July 25th, 2008: History and Histories

Odawara City has many homes stretched across the homeland. One minute, you’re seeing house after house, and the next, an apartment crops up before another army of rather vertical homes begins again.

As Eriko said, Japan doesn’t have much land. They try to conserve space, leaving minimal room for car parking and running bridges and transportation though already buildings packed areas. The close proximity of everything—the neighbors, other cars on the narrow roads, and living spaces in general—made me realize the reasons why the people here were so hospitable.

Everyone and everything surrounded them, and very little was wasted. No smog or film of pollution littered the air. Trash didn’t sprawl out into streets; it was hardly seen. Even inside Eriko’s home, the walls, hardwood floors, and the tatami maters were emaculate. I feared dirtying anything and made an effort to keep everything as clean as possible.

There were shoes for every occasion, probably to keep everything as clean as possible. There were indoor shoes, worn mostly in school facilities. They were made out of rubber and spandex material. For homes, there were slippers to keep the hardwood floor clean. For the bathrooms, woven slippers or straw slippers stayed inside the confines of the tiny bathrooms. Everywhere you went, it was customary to take off your shoes at the entrance before slipping on the indoor shoes.

The customs weren’t very rigid as I expected. Everyone was hospitable, always giving us something cool to drink and providing us with snacks. I was very impressed with their generosity, and I began to think of ways to be more hospitable in my own life.

The lives Eriko and her family lead was simple, as were the rest of the people I met. It seemed bland, compared to the hustle and bustle of America, but I understood why. There wasn’t much room for diversity in the culture. Even the lack of disabled person—or people with disabilities who continued to do things like everyone else—showed how little room there was to be a non-contributor to the society. You would only witness a few lame people, but even they made their way around without assistance.

*

Today, we toured historical places in Odawara. We went to a couple of memorial houses, the Environmental Enterprise Center, and the Odawara Castle. At the Environmental Enterprise Center, we learned about Odawara City’s recycling affairs, which normally consisted of 9 separate categories in sorting, and how their system reduced pollution for waste disposal.

They burn the “Burnable” waste at super high temperatures before spraying the air with water to decrease CO2 pollution and gas exposure outdoors. The heat from the steam produced from adding water generates electricity for the air conditioners to run and the water run off from the AC’s go to the greenhouse located on the plant’s premises. Though the tour of the facility was unclimatic, their advancement in waste disposal blew my mind.

We went to the Matsunaga Memorial Hall and participated in a traditional tea ceremony and bento lunch. As I sat there, chewing on a piece of tempura shrimp, I gazed out into a view that overlooked the house’s yard. Just sitting there, on the tatami mats and listening to the idle chatter in Japanese, I realized I didn’t want to leave Japan. I felt like I had returned home, and finally figured out what I was missing all these years. It dampered my spirits to remind myself that the stay in Odawara was brief.

We left Matsunaga Memorial Hall, and I felt saddened by the loss of the nostalgic feelings in being there. We went to Odawara Castle, an English-speaking guide showing us through high copper gates from the Edo Period and weaving us through galleries inside the castle. We couldn’t take pictures, so I drew different items, trying to capture what was prohibited by the curators.

At the very top of the castle, we delighted in the most breath-taking view of the city I thought didn’t exist. We explored the gift shop, and I bought something for my co-worker. We left Odawara Castle with gifts, memories, and a handful of digital pictures—most of which included us holding katana.

Our last stop was the Sontoku Memorial Museum. Sontoku, a man who devoted half his life to helping poor villages secure food and battled sporadic whims under social justice, lead a rich and, largely, peaceful life. The museum, though small, displayed life-sized models of Sontoku and his life for others. At the museum, Papa-san met me and tagged along until we bade everyone goodbye as they finished looking at cicada.

We headed home, and at the house, we waited until Mama-san’s arrival. I sat on the window sill, reading with my feet on the balcony before they called me down. Together, we drove 30 minutes to a 100 yen shop named Daisko. It was a store with everything, from food to organizers to buttons to flags. I picked out 2 pairs of arm warmers, a belt, and souvenirs that were of good quality. My host parents paid for it, totaling under 2,000 yen before we went to a dessert store and bought manjyu (a type of sweet) and ice cream. They let me pick out the green tea wafer ice cream, where a cone wafer surrounded a glob of green tea ice cream. When we returned home, Eriko was waiting for us, and she asked about my day.

