Between the time of finding out I was about to spend one year in Japan as an exchange student, I remember that there was some kind of casual information session. A school hall somewhere, perhaps?…. and exchange students from other schools and previous years spoke while other students, like me, and their Mums listened.
I knew I was super dooper lucky but also was petrified.. my short term 15/16 year old brain mainly petrified at the prospect of missing next season’s Friends more than anything else….
I don’t remember much of the lectures content exactly …. except for someone, understandably, pointing out how different a year as a homestay exchange student would be from a two week Japan trip with my whole class like we had done a few weeks prior… and I mostly recall that one girl spoke about how she found she made better friends with her Host Mothers than her classmates of the same age..
“Oh wow.” I remember thinking and sighing heavily, “Thats not at all what I thought my one year story would look like….I was picturing that, by the time December rolled around, I pictured myself arm in arm with Japanese girlfriends and planning our future as pen-pals forevermore… But ok…”
She explained that this was because she found the interests of her Japanese peers to be “more childish” ( I think that’s the term she used? Something along those lines, anyway.)
” Right then.” I thought. “Okay.. if that’s the new deal… okay then .. hmmmm….but okay….”
I was placed at an all girls school in Kurashiki, Okayama.
Most Japanese people have heard of Kurashiki and it’s beautiful bikanchiku area – the cobbled stone historical area along the banks of a quaint little river but I don’t meet that many people who have actually been. It’s rice field country. It’s beautiful and the people are so friendly.
A reminder* of my remote location pops up now when I tell new Japanese friends that this is where I was based and their response is almost always (with eyebrows raised) “whoaaaaaaaaa.”
*For additional context, at that point in time my main city library had 8 fiction novels in English. 8. Total. So I just read them in circulation including “The Spice Girls: The Uncensored Story Behind Pop’s Biggest Phenomenon” which I believe I read around 9-10 times in one year… and am now, of course, 9 – 10 times more intelligent as a result.
Kurashiki
Five students from my state in Australia were chosen to participate in this one year Japanese exchange program and I’d be lying if I said that my inner competitive side wasn’t a little bit thrilled that I had been placed in one of the more remote spots. And, spoiler alert, a more remote location did mean I learned so much more Japanese than many as I was right in the thick of it all with not many crutches to lean on.)
So… then fast forward to months later.
My first real day at Japanese school was really happening.
All girls.
All Japanese girls …and me.
The proper sailor-style uniform.
That typical Japanese school. The big grey school building with the shoe slipper lockers at the entrance.
The hallways between classrooms that were kind of indoors but also outdoors.
The school cafeteria where orders were taken by vending machine tickets.
The big school clock overlooking the large courtyard which also doubled as a running track.
My school had one computer room with 3 desktop computers for student use. ( Note: it was 1997 but I still remember this shocking me as I half-expected Japan to be run by robots…)
The school cafeteria’s “curry rice” was 280 yen a bowl and, although it made most of the building smell funny, it was one of the most delicious things I’d ever come across.
Far out, I was nervous.
Far out, I was so excited too.
Without any effort at all – I was easily the tallest girl in the entire school. I wish it was in a hair-flicking, supermodel effect kind of way… but actually I just felt gigantic and lanky and awkward. I felt like I was always slouching and crouching ( pretty sure I was and many photos back those fears right up too..) I never hated my new curves more too as, instead of feeling like I was growing up… compared to my classmates I just felt like I had an old lady bod.
My first introduction to the class was overwhelming but so warm and welcoming too.
Being a small country town my classmates ( and surrounding classes) were, and I promise I’m not boasting here, literally falling out of windows and off chairs to get a look at the new foreign girl. I can’t complain at all. Everyone was just so sweet and kind.
But the excitement was, for my age and gender at that time, so culturally different to my peers back home.
You see… this was the late nineties.
Before departing for Japan, my favourite outfits were heavily flannette* and stone-washed grey jean based. I now look back and prefer to title it “*desperately* try-hard grunge.” *Sometimes, if I was feeling super fancy I’d wrap a second flannelette shirt around my waist just to really “trucker up” that look.
I was so desperate to channel Reality Bites Winona but in reality was way closer to Bill & Ted….
