Breaks in the Mold: Culture Shock, and Non-Racial Japanese Minorities

This is an assignment from Behind the Mask, which is about minority groups within Japan. This is my response to the topic of culture shock.

It seems that almost all people who travel tend to compare the places they visit to the place that they are from. I am not an exception, and my standard for comparison is a small rural town in Virginia on the east coast of the United States. When I first got to Kyoto, it was not anything particular to Asian culture that hit me right away, but instead the differences that came from living in a big city for the first time. There were so many people and so many large stores within walking distance from where I lived. I would have to ride a bike and use a bus system for the first time in my life. My first reaction to Kyoto was one of shock. I had been told that it was a quiet town, but as my taxi tried to squeeze in and out of traffic headed towards my dorm, I was shocked at the number of bright lights and large buildings. For me, Kyoto is not a quiet town by any means; the number of people alone prevents me from calling it quiet. When I finally got over my initial shock of being in a city, it was things within the large population of Kyoto that struck me as strange. In my trips around the city, where were frequent, I began noticing several groups of Japanese minorities. However, the minorities I was observing were not invisible groups like the Korean residents or the Ainu, but instead groups that were quickly recognizable to the naked eye. My first recognition of a minority population came towards the beginning of the semester. I was walking in one of the commercial areas and saw a very heavy-set teenager biking down the street. To be fair, he was not very heavy, by American standards, but here in Japan, he was the only “fat” person that I had seen. To see only one heavy person in the hundreds and more I had seen on the streets since arriving in Kyoto meant that there was either a very small obese population or they all stayed hidden away. Even after several weeks in Kyoto, I had only seen two other heavy-set individuals, and wondered if it could be a fair representation of the obesity percentage in Japan. I realized that perhaps because of the intense pressure to fit into the “Japanese mold,” these individuals made an attempt remain in their houses as often as possible in order not to be ridiculed. In Japan, I imagine that this type of weight centered teasing would be much more harmful to the ego than it is in America, where many youth and adults cope every day with obesity, because of the Japanese pressure of conformity. This got me thinking about other visible minority groups and the types of barriers that set them apart.

In my first trip to the sento, the Japanese public baths, I found that most women were very comfortable with their bodies and being in the open as they walked from bath to bath, yet one girl, more attractive and youthful than the others, covered herself up as she walked from bath to bath. I had remembered our discussion in class on how Japanese people would rather be complimented on being exactly like everyone else than on how they were different. It seemed that this girl was trying to hide the youthfulness of her body, which set her apart, in order not to be seen as standing out. To her, her beauty seemed not something to be proud of, but something to hide, even within a group of other women, in an attempt to blend in. Even a positive trait, if it took one outside of the Japanese mold, was call for shame instead of pride. This baffled me, as beauty is lauded a great deal in the U.S. If people felt this much shame from being attractive, I wondered how the Japanese population treated those who struggled with physical deformities and handicaps.

Having only seen one or two handicapped individuals since arriving in Japan, I was unable to draw a conclusion on how Japan handles the minority group yet I discovered, in my research of temples in Kyoto, that people with a disability are admitted to the temples usually at half price and sometimes for free. I am sure that there are many logical reasons for why an individual with a handicap might deserve a lower price, for example, if the temple is not wheelchair accessible, or because they will usually bring a caretaker with them to the temple who will have to pay full admission. Yet for the temples to set a blanket policy reducing prices for individuals with handicaps shocked me. Although I am only making judgments on what I have seen and read firsthand, I believe that it would be very interesting to study the statistics of these populations in comparison with their visibility, as well as to research the way Japan views these groups as a whole.

Perhaps the things that shocked me the most was not that these minorities exist and are discriminated against, but instead that there is not the same type of positive/negative split here, with some groups being special in a good way (beauty) and others being special in what is viewed as a negative way (obesity, disability). In Japan, it seems that anything that makes a person different is interpreted as a negative trait. To break the mold here in Japan, one only needs to catch the eye for a second. This leads me to believe that a study of these visible minorities would be every bit as rich as the study of the ethnical minority groups for a completely different set of reasons. To be Japanese in Japan, one needs not only have the right ancestry, but also the right look. Lacking either one can set an individual apart as a member of a minority group.