Mama-san served me curry with rice, seaweed soup, and cucumbers with tomatoes before I got my hands on one of the treasured green tea ice cream bars. It was good, in spite of the somewhat stale wafer, but I love green tea ice cream. Eriko had me translate a French card after dinner and we started talking about slang, dialects, and accents until we drifted to bed. I slept soundly for most of the 8 hours of sleep I had. Though the day was simple, I was far fatigued.

July 24th, 2008: Childhood Learning

Japan seems such a tranquil place. I’ve felt at ease being here, like I’ve come back home. I woke up early today, sure to receive the 8 hours of sleep my body seemed to lack the past few days. The heat, which felt normal, was still high at 7:30 in the morning. I prepared the room for Mama-san’s cleaning later on, putting discarded papers and gifts into the provided drawers and stealthily setting aside my wardrobe for the day.

Once it was 8 am, I stole downstairs to find both Eriko’s grandparents in the kitchen with Mama-san. They spotted me, and we bowed to each other several times, each time, greeting formalities. I went to the bathroom and returned to my room. We were to leave at 8:30 am, and I busied myself with dressing. When I arrived at the table downstairs, Eriko was setting up breakfast for me.

We ate onigiri—seaweed wrapped rice with seasonings—miso soup, pickled cucumber, and tomatoes. Once we finished and gathered our belongings, Eriko’s mom drove us to the preschool we were meant to volunteer at today. We met Jason and his host parent there before we entered the facility. The preschool was a bustling place, with many caretakers in cute aprons and children running around. We were ushered into a staff lounge and greeted by the cheerful director.

Her round face and rosy cheeks reminded me of my aunt. She was engaging, asking us questions we half-understood and smiling at us with welcoming eyes. She showed us to the big room where all the children lined up to greet us. They sang to us, and after an intercession to change, we joined them in the 2-foot swimming pool in the back. The kids splashed us—mostly against my will because I improvised a red tank top and my black basketball shorts as swimwear. We played in the pool for an hour before showing ourselves back into the preschool. After changing, the assistant director insisted we join the kids for lunch.

I sat with four 5-year old boys. One boy, Yuu, was very talkative and kept hitting his friend in the head with a resounding “Baka!” When he asked me questions, I stuffed my mouth with rice in hopes of avoiding the half-understood question. Eriko, from a table over, tried to translate for me, but she also entertained a table of 5-year-olds.

Soon, lunch was over and the kids were directed to brush their teeth and change into pajamas for nap time. We helped to put them to bed by patting them on the back. Once a majority of the kids fell asleep, we were lead out of the preschool to explore the streets around. Our guide took us alongside the river, explaining things along the way. We stopped at a wooden mosaic museum, an ice cream shop and a seaside front before heading back to the preschool.

Our guide provided us with sweets and drinks while we waited for the kids to be redressed in casual clothing. We ate with them again, me avoiding Yuu altogether, and visited the director before our farewell party began.

The kids gave us origami and a small photo album, then they lined up in a circle, and we each went around and shook their hands. Mama-san arrived in time to snap a few shots of us. Sadly, we left the preschool with little faces and hands waving ‘sayanora’ to us as we drove away. We arrived at City Hall shortly afterwards to work on our presentation with the other delegates.

The presentation, being in English, needed some help with translating it into Japanese. We spent a majority of our time explaining words to the Odawara delegates. Jason, Eriko, Haruka, Chris, and I left together.

As we made our way to the elevator, I noticed a familiar person standing before a group of people, all following his movements. He saw us right away, but I was the only one who smiled and waved once I realized it was Mayor Kato. He smiled back, and him and a few other white-collared associated returned my wave.

In spite of Mayor Kato’s regular attire, he didn’t appear to be a businessman like the other white collars. Instead, an eloquent, commanding figure stood before them, waving his hands to illustrate his point and showing an unreadable smile on his lips.

He was quite handsome. I was in awe by his demeanor, and even moreso by his looks. I suddenly felt giddy and followed the others to the elevator. As we waited for Eriko’s mother to arrive, Shoko-san showed me around the mini Odawara museum crowned with an oversized Odawara Japanese light. It was seemed many cosmetics, artisan wood, and technology came from the Kanagawa Prefecture city.

July 23rd, 2008: New Eyes Part II

“We are going to 100-yen shop,” she told us. Earlier, we had made the suggestion to visit the shop, the equivalent of an US $.99 store. I spoke with her as we waited at a crosswalk. Shoko-san was very sweet and her speech, in both English and Japanese, held a gentle manner. Her light-complexed face had a quality that seemed cherub-like. I found her to be innocent and yet, profound in thought when she addressed others.

I talked to her about America and the Odawara delegates, passing colorful signs in kanji, katakana, and hiragana. I was amazed at all of the stores we passed, and finally, Shoko-san directed us to the 100-yen store.

