I originally intended for the last post (which I just posted a few minutes ago) to be a list of things I like and things I dislike about living in Japan, but obviously it turned into something else because I really had a lot to say about one point. Since that post was rather negative, I'd like to give you all a more balanced view of life here. So here's the post I meant to write.
Things I like about Japan:
-Japan has four seasons. The seasons here are very distinct, so you can really enjoy the good things about all of them. Spring is beautiful with the cherry blossoms and other flowers blooming, summer is hot and balmy and there are festivals and firework shows, in fall the leaves change colors and crowds of people flock to famous "leaf-viewing" spots to appreciate their beauty, and winter is cold and crisp and everyone bundles up in warm coats and scarves and drinks hot tea. Japanese people really know how to appreciate the changes in the seasons. Everyone knows what fruits and vegetables are in season different times of the year, and every season has its own events that really help create the atmosphere.
-Japanese food is healthy and delicious. Unfortunately my current lifestyle doesn't allow me to eat as much Japanese food as I'd really like to, but it is really good.
-You can buy (almost) anything you want here. People moving to a foreign country usually worry about not being able to buy certain things there, but in Japan you shouldn't have much of a problem. Certain things may be harder to find than others, but if you know where to go you can easily get any food item you want from just about anywhere. Tokyo also has pretty much every kind of restaurant you can imagine. If you want to try the cuisine of some exotic country, chances are you can try it in Tokyo. There are no problems with toiletries and things like that either. The only thing that might inconvenience some Westerners is that things might not come in a big enough size (in my case, I can't get shoes in my size, as I'll mention in my "dislike" list.)
-It's very convenient. There's a convenience store every few blocks, and they're open 24 hours. Most of them have ATMs and you can do things like pay your bills there, and buy food items like rice balls wrapped in seaweed that tastes like plastic. (Okay, so convenience store food doesn't taste very good, but it is convenient.) Public transportation is excellent, very frequent and always on time (unless the weather is bad or there's an accident). And as I mentioned above, you can buy just about anything. I should add that all this applies mostly to living in or near a city, though, and more rural areas are obviously less convenient. (In Gunma, where I lived before, the public transportation isn't that good and most people drive cars.)
-People are very polite, and customer service is excellent. Okay, maybe I should change this to "People (except teenage delinquents and bratty children) are very polite." Some of the high school girls I teach are incredibly rude. Obviously there are rude people everywhere to some extent, but it is true that Japanese people in general are very polite. And customer service really is amazing-- employees always address you very respectfully and thank you for your business, and they'll go out of their way to make sure you're satisfied.
-People keep to themselves. This is a good thing for me personally, though it might be more of a bad thing for you if you're a very outgoing person. I'm very quiet and reserved by nature, so it's difficult for me to fit in to American culture where you're expected to be friendly and talkative. Here, people never tell me I'm too quiet or think I'm rude because I don't talk enough. I fit in just the way I am, so it's a lot easier for me.
-There's a very strong sense that you should appreciate what you have, and people never fail to say "thank you." This is one of the things I love most about Japan. Whenever they're about to eat or drink something received from someone else, people always say "itadakimasu"-- which means something like "I humbly receive this food". People always notice when you do something for them, and they go out of their way to thank you-- usually more than once. This spirit of appreciation is something I think people of other cultures could learn from. On the flipside, though, it can be difficult because people do expect you to be thankful in return. A couple of times I have ended up offending people because they felt I didn't seem thankful enough. Even if you think you're a thankful person, you really have to go the extra mile to show it here.
-Modesty and humility is highly valued. In the Japanese mind, if something goes wrong, everyone involved is responsible. People don't point fingers, because everyone apologizes first. And people really know how to apologize-- they bow deeply and apologize several times. This isn't seen as weak, but as the right thing to do. And if you apologize, you'll pretty much always be forgiven. People also never brag, and tend to downplay themselves and their abilities. One thing that may be shocking to Westerners, though, is that parents sometimes say negative things about their children (i.e. "My son is a terrible student.") This is because people think of their family members as parts of themselves, rather than separate individuals. So bragging about your kids would be like bragging about yourself.
-It's clean. You see very little garbage strewn about the streets, because people take it home and throw it away. They also clean up after their dogs when taking them on walks, so you don't have to worry about stepping in doggie doo here. This is definitely a good thing.
-It's safe. Of course, crime does happen here, and you should always use common sense no matter how safe you think someplace is. But I feel safer here than I've ever felt anywhere. What really amazes me is that things almost never get stolen. You can leave your purse sitting out in the open somewhere and return to find it right where you left it (or someone will turn it in to the police for you). Not that I'd recommend leaving your purse somewhere, but I actually see people doing this all the time (i.e. going alone to a restaurant or cafe and leaving their purse while they go to the bathroom, etc). You also see small children running around in public places like train stations, far off from their parents. In the US people would consider this extremely irresponsible parenting, but no one seems to have a problem with it here-- because it really is quite safe.
-You don't need to drive a car (at least not in the city). A good thing for me, because I don't like driving, and owning a car is a lot of responsibility. It's better for the environment, too.
Things I dislike about Japan:
-People work too much (see previous post).
-People keep to themselves a little too much. In contrast to the fact that my reserved nature fits in here, it is sometimes a bit lonely because people won't talk to you unless they really have a reason to. It's extremely rare to have a friendly conversation with a stranger on the train, for example. (It's happened to me like... twice. And I've ridden the train a bazillion times.) So it can be difficult to make friends here because people generally won't reach out and try to befriend you. You have to be in a situation in which you necessarily end up talking to someone, and then, if you have the chance to interact with that person regularly, you might be able to develop a friendship. A lot of single people here are lonely because of this-- especially in the Tokyo area. (I get the impression that people tend to be a little more friendly in other areas like Kansai, though I can't say much on this because I've only visited there briefly.) Sadly, a lot of people here commit suicide because of overworking and because of loneliness.
-If you don't look Japanese, you'll always be a foreigner. I may act Japanese, but I certainly don't look it-- I have red hair, green eyes and very pale skin. Even so, there are a lot of foreigners here, especially in the city, and most people treat me just like anyone else. Those who get to know me usually realize that I'm not a "typical foreigner" and do treat me accordingly. (People who get to know me also usually joke that I must actually be Japanese.) Once in a while, though, there's a random stranger who uses gestures when talking to me, as if I can't understand, or who immediately addresses me in English. And yes, some people do stare. Such people are relatively rare here though (they're more common in China and Taiwan), so for the most part I feel very accepted and it's really not a big issue.
-I can't buy shoes here. For women, the largest size they have here is a US size 8. I'm a size 9, so I'm out of luck. It's impossible for me to buy shoes anywhere, unless I go to a specialty store for people with larger feet (I hear there are some stores like this in Tokyo, though I've never gone to one). It's unfortunate too, because I love shoes and there are a lot of cute ones here. But anyway, it's just a minor inconvenience-- I just buy my shoes whenever I go back to the states. And fortunately I'm relatively small everywhere else, so I have no problem buying other clothing items here. (I hear a lot of other Westerners do have trouble though.)
********************************************************************
There are probably more things in both categories that I'm not thinking of, but as you can see, the good things do outweigh the bad. =) Japan is a lovely place, and I wouldn't discourage anyone from visiting or coming to live here for a while. Much of my life up until now has been devoted to this country and its language, and it's not something I regret at all.
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Work is Life
Obviously, I like Japan. I wouldn't have stayed here as long as I have otherwise. But after you've lived in a place for a while, you really start to see it for what it is. You get a more balanced view-- you see both the good and the bad. Because as I'm sure you all know, no place is perfect. No situation is perfect. Life is hard, no matter where you choose to spend it. Recently, though, I've been feeling more frustrated by the negative things, rather than reveling in the positive. So I thought it might help to write about it.
The big thing that's been driving me crazy lately is this:
In Japan, Work is Life.
I'm not exaggerating. This concept is a huge part of Japanese culture, and it's something people have instilled in them from childhood. For Japanese children, Studying is Life. Many elementary school children have extra lessons after school every day (English lessons, piano lessons, etc.), after which they go home to continue studying until bedtime. Unlike American children, Japanese children usually don't do chores around the house because they're expected to devote themselves entirely to studying (they do have to clean their classrooms at school, though). And they study so much that they're often very stressed and have little time to play with friends. (I taught some kids like this at the private English school I used to work at. There was one particularly education-crazed grandfather who brought his two grandsons in several times a week. They had lessons in other subjects, too. The poor kids were exhausted.) In junior high and high school, many students participate in club activities after school until the evening, after which they study until late at night and go to school again early the next morning. In university things are a little more relaxed... But then they graduate and get jobs, and the madness starts again. It's not uncommon for businessmen here to be at work at 7:00 in the morning and stay until 8:00, 9:00, or even 10:00 in the evening. They don't take much time off, either. One of my former adult students (a doctor) once told me he felt a vacation was a waste of time if he didn't get some work done during it. And it seems like this attitude is pretty common. School children are given quite a bit of homework to do during vacations, and often go to school for club activities and/or extra studying during vacations and on weekends. I guess this trains them never to take a real vacation even as adults. (To me, a "real vacation" means one during which you don't work. At all. But such a concept seems scandalous to a lot of Japanese people.)