Dance or Defense?: Tai Chi

This is an assignment from area studies, which is an interactive lecture series on different aspects of Japanese culture. This is my response to my experience of the art of Tai Chi.

I had always heard that the martial art of Tai Chi is focused on relaxing movements that teach a person to use their opponents’ weight and force against them. Yet, our lesson in Tai Chi was not very focused on actual combat, but instead on awareness, breathing, proper body position, and gathering energy. When I walked up the hill to where my teacher was practicing alone on grassy rooftop, I almost believed that he was performing some strange type of dance. Sometimes his body would move very slowly and gracefully, as if he were doing ballet, only to be interrupted by a sharp noise and movement as he kicked his leg to the side, part of what appeared to be a jazz routine. I had heard a while back that there were several types of martial arts that so closely resembled dance that practice in one could lead to strengthening of the other. From watching my teacher as he practiced, I believed that Tai Chi could certainly be one of those martial arts. Taka-sensei, as I would call my teacher, is a Tai Chi champion who was going to teach us some basic movements and techniques.

We bent our knees, tightened our hara (the area between the top of your pants and your belly button), and began breathing deeply, in tune with our movements. We began with very simple arm movements, often described in terms of holding a large ball and moving it in different directions. As we breathed and moved our arms, our knees softened and straightened slightly along with our movements, much in the same way that one would perform barre work in ballet. Taka-sensei was using all of the vocabulary I was familiar with: a string coming out of the top of my head to keep me tall, an axis upon which my body was to turn, and focus. I found myself finding peace in our simple movements combined with deep breathing. Although the movements were simple enough, I found my body struggling with some of the movements, like keeping my knees slightly bent the entire time. Perhaps this new form of exercise would build a different type of strength than any I had ever heard of before.

After a warm up and introduction to the movement, we learned a very short routine that was maybe seven movements per side, but was very beautiful. We performed the set of movements time and time again, and each time, as Taka was telling me to relax my elbows, relax my shoulders, and keep proper hip position, I found myself more and more able to do it. Taka said something to me that no other teacher had ever been able to get across: “If all of the energy is bunched up in your shoulders, how will it get down the rest of your arms?” He explained that by relaxing, we keep the channels in our body open for the energy, and through it get more power. I was feeling very powerful, very balanced, and very centered. It seemed that performing the Tai Chi movements was helping me to collect strength, making me feel all the while more able to participate in the other activities that I enjoy, like dancing.

Taka said that someone who is good at Tai Chi can find spring at all times by creating it in their mind, by seeing beautiful flowers grow everywhere, even in the winter. He explained that learning to control ones imagination through practice of Tai Chi can give a person more control over other parts of their life. He also said that because there is constantly energy in the sky for the taking and the energy from the earth, one only has to keep oneself open to it in order to remain healthy. As long as the energy is flowing through the body, a person will remain healthy. Anyone who needs more energy only needs to focus himself to be able to bring it in to his body and store it in his hara. This could be done with breathing and awareness. As the lesson neared its end, I saw the rain start to fall. Before I heard it, before I felt it, I saw it. I am not sure how long it has been since that happened.

After my first lesson in Tai Chi, I felt parts of my body strengthened that I did not even realize had been engaged through the lesson. I wondered if it really could help me with my other athletic activities. Thinking of what Taka had said about the imagination, I realized that Tai Chi can be to each person a different type of activity. For someone engaged in combat, it can be a way to retain control over ones enemy. For someone looking to gain peace through meditation, it can serve as an exercise in peace and awareness, an opportunity to collect and channel energy from the surrounding world. For me, with a desire to keep my body healthy so that I can continue to dance when I get back to school, Tai Chi could be a way to allow myself to find strength through relaxation and to work on strengthening my center. Just as I could imagine myself growing stronger in dance through my practice of Tai Chi, I realized that I had taken the first step towards accomplishing it.