The idea, at home in Australia at that age, was to try your very best to look like nothing thrilled or excited you too much. The fear of “uncool” was real. Not so real for me that I managed to uphold it much ( lets be honest, I was in all the school bands and I did start the Japanese club at school lunchtimes so I was hardly smoking cigarettes behind the school shed or anything ) but it was actually really refreshing to see my classmates be so openly excited and silly. I mean, the weren’t even the teeniest bit embarrassed. All those emotions just flying out and about the classroom. Whaaaa?
Especially when I still had a language barrier to tackle- all outward , un-adulterated, non-verbal expression was something tangible to grab onto… a key to building connections.
The first few days were all fresh and new.
It was largely because of the language barrier and all the heightened excitement but, for the first few weeks, most of the girls in my class were pretty much cartoon caricatures of themselves to me – just as I definitely was to them.
I’ve always, always loved people-watching so this new stages where they were just the characters in this week’s episode of “Jo & the Japanese High School”
A quick scan of the room was always a reintroduction to my favourite characters ( in case you hadn’t noticed in my head I was always the main character – as is life for all late teens, yes?)
There was:
– the tight knit group of girls who all had the same haircut ( blunt straight thick bobs and thick dark fringes) who gathered around me on the first day asking over and over ” Who do like better… Mickey? or… Minnie?” ( I’d nervously giggle back an answer but dude ! I was trying my hardest to convince the world I was a total grunge-babe now because I’d brought my “Black Hole Sun” cd single and Courtney Love poster in my hand luggage… ohh.. but effing Minnie for the win, of course. No contest. )
– the classmates from the corner who were just dying for me to admit that our homeroom teacher did have a creepy vibe about him sometimes…
– in English class the other students had to read out a short diary entry and there was the one girl who started every diary reading session ( I really mean it. Every single time.) with ” I love my hamster. She is very pretty…. ” (which was hilarious to me.. and just to me …. but also.. who am I to judge when, just one year later in my oral Japanese language exam I would draw a complete blank and would begin a monologue nohow much I love to ski as that was the only vocab that came to mind at that exact moment… )
– the girl from the older class who basically started her conversation by asking everyone if they were still a virgin or not….
– the shy girl who was obsessed with JonBenet Ramsay. So much so that she had her beauty pageant shots on her pencil case and school folder
-that poor girl called Naomi who was quietly but obviously frustrated that it took me so long to get the pronunciation of her name sorted. ” No. Not Nay-yo-mi. Not like Naomi Campbell. NA- OH- MI!”
-I learned that the girls with the super short hair were in the basketball team ( my school was apparently known for its strong basketball team) and they were not to be messed with
-the girls that almost peed their pants with laughter when we talked about different animal noises and I described a kangaroo jumping noise as “boing-boing”) spring jumping cartoon noise . I soon discovered that the “boing boing” noise is actually a sound used in Japanese ( if I say risqué does that make me a Granny?) anime to describe the sound of giant bouncing, voluptuous boobs ( who knew boobies made a sound? There you go then!). And as someone struggling with connection at the beginning it was a “party trick” I was happy to take part in for at least a few weeks.*
*It actually made me giggle because, back in my Japanese classes in Australia, the boys always wanted to say “pee-man” ( the Japanese word for green capsicum/ peppers) and “cokku-san” ( “a cook”). I mean, it was the ultimate loophole when you’ve found penis sounding words in front of the teacher right? Life changing. Totally.
Equally. I was a caricature of “foreign girl” on the flip side too. Which was fine. I was so new. A cartoon version of myself was fine with me.
And, although no-one was unkind, my goodness were there a lot of questions….
– Why do I not have a fringe ( bangs) ? ( I was the only one in the class with my forehead on display.)
– And why is my hair bigger all over when it went was humid? ( Internal answer : because the frizzy hair gods also must have a passport as they have followed me across the Pacific Ocean .)
– Why is my laugh loud?
– Why don’t I automatically make the peace signs for photos?
– Was my school in Australia mad when I pierced my ears?
– Do I know Hiromi’s pen-pal Sarah who lives in Perth?
– Why do I lose my mind on the daily over the fact that the vending machine dispenses my hot cocoa in a can (!!)?