To an extent, it is a good thing to take pride in your work and to put your best effort into what you do. But in my opinion, a lot of people here take this virtue way too far. At my previous job (teaching at a small, private English school in a rural area) it didn't affect me that much personally. I did see its effects on a lot of my students, which was difficult to watch sometimes. But my own hours were quite reasonable, I always had weekends off, and though I didn't get as much vacation time as I would have liked, I never had any work to do during it. I didn't have to stay at the school all day, either-- I could leave whenever I didn't have a class to teach. (It probably helped that the school was owned by an American, who happened to be a rather lax individual.) At my current job, though-- teaching at a girls' high school in a bigger city near Tokyo-- it's affecting me a lot more, and it's been the source of a lot of stress for me recently. My job involves a lot more than just teaching English classes. I'm treated just like a member of the regular teaching staff, which means I have the same responsibilities as the Japanese teachers. I have to help with various school activities and events, and to help students study before and after school. So I sometimes have to go very early in the morning, and sometimes have to stay until around 6:00 pm. Most days I'm able to go home around 4:30, so maybe I shouldn't be complaining-- my situation isn't nearly as bad as a lot of people's. (It's not as bad as a lot of the other teachers I work with either. A lot of them stay late every day.) And it's not like I really hate my job-- the people I work with are wonderful, and teaching can be a really rewarding thing to do. But recently there have been more long days, more extra jobs to do, more days I've had to go in on a Saturday or a Sunday. And it's really tough for me. Because there are so many different things I love, I can't devote myself to just one thing. Having to do so makes me extremely unhappy. It makes me feel trapped-- like I'm going to suffocate if I can't escape. It's impossible for me to make work my life, because there's no job in which I can do all the things I love to do.
There are many ways in which I am very, very Japanese, and overall I do feel like my personality is much more Japanese than American (I don't fit into American culture at all). But there are some ways in which I don't really fit in here either, and this is one of them. It is true that I don't have to adopt the Japanese work ethic just because I live here. I am pretty much stuck with my current job until the end of March, and it's looking like it's going to be pretty tough for the next month or so... But after that I could make a lifestyle change and make more time to do what I want while still living here. The concept is still soaked into the culture, though, and you can't really escape it completely. The sea of stony-faced people in business suits packed into the trains every morning is really rather depressing to see. (Seriously, all these people look miserable. I probably don't look so hot either.) And even if I worked free-lance, or just had a couple of part-time jobs, there would still be certain expectations. Everybody expects you to take your work very seriously. Going above and beyond is not the exception-- it's the rule. Also, if I continue to live here, the possibility is rather high (for obvious reasons) that I'll end up marrying a Japanese guy. It's likely that my husband would have to work long hours and wouldn't have much time to spend with me (or our children if we had any). If I had children, I would certainly do my best to teach them that there's more to life than work, and that they should do what they love to do, take good care of themselves and be happy. But if they grew up here, they would probably go to Japanese schools, and they would still be influenced by the expectations of the society around them. I'd want them to have plenty of time to play and just be kids, but what if all their friends were busy studying all the time?
Yes, this is just one negative thing, of course no place is perfect, and of course there are lots of good things about Japan too. But this extreme work ethic thing has really been weighing on me lately, and it's making me feel like I really want to get out of this country.
I'm sorry if this post is depressing, but I needed to get it off my chest. It's also why I haven't been updating much, by the way-- work has been rather demanding. Today, though, I fortunately had the day off (it's some random national holiday-- "Physical Education Day", I believe), and I do feel quite a bit better after getting lots of sleep, doing nothing involving work and then writing this post. =) I'll try to write something more uplifting next time!
The big thing that's been driving me crazy lately is this:
In Japan, Work is Life.
I'm not exaggerating. This concept is a huge part of Japanese culture, and it's something people have instilled in them from childhood. For Japanese children, Studying is Life. Many elementary school children have extra lessons after school every day (English lessons, piano lessons, etc.), after which they go home to continue studying until bedtime. Unlike American children, Japanese children usually don't do chores around the house because they're expected to devote themselves entirely to studying (they do have to clean their classrooms at school, though). And they study so much that they're often very stressed and have little time to play with friends. (I taught some kids like this at the private English school I used to work at. There was one particularly education-crazed grandfather who brought his two grandsons in several times a week. They had lessons in other subjects, too. The poor kids were exhausted.) In junior high and high school, many students participate in club activities after school until the evening, after which they study until late at night and go to school again early the next morning. In university things are a little more relaxed... But then they graduate and get jobs, and the madness starts again. It's not uncommon for businessmen here to be at work at 7:00 in the morning and stay until 8:00, 9:00, or even 10:00 in the evening. They don't take much time off, either. One of my former adult students (a doctor) once told me he felt a vacation was a waste of time if he didn't get some work done during it. And it seems like this attitude is pretty common. School children are given quite a bit of homework to do during vacations, and often go to school for club activities and/or extra studying during vacations and on weekends. I guess this trains them never to take a real vacation even as adults. (To me, a "real vacation" means one during which you don't work. At all. But such a concept seems scandalous to a lot of Japanese people.)
To an extent, it is a good thing to take pride in your work and to put your best effort into what you do. But in my opinion, a lot of people here take this virtue way too far. At my previous job (teaching at a small, private English school in a rural area) it didn't affect me that much personally. I did see its effects on a lot of my students, which was difficult to watch sometimes. But my own hours were quite reasonable, I always had weekends off, and though I didn't get as much vacation time as I would have liked, I never had any work to do during it. I didn't have to stay at the school all day, either-- I could leave whenever I didn't have a class to teach. (It probably helped that the school was owned by an American, who happened to be a rather lax individual.) At my current job, though-- teaching at a girls' high school in a bigger city near Tokyo-- it's affecting me a lot more, and it's been the source of a lot of stress for me recently. My job involves a lot more than just teaching English classes. I'm treated just like a member of the regular teaching staff, which means I have the same responsibilities as the Japanese teachers. I have to help with various school activities and events, and to help students study before and after school. So I sometimes have to go very early in the morning, and sometimes have to stay until around 6:00 pm. Most days I'm able to go home around 4:30, so maybe I shouldn't be complaining-- my situation isn't nearly as bad as a lot of people's. (It's not as bad as a lot of the other teachers I work with either. A lot of them stay late every day.) And it's not like I really hate my job-- the people I work with are wonderful, and teaching can be a really rewarding thing to do. But recently there have been more long days, more extra jobs to do, more days I've had to go in on a Saturday or a Sunday. And it's really tough for me. Because there are so many different things I love, I can't devote myself to just one thing. Having to do so makes me extremely unhappy. It makes me feel trapped-- like I'm going to suffocate if I can't escape. It's impossible for me to make work my life, because there's no job in which I can do all the things I love to do.
There are many ways in which I am very, very Japanese, and overall I do feel like my personality is much more Japanese than American (I don't fit into American culture at all). But there are some ways in which I don't really fit in here either, and this is one of them. It is true that I don't have to adopt the Japanese work ethic just because I live here. I am pretty much stuck with my current job until the end of March, and it's looking like it's going to be pretty tough for the next month or so... But after that I could make a lifestyle change and make more time to do what I want while still living here. The concept is still soaked into the culture, though, and you can't really escape it completely. The sea of stony-faced people in business suits packed into the trains every morning is really rather depressing to see. (Seriously, all these people look miserable. I probably don't look so hot either.) And even if I worked free-lance, or just had a couple of part-time jobs, there would still be certain expectations. Everybody expects you to take your work very seriously. Going above and beyond is not the exception-- it's the rule. Also, if I continue to live here, the possibility is rather high (for obvious reasons) that I'll end up marrying a Japanese guy. It's likely that my husband would have to work long hours and wouldn't have much time to spend with me (or our children if we had any). If I had children, I would certainly do my best to teach them that there's more to life than work, and that they should do what they love to do, take good care of themselves and be happy. But if they grew up here, they would probably go to Japanese schools, and they would still be influenced by the expectations of the society around them. I'd want them to have plenty of time to play and just be kids, but what if all their friends were busy studying all the time?
Yes, this is just one negative thing, of course no place is perfect, and of course there are lots of good things about Japan too. But this extreme work ethic thing has really been weighing on me lately, and it's making me feel like I really want to get out of this country.