Not Exactly Black and White: The Japanese Art of Sumi-e

This is an assignment from area studies, which is an interactive lecture series on different aspects of Japanese culture. This is my response to my experience of the art of sumi-e.

Many things in Japan are black and white. I learned in my Behind the Mask course that when several countries sent doctors and search and rescue dogs to assist in the recovery from a major earthquake, the doctors were denied permission to practice on Japanese citizens and the dogs were quarantined for six weeks. This was the protocol for handling foreign doctors and visiting animals; even in the face of a natural disaster, the policy did not change. Because of the tendency of the Japanese to stick to rules over considering specifics, it has become to be known as a form-centered country, where outward appearance and obedience is more important that skill and good intentions. Yet, perhaps this very idea of a formal Japan is the reason why the art of sumi-e, or ink painting, has developed the reputation for being exceptionally expressive. I was eager to make and attempt at sumi-e to discover how artists incorporate themselves into this traditional art.

We all sat on our feet around the room in the EAC in silence as we grinded the sumi, or ink, on the suzuri, or ink stone. According to our teacher, Michael Hofmann, our posture was important in order to channel our energy, so we tried hard to sit up straight and breathe from our centers. The ink, made from the soot of pine trees is slightly scented, partly because grinding one’s ink is supposed to be dealt with as an experience within itself. Sumi-e ink is made of carbon, which, because of certain chemical elements, lasts much longer than do many of the other common mediums used in art, such as watercolors, oil paints, and acrylics. After grinding our ink, we dipped our fude, or brushes, into a glass of water, mixing it with some ink in a separate dish to keep the ink completely black and the water completely clear. Michael explained that keeping each as pure as possible allows an artist to keep a large spectrum of shades with which to work. The various shades of the ink must represent all of the real-life colors that the artist is trying to reproduce. Michael explained that sumi-e is not like many forms of art, because once the brush touches the paper, you cannot hesitate, even for a second, or else the wet ink will pool, ruining the painting. In fact, Michael said his best paintings are the ones that he paints the most quickly. He calls these zenga, literally Zen paintings, because the painting is to be driven by Zen, itself. Michael considers himself a vehicle for what he describes as the Zen energy, which he attempts to channel through his breathing techniques and focus and through releasing his own control. He explained that through this focus and release, the Zen is able to be channeled through him and out onto the paper. Although I am not sure whether or not it was because of my own attempt surrender my control over the brush, I managed to paint better than I ever had before.

Although we used only the black ink and white paper, Hofmann sometimes grinds up rocks and uses them to add coloring to his paintings. In addition, when he is finished with a painting, he uses a honko, or stamp, dipped in a red sticky substance to mark his painting, and then sends many of them on to a Zen master who adds a poem as well as his own stamp. Often, the artist or his teacher will carve his own stamp, sometimes elaborately, into stone. Yet for someone just starting out, an eraser or block of soap can be used. Though some of us were disappointed with our efforts, Michael explained that beginning sumi-e students would study bamboo, and only bamboo for as least a year. Even though sumi-e requires very few materials and only one shade of ink, there are many technical skills that take years to master, including the angle and wetness of the brush, the shade of the ink, the texture of the brush’s bristles, and stroke placement and technique. Yet Michael explained that even if a person has all of the technical skills down, he or she may not yet be able to produce great sumi-e paintings.