It was on the third floor (sankai) of a posh-looking building, and upon reaching our destination, Shoko-san announced she needed to return to the International Lounge to help prepare the party. I was held responsible for getting the group back. We were on our own to explore the stores. Chris and Jason disappeared inside the racks of the 100-yen store while Kelsey and I explored the clothing areas.

There were shirts that were imported from America and China, and racks of in-style fashion swayed from racks. You couldn’t tell where one store started and one ended.

Kelsey and I joined up with Chris and Jason, and at the 100-yen shop, I made my first purchase 2 handkerchiefs and a belt key chain. I paid in coins the 382 yen (less than $3.82) and we made our way to the exit.

Along the way, we noticed a Lolita clothing store. The store was cloaked behind a black wooden wall, its only store display and an unlocked door indicating its existence. We didn’t know how we missed it, seeing that it was the only store on the floor where a door had to be opened to enter, but we marveled at the immediate change in atmosphere once we entered.

The store had everything and anything Lolita, gothic, and punk. Unfortunately, everything was expensive. Kelsey recognized the song playing in the background and asked the store clerk about it. He responded the best he could in English.

We left the store, disappointed at the costs, and exited the building. We took pictures walking back to the International Lounge, looking at everything with a newborn sense of excitement. After walking past the building, we stopped at a magazine shop. Jason purchased an anime magazine, his second purchase of the day.

Soon, we returned to the International Lounge, the room filled with City Council member, host families, and past and present Odawara delegates.

The time for the celebration began and we were seated at the front of the room with everyone watching our emcee. He greeted everyone then introduced a City Council member for his speech. He thanked everyone and formally welcomed us here in Japan.

We each stood up and introduced ourselves in Japanese, before the emcee moved on to introduce host family members. Finally, we were instructed to eat food. They served a brigade of food! Different types of sushi, dumplings, tempura, fried lobster, and shrimp, and red bean rice became our dinner. While we ate, we mingled with everyone.

The atmosphere wasn’t rigid at all in spite of the courtesy bows and attention to politeness. It was tranquil, like a soft family function, as we ate and drank. Surprisingly, beer (biiru) was stationed at the table with beverages and desserts, but hardly anyone took any of the canned Kirin liquid. In America, the beer would disappear within the first five minutes, desperately trying to slurp away reality.

We played a group rock-paper-scissors game in teams, trying to collect as many names as possible. Mitsukawa-sama, Jason’s family host, had the most names on her paper. Chris’s team won the most names in a group and they collected a giant wealth of chocolate and biscuit snacks that was distributed to anyone who asked.

The Welcome Party went on to a formal closing by the Odawara delegates and everyone began to make doggy bags from the leftover food. Everyone helped to clean up the room and return tables and chairs to their original states. A group of formal delegates played rock-paper-scissors to win trays of food.

Soon enough, the room was rearranged back to its former glory and all of the guests began to take their leave, taking each one of us away. Mama-san and Eriko lead me towards a nearby train station, the bunny ears I was given by Haruka’s sister-in-law and the bottle of my favorite drink my arms.

As we walked around, I noticed how many people glanced at me or stared at me. I felt like I was the only black person in Japan, but I knew this would happen. Japan isn’t highly diverse in ethnic backgrounds like California.

We waited for the train in a waiting room, a room with several chairs that was cooler than the waiting chairs outside. Eriko asked me about her closing speech. “What I said, ‘I will do my best to be a go-between for Chula Vista and Odawara,’ was that ok?”

“For ‘go-between,’ we use ‘ambassador,’” I explained as plainly as possible. “Or you could use a French word, ‘liaison.’” I slowly reiterated the word and she sounded it out carefully. “It is a business word, a big word. But ‘ambassador’ is fine.” When we boarded our train, she pulled out her translator and I spelled ‘ambassador’ for her. She seemed amazed at the new word.

The train ride was brief. The train in Japan was littered with ads up ads on the ceilings and sides of the inside of the cars. The train we boarded was a Women’s train. Between 7:10 to 9:30 am, the Odayo line and the Chidate line became a train only for women, men with disabilities, men care attendants, and children under 12. I heard about these trains before, but I was amazed at being inside one.

We exited the train at our stop and walked to Eriko’s house. While we walked, Eriko’s mom explained that she was off work tomorrow and she would clean my room. I learned that Mama-san didn’t like to cook or iron. I promised I would make pasta for them if they liked.