I'm sorry if this post is depressing, but I needed to get it off my chest. It's also why I haven't been updating much, by the way-- work has been rather demanding. Today, though, I fortunately had the day off (it's some random national holiday-- "Physical Education Day", I believe), and I do feel quite a bit better after getting lots of sleep, doing nothing involving work and then writing this post. =) I'll try to write something more uplifting next time!
Monday, October 11, 2010
Thailand's Elephants
Okay-- so I should have written about this a long time ago, but I'm finally getting to it now!
Please note that, since my camera was broken at the time, I did not take any of the pictures in this post. They were all taken by fellow volunteer Tara. (Thank you!)
As I mentioned before, in Thailand I spent one week volunteering at a place called Elephant Nature Park. This place is basically a sanctuary for rescued elephants who had been abused (sadly a pretty common thing in Thailand).
I love animals and had thought for some time that I'd like to try volunteering to work with them in some way. Then I decided I wanted to travel to Thailand, which is known for its elephants, so... I looked online and found this place.
My first impression of the park was that it was a really beautiful place and it seemed like elephants would be happy there. As I later found out, many of the elephants had terribly sad stories. One of them, for example, is blind because she was stabbed in the eyes by her owner when she refused to work.
Elephants are really gentle and intelligent creatures, and they all have different personalities too. We got to get pretty close to them sometimes!
When I say "we", I mean myself and the other volunteers. They were all really great people from all over the world (mostly Europe), and some of them had traveled all over the place and had really interesting stories.
As volunteers, we had lots of different jobs to do (though actually the work wasn't that hard, and since there were a lot of us there wasn't always enough work to go around!)
We cut grass...
Peeled corn...
And, yes, scooped elephant poo. (Actually it really wasn't that bad!)
The food was all home-made, and really good.
It was a week of cold showers, wearing the same dirty clothes, and getting eaten alive by mosquitoes... But the experience really was all worth it. I met some amazing people, learned a lot about elephants and their situation in Thailand, and I really did feel like I was able to do something to help by volunteering. Elephant Nature Park is a really good organization, and the work they're doing is really important. I would highly recommend visiting if you ever plan on traveling to Thailand!
Even if you don't visit the park though, please do not ever ride an elephant, see an elephant show, or buy food for an elephant begging on the street. Elephants in these situations are often being abused, and you are only supporting their abusive owners by participating in these tourist activities. It's a complicated situation that goes beyond the scope of this post (I'm not an expert on it, either), but feel free to ask me if you want to know more about it. You can also find more information on the Elephant Nature Park website linked above.
Please note that, since my camera was broken at the time, I did not take any of the pictures in this post. They were all taken by fellow volunteer Tara. (Thank you!)
As I mentioned before, in Thailand I spent one week volunteering at a place called Elephant Nature Park. This place is basically a sanctuary for rescued elephants who had been abused (sadly a pretty common thing in Thailand).
I love animals and had thought for some time that I'd like to try volunteering to work with them in some way. Then I decided I wanted to travel to Thailand, which is known for its elephants, so... I looked online and found this place.
My first impression of the park was that it was a really beautiful place and it seemed like elephants would be happy there. As I later found out, many of the elephants had terribly sad stories. One of them, for example, is blind because she was stabbed in the eyes by her owner when she refused to work.
Elephants are really gentle and intelligent creatures, and they all have different personalities too. We got to get pretty close to them sometimes!
When I say "we", I mean myself and the other volunteers. They were all really great people from all over the world (mostly Europe), and some of them had traveled all over the place and had really interesting stories.
As volunteers, we had lots of different jobs to do (though actually the work wasn't that hard, and since there were a lot of us there wasn't always enough work to go around!)
We cut grass...
Peeled corn...
And, yes, scooped elephant poo. (Actually it really wasn't that bad!)
The food was all home-made, and really good.
It was a week of cold showers, wearing the same dirty clothes, and getting eaten alive by mosquitoes... But the experience really was all worth it. I met some amazing people, learned a lot about elephants and their situation in Thailand, and I really did feel like I was able to do something to help by volunteering. Elephant Nature Park is a really good organization, and the work they're doing is really important. I would highly recommend visiting if you ever plan on traveling to Thailand!
Even if you don't visit the park though, please do not ever ride an elephant, see an elephant show, or buy food for an elephant begging on the street. Elephants in these situations are often being abused, and you are only supporting their abusive owners by participating in these tourist activities. It's a complicated situation that goes beyond the scope of this post (I'm not an expert on it, either), but feel free to ask me if you want to know more about it. You can also find more information on the Elephant Nature Park website linked above.
ご無沙汰しております
Having been me for 25 and 1/2 years, you'd think I'd know myself pretty well by now. But sometimes I still don't understand myself at all.
Why is it so hard to motivate myself to do what I know is good for me-- what I want to do, even?
There are so many things I want to do; I have so many plans; and they all sound so good in my head. But whenever I find myself with some free time, I just end up wasting it. Why is that?
I've thought of blaming it on my job-- I must just be too exhausted from teaching to focus on anything else. But that doesn't really make sense when I think about it. My job can be exhausting, but the truth is that even when I have a whole week off, I still don't get anything done. In fact, sometimes having too much free time seems worse than having too little.
It seems that I'm really bad at managing my own time. It would make sense to schedule everything in so it all gets done... But there seems to be something in me that rebels against schedules. I just want to do the thing that comes to me at that moment, whatever that may be. So I have all these ideas, but then they get pushed aside by other ideas, and so many things are put off or left halfway done...
Like this blog. I haven't updated in forever, even though I've been meaning to. Even though there are lots of things I could write about.
At this rate, I don't suppose I'll ever have much of a following here. But those of you who do read this are all really important to me, and I do want to share my life with all of you. I'm going to try to keep this up, for you guys. (And for myself, so I'll have my memories written down to look back on.) Don't let me forget!
Why is it so hard to motivate myself to do what I know is good for me-- what I want to do, even?
There are so many things I want to do; I have so many plans; and they all sound so good in my head. But whenever I find myself with some free time, I just end up wasting it. Why is that?
I've thought of blaming it on my job-- I must just be too exhausted from teaching to focus on anything else. But that doesn't really make sense when I think about it. My job can be exhausting, but the truth is that even when I have a whole week off, I still don't get anything done. In fact, sometimes having too much free time seems worse than having too little.
It seems that I'm really bad at managing my own time. It would make sense to schedule everything in so it all gets done... But there seems to be something in me that rebels against schedules. I just want to do the thing that comes to me at that moment, whatever that may be. So I have all these ideas, but then they get pushed aside by other ideas, and so many things are put off or left halfway done...
Like this blog. I haven't updated in forever, even though I've been meaning to. Even though there are lots of things I could write about.
At this rate, I don't suppose I'll ever have much of a following here. But those of you who do read this are all really important to me, and I do want to share my life with all of you. I'm going to try to keep this up, for you guys. (And for myself, so I'll have my memories written down to look back on.) Don't let me forget!
Saturday, September 11, 2010
Why I'm a terrible photographer
So, as I just wrote to someone on Facebook, I have issues with taking pictures. Being an artistic person, I actually do like to take pictures-- but the catch is that there can't be any people around. So most of my pictures are of random objects in isolated places, or of myself with random objects in isolated places. It does get kind of old, especially since I think the most interesting pictures involve people. But whenever I decide to take a picture of anything anywhere where there are lots of people milling around, my inner monologue goes something like this:
"Okay, I'm going to slip my camera out of its case, and turn it on inside my bag so I can whip it out at a moment's notice. Okay, there's no one in the way so maybe I can take it now... Oh, wait! That guy is looking at me. I'm not a weird tourist taking pictures of this perfectly normal sign, mister, really I'm not. See, I'm just standing here spacing out like a perfectly normal person... Okay good, he looked away. Better get this done quickly. A quick look around again to make sure no one's watching, spot the target, and, bam! Okay, it's done. I hope no one saw that..."
Then of course when I go home to look at the picture more closely, it's all blurry or off-center because I didn't take the time to focus it. They say that with a digital camera, you're supposed to just snap a ton of pictures in succession so you have a better chance of getting some good ones... But I only take one (or maybe two if I'm really brave), and they usually turn out sucky.
Thus, most of my pictures from Thailand are... Well, sucky. And that's only because I forced myself to take a few. I have practically no pictures (that I took myself, anyway) from all this time I've been here in Japan. For some reason I just hate the idea of looking like a tourist or a "weird foreigner" (even though I really am a weird foreigner, even though being a weird foreigner is actually not a crime, and even though it really doesn't matter what random people think, anyway).
I think I need to fix this problem. Because it sucks not having pictures to share with people, and to look back at and remember things later.
Unfortunately, my camera (which I'd hardly used at all anyway) broke halfway through my trip in Thailand, and I'm not about to go out and buy a new one unless I'm sure I'm going to use it. I do have my cell phone though, which takes not-such-good-quality little pictures like this:
(This one is from Thailand, at some ancient temple ruins. It was windy. And there were no people within eye-shot when I took this.)
