As part of my Kakehashi Project action plan, I have decided to write a few articles to disseminate my impressions and reflections on my journey to Japan. This is the first one. Yoroshiku onegai shimasu!
Kakehashi Project, or as I like to call it, Kakehashi Purojekuto, is an initiative part of the Japan Friendship Ties Program, conducted by the Ministry of Foreign Affairs of Japan. The Program gives the opportunity to 5,000 people worldwide to travel to Japan each year, from high school students, university students to young professionals. The Kakehashi Project covers North America, and is organized by the Asia Pacific Foundation of Canada and the Japan International Cooperation Center (JICE).
Kakehashi, or “懸け橋” in kanji, according to jisho.org, means “bridge between cultures”, “link”, or “intermediary”, which pretty much sums up what the Kakehashi Project is about. The Project aims to enable participants to broaden their knowledge, understanding of the Japanese history, culture and language, as well as to foster their engagement vis-à-vis the relationships of North America’s countries and Japan relationships.
As part of the 2023 Canadian cohort, I was more than thrilled to take part to the Project and visit Japan, a dream of mine ever since I was a teenager. This was the first time the Kakehashi Project took place since 2020 and our trip kept being postponed due the pandemic. We were finally able to go on February 2023.
I have been passionate about Japan’s culture since 2014, back when I was in high school. I had discovered in the most unlikely circumstances (a background music in an animated Disney film) the acidulous electropop band Perfume, and I kept digging deeper on Japan ever since. As I expanded my music library, I became more and more interested in the language and started learning hiragana, katakana and kanji. Finally, as I matured, my interests grew as well towards other aspects, such as literature, the ikigai philosophy, the aesthetics and nutritional benefits of traditional japanese cuisine washoku, and the place of women in the japanese society.
I was invited to apply for the Kakehashi Project shortly after my participation to the Quebec and Canada Japanese Speech Contest in 2020. I was a Literature student at Université du Québec à Montréal (UQÀM) and took a couple of Japanese language classes at the uni’s language school. I wrote a speech about my passion for theater (still undisputed) and my teacher helped me for the translation and the intonation. I was awarded first place in my category at the regionals — one of the happiest moments of my life. A few weeks later, COVID-19 hit, but I was still able to take part to the nationals online and finished third. Little did I know that this ambitious and painstaking project would lead me to the land of the rising sun itself.
I wholeheartedly applied for the Kakehashi Purojekuto, expressing the meaning of this opportunity for my future prospects. At the time, I was considering becoming a French-Japanese translator. Fast-forward to 2023, my aspirations have shifted a bit and I was about to spend the most hectic and otherworldly week of my life in Japan. We were 40 merrymakers from Canada and the United States, and we only had 9 days to visit Tōkyō and Yokohama. Some of us were still students, while others had graduated and joined the workforce since 2020.
The diversity of backgrounds, academic interests and pursued careers in our cohort was something I found captivating, especially when making the link with Japan and its culture. My closest friend nurtured the ambition of writing her Ph.D on the neurobiological processes that happen when the brain switches between languages. Another one was planning on partnering with Hokkaidō University for a Master in chemistry, environmental and chemical toxicology. Another did translation work and shined through her polyglot skills; one could hear her felted voice aboard the bus alternate between English, French, Japanese and Mandarin.
During the trip, we were together most of the time, which I found reassuring. However, as an introverted person, I was able to enjoy some moments of solitude (because of the pandemic, we had individual rooms), introspection, or some quality time with 2–3 friends. In most places we went, we always had some free time to wander around and do what we wanted. Our group organizers, caring and reliable individuals part of JICE, called it furii taimu — free time à la japanese phonetics. Looking back, I found our journey to lack a tad of individual time, but I felt incredibly safe, protected, in the good hands of Tanaka-san and Sōma-san.
If I close my eyes, I can vividly nail down some sensory memories of this short trip — the strong taste of nattō at my first breakfast under the soft lighting of the hotel, the Oreo-like structures and curved roof of the Hase-dera temple, my heart thumping in joy as I finally took my very first stroll in the streets of Tōkyō to the closest konbini, my stomach twisting on itself in hunger at the sight of karaage, the warm water up to my knees as prismacolor koi fish projections swam gracefully at the surface in the immersive, lightheadedness-inducing teamLab. Oh, and the sensation under my fingers of touching and leafing through a Japanese novel for the first time — the softness of the paper like a cloud, and the delicate, tiny characters, vertically placed on the page with pristine precision.