One of the critical things about sumi-e, as Michael explained, is learning to paint with feeling. He explained that when his teacher visited his first art exhibition, he claimed that his paintings were no good because they did not come from his heart. Here, I noticed something that seemed strange. Although many of my studies of the Japanese system have suggested that Japanese culture is more centered around form than content, sumi-e places at least equal emphasis on form and content. Michael explained that because each person’s emotion will be reflected in their brushstrokes, each individual’s painting will turn out differently. I found that this was true. When all of the students were done with their paintings, we looked around the room. One student’s painting seemed more curious, another more angry, and another more aged. Yet though the features of the overall painting said one thing, often the brushstrokes had their own messages with various thicknesses and shades. Also, though none of our paintings were the same, nor did they completely resemble Michaels, all were identifiable. I was excited to find a Japanese art that allowed the expression of someone as an individual, yet then I remembered what Michael had said about attempting to let Zen energy guide you. This made me wonder whether channeling Zen caused the art to reflect the personality of the individual or if channeling the same energy meant that even the art of sumi-e is form-centered. I realized that I only knew what Zen meant in my own life and had heard what it meant for Michael, but I did not have a formal definition. I realized that in order to understand more about sumi-e and about Japanese art, and about the arts in general, I needed to learn more about Zen.

No Forks, No Spoons? No Problem: Japanese Cooking

This is an assignment from area studies, which is an interactive series on different aspects of Japanese culture. This is my response to my experience with Japanese cooking.

Japanese food had always been something that fascinated me. While I tend to eat a lot of rice at home, I only recently developed a taste for sushi and still cannot manage to enjoy a seaweed salad. Usually, it is not the flavor that deters me from eating Japanese food, but instead the texture. Learning to eat raw fish without the somewhat slimy feeling destroying the experience took me some time. Yet, with my tastes maturing, I was eager to learn to cook something in the Japanese style. Entering the kitchen full of Japanese mothers, I had no idea what to expect. I had only made my first attempt at cooking a few days before: hamburgers. Yet my inexperience did not seem to be a problem once the burners turned on. Tempura, which consists of vegetables and seafood coated with flour and then deep fried in hot oil, was our task for the day. Although I did not have much time to evaluate the process while I was participating in it, the thing that surprises me the most, looking back, was the simplicity of the recipe. We used bonito (dried fish) flakes to make the sauce that the tempura was to be dipped in afterwards, yet the rest of the meal was made from very few materials: uncooked vegetables and shrimp, water, flour, one egg, and a pot of hot oil. The simplistic nature of the products we were using astounded me. I am so used to watching my Italian friends throw spice after spice on top of their fish, and watching my other friends coat their meat in a thick gravy-like sauce that obscures much of the taste of meat. The tempura we were cooking were coated with only a thin batter of egg and flour, which was devoid of any spices or flavorings that would obscure the flavor of the vegetables and shrimp that it coated. Another thing that shocked me was the small number of cooking utensils used. Though knives were used for chopping and a strainer ladle for clearing out the excess batter from the oil, our main cooking tools were chopsticks. They were used for stirring the batter, placing the foods in the hot oil, and taking them out. I had never seen such long chopsticks before and was surprised at the ease with which the Japanese cooks were able to move large pieces of food. I struggled throughout the cooking phase with using the chopsticks, wondering if I would ever be good enough to use them in my own kitchen.

When we finally sat down to the meal, I found that, again, the only tools I had for eating were chopsticks. Even at the restaurants I have gone to here in Japan, there were spoons for soup, so I was unsure of how to eat it. Soon, I got my answer as an older Japanese woman at our table lifted her bowl to her mouth and slurped up the miso soup inside. I came to find out that not only is this the proper way one is to eat soup, but that the slurping noise is a compliment to the individual who prepared it. Yet after enjoying the food, I found that I was not quite satisfied, since I had a lot of questions about why tempura is so popular in both Japan and in the United States.