The great thing about a cell phone (for me anyway) is that it's not as obvious as a camera-- people can't always tell you're taking a picture with it. So maybe if I try taking lots of pictures with my cell phone, it'll help me get used to the idea?
I think I'm going to try it. We'll see how well I'll follow through with this, though.
"Okay, I'm going to slip my camera out of its case, and turn it on inside my bag so I can whip it out at a moment's notice. Okay, there's no one in the way so maybe I can take it now... Oh, wait! That guy is looking at me. I'm not a weird tourist taking pictures of this perfectly normal sign, mister, really I'm not. See, I'm just standing here spacing out like a perfectly normal person... Okay good, he looked away. Better get this done quickly. A quick look around again to make sure no one's watching, spot the target, and, bam! Okay, it's done. I hope no one saw that..."
Then of course when I go home to look at the picture more closely, it's all blurry or off-center because I didn't take the time to focus it. They say that with a digital camera, you're supposed to just snap a ton of pictures in succession so you have a better chance of getting some good ones... But I only take one (or maybe two if I'm really brave), and they usually turn out sucky.
Thus, most of my pictures from Thailand are... Well, sucky. And that's only because I forced myself to take a few. I have practically no pictures (that I took myself, anyway) from all this time I've been here in Japan. For some reason I just hate the idea of looking like a tourist or a "weird foreigner" (even though I really am a weird foreigner, even though being a weird foreigner is actually not a crime, and even though it really doesn't matter what random people think, anyway).
I think I need to fix this problem. Because it sucks not having pictures to share with people, and to look back at and remember things later.
Unfortunately, my camera (which I'd hardly used at all anyway) broke halfway through my trip in Thailand, and I'm not about to go out and buy a new one unless I'm sure I'm going to use it. I do have my cell phone though, which takes not-such-good-quality little pictures like this:
(This one is from Thailand, at some ancient temple ruins. It was windy. And there were no people within eye-shot when I took this.)
The great thing about a cell phone (for me anyway) is that it's not as obvious as a camera-- people can't always tell you're taking a picture with it. So maybe if I try taking lots of pictures with my cell phone, it'll help me get used to the idea?
I think I'm going to try it. We'll see how well I'll follow through with this, though.
Thursday, September 9, 2010
Passions
I have many passions, but I don't seem to be capable of juggling many of them at once because they come and go in very intense spurts. These "spurts" can be as short as a few days or as long as several years.
For example, as you can see from my last post, a couple of weeks ago I suddenly felt inspired to start drawing. This particular spurt was very sudden and extremely intense. For about a week or so, I could think of nothing else but drawing. Every minute of free time I could find was dedicated to it. I got so into it that I forgot to eat and sleep properly. I couldn't bring myself to do anything else, not even study languages (even though I felt guilty about it). It was so intense that I was actually kind of afraid I'd never feel motivated to study languages or do anything else again. I mean, it was fun, but I found myself feeling relieved when it finally calmed down, all the same.
And calm down it did. Right now, there's an unfinished drawing hiding in a minimized window on my computer screen. It hasn't been touched for several days now, and I have no idea when (or if?) I'll finish it. I don't have the space in my brain to concern myself with it-- because right now, I'm obsessed with learning Chinese.
Yup, the language thing came back. It's funny how this happened, though. I now feel absolutely no desire whatsoever to study Thai, even though I was crazy about it for over a year. As for Chinese, I first started learning it in January of 2005, during my second year of college. I was learning Japanese at the time, and wanted to better understand Chinese characters (because they're used in Japanese too). I was also just itching to try learning another language, and Chinese seemed as good as any. (And ooh, there's a study abroad program in China, and ooh, it's so nice and pretty and shiny! *__*) My roommate at the time was doing the same major as me and taking both Japanese and Chinese classes. I was taking Japanese and French. (Yeah, you'd think that'd be enough, right?) Then in January, I started secretly studying Chinese on my own. Yes, secretly, because for some reason I didn't want my roommate to know I was studying it. I think it's because I was weirdly competitive about it, and felt like I had to know Chinese better than she did before I let her know I was learning it. Pathetic, I know. I was also just overly self-conscious in general and didn't feel comfortable doing pretty much anything in front of pretty much anyone. I don't know how I ever survived in a college dorm room.
Anyway, I studied Chinese on my own until the following autumn, when I spent a semester abroad in Beijing. I learned a lot of Chinese during that time, but as that semester came to an end and it was time to return to the states, I realized I still didn't know Japanese as well as I wanted to and needed to focus on it some more. (OMG, I don't know this word; Oh no, I can't read this book!!!) So I dropped Chinese and went back to cramming Japanese into my brain until just after I graduated later that spring. Then I felt guilty for not "finishing" Chinese and decided to go live in Taiwan for a year to improve it. While in Taiwan, I decided that life sucked and I didn't care about Chinese anymore, so I sat around my apartment watching mostly Japanese TV and reading Japanese books. Then I was just like, "screw this", and moved to Japan.
My personal feelings toward the Chinese language at this point were that I just wasn't fond of it and probably wouldn't ever go back to it, and whoever had anything to say about it could go eat stinky tofu (Real food in Taiwan, by the way. Taiwanese food is amazing in general, but that stuff is horrendous). So I forgot about it completely. I was happy living in Japanese land for a couple of years, and then in the dream world of Thai in my head for a year or so more. Then I went to Thailand and was disappointed, and I was like "Screw this. I should learn Chinese instead."
Then suddenly Chinese was beautiful to me, and I was determined to own it. And now here I am. I've broken out the Chinese translation of Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone I bought in Taiwan (Yes, I have that book in Thai too, and in French, and Japanese, and I must have the English one somewhere. And I don't really give a darn if you think I'm crazy), completely untouched for three years. I started trying to work through it three years ago and stopped at the first page. When I picked it up about a week ago, the first page was covered with highlights and penciled-in notes, while the rest of the book was completely untouched. Now the entire first chapter is covered in highlights and I've filled about half a notebook with notes. I can almost read it all now. And this is only part of all the studying I've been doing.
I'm making it sound like most of my "different passions" consist of different languages, but that's not entirely true. It is true that languages in general are one of my greatest and most consuming passions. But there are others, too. The above-mentioned passion for drawing consumed much of my childhood and teenage years. It left suddenly, completely, as soon as I got to college. I'm not sure if it just decided to come back for a week recently, or if it's going to show up every now and then. I kind of hope it's the latter (especially since, I'm kind of embarrassed to admit, I kind of went and spent a lot of money on a certain tool for drawing on the computer...). My other greatest passion is singing and songwriting. In my last two years of high school I thought I was going to become a musician, and I even majored in music in college (only to change to Asian Studies later, of course). I was in choir and sang at church and wrote a ton of songs, though unfortunately I was never able to get most of them out of my head and into a form that could be shared with people because my skills on the piano weren't that great. A few months ago, though, I suddenly felt I needed to play the piano, so I went and bought one of those cheap little electric keyboards with only like, 20 keys. I couldn't do much with it obviously, but I was lost in music for a month or so, trying to play every song that came to me. It was nice. I still play with that keyboard every once in a while.
There are other random things too. For a few months recently I had it in my head that I might want to become a diplomat, so I went and bought a load of books about history and economics and politics and read like crazy. I read the news every day, too-- something I'd never done before. In the end I decided I don't really want to be a diplomat after all, but I did learn quite a bit. Once I went through a phase where I tried to learn how to meditate. I've had a cooking phase, and an exercise phase, and probably some other phases I'm forgetting at the moment.
You see, people?! This is what it's like to be me. I never know what's coming. And I can't stop it. I really can't.
Some people might say I'll never accomplish anything if I keep switching between different interests. Honestly, I used to think so too, but recently I've been seeing things differently. You couldn't say that I've accomplished nothing. I'm pretty good at drawing, and it really comes in useful sometimes. I'm a good singer, and even though I'm not an amazing pianist, I can use music as an outlet and a way to enjoy myself. I can speak Japanese almost to a near-native level, and I know a couple other languages at least well enough to get by. That's not nothing. I don't want to sound boastful, but I kind of need to lift myself up a bit because honestly, I've put myself down way too much in the past. Well screw that.
I'm going to go learn Chinese now.
For example, as you can see from my last post, a couple of weeks ago I suddenly felt inspired to start drawing. This particular spurt was very sudden and extremely intense. For about a week or so, I could think of nothing else but drawing. Every minute of free time I could find was dedicated to it. I got so into it that I forgot to eat and sleep properly. I couldn't bring myself to do anything else, not even study languages (even though I felt guilty about it). It was so intense that I was actually kind of afraid I'd never feel motivated to study languages or do anything else again. I mean, it was fun, but I found myself feeling relieved when it finally calmed down, all the same.
