Sayonara Japan!

The closer my departure from Japan gets, the more I think about how much I’ve learned and changed these past few months. I definitely feel like a different person will be going back to Wisconsin than the one who left it.

For one, I’d say I’m a far more adventurous eater. I wasn’t exactly picky before I left home, but I definitely wasn’t so throw all caution to the wind when it comes to food as I am now. The only thing I’ve been offered in Japan that I didn’t try was raw hamburger and raw egg mixed up together and that was mostly because my stomach had been hurting that day and I didn’t think I would be doing it any favors if I ate such a concoction. Otherwise, every bit of food that’s been put before me I’ve given a go. There’s been more times than I can count where I stuffed something in my mouth and only learned later what in the heck I ate. And now I’m leaving Japan knowing that I quite like squid, octopus and salmon, I really don’t like tuna, okonomiyaki is one of my favorite foods, I don’t mind sushi, and that tempura ice cream is possibly the greatest thing ever invented.

The above paragraph can be viewed as another example of a way in which Japan has changed me: I’ve settled on opinions that I didn’t even know I had. Leaving Japan, I know how I feel about the Futenma Air Base, for example, and kisha clubs. I can have a conversation about Japan/US relations throughout history or discuss orientalism and nihonjinron. I know who the burakumin are and who Hatoyama is. I can tell you about Tulle Lake and talk about defamation laws in Japan. I can even sign my name in Japanese Sign Language. So while I’ve had more academically challenging semesters in the past (more papers, etc), I’ve learned quite a lot this semester.

And more than just widening my palate and learning a bunch of stuff about Japan, I came to understand a lot more about my own nationality and culture. Before I came to Japan, I never really considered American culture as legitimate (for lack of a better word). I thought the United States was just this salad bowl of things taken from other, more interesting places and dulled down, but that we didn’t have anything that was purely American. Now I can see that, yeah, the United States does have a unique culture of its own and that while Americans have ties and ancestry from all corners of the world, we have a set of ideals that binds us together to make us distinctly American. (Though the political talking heads might have us think otherwise.)

Being in Japan, I’ve gotten the smallest sliver of a taste of what it might be like to be an immigrant. It sucks. But seriously, now whenever I think about how people get so up in arms about having Spanish next to English on labels and things, I get really, really annoyed and I see it for the xenophobia that it is. Learning a language is hard. Balls hard. And being in another country where you don’t speak the language, where even if you do speak it you can’t pick up on all the cultural nuances, it’s scary and beyond frustrating. You feel like an idiot 98% of the time and I’ll admit, there were a couple of moments this past semester when I had a good cry because trying to learn Japanese felt so futile and pointless. I can’t begin to imagine picking up everything and moving to permanently live in a foreign country where they don’t speak the same language as you do. Before I came to this country, I’ll admit, I didn’t know quite where I stood on the issue of immigration. Now that I’ve experienced for myself a little bit of what it might be like to be an immigrant, I know where my sympathies lie.

Speaking of xenophobia, I don’t think I ever truly realized how isolated the United States is from other countries. It’s like our mentality is to see the world from only one perspective: ours. We think Africa’s a country and we think Japan and China are synonymous with one another. Most people in the United States don’t have passports and have never been out of the country, not even to Canada or Mexico. We get upset when our president is diplomatic with world leaders and we expect other people to learn our language, not the other way around. In school, we’re taught American history again and again, but we only get one year of world history. We only know one piece of the whole (and I would argue we don’t even know that piece very well). What I don’t understand is why. Why don’t we know our neighbors better? Why are we constantly going around with this “us versus them” ideology? As Zefron would say, we’re all in this together. ;)

Last August, it was like I was looking at a pointillism painting and only seeing dots. Now I feel like Japan has caused me take a few steps back and I can actually see what image those dots form to make. I’m so, so grateful for this fine adventure I’ve had the privilege to have. I truly feel like it’s changed me for the better and I can’t wait to see and experience more of this crazy, fantastic world we live in.
I’ll see you in England.

EDIT: Sorry for the continued text heaviness of this post, but I wasn't able to write about my actual departure, so I thought I'd do so here. Leaving Japan was very hard for me. I don't think I've ever experienced such an emotional roller coaster before. I was happy and excited to come home and see my family and friends, but also devastated to leave what had become my Japan home. I cried saying good bye to my awesome speaking partner, Rina, I cried (multiple times) saying good bye to my wonderful-beyond-words host family, and I cried on the plane as I said good bye to Osaka and I cried on the plane as I took off from my layover in Tokyo saying sayonara to Japan. I feel like I left a part of myself behind in Japan and I dearly hope I'll be returning one day. I became close to some great people and made a lot of fantastic friends who I'm not ready to say a permanent good bye to just yet.