One of the things that made me question the popularity of tempura within Japan is that the Japanese believe food should be kept as fully unprepared as possible. So why is tempura, a dish that involves foods cooked in batter, so popular? I finally found my answer within my readings. The Japanese often choose foods as much based on texture as they do on taste. They even eat things that are tasteless in order to enjoy the texture of the food. I suddenly realized that this deep fried batter added a crunchy texture to foods that usually would have a different consistency. I also realized that, because we had not added any spices or seasonings to our batter, that the natural taste of the food was not lost, as the flour and egg batter did not have much of it’s own taste. So, to add batter to these foods changed the texture without changing the taste, giving the Japanese, who enjoy texture, a new type of way to eat an eggplant or a sweet potato. I suddenly understood why tempura could be so popular here. However, I was also interested to discover why tempura is one of the Japanese foods that Americans take to the most quickly. I began to think about my experience with Japanese foods in the United States. I realized that it was never the taste of the seaweed salads that I disliked, but rather the fact that it was very slimy. Thinking about other American foods, I could not quickly put my finger on anything else that had the same consistency as seaweed. Yet tempura, because it is deep fried, does have the same texture as many other foods in the U.S. Therefore, tempura is not quite so shocking to an inexperienced American palette. I began to wonder how fair I had been in my former evaluations of foreign foods.

In Japan, a country where texture plays just as important role in cooking as does the final taste of the food, I realized that no culinary experience could fairly consider one without at least thinking about the other. In tasting Japanese foods, the taste and texture should be experienced separately, as well as the final creation evaluated on overall eating experience. With that in mind, I realized that I could re-evaluate my experience of cooking tempura. All throughout the cooking process, the cooks were suggesting ways to tell if the tempura was ready, including leaving sticky pieces in the hot oil for longer, since the coating was not crispy, and taking out pieces when thumping on them with a chopstick produced a knocking sound that meant that the coating was hard enough. The exact point of removal did not mean that much to the overall taste of the tempura, but it did change the texture. Pieces removed too early were not as crispy, and pieces left in too long were overly crispy. I then realized that we, as cooks, had very little control over the actual taste of the final product. We were all using the exact same materials and recipe, yet one group coated their tempura more thickly and another coated theirs more thinly. So the final result was different textures with the same taste. Many cooks, especially ones in the U.S. may not think that cooking for several hours merely to change the texture of food is worth it, but in Japan, it is an art within itself.

So Rude!: Being a Foreigner in Japan

This is an assignment from Behind the Mask, which is about minority groups within Japan. This is my response to being a foreigner in Japan.

On the third floor of Izumiya, a local supermarket, I noticed two saleswomen staring at my shopping cart with disdain. Looking down, I saw what was shocking them. There I was in the women’s clothing section with a basket full of strawberries, cheese, and butter. Before that moment, it had not even occurred to me that it was inappropriate to take goods from the supermarket up to the other floors. I could not read any of the signs that might have indicated such a taboo, so there I was, on the third floor, wishing I knew how to say “I’m sorry,” but instead only managing to return a look of attempted apology. I was in the wrong, I was the rude one, but of course the only reason I knew that was because I realized my own mistake. Because of tattemae, the two women would never have told me how wrong I was, but instead simply continued to be frustrated by the rudeness of Americans. Being a foreigner here in Japan has made me feel rude on more than one occasion, but it has also made me wonder if the Japanese practice of politeness is what prolongs the rudeness of visiting foreigners. I still only suspect that my actions in Izumiya were rude, but no one has told me not to do it again. In fact, no one here in Japan has corrected my rudeness, but instead other foreigners, other gaijin who have certainly learned from those who came before. It is not the practice of the Japanese to comment on the inappropriate actions of foreigners or to correct their ignorance of tradition. For instance, my first financial transaction consisted of paying my proprietor my rent. Rather than expressing dismay at my lack of giving her the money in an envelope, she simply took it with an arigato and probably continued back to her house thinking that I am another rude American.