And calm down it did. Right now, there's an unfinished drawing hiding in a minimized window on my computer screen. It hasn't been touched for several days now, and I have no idea when (or if?) I'll finish it. I don't have the space in my brain to concern myself with it-- because right now, I'm obsessed with learning Chinese.
Yup, the language thing came back. It's funny how this happened, though. I now feel absolutely no desire whatsoever to study Thai, even though I was crazy about it for over a year. As for Chinese, I first started learning it in January of 2005, during my second year of college. I was learning Japanese at the time, and wanted to better understand Chinese characters (because they're used in Japanese too). I was also just itching to try learning another language, and Chinese seemed as good as any. (And ooh, there's a study abroad program in China, and ooh, it's so nice and pretty and shiny! *__*) My roommate at the time was doing the same major as me and taking both Japanese and Chinese classes. I was taking Japanese and French. (Yeah, you'd think that'd be enough, right?) Then in January, I started secretly studying Chinese on my own. Yes, secretly, because for some reason I didn't want my roommate to know I was studying it. I think it's because I was weirdly competitive about it, and felt like I had to know Chinese better than she did before I let her know I was learning it. Pathetic, I know. I was also just overly self-conscious in general and didn't feel comfortable doing pretty much anything in front of pretty much anyone. I don't know how I ever survived in a college dorm room.
Anyway, I studied Chinese on my own until the following autumn, when I spent a semester abroad in Beijing. I learned a lot of Chinese during that time, but as that semester came to an end and it was time to return to the states, I realized I still didn't know Japanese as well as I wanted to and needed to focus on it some more. (OMG, I don't know this word; Oh no, I can't read this book!!!) So I dropped Chinese and went back to cramming Japanese into my brain until just after I graduated later that spring. Then I felt guilty for not "finishing" Chinese and decided to go live in Taiwan for a year to improve it. While in Taiwan, I decided that life sucked and I didn't care about Chinese anymore, so I sat around my apartment watching mostly Japanese TV and reading Japanese books. Then I was just like, "screw this", and moved to Japan.
My personal feelings toward the Chinese language at this point were that I just wasn't fond of it and probably wouldn't ever go back to it, and whoever had anything to say about it could go eat stinky tofu (Real food in Taiwan, by the way. Taiwanese food is amazing in general, but that stuff is horrendous). So I forgot about it completely. I was happy living in Japanese land for a couple of years, and then in the dream world of Thai in my head for a year or so more. Then I went to Thailand and was disappointed, and I was like "Screw this. I should learn Chinese instead."
Then suddenly Chinese was beautiful to me, and I was determined to own it. And now here I am. I've broken out the Chinese translation of Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone I bought in Taiwan (Yes, I have that book in Thai too, and in French, and Japanese, and I must have the English one somewhere. And I don't really give a darn if you think I'm crazy), completely untouched for three years. I started trying to work through it three years ago and stopped at the first page. When I picked it up about a week ago, the first page was covered with highlights and penciled-in notes, while the rest of the book was completely untouched. Now the entire first chapter is covered in highlights and I've filled about half a notebook with notes. I can almost read it all now. And this is only part of all the studying I've been doing.
I'm making it sound like most of my "different passions" consist of different languages, but that's not entirely true. It is true that languages in general are one of my greatest and most consuming passions. But there are others, too. The above-mentioned passion for drawing consumed much of my childhood and teenage years. It left suddenly, completely, as soon as I got to college. I'm not sure if it just decided to come back for a week recently, or if it's going to show up every now and then. I kind of hope it's the latter (especially since, I'm kind of embarrassed to admit, I kind of went and spent a lot of money on a certain tool for drawing on the computer...). My other greatest passion is singing and songwriting. In my last two years of high school I thought I was going to become a musician, and I even majored in music in college (only to change to Asian Studies later, of course). I was in choir and sang at church and wrote a ton of songs, though unfortunately I was never able to get most of them out of my head and into a form that could be shared with people because my skills on the piano weren't that great. A few months ago, though, I suddenly felt I needed to play the piano, so I went and bought one of those cheap little electric keyboards with only like, 20 keys. I couldn't do much with it obviously, but I was lost in music for a month or so, trying to play every song that came to me. It was nice. I still play with that keyboard every once in a while.
There are other random things too. For a few months recently I had it in my head that I might want to become a diplomat, so I went and bought a load of books about history and economics and politics and read like crazy. I read the news every day, too-- something I'd never done before. In the end I decided I don't really want to be a diplomat after all, but I did learn quite a bit. Once I went through a phase where I tried to learn how to meditate. I've had a cooking phase, and an exercise phase, and probably some other phases I'm forgetting at the moment.
You see, people?! This is what it's like to be me. I never know what's coming. And I can't stop it. I really can't.
Some people might say I'll never accomplish anything if I keep switching between different interests. Honestly, I used to think so too, but recently I've been seeing things differently. You couldn't say that I've accomplished nothing. I'm pretty good at drawing, and it really comes in useful sometimes. I'm a good singer, and even though I'm not an amazing pianist, I can use music as an outlet and a way to enjoy myself. I can speak Japanese almost to a near-native level, and I know a couple other languages at least well enough to get by. That's not nothing. I don't want to sound boastful, but I kind of need to lift myself up a bit because honestly, I've put myself down way too much in the past. Well screw that.
I'm going to go learn Chinese now.
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Drawing
It's been years (seriously) since I last picked up a sketch pad and seriously drew anything, but today I suddenly felt inspired and spent six hours doing this with an online paint program:
And I did it all with a mouse. My pinky is sore... @@;
The girl is a character I've had in my head for a long time. Her name is Kaiyinn and she can communicate with animals. Recently I've envisioned her with a white tiger as a companion, hence the picture.
As a teenager I used to do things like this all the time. Drawing pictures and making up characters, etc. I don't know why I stopped, but one day I just didn't feel like drawing anymore. I wonder if it's come back? I did have a lot of fun doing this!
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Edit: I just drew another one today. Six hours again. Maybe it really has come back? @@;
I don't know, she's... some hot chick. XD I also thought I'd been drawing too many skinny white girls and needed to break away from that a bit. ^^; I'm quite happy with how this turned out!
And I did it all with a mouse. My pinky is sore... @@;
The girl is a character I've had in my head for a long time. Her name is Kaiyinn and she can communicate with animals. Recently I've envisioned her with a white tiger as a companion, hence the picture.
As a teenager I used to do things like this all the time. Drawing pictures and making up characters, etc. I don't know why I stopped, but one day I just didn't feel like drawing anymore. I wonder if it's come back? I did have a lot of fun doing this!
******************************
Edit: I just drew another one today. Six hours again. Maybe it really has come back? @@;
I don't know, she's... some hot chick. XD I also thought I'd been drawing too many skinny white girls and needed to break away from that a bit. ^^; I'm quite happy with how this turned out!
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Thailand-- or "The place I never quite made it to"
When I first left for Thailand, I imagined myself coming back two weeks later completely invigorated, bursting with exciting stories that I would rush to my computer to write out while they were still vivid in my mind. I saw myself falling completely in love with Thailand and its culture and its language all over again, beyond the point of no return, ready to dedicate myself to its mastery like never before. I was sure Thailand would be everything people had always told me it was, everything I had dreamed it would be.
But the reality was very different. By the end of the trip, I felt like I couldn't get out of Thailand fast enough. I rushed home not because I couldn't wait to start blogging, but simply because I couldn't wait to sleep in my own bed. I dreaded the hour when I'd eventually have to sit here at this keyboard. It's not that there's nothing to write about-- there are many things to write about, naturally. But they are very different from what I expected, and I've put off writing about them until now because I didn't want to face them. I've also been sick with a terrible cold and stomach problems (I guess my stomach couldn't quite take the food in Thailand) ever since I got back, but that's more of an excuse than anything.
The trip certainly started out well enough. The six hour flight, on the Japanese airline ANA, was really quite pleasant. The in-flight announcements were broadcast in Japanese, heavily Japanese-accented English, and Thai. I was pleased to find that I could understand more of the Thai than I could of the English (seriously). I was also very happy that the flight attendant didn't speak English to me-- she addressed me in Japanese when she saw I was reading a Japanese book (a guide to Bangkok, which I was happily engrossed in for much of the flight). Towards the end, I pulled the Thai version of "Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone" out of my bag and studied it with a very satisfying gusto for a good two hours, managing not to care one bit what the Japanese guy next to me thought of it. Every once in a while I stopped to gaze out the window and saw some very nice scenery, especially when we flew over Okinawa.