And I also realized that I was also the resident representative for all foreign girls everywhere… I mean, if I said I liked chocolate ice-cream, I overheard my friend tell her friend that foreign people only like chocolate flavoured ice-cream etc… ( which is fine as I realized that friends in Australia also did that whenever international visitors were around too.. but it still made me laugh. )
Of course, I didn’t really get to know the other girls until many weeks of before-school chats, rowdy lunchtimes and walks back to the station after club katsudo ( after-school activity clubs) were all wrapped up.
The hard work, language-wise, really started when everyone had heard what I referred to in my head as my “jikoushoukai spiel.”
Jikoushokuai means “self-introduction” and, as anyone who is learning a new language knows, that spiel, when repeated over and over can do wonders for a while. Mine included where I was from… country… city… my age.. and I think I threw in my family members and maybe a hobby? I soon added into the mix about how I was settling in as I soon discovered that every man and his dog ( and shopkeeper and the shopkeeper’s Granny) seems to leap out of doorways suddenly to ask me “Naremashita ka?” = Have you gotten used to / adjusted to ( life in Japan) ?
But when the pool of vocab floating around in my brain ran dry… it got harder but also opened the door for more interesting ( interesting but slow as I had a dictionary in hand at all times) and something that kind of resembled more real conversation. Its so interesting how much more the world can open up with your grab onto a few tools for better self-expression. When I mastered phrases that allowed me to compare two items/ memories/ places. When I could throw more than one adjective out into the world at a time.
Also when I started to learn the power of body language and how much of communication is not just about vocab and grammar. I thought that was all I needed to show I was a good person but that wasn’t true at all. ( I geek out on this kind of stuff so if you are interested in my tips on how to communicate if your message is getting a bit lost in Japan you might like this blog post of mine.)
But as my friendships grew tighter and I found “my people” ( and it was, in the end a mixture of classmates and Host Mums and teachers) I did see why that person had initially mentioned about the maturity differences – especially on that surface level – but then… on a deeper level I was blown away at just how well put together these young women were to me. I mean, it was the second last grade of high school and, although, I was physically taller and ( rightly or wrongly … often wrongly.. cringe) outspoken, these girls had their own little budgeting sections in their personal teccho ( planner/ diary / organizer) and were already all over their personal finances, the self-maintenance in Japan starts so much earlier when it comes to haircare, skincare, looking after your own contact lenses, folding and washing clothing. Just like everything in Japan, everything has a designated spot – even down to the felt tip pens belonging in one section of the pencil case – and from a young age these girl really knew how to look after their own property.
My classmates already knew how to cook ( not toasted sandwich and one risotto that everyone says is pretty good) I mean really, really cook.
( Fast forward 7 years and I was working in an English nursery school in Kobe and I watched just how young kids were taught to look after their property, get themselves dressed and keep themselves clean, sit quietly and really listen, practice true patience on the daily – Im talking 4 and 5 year olds. Seriously.)
The sense of responsibility at such an impressive level for teenagers was something that truly amazed me.
I was so envious of the girls that, unlike me, could keep their tears in until after school if something went wrong. (As a Mum of two, I’m still totally crap at this kind of self-regulation now…)
It’s like they were just so much better and flicking the “girly silly mode” button on and off. Schools out? Great. Lets all get pool the silver coins in our purses and share the larger than life ice-cream parfait. And silly-ness ensued.
My “maturity” was mostly faked and performed or, just like my new classmates, was simply a function of replicating what we all thought “grown up” looked like to us. And this was now giving me an opportunity to start thinking about my own upbringing and cultural norms…. about why I thought something else was weird and others ” so cool.” I also had a brain that was busy thinking about what kind of real adventure was happening around me and … what role did I want to play in doing something about it…..
My story in Japan did get, naturally, become more murky and complicated as I reached the culture shock stages ( which was a gift in disguise now that I am able to look back on it all ) but if you’d like to read more about culture shock you might like my blog post here?
As an adult visiting Japan, it is hard to get a real insight into “life in Japan” but the closest I’ve come to it is a dinner in a Japanese home through Nagomi Visit. I highly recommend.