Now, I should state here that I would prefer to not be rude, but I am finding it very difficult in a country where so many of their traditions are to be carried out without more than perhaps a visual cue, such as other pairs of shoes next to the doorway. When one visits the U.S., there are countless signs informing foreigners of the dos and don’ts of most public areas such as malls and beaches. Here in Japan, I feel like I constantly make mistakes that I did not realize I was making until after the fact. Yet perhaps I am wrong to assume that the Japanese should be informing me of what is proper and improper. Perhaps it is the responsibility of a foreign traveler to research all of the proper and expected conduct of each country that they plan on visiting prior to boarding the plane, so as to not make countless mistakes once in the country. Yet, with so many of these taboos unspoken, I am not sure that even the National Geographic Travel Guide to Japan would have listed all of the things I would be confronted with in my first two weeks in this country. Yet, perhaps my rudeness is more pleasing to the residents of Japan than would be my complete understanding and compliance with all of the rules. In a country where foreigners are known as gaijin, literally “outside person,” the Japanese seem to enjoy being able to be in a class different from that of those who are not from Japan. I wonder if the reason that the Japanese are so quiet about many of their rules is because they do not actually want foreigners to be able to participate fully in Japanese culture. Yet even if this were true, I am not sure that any nation truly wishes its visitors to be rude.

So then, I have come to the conflict of how to obey a list of unwritten rules. I do not know how to stop being rude when no one will correct my mistakes. It seems that the only way for a foreigner to learn how to obey the traditions of a culture is observation. In Japan, this observation cannot be simply watching the reactions of persons around oneself to ones actions. Tattemae prevents, in many cases, a true reaction. For instance, it would have been inappropriate of the sales women in the store to correct me, as I was a customer. This observation must be instead towards those other people around you who are performing the same activity. So, in the supermarket, one must closely watch the actions of the other shoppers to discoverer the proper places one is allowed to take a cart. At the check out, it is important to watch where the person ahead of you places his or her money, and to do the same. In temples, one must watch the native visitors to know the appropriate etiquette to follow. Yet even with this pattern of attempted mimicry, I am not sure that I could, even were I more alike in coloring, assimilate into the Japanese way of life. Yet being a foreigner in Japan makes me wonder if my obvious ignorance and sometimes rude behavior is exactly what the Japanese expect and prefer in gaijin.

Interactive Web Publishing Goals

When looking at what the Interactive Web Publishing class can help me achieve this semester, I have set up three different sets of goals. The first is my short term goal, which is to be able to present to my friends and family back home my experiences in an easy-to-use format that will give them access to not only my thoughts on my trip, but also the media that I am gathering while here. My second goal, which is for the longer term is to establish a page that would be a community for W&M students studying abroad that could serve as a tool not only for those who are abroad, but for those who wish to study abroad in the future who are looking for programs in specific countries and interest areas. If I could make this page easy enough to manage, I could present it in the fall of 2005 to the Reves Center as a permanent tool for the study abroad program. In the longest term part of my goal, I would like to set up a network of professors, graduate students, and undergraduate students interested in the transition between modern fiction and postmodern fiction, specifically looking at the difference in the way that authors address their audiences and the psychological implications and repercussions of the change. I am searching for a good reading list of important books written in this period, meaningful scholarly articles on the topic, and background articles which to draw from, such as Freud’s words on Creative Writing and Daydreams. The information I compile will assist me in writing my honors thesis during my senior year at William and Mary.

Ins and Outs of Competition: the Introduction of Ranking in Martial Arts

This is an assignment from area studies, which is a lecture series on different aspects of Japanese culture. This is my response to our lecture on Japanese martial arts.

The martial art is one that has been around for centuries, originating as a code that all warriors lived by. Today, martial arts are still practiced worldwide for self-defense and for sport. Yet the martial arts have changed dramatically between the time of their formation and today, in large part due to a single incident that happened right here in Japan. To highlight one of the ways that the martial arts have evolved, Tony, our instructor for the day, performed a zunshin (awareness) kata (memorized set of movements). All that could be heard was his labored, forced breathing as he attempted to demonstrate how the now competitive nature of martial arts has sometimes pushed its students past the point of being healthy towards potentially lifelong bodily damage. Tony explained that because zunshin kata are judged competitively on who can perform theirs the sharpest and strongest, competitors will sometimes squeeze their bodies so tightly that they will urinate blood after the competitions because of the pressure put onto their kidneys. Through his demonstration, Tony had highlighted one of the main differences between the original form of martial art and its current state.