When we finally arrived at the airport, I was getting really excited to finally get a chance to use my Thai. My eyes darted around reading all the Thai signs, my ears alert for any signs of the language being spoken. Almost everyone around me, though, was foreign. My first disappointment on arriving in Thailand was the experience of waiting to go through customs in an endless sea of foreign tourists. There were people from all over, and it was interesting-- around me I heard German, French, Japanese, and some form of Chinese. But as far as I could see in all directions, everyone was waiting behind one of the signs that said "foreign passport". They were all standing there with their backpacks and their cameras and their overdone suntans, like a small army ready to take over the whole country. I knew Thailand was a popular tourist destination, but this was overwhelming. Around me, there was not one single Thai person. I wondered how much of "Thailand" would be left after this wave of quintessential un-Thainess was done crashing through it.
Unfortunately this unpleasant first impression turned out to be a theme that continued to rear its ugly head throughout my time in Thailand. Much of that time was spent, often unsuccessfully, trying to escape it. Trying to dig my way through the thick sludge of tourism that lay on the surface, and to find the "real" Thailand. Once in a while I caught glimpses of it, reached out to grab it, and almost, almost grasped a bit of it and made it my own. But I never quite got there. I didn't have enough time, I didn't have enough resources, and the sludge was just too thick. And I think this is what lies at the heart of my disillusionment.
It wouldn't have been a problem if I hadn't already invested so much of myself in this country. If I hadn't spent the past year and a half (albeit on and off) studying Thai-- if this language hadn't been my joy and my comfort and my escape for so long-- I could have just shrugged my shoulders and said "It's a nice country, but the overload of tourists kind of ruined it. Oh well. I'll just choose a less hyped-up place for my next vacation." But I couldn't. I had sold a piece of my soul to this place. It was like falling in love with someone only to come to the realization, much too late, that they just don't love you back. It was painful.
For me, traveling is not about taking nice photos. (Incidentally, my camera broke a few days into the trip, and most of the few photos I did manage to take are crap. The above picture was taken with my cell phone.) It's not about "seeing the sights". (Sure, I do enjoy visiting tourist attractions once in a while, as some of them really are impressive. But they are far from the most important part of a trip.) It's not about sampling exotic food (though Thai food is delicious), or relaxing on a pristine beach. (I didn't even go to the beach on this trip actually, though I did want to. But again, it wasn't important.) For me, traveling to another country-- especially a country whose language I've studied-- is about getting to know its culture, experiencing life first-hand through the eyes of its people, and hopefully finding the best parts of it and making them my own. For me, being completely lost in the middle of nowhere with a flat tire on my rented bicycle and getting directions from the lady selling instant coffee on the side of the road, who called her husband over to put air in my tire (yes, that really happened!), was a far more valuable experience than any guided tour on an air-conditioned bus. Such experiences are what I thrive on, but in Thailand they were few and far between. Part of it was due to the pervasiveness of the tourism industry, and part of it was due to my own weakness in not being bold enough to break through. Somewhere inside I'm afraid it's mostly the latter, but maybe you can help me decide.
Part of me wants to keep avoiding it, but I know I have to get this out of my system. I have to share my experience, just the way it was. It wasn't all bad, after all-- there were some very good moments. Maybe if I write them all out, I can get myself to believe that the real Thailand is still in there, somewhere. And that it really would be a place worth getting to.
You'll have to be patient with me, but I'm going to wrench it all out of myself over the next few days. I'm grateful to anyone who cares to come along.
Monday, July 26, 2010
ภาษาไทยเรียนไปทำไม?
I first became interested in going to Thailand when I was living in Taiwan in 2007. Some of my fellow English teachers had traveled to Thailand and came back absolutely glowing, raving on about how wonderful it is. How beautiful it is, how good the food is, how nice the people are. They were so enthusiastic about it that it made me want to go myself. Even after that, I continued to meet people who sang praises of the "land of smiles", as it's called. Apparently there's something about Thailand that draws people to it.
So I decided that I would definitely visit Thailand one day. And about a year and a half ago, just for fun really, I decided to try learning a few basic phrases in Thai. Little did I know that I would fall completely in love with the language and end up studying it seriously. I learned the alphabet, and started trying to read it, and I just kept going. I didn't really know why I was learning Thai. I had no immediate practical use for it. But I just couldn't stop. I guess it was meant to be, because I've kept up my study of Thai to this day (admittedly with a few breaks along the way), and I've reached what I'd call a solid intermediate level. (I've been spending a lot of time watching Disney movies dubbed in Thai, among other things.) =D I'm pretty sure I can have a basic conversation and understand at least the gist of what people say.
Now I'll finally get to try it out for real, because I'm leaving for Thailand on August 2nd and will be staying for two weeks. I plan on exploring Bangkok and volunteering at an elephant park in Chiangmai. (I've always wanted to meet an elephant!) Other than that, I don't have any specific plans. I prefer to go with the flow and figure things out when I get there.
I bet someone is thinking, though, "You're so weird, Jana. Why on earth would you learn Thai?" The only reason you might really need it is if you were going to live in Thailand. (Though you could argue otherwise, considering that some people actually live in a foreign country for years and never learn to speak the language!) Knowing Thai isn't really necessary if you're just going to travel (though obviously it would help). None of the people I know who traveled to Thailand could speak a word of it beyond simple greetings. Thai isn't a major world language or the language of an economically advanced country, so it wouldn't give you much of an advantage career-wise. There aren't many Thais living abroad either, and those who are probably speak the local language. Practically speaking, it just doesn't seem to make sense.
But honestly, I've never been a fan of doing things just because they're practical. "Practical" is a word for people who are comfortable keeping things just the way they are and staying on the path everyone else expects them to take, and who never feel the need to do anything different. But I want different. I need different. Forget practical. Practical makes me bored out of my mind!
Really, the same person who asks why anyone would learn Thai might just as well ask, "Why did you bother to learn Japanese, anyway?" Japanese may seem more "practical" than Thai, but it's not that much different if you think about it. I grew up in a small town in the United States. There were no Japanese people around me, or at least none who weren't completely Americanized. I had no interest in going into business in the automobile or technology industry, or any other field in which Japanese might be particularly useful. I didn't even want to teach English in Japan, really (though I ended up doing so anyway as a means of coming here). I didn't "need" to know Japanese at all. There are a million other paths I could have taken, many of which society would see as more practical choices.
But I wanted to know Japanese. I didn't need a reason. I never asked myself why-- it just made sense. I wanted to know Japanese so badly that I just had to learn it. And so I just did. Then I came to Japan, and I made Japanese a part of my life, a part of my very soul. By doing so, I made it "practical" for myself in every way that matters. And I don't regret it one little bit.
Though to this day, people still ask me why I learned Japanese or why I wanted to come to Japan, and I still have trouble answering that question. People expect me to say that I like anime or Japanese food or karate. I mean, sure, I do like those things. But none of them are the reason why I learned Japanese. There is no reason.
I think people these days are too hung up on finding a reason for everything. They're too hung up on so-called practicality. If you tell them there's no reason, they get lost and confused. But let me tell you something. (shh, it's a secret!) You don't have to do something because you can make money from it. Or because your parents want you to do it. Or because your boyfriend/ girlfriend wants you to. Or because anyone wants you to. Or because it will make you look good. You only have to do something when you want it more than anything, because you know it will make you happy. And if you're happy and fulfilled doing something you love, you'll be contributing to the good of the world in the best way you know how. Don't ask yourself why-- just do it. It will make sense eventually.
So I decided that I would definitely visit Thailand one day. And about a year and a half ago, just for fun really, I decided to try learning a few basic phrases in Thai. Little did I know that I would fall completely in love with the language and end up studying it seriously. I learned the alphabet, and started trying to read it, and I just kept going. I didn't really know why I was learning Thai. I had no immediate practical use for it. But I just couldn't stop. I guess it was meant to be, because I've kept up my study of Thai to this day (admittedly with a few breaks along the way), and I've reached what I'd call a solid intermediate level. (I've been spending a lot of time watching Disney movies dubbed in Thai, among other things.) =D I'm pretty sure I can have a basic conversation and understand at least the gist of what people say.
Now I'll finally get to try it out for real, because I'm leaving for Thailand on August 2nd and will be staying for two weeks. I plan on exploring Bangkok and volunteering at an elephant park in Chiangmai. (I've always wanted to meet an elephant!) Other than that, I don't have any specific plans. I prefer to go with the flow and figure things out when I get there.
I bet someone is thinking, though, "You're so weird, Jana. Why on earth would you learn Thai?" The only reason you might really need it is if you were going to live in Thailand. (Though you could argue otherwise, considering that some people actually live in a foreign country for years and never learn to speak the language!) Knowing Thai isn't really necessary if you're just going to travel (though obviously it would help). None of the people I know who traveled to Thailand could speak a word of it beyond simple greetings. Thai isn't a major world language or the language of an economically advanced country, so it wouldn't give you much of an advantage career-wise. There aren't many Thais living abroad either, and those who are probably speak the local language. Practically speaking, it just doesn't seem to make sense.
