Culture Unshocked
I’ve longed to visit Japan ever since my mom came back from a business trip and gifted me a “magic” box which was opened by solving a puzzle, and black colored tissue paper.
I was a child, my tastes were simple.
Flash-forward to adolescence, and my burning desire to visit Japan had not waned, thanks in part to the media portrayal of Tokyo city’s flash and glamor alongside the beautiful sakura blossoms and gentle river streams in the more idyllic parts of Japan.
In my first year studying abroad in San Francisco, JapanTown, with its alluring serenity, became a regular goto of mine. The Japanese Tea Garden (near the Golden Gate Park) was also a gem, and so, even in San Francisco, my love for (what I perceived to be) Japan grew.
When I found out that Mistletoe Inc. had accepted my application to work at a startup in Tokyo, I was giddy with excitement! At that time, I still only had a surface level knowledge of Japan, with an additional bit: I had recently written a paper on the phenomenon of Karōshi, i.e. working to death, in Japan. Oddly enough, this didn’t serve to hamper my excitement, as I instead looked forward to experiencing working in Japan for myself, and finding out firsthand whether the stress was quite literally, deadly.
Also, sushi. I was really looking forward to sushi.
What I did have apprehensions about was whether I would be well…disappointed. Disappointed by what? By anything, really. My expectations of having a good time far outweighed my apprehensions of having a bad one, and ironically, this made me apprehensive that I was being too optimistic.
I was really optimistic when I went off to San Francisco for my first academic year, and while I grew to love the city and even miss it upon returning home, my first few months were filled with feelings of loneliness and alienation. Despite never living on my own before, much less in a foreign country, I somehow didn’t expect to experience any form of homesickness or culture shock in San Francisco.
I experienced both.
I missed the familiarity and confidence I had carrying myself around back home. Although communication was no issue in San Francisco, and I was fairly confident traveling around alone, I always felt an invisible barrier preventing me from fully being part of the city.
It was probably because no matter who I talked to, I was instantly identifiable as someone who’s “not from around here”.
That’s fine and all, really. I can’t deny that there’s a certain novelty in being a foreigner, in having travelled so far to be here. However, it also constantly reinforced the fact that I didn’t belong here.
I considered English to be my first language, but my accent still had people misunderstanding me. The low value of my currency vs the US dollar planted a subconscious feeling of inferiority within me. I was quiet and taught to not talk to strangers back home — why? Simply because I was a young girl, which apparently signified to all potential kidnappers that I was easy pickings, so err on the side of caution and mind your own business — in San Francisco, everyone was friendly and it was normal for strangers to start a random conversation.
I appreciated the friendliness, it felt so warm and welcoming.
At the same time, it was something I wasn’t used to, and I had to intentionally force myself to make stranger small talk which didn’t come naturally to me. Sometimes, I missed being able to stand in close proximity to a stranger without being expected to start a conversation.
Cultural differences, perhaps?
My experience in San Francisco taught me that one could adapt to anything — such as walking alone down the Tenderloin at midnight to buy groceries — but it also planted within me the idea that I would never really identify a foreign country as home.
This might seem obvious, I mean it’s called foreign country for a reason, but I went to San Francisco with a mentality of “How different can it be?”. The answer turned out to be: very.
With this experience under my belt, I went to Japan expecting to feel excited and awed, but also out of place and disoriented. Given that I would only be staying here for two months vs the eight I spent in San Francisco, I wondered if I would even feel a lingering sense of connection in Tokyo, such as the one that through time and familiarity, I managed to cultivate in San Francisco.
I was pleasantly surprised.
I’ve spent a month so far in Tokyo, and a week before that in Kyoto, and well, I loved Japan as soon as I landed, and that love hasn’t waned.
Yes, the garbage disposal system is very confusing and public transport could be cheaper, but the level of cleanliness is really off the charts and the trains can get you just about anywhere. Not to mention, the utmost joy of knowing you only have to wait for two minutes for the next train if you miss the current one (and lamenting the fact that you have to wait two minutes anyway, because a plan gone awry is still a plan gone awry).
It helps that the food here is absolutely to my taste. Back home, Japanese food was the occasional treat. In San Francisco, Japanese food was out of the budget. Here, Japanese food is the daily diet. I never thought I’d say this, but I think I could very well be sick of Japanese food by the time I get back!
My first two weeks in Tokyo, I ate sushi and sashimi nearly every night — the concept of a warm dinner slowly ebbing from my memories. I fawned over the first few bowls of ramen I ate, but I think the sheer amount of noodles in each ramen bowl is making my desire for it wane.
I could write a whole blog post about Japanese food, so I’ll save my lyrical waxing for another time.
Japan almost feels like the best of both worlds. Just when you’re tired of the hustle and bustle of Shibuya, you can retreat to the idyllic serenity of Kawasaki (which is where I’m staying for the duration of this internship). The juxtaposition of crowded metropolis against idyllic town is a common sight in Japan, a physical representation of the oddly contrasting modern and open-minded society, against the conservatism of their traditional culture.
On one hand, I could see a line of Japanese workers all dressed up in the same suit and ties, sitting on the metro and either staring into their phones or fast asleep from exhaustion; on the other, I saw youngsters dressed up in wigs and cosplay outfits while they bought crepes in Harajuku from a store which unabashedly blared out J-pop to all incoming streetwalkers.
These might seem like two completely different worlds which would never coincide, but apparently not so. In my visit to a maid cafe, I saw several gentlemen in suit and ties happily being served by young ladies in wigs and fancy maid outfits. They also got really into a performance by the waitresses, which consisted of synchronized dancing and lyrics about “serving breakfast to master in the morning”, so that’s nice.
I always thought myself to be a disliker of big cities, but Tokyo’s concrete jungles have been a blast. The streets are so densely packed it makes for rather challenging navigation. I’m constantly reminded that “Holy heck, there are a lot of people around here!”, and while that can be unnerving at times, it’s also exciting and energetic. While I do love indulging in a cozy night in, snuggling under the covers with a good book in hand, the bright lights and constant pulse of people in Shibuya never fails to amaze me.
There are days when I’m tired and really just want to be away from the crowd and back in my room, but even when I’m caught in a human traffic jam, I can’t help but be impressed at the organized chaos.
That’s what Tokyo is: organized chaos.
It’s also comforting to know that whenever I need a break from the busy city, I can always take a day trip to an idyllic town to relax, unwind, and appreciate the beauty of the slower-paced parts of Japan.
Having stayed in Kyoto for a while and subsequently Takayama, a small city in Gifu prefecture where the streets empty out at five in the evening, I already knew that Japan had much to offer in terms of quiet and peaceful. A recent day trip to the seaside town of Kamakura further assured me of this fact, as once again touristy street combined with temples, the seaside, and a cafe hidden in a forest to provide me with the best of both worlds.
I am honestly awed at just how comfortable I feel in this country. I had high expectations for Japan, but never expected that they would be met, or even surpassed. I’ve only been staying here for a month, so take whatever I say with that pinch of salt in mind, but so far, I feel like I’ve adapted to the lifestyle like a fish to water (I’m also not being overworked to death by my company, which is definitely a big contribution to my happiness).
I haven’t even left Japan, but I already miss it. It’s serene, it’s idyllic, and the chaos is organized and weirdly calming. It might not be home, but so far, I’m content.
