time and I’ve learned a lot so far. As my time here winds down, though, I’m able to make reasonable assessments, evaluations and conclusions about expectations I’d had before coming. One that I’ve been thinking a lot about lately is how I thought my perspective of America would change.
Before last year, I had plenty of international friends. I always make a point to talk to or make friends with non-Americans; there’s so much you can learn from them, and if nothing else, they’re friends, right? This year, however, was the first time I had an all-encompassing international experience. Living with a non-American family. Going to a non-American school. Surrounded by non-Americans.
My expectation was that America would be less of a big deal here than it is in America. Since I became aware of the inherent inward bias in US schools and society, I have tried to counter that by looking at history and current affairs in a more international way. I was looking foward to coming to Japan in part because I would see how the world views things without the American lens.
But the American lens isn’t gone. Maybe a lower prescription, but it’s still here without a doubt. At Waseda, a Japanese university, I still feel the American presence. Last semester, I took a course on the history of Japanese monetary policy, and half of the reading was actually on American monetary policy. We learned more about the Washington Consensus than any Japanese institutions. The teacher, who isn’t particularly pro-America by any stretch, still told us flatly that American history was more relevant to the topic than much of Japanese history. The lesson in my History of Science course this evening was specifically on Japanese scientific developments, but we spent a half an hour discussing the American education system, as it was used partially as a model for Japan’s. My Japanese Foreign Policy course covered Japanese policy in detail. But more than Korean or Chinese policy, it also covered American policy in close parallel.
Part of it is simply the power of English. I can’t tell you how many times Japanese people have tried speaking English to me. They’re always relieved when I reply in Japanese, but I want to ask them, “What if I’d been French?” They take it for granted that you’re an American, Australian, you’re British or from New Zealand. Or at the very least that you speak English.
It’s not just the English we use but the English they use. The proportion of Japanese words in katakana [words of foreign origin] is now approximately 10 percent. If I don’t know a word, I can put a Japanese accent on the English word and there’s an OK possibility they will get what I mean. Young people no longer know the traditional Japanese words for certain things, and I never learned them. Supposedly, there’s a real Japanese word for “seatbelt.” But what do we say? Sheeto-beru-to. Older Japanese people have trouble speaking to young people occasionally, not because of confusing slang terms, but because of the multitude of foreign words and phrases that have entered the Japanese language. Many words are unfamiliar to average people because of their topical specificity. It’s like how people who haven’t studied economics are less likely to know the term laissez faire. Just imagine that 10 percent of your language were like that.
Not all foreign words are of English origin, and not all English words are of American origin, naturally. That said, the grip of America on foreign cultures [and Japan in particular] is quite strong indeed. The Economist called it Coca-Colonialism [which I rather like!], the trend of American companies prying open societies and integrating themselves. Of course when Japanese people watch Inception, they will understand that Ken Watanabe is a Japanese actor and Leonardo DiCaprio is an American — there’s no mistake there. But one friend of mine didn’t believe me when I told her Starbucks was an American company. That’s right, we enter your country by stealth and before you know it our words are on your lips and our drinks are in your cups.
Part of my counter-bias from my high school days was to agree with hip teachers whenever they claimed that “America has no real culture, only borrowed culture.” After this year, I’m more inclined than ever to disagree. I’m proud of American art, American literature, American music and American film. I like it, and I like that Japanese people like it. Being abroad in Japan hasn’t made me any more patriotic than I ever was — that’s another thing that I was told would happen. But I’ve decided that just because a country is relatively young doesn’t mean that it doesn’t have culture in spades.
That was kind of a long post with no photos, so I’ll finish off with some pictures of what I just ate! During the middle of the seventh lunar month, Japanese people give gifts to their friends [this is more of an older-person sort of thing]. As a result, the apartment has been flooded with gift boxes of traditional sweets from my host mother’s music students and one of them sent a special package with live shellfish inside. When I came home today, something smelled…fishy. It was this:
This is just a few of them! My host father had already scarfed a few and my host mother was cutting some more up when I got these shots.
The last photo probably made them look small, but here’s one in my hand. These are some big shellfish. And still alive and in water.
Each one of these was more than just one or two mouthfuls. I had one and a half or so, and that was quite a bit, actually. They were still alive on the table, but my host mother cut them up into more manageable pieces as they squirmed a little bit. When she sliced them, she would scream a bit when they moved. But I did have a piece of it about five seconds after it was cut and I have to say, it’s pretty tasty.
There’s the table all set. To the right is the raw shellfish sashimi with wasabi. Above that is baked shellfish on the half-shell and a bit of baked salmon. Then some light sesame-seasoned greens and the pork with lettuce! Because it was a rather entertaining dinner, my host father and I cracked some Asahi Super Dries. If you notice the top right of the photo, my host father is eating a whole baked bonito. He eats everything [bones and all] from behind the eye to the tail. Wow.
REMIX