But honestly, I've never been a fan of doing things just because they're practical. "Practical" is a word for people who are comfortable keeping things just the way they are and staying on the path everyone else expects them to take, and who never feel the need to do anything different. But I want different. I need different. Forget practical. Practical makes me bored out of my mind!
Really, the same person who asks why anyone would learn Thai might just as well ask, "Why did you bother to learn Japanese, anyway?" Japanese may seem more "practical" than Thai, but it's not that much different if you think about it. I grew up in a small town in the United States. There were no Japanese people around me, or at least none who weren't completely Americanized. I had no interest in going into business in the automobile or technology industry, or any other field in which Japanese might be particularly useful. I didn't even want to teach English in Japan, really (though I ended up doing so anyway as a means of coming here). I didn't "need" to know Japanese at all. There are a million other paths I could have taken, many of which society would see as more practical choices.
But I wanted to know Japanese. I didn't need a reason. I never asked myself why-- it just made sense. I wanted to know Japanese so badly that I just had to learn it. And so I just did. Then I came to Japan, and I made Japanese a part of my life, a part of my very soul. By doing so, I made it "practical" for myself in every way that matters. And I don't regret it one little bit.
Though to this day, people still ask me why I learned Japanese or why I wanted to come to Japan, and I still have trouble answering that question. People expect me to say that I like anime or Japanese food or karate. I mean, sure, I do like those things. But none of them are the reason why I learned Japanese. There is no reason.
I think people these days are too hung up on finding a reason for everything. They're too hung up on so-called practicality. If you tell them there's no reason, they get lost and confused. But let me tell you something. (shh, it's a secret!) You don't have to do something because you can make money from it. Or because your parents want you to do it. Or because your boyfriend/ girlfriend wants you to. Or because anyone wants you to. Or because it will make you look good. You only have to do something when you want it more than anything, because you know it will make you happy. And if you're happy and fulfilled doing something you love, you'll be contributing to the good of the world in the best way you know how. Don't ask yourself why-- just do it. It will make sense eventually.
Sunday, July 25, 2010
Summertime
For the past couple of months I've been participating in something called the "travel forum". It's basically just a bunch of people who like to travel and meet once a month to talk about it. They have panelists who talk about their experiences and share pictures and such, and everyone else listens and can ask questions afterwards. When it's all over, those who want to go out for drinks and conversation.
I've only gone twice so far, but it's been a lot of fun and I've met some really cool, like-minded people. They've also held some other random events and get-togethers, one of which was last night. We basically just all gathered at a restaurant serving different kinds of ethnic food. I saw lots of people I'd met before and some new faces, too.
One of the girls who went was kind enough to lend me her yukata, which is like the lighter summer version of a kimono. I say "lighter" because an actual kimono has more layers and is much more complicated, but even so, a yukata isn't exactly comfortable. There are several pieces to it that are rather difficult to put on correctly (my friend helped me put it on-- most people can't do it themselves), the fabric is scratchy and rubs against your legs in a way that makes it difficult to walk, and it's really too hot for Japan's sweltering summers. Even so, it's considered a trademark of summer and you can always see a few girls (and sometimes guys) wearing them this time of year, with a fan tucked into the back of their obi (the belt-like part around the torso), probably on their way to some sort of festival or firework show.
So it wasn't comfortable (probably largely because I just wasn't used to it), but still, it was fun to try wearing it and I got a lot of compliments from people saying it looked good on me. =D
(Oh yeah, I forgot to mention that I chopped all my hair off. I think I like it this way though!)
The guy in the middle had just arrived in Japan and didn't know how to use chopsticks, so we were trying to teach him. He learned pretty quickly though!
Haha... Fail shot! XD
And this one turned out really blurry. =/ Oh well. It was a fun night!
Next month they're going to get together at a firework show, which unfortunately I can't go to-- because I'll be in Thailand at the time. =O I'm taking advantage of the gloriously long summer vacation I get as a school teacher and going to Thailand for two weeks! I'm really excited about this, because I've wanted to visit Thailand for a long time now. That's for the next post, though!
Finally, I'd like to end this post with a couple of "Engrish" signs I discovered around Yokohama this past week.
Sorry the picture isn't very good, but it says "The coffee of an Italian tomato is very delicious. Please relax on the inside of a shop carried out calmly. Don't you take breath, either?"
What on earth is "in Haenza"? (It's actually supposed to be "influenza".) It's like someone just took a guess at how it might be spelled in English, and failed miserably. XD
Anyway, that's all I have for today. Next time, Thailand!
I've only gone twice so far, but it's been a lot of fun and I've met some really cool, like-minded people. They've also held some other random events and get-togethers, one of which was last night. We basically just all gathered at a restaurant serving different kinds of ethnic food. I saw lots of people I'd met before and some new faces, too.
One of the girls who went was kind enough to lend me her yukata, which is like the lighter summer version of a kimono. I say "lighter" because an actual kimono has more layers and is much more complicated, but even so, a yukata isn't exactly comfortable. There are several pieces to it that are rather difficult to put on correctly (my friend helped me put it on-- most people can't do it themselves), the fabric is scratchy and rubs against your legs in a way that makes it difficult to walk, and it's really too hot for Japan's sweltering summers. Even so, it's considered a trademark of summer and you can always see a few girls (and sometimes guys) wearing them this time of year, with a fan tucked into the back of their obi (the belt-like part around the torso), probably on their way to some sort of festival or firework show.
So it wasn't comfortable (probably largely because I just wasn't used to it), but still, it was fun to try wearing it and I got a lot of compliments from people saying it looked good on me. =D
(Oh yeah, I forgot to mention that I chopped all my hair off. I think I like it this way though!)
The guy in the middle had just arrived in Japan and didn't know how to use chopsticks, so we were trying to teach him. He learned pretty quickly though!
Haha... Fail shot! XD
And this one turned out really blurry. =/ Oh well. It was a fun night!
Next month they're going to get together at a firework show, which unfortunately I can't go to-- because I'll be in Thailand at the time. =O I'm taking advantage of the gloriously long summer vacation I get as a school teacher and going to Thailand for two weeks! I'm really excited about this, because I've wanted to visit Thailand for a long time now. That's for the next post, though!
Finally, I'd like to end this post with a couple of "Engrish" signs I discovered around Yokohama this past week.
Sorry the picture isn't very good, but it says "The coffee of an Italian tomato is very delicious. Please relax on the inside of a shop carried out calmly. Don't you take breath, either?"
What on earth is "in Haenza"? (It's actually supposed to be "influenza".) It's like someone just took a guess at how it might be spelled in English, and failed miserably. XD
Anyway, that's all I have for today. Next time, Thailand!
Friday, July 16, 2010
I'm back!
"Adventures of the Directionally Challenged" started on Xanga back in 2005. I started it as a way to share my travels and other exploits with my far-away family and friends. Before long, it also became a place to vent as I struggled with loneliness, low self-esteem, and depression. I continued writing until February 2008, during which time I traveled to Russia to visit a friend, studied in China for three months, finished my college studies in Michigan, was a counselor at a summer camp in my hometown (Centralia, Washington), taught English in Taiwan for a year, and worked as a cashier at a Quiznos restaurant in my hometown for six months. Then, all of a sudden, just as I was about to leave for Japan, the place I had always dreamed of living in, I just stopped writing.
There were a few reasons for this. Part of it was because I thought I had finally gotten to the end of my proverbial road. I was living in Japan, just like I had always wanted. I wasn't "lost" anymore, and thus the title of the blog seemed void. I even had a boyfriend, and everyone at home was happy for me. I should have been happy. Right?
Indeed, there were lots of good things about the two years I spent in Gunma, the so-called "belly button of Japan". After all, I wouldn't have decided to stay for a second year if I were completely miserable.
(See? Smack-dab in the middle.)
I had a job I enjoyed...
And I worked with some really cool people.
I had a nice apartment in a nice, peaceful neighborhood...
I rode my bicycle to work every day, which was wonderful in the spring and fall (but not so much in winter!), I could wander around alone in the middle of the night without worrying for my safety, I had nice schedule with plenty of time off each week to pursue my interests, and I got to use Japanese all the time (I became practically native). Looking back on some of the good memories almost makes me wish I would have stayed.
But there was a darker side to the picture, too. My relationship with the above-mentioned boyfriend was extremely unhealthy. Another part of the reason I stopped blogging was because I was so consumed by that relationship, I hardly had the energy to think about anything else, much less write about it. He wasn't a bad guy, but his good intentions just kind of backfired and ended up making things worse. It's a long story, but basically the relationship had a very negative effect on my self-esteem. Deep down, I knew from the beginning that something wasn't right and it wasn't going to work... But I couldn't walk away because I was too afraid of being lonely. The crazy thing is, though, I was far lonelier while I was in that relationship than I am now as a single person. Loneliness is a strange thing.