With the Westernization of Japan in 1867 following the reinstatement of the emperor, the practice of the martial arts, which translates from the original kanji (Japanese characters) as “the contemplation of ten generations of knowledge,” became something much more externally competitive. Before this time, there was no need for the system of rankings and belts to exist, because martial arts were about bettering oneself through knowledge and skill both within and outside of combatant arts. Though there were sometimes external forces, the practice of martial arts before 1867 was largely self-driven. The competitive aspect comes from the Western world in which merit is earned through competition against others whereas the original art was concerned with improving oneself physically, mentally, and spiritually without the external competition. For the warriors in Japan who were practicing the martial arts which have grown into nine modern types: karate, judo, aikido, jujitsu, kendo, kyudo, sumo, shorinji kempo, nagineta, and jukeudo, mental and spiritual training was every bit as important as physical training, because to the warriors, all three were one and the same.

There are two main aspects to any martial art, the external and the internal. The external consists of sparring (fighting another opponent), kata (memorized set of movements), and waza (application and technique). The internal focuses on meditation, precepts, breathing, channeling energy, and several forms of concentration. Whereas at one point the two were equally important, the introduction of the ranking system has shifted the focus in many dojo, or schools, more towards the external aspect. For the Japanese before the Meiji Period, which is when the ranking and belt system came into existence, those involved in martial arts had a series of other arts in which they were to be instructed. The mandatory arts included Chinese classics, various religions and literatures, calligraphy, etiquette, classical music, mathematics, medicine, astronomy, horsemanship, and swimming on top of whatever combatant arts the bujutsu, or soldiers, were studying. They also were encouraged to study tea ceremony, poetry, impromptu versification, and hunting, though it was not required. This well-rounded course of study has waned since the introduction of the ranking system.

This area studies lecture in martial arts was able to show the evolution of an art over years of change, contrasting the original Japanese form of the art against sport that we now see being practiced. For the warriors who practiced the art centuries ago, the combatant aspect was only one part of their art; for them, the martial art was an entire lifestyle. Today, martial arts often are seen as extracurricular activities that do not necessarily flow into other parts of an individual’s life. Japan’s Westernization forever changed the practice of martial arts. This area studies was able to highlight how one event in the history of a country is able forever to change its traditions.