Those 9 days were heavily-filled — we would wake up at 7, sometimes 6 in the morning, and we had visits or conferences booked all day, sometimes up to three in one single day. We visited many temples and shrines, as well as popular locations, like Kamakura or Akihabara. I envied the 43.8 ft tall Great Buddha for being in a constant state of meditation, unbothered by anything since 1252, even by a tsunami (triggered by the Nankai earthquake in 1498, the tsunami destroyed the last remaining structure housing it, but the statue did not flinch). This contrasted drastically with the constant noise and vibrant colors of Akihabara, a land of sensory-overload and manga-shaped dreams I walked through with a strange feeling of disbelief (and later of sorrow as I realized the place I wanted to visit more than everything, the AKB48 theater, was closed). On one of the floors of the quintessential Don Quijote, overpacked with anime merch and disparate items in pastel pink and baby blue, three musics were playing at the same time.
I was also able to enjoy less crowded places, like the Fukagawa Edo Museum, which contains a life-size reproduction of a traditional village of the end of the Tokugawa era (around 1840), back when Tōkyō was called Edo. We wandered in the empty streets, timidly sticking our heads out to look into the tiny houses. Most of them were one-room tatami habitations, with simple kitchen supplies, a teapot, a kimono hanging on the wall, a kamidana (a miniature shrine), and a book. Most of the invisible people of this ghost village were fishmen or merchants and probably worked for long hours under harsh conditions, yet I couldn’t help but longing for what seemed like here a simple life with few priorities — fishing, eating modestly, drinking tea, praying and reading. As the ghost village remained eternally in a frozen morning under the subdued stage spotlights enfolding it, one could sure think in comparison how overstimulated and distant from nature and simplicity a lot of us are today in the current world.
One of the highlights of this intense trip was meeting in person His Excellency Mr. Miyamoto Shingo, the Deputy General of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs in Japan. Although we met him in a very formal environment, His Excellency seemed like a black sheep. An outcast, in the most beautiful way possible. Smiling and laughing, dressed in variegated Indonesian garments, he was a ray of sunshine among the monotonous camaïeu of black and white salarymen I had unconsciously encapsulated of what a member of the state would look like. Telling us about his adventures traveling around the globe, he invited us to do the same, to not give up on our curiosity, but rather to nurture it, and embrace the cultural shocks we might encounter. He confronted our internal biases, saying to us that Japan is not as conformist and rigid as we think. He pointed out the obvious: us being in Japan for only one week was far from sufficient to judge this country. The difference from judging from Canada or the United States was almost negligible — we were still watching Japan from further away, with Occident-shaped glasses. Don’t let that stop you, he said: keep studying, and try to come and live in Japan.
I would have loved more than anything to speak to him more, spend time to get to know him, but unfortunately, our tight schedule did not allow it. He still left a permanent mark on me and inspired me to continue my study of the Japanese language, and expand my openness to the world and its richness. All the while assuming my position as an outsider and a learner, everywhere I go. I no longer aspire to become a French-Japanese translator, but that’s because I found even greater interests. Being at the moment a communications intern at a Montreal-based international human rights education organization, I am passionate about human rights, committed art, and decolonial international cooperation. And I can say, with pride and emotion, that His Excellency Mr. Miyamoto has played a role in this path I have chosen. The aura of freedom he was emanating makes me think that changing paths is also something possible.
Now, if you are a student interested in participating in the Kakehashi Project, I invite you to consult the Project’s official website, and to be attentive to the registering period, usually between September and December in Canada. Check with your university’s Language Department if they can help you, or if they have a partnership with the Kakehashi Project. If you’re not in Canada or the US, there are other similar projects organized by JICE in other countries, like the Jenesys Programme for nations of East Asia, the Juntos!! Program in Latin America, and the MIRAI program for countries of Europe, West Balkans, Central Asia and Caucasus. I also suggest initiatives like Education First or Go! Go! Nihon, although for those you need the necessary financial resources.
I will of course conclude this article with this quote from Gandhi, which makes me think of His Excellency:
Live as if you were to die tomorrow. Learn as if you were to live forever.
明日死ぬかのように生きよ。永遠に生きるかのように学べ。