As my second year in Gunma was coming to an end, and after I finally mustered the courage to put an end to that relationship, a very strange feeling started to creep up on me. This feeling was so unexpected that I tried to deny it at first, but it seemed that, unbelievably, I was getting tired of Japan. Me, who had known I wanted to live here since I was twelve. Me, who was told by all my Japanese friends that I was more Japanese than they were. Me, who had never felt like I belonged in the states. For years I'd been convinced that I would live here for the rest of my life, but all of a sudden I found myself wanting to leave. The feeling itself was familiar. The best way I can describe it is as extreme restlessness. Like I'll just die of unbearable boredom if I can't get away from this place right this minute. I had felt it before, back in the US. I'd just never expected to feel it here.
Then the wheels started turning a million miles a minute. I thought about taking a year off to travel the world. I thought about going to teach English in another, completely different country, like Russia or Egypt or Korea. I thought about applying to be an au pair in France. Or joining the peace corps.
Then I slowed down, and I got scared. What if I ran out of money? What if I couldn't find a job in another country? What if I ended up getting stuck teaching English for the rest of my life and hated it? What if I ended up feeling terribly homesick for Japan, after all? What if, what if, what if. The idea that "Japan is where I belong" had been so deeply entrenched in me for so long that it was just too scary to throw it out.
So I sucked it up. I went back to America to see my family for a couple of weeks (and I did visit my friend Alyona in Azerbaijan, an interesting trip which I'll have to write about later), and then I came back to Japan. I told myself that maybe if I moved to a big city, it would be exciting enough to scratch my itch for adventure. So I aimed for Tokyo, and ended up in Yokohama, which is almost just as good. (Yokohama is pretty big and lively itself, and is only about 30 minutes away from Tokyo's central districts.) So here I am, living in a share house with six other people and teaching English at a girls' high school.
I have to admit, at first I was kind of miserable. I knew I had made a big mistake coming back. I hated my job, and I wanted to leave Japan more than ever. The fact was, though, that I was stuck, mostly because I simply couldn't afford to leave. I had spent too much money on plane tickets, and shipping things back and forth-- and I still had to make payments on my student loans. I felt hopeless.
Then somehow, things got better. Through a few very fortunate positive influences, I began to realize that there is nothing wrong with me. I truly did fall in love with Japan at twelve years old, I got a lot of good things out of it and now I have many fond memories in this beautiful country that's sure to be a part of me, in some way, for the rest of my life. But maybe I just got what I needed here, whatever it was, and now I'm ready to move on. And that's okay. It sounds simple, but it was a huge revelation for me.
I also learned to see my job in a different light. Teaching English may not be something I'm incredibly passionate about, but it's something I can do reasonably well without too much effort (I've been doing it for three years, after all). The people I work with are pleasant. And when I'm not teaching classes, I actually have lots of free time at work during which I can read books or study languages (what I love to do most in the world). I get lots of vacation time, too-- and I get paid for it! What was I complaining about?
Besides, the thought that this will in all likelihood be my last year in Japan sort of makes me treasure my time here more than I would otherwise. I want to make the most of it, so I can leave without any regrets. (I remember spending a whole depressing year in Taiwan, then spending one amazing week traveling around the country and thinking, "If only I had gotten out and done something instead of sitting around feeling sorry for myself, I might have fallen in love with this place.") I want to do all the things I know I'll wish I would have done if I leave without doing them. And to write them down so I won't forget.
And I'm going to post those things here because I've finally realized and learned to acknowledge, for the first time in my life, that I am an interesting person, I have an interesting life, and I have interesting things to say. And it would really be a waste not to share it.
There were a few reasons for this. Part of it was because I thought I had finally gotten to the end of my proverbial road. I was living in Japan, just like I had always wanted. I wasn't "lost" anymore, and thus the title of the blog seemed void. I even had a boyfriend, and everyone at home was happy for me. I should have been happy. Right?
Indeed, there were lots of good things about the two years I spent in Gunma, the so-called "belly button of Japan". After all, I wouldn't have decided to stay for a second year if I were completely miserable.
(See? Smack-dab in the middle.)
I had a job I enjoyed...
And I worked with some really cool people.
I had a nice apartment in a nice, peaceful neighborhood...
I rode my bicycle to work every day, which was wonderful in the spring and fall (but not so much in winter!), I could wander around alone in the middle of the night without worrying for my safety, I had nice schedule with plenty of time off each week to pursue my interests, and I got to use Japanese all the time (I became practically native). Looking back on some of the good memories almost makes me wish I would have stayed.
But there was a darker side to the picture, too. My relationship with the above-mentioned boyfriend was extremely unhealthy. Another part of the reason I stopped blogging was because I was so consumed by that relationship, I hardly had the energy to think about anything else, much less write about it. He wasn't a bad guy, but his good intentions just kind of backfired and ended up making things worse. It's a long story, but basically the relationship had a very negative effect on my self-esteem. Deep down, I knew from the beginning that something wasn't right and it wasn't going to work... But I couldn't walk away because I was too afraid of being lonely. The crazy thing is, though, I was far lonelier while I was in that relationship than I am now as a single person. Loneliness is a strange thing.
As my second year in Gunma was coming to an end, and after I finally mustered the courage to put an end to that relationship, a very strange feeling started to creep up on me. This feeling was so unexpected that I tried to deny it at first, but it seemed that, unbelievably, I was getting tired of Japan. Me, who had known I wanted to live here since I was twelve. Me, who was told by all my Japanese friends that I was more Japanese than they were. Me, who had never felt like I belonged in the states. For years I'd been convinced that I would live here for the rest of my life, but all of a sudden I found myself wanting to leave. The feeling itself was familiar. The best way I can describe it is as extreme restlessness. Like I'll just die of unbearable boredom if I can't get away from this place right this minute. I had felt it before, back in the US. I'd just never expected to feel it here.
Then the wheels started turning a million miles a minute. I thought about taking a year off to travel the world. I thought about going to teach English in another, completely different country, like Russia or Egypt or Korea. I thought about applying to be an au pair in France. Or joining the peace corps.
Then I slowed down, and I got scared. What if I ran out of money? What if I couldn't find a job in another country? What if I ended up getting stuck teaching English for the rest of my life and hated it? What if I ended up feeling terribly homesick for Japan, after all? What if, what if, what if. The idea that "Japan is where I belong" had been so deeply entrenched in me for so long that it was just too scary to throw it out.
So I sucked it up. I went back to America to see my family for a couple of weeks (and I did visit my friend Alyona in Azerbaijan, an interesting trip which I'll have to write about later), and then I came back to Japan. I told myself that maybe if I moved to a big city, it would be exciting enough to scratch my itch for adventure. So I aimed for Tokyo, and ended up in Yokohama, which is almost just as good. (Yokohama is pretty big and lively itself, and is only about 30 minutes away from Tokyo's central districts.) So here I am, living in a share house with six other people and teaching English at a girls' high school.
I have to admit, at first I was kind of miserable. I knew I had made a big mistake coming back. I hated my job, and I wanted to leave Japan more than ever. The fact was, though, that I was stuck, mostly because I simply couldn't afford to leave. I had spent too much money on plane tickets, and shipping things back and forth-- and I still had to make payments on my student loans. I felt hopeless.
Then somehow, things got better. Through a few very fortunate positive influences, I began to realize that there is nothing wrong with me. I truly did fall in love with Japan at twelve years old, I got a lot of good things out of it and now I have many fond memories in this beautiful country that's sure to be a part of me, in some way, for the rest of my life. But maybe I just got what I needed here, whatever it was, and now I'm ready to move on. And that's okay. It sounds simple, but it was a huge revelation for me.
I also learned to see my job in a different light. Teaching English may not be something I'm incredibly passionate about, but it's something I can do reasonably well without too much effort (I've been doing it for three years, after all). The people I work with are pleasant. And when I'm not teaching classes, I actually have lots of free time at work during which I can read books or study languages (what I love to do most in the world). I get lots of vacation time, too-- and I get paid for it! What was I complaining about?
Besides, the thought that this will in all likelihood be my last year in Japan sort of makes me treasure my time here more than I would otherwise. I want to make the most of it, so I can leave without any regrets. (I remember spending a whole depressing year in Taiwan, then spending one amazing week traveling around the country and thinking, "If only I had gotten out and done something instead of sitting around feeling sorry for myself, I might have fallen in love with this place.") I want to do all the things I know I'll wish I would have done if I leave without doing them. And to write them down so I won't forget.
And I'm going to post those things here because I've finally realized and learned to acknowledge, for the first time in my life, that I am an interesting person, I have an interesting life, and I have interesting things to say. And it would really be a waste not to share it.
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