Warning:
The following might be somewhat philosophical at times, please excuse me. I
blame it on the jetlag.
The reverse culture shock
As I write
this, I am back at my room in Sweden. Being back here is just as unreal as it
was to come to Japan two months ago. When I arrived at the airport and took the
train to Lund I was checking where the lines on the station floor would
indicate where the doors of the train would open. I was surprised to not hear
those female voices warning for everything, in the train and in the elevator afterwards:
“ashimoto ni gochûi kudasai” (mind your step), “doa ga shimarimasu” (the door is
closing) “norikae no go-annai desu” (Here comes information regarding
transfers).
And then, the people. Arriving in Japan it was unreal to be surrounded by
Japanese people, everywhere you go. Now I am surprised to see blond people and
men with beards, women speaking Swedish in the bus, getting into an argument
over ‘barnvagnar’ (strollers). It will take some time, I guess.
Something else that coming back brings along, is having to answer the question
“how was it?”. Well-meant as it is, it is a question that is almost impossible
to answer. The reality of life in Japan is something that is almost
incomprehensible, and impossible to understand, in the first place for myself.
As I learned at Leiden University, this is nothing new. There are paintings
from the middle ages, that were based on the accounts of people that travelled
the world. The people from ‘over there’ were depicted as having dog heads.
Traveling brings along the responsibility to ‘represent’ the country you have
been to when you get back, and that has its problems.
Summing up
So did I like Japan? Yes and no. No, because I never managed to shake this
feeling that I was being judged at all times, as a westerner. You have to make
a constant effort to fit in, and not step on someone’s toes, both literally and
figuratively speaking. Being in Japan for only two months, this has not become
a second nature. When I went out for dinner I always ate my rice bowls down to
the last grain, because I learned this is polite – not because I am used to
doing so. I travel on the trains expecting and accepting that some people might
not want to sit next to me as a foreigner. And even though I had a cold I did
not wear a face-mask, maybe causing some people to be disgusted as I constantly
sniffed and coughed. I may be paranoid, but it is exactly this sense of “am I
doing something wrong?” that makes being in Japan (for a short time) somewhat
exhausting.
On a more positive note then, yes, I love Japan. Tokyo is like an ants nest,
but the great thing about it is that it works. People stay calm, do their job,
trains run on time. There is a system in place where everyone functions as a
cog, doing its job to make the whole machinery run smoothly. Japanese people
are disciplined. And whatever job they do, they never seem to do it half-assed.
In Japan, they do not close off five kilometres of Highway to have one person in a digging machine work half days. If they
accept a job they work with all their power to get it done fast and good. And
even people with lower, simple functions take their job seriously, such as the
guys guiding pedestrians and cars around the building site close to my dorm.
And the politeness… In the west we have this concept of ‘keeping it real’.
Nobody has to smile unless they mean it.
Which in a way, is a good thing. But I cannot help but think we have
sometimes thrown out the baby with the bathwater, and lost all sense of
politeness. Politeness and respect are like cement. It is true that walls are
built out of ‘real’ bricks, but does that make the cement unimportant? I think
not. I think it is what is supposed to keep us together. Whenever you get your food or drinks in Japan, you will always hear "O matase shimashita" (I made you wait). Which sometimes is a bit ridiculous if you get your food within the minute. It might be meaningless to some, but it is exactly this politeness that makes life in Japan so nice.
The last evening in Tokyo was nice. My hotel was in the ever-so-busy Shibuya,
only five minutes away from the station. After dinner I went out for a stroll.
I don’t know whether is was because I had gotten used to it, or that it was bit
of last-evening-nostalgia, but I suddenly realized I liked it. The neon, the
well dressed people in suits, rushing, the sound of cars and metallic female
voices. I walked to the famous Shibuya crossing, the busiest scramble-crossing
in the world. I just stood there and watched, and realized how calm everything
and everyone actually was, in the middle of all this busyness.
The next morning, when it was time to check out and
leave, it was raining. It was not an aggressive rain, but a quiet and calm
drizzle. Or as the Japanese would say: not zaa-zaa
but potsu-potsu. Since I had
quite a lot of hours to kill, I sat and drank coffee, while watching the street
outside. Again, something very calming and soothing about this rain, as the
people on the streets wore their umbrellas made from transparent plastic. ‘Take
Five’ by Dave Brubeck played in the coffee bar, and at that moment I realized I
was going to miss Japan.
Below are some pictures of the last week.
Thank you for reading!
 |
| Tell me Kitano, what can I learn from you? |
 |
| Hanko are the Japanese equivalent to a signature, official documents are signed with these red stamps. |
 |
| Nishiki market in Kyoto, with all kinds of products. |
 |
| Vintage books, quite expensive. |
 |
| A little temple between the shops. |
 |
| Sure! |
 |
| How Matcha is made: by grinding tea into powder. |
 |
| A peak into a random temple opposite of Kyoto University. |
 |
| Tetsugaku no michi: The Philosopher's Walk. |
 |
| You have to imagine the cherry blossoms yourself. |
 |
| "Don't worry, nothing is written in stone" |
 |
| Cats spacing out in a wagon. |
 |
| サツだ！Here come the cops! |
 |
| Mt. Fuji from the Shinkansen. |
 |
| Last meal in Tokyo: crusty pink meat. |
 |
| It is better to get used to European tastes before heading home, right? |
 |
| Byebye Japan! |
 |
Abu Dhabi from the air. Never will I go there for fun, I think.
|
 |
| Iraq from the air. No American friendly fire, luckily. |
 |
| Snowy mountains in Turkey. |