Area Studies Paper One: Knowing Your Way Around Kyoto

Part I. In the Neighborhood
My first task in finding my way around Kyoto was simply to find my way from my dormitory to the center. Having done this, I gained a little courage and decided to embark upon the first unguided tour, as it was the closest to the center. One of the first things I encountered upon leaving the center and heading out towards the nearest road was several groups of school children, who were adamant about telling me hello. I have come to find out that the other students at the center refer to this as the “hello gauntlet.” All of the children would say hello two or three times, but always with a smile. It was impossible to resist smiling back and offering them one or two hellos. I noticed that many of the children had the exact same bookbag, and I wonder whether this is a mandatory issuance from the schools or whether it is simply the latest fashion. They came in different colors, but each was stiff and boxy. I passed several stores which seemed to be convenience stores, but I am unsure as to which one is the best priced for convenience shopping. I noticed that there are 7-11s in Kyoto, although they carry a very different set of merchandise from 7-11s in the U.S. The marquee above the store was an advertisement for sushi, whereas currently in the U.S. the marquees feature a Jessica Simpson CD, so it appears the 7-11s in Kyoto are slightly more focused on needed products. It was after noon and I still had a long journey ahead of me, so I chose not to go into all of the stores, but I noticed that most of the products were labeled exclusively in Japanese. It will be very important for me to quickly master as much of the language as possible so that I can even do simple things like shopping. I could not find the Sento, although several EAC students have promised to take me there soon. I later found out that because I had gone before 3 PM when the Sento opens, the curtains were not out yet, therefore I was looking for the wrong thing. Although I saw it, I did not stop at Laa Jawaab, as I did not have time to get lunch. I am not a big fan of Indian food, but I have been very alarmed at how different many foods taste here in Japan compared to the foods in the U.S., so I look forward to potentially trying it sometime when I am in need of lunch. I saw Lawson’s, and since they are open 24 hours, it seems to be somewhere I will end up going at least once. I am known to randomly need food at 2 AM, so Lawson’s is somewhere I will need to remember well. Although, I did notice that there are an overwhelming amount of vending machines, so were I to need caffeine during a late night of studying, I would simply have to go to a vending machine instead of to a store. Luckily there is a vending machine between my dorm and the center.
I found the second portion of the “in the neighborhood” trip to be the most useful. As I walked down the hill, I did see the post office and the bank. I hear that post offices are very useful places, since they usually have an ATM that takes American credit/debit cards. However, the bank is useful if one has American money that needs to be changed. On my way down the hill I noticed a lot of people riding bikes. Asking several of the students at the center, I found out that bikes are really useful tools here in Japan, so I should look into purchasing a used one for the semester. I was very excited when I got to the Co-op. I was making decent time so I decided to stop and shop for groceries. It was very difficult to figure out what everything was, so I had to mostly rely on the pictures. Luckily, some things contained brand name symbols which were the same as the ones in the U.S. A lot of the things that are inexpensive in the U.S. are very expensive in Japan, such as juices and fruits. Because I was very unfamiliar with buying things in Yen, I was very worried about buying things at unfair prices, so for products that I could identify, I did my best to compare prices. A lot of the vegetables were packed very differently than they are in the U.S. I was very fascinated by the mushrooms, which come in a cluster that looks as if they were grown together. I do not have cookware yet, so I avoided anything that had to be cooked. I ended up with some yogurt, granola, oatmeal, cream cheese, bread, orange juice, and one or two other things that I could cook using a microwave. Upon getting to the counter, I discovered that there were no grocery bags at the Co-op, so I realized that I would have to purchase one of the ones that were being sold. I was very frustrated, as I could not communicate with the cashier, but luckily my total was reported on the screen, and I was able to pay. From the Co-op, and now laden with groceries, I began to walk down the street. I saw a bakery, though I cannot remember the name, and decided to look around. The deserts and breads looked beautiful. I believe that I will go back and shop there if I have any extra money left on my stipend at the end of the month. I next saw the Sundays Sun. It seems to be on the second floor of the building in which it is housed, and had signs in the window that were in English. I don’t drink coffee, but I have heard that it is a wonderful place to study for a reasonable price, because you can stay there all day. I looked for a long time, and finally found Savers, which I finally identified using the Katakana on a blue sign that spelled out Savers. I could not stop, since I was already loaded down with groceries and had no backpack, but I went the next day to shop for the necessary items for my room. Again, I ran into the problem of not being able to understand the labels, but luckily I had a friend with me to help sort out the dish soap from the dishwasher detergent. I finally purchased all of the needed items for my room. Savers does give plastic bags (Kyoto Co-op does not) but I chose to not get one. It’s very different shopping here than at home. At home I would usually buy about $100 worth of groceries at a time, but I have found myself spending 2,000 to 500 Yen, which is $20-$5 U.S. dollars. I am still so worried about overbuying or buying things that are overpriced, that I am not really taking full advantage of my shopping trips. I have heard that there is a store that offers things very inexpensively, but I am not sure whether or not it is on the walking tour. I hope to find it soon. I also got to try a Japanese desert while on my tour of the neighborhood. It was fruit covered in rice that had been mashed into a paste, and tasted a lot like dough. They were very good, but did not taste much like a dessert. I also found Izumiya, which is very, very big. I did not expect to see a multiple storied building that was a supermarket. I guess the difference between the dessert store (which was very, very small) and Izumiya is representative of this area of Kyoto. The area very close to the center is a mix of bustling areas and very quiet residential areas. You have plenty of places to shop and eat, whether you like more traditional or more commercial choices. I am looking forward to exploring more of Kyoto.