We entered the house, and after extracting my shoes, I hurried to my room to put down my gifts. I discovered a huge spider on my ceiling and immediately informed Eriko. She and Mama-san grabbed a bottle of bug spray and proceeded to spray the spider. It took some time to kill and Mama-san fearlessly disposed of the spider.

“Daishobu,” Mama-san said to the fear etched across my face in spite of the spider’s death. I went about, preparing for my shower. When I returned downstairs, Eriko and I discovered two more spiders, one on the goza—tatami summer rug—and one on the wall. Mama-san bravely disposed of them and Eriko told me that more spiders trekked in this ear than last year. It was because of the lack of rain, her mother explained.

I decided to take a shower, looking at all corners of each room in search of any arachnids. Thankfully, the rest of the evening was short.

After my shower, I returned to my room to write, and fell asleep between paragraphs. At 11:15 pm, I turned on the fan and turned off my lights before falling into a deep sleep.

July 23rd, 2008: New Eyes Part I

Today was such a hectic day, but it yielded many rewards for the whole delegation. I tossed and turned the night before, trying to force my body into an exhausted sleep stage because of the time change, and succeeded in getting 8 broken hours of Dreamland. I woke up at 8:30 am, my mind set on organizing my temporary room as I gathered my disorientated thoughts whilst driving away any residual fatigue.

The small room accommodated for what I unpacked. I placed clothes on hangers, folded socks together, and withdrew gifts hidden amongst the suitcases. I placed my luggage close to a space beneath the window seat before heading downstairs with 2 more gifts steadied quietly in my arms.

Eriko was already awake, her translator and paperwork neatly covering the table top, as I approached. She greeted with questions of a good hostess.

"Would you like something to drink?" I accepted the tea, and once breakfast was established with different flavored breads- pan with sesame, pan with raisins--we began a conversation about the different aspects of our lives. She asked about cereal and I asked about her family as I skimmed over translated pieces of her speech for later on.

It was very peaceful, enjoying great bread and bananas and sharing stories about my life.

At 11 am, we set up the iron, and as I ironed my business attire, she watched curiously, asking me questions about my life and sending me smiling when she thought of a word she couldn't translate. At 11:30 am, we separated to change and pack our things together for our big trip to Odawara's City Hall. We set out at 12:30 pm towards Chris, another City delegate like myself, whose host family was nearby. They drove us to City Hall, and from there, we began a lengthy tour of the building.

We met Shoko, an able and devoted member of Odawara's International Friendship Association. She went through our schedule for our stay in Odawara before we went to meet the mayor and the council members.

At first, I assumed the mayor was one of the three older people seated at the head of the long table. The real mayor entered shortly after, and I was taken aback. The mayor looked quite young, especially when he broke into a smile. He was quite handsome, with his smoothed black hair, small black eyes, and broad shoulders, and I was immediately smitten.

He understood much English, though limited in responding, and after introductions to the City Council, we introduced ourselves in Japanese. I was the first to go.

I introduced myself with my name, age, and school in attendance before bowing, and the introduction was one I would have to repeat 2 more times later on. The mayor gave us gifts, traditional wooden sweet plates, and we imparted a small box of chocolates and a T-shirt to him.

Soon, we were being ushered into a smaller room and repeated the same process, accepting gifts from the vice chairman of the Assembly. We left to tour the rest of City Hall, and soon enough, we were off towards the International Lounge, our destination for the Welcome Party planned by the Odawara delegates. We helped set up, moving chairs and tables to make the room look more presentable. I was impressed with the girls. They held a blueprint for the tables and chairs. I felt more reassured by the preparedness.

As more people from the City Hall came to assist we were called by Shoko-san to follow her. We traveled down the stairs and onto the streets in search of a shoe store. The shoe store we stopped at was filled with brown and black colored shoes. It had few sneakers, but an immense amount of semi-formal and business casual shoe wear.

Shoko-san approached the store clerk and politely asked for indoor shoes. Indoor shoes are shoes used to walk around inside buildings. We would need them for our volunteering activities the following days. The store clerk returned with several boxes in her arms. Kelsey and I wore the same size and Chris and Jason wore large sizes. In Japan, shoe size is in centimeters. We had to look at the current shoes we were wearing to locate the tag with our shoe size in it. I ordered a pair of blue and white indoor shoes and Kelsey ordered red ones. The entire time we went through shoes, the store clerk serviced us mostly on her knees in a polite, waiting manner.

She watched us speak in English, and when we finally decided what shoes we wanted, she hurriedly collected the many boxes and shoes already sprawled out in front of her and awaited us at the counter.

Shoko-san purchased the shoes, which were cheap--only 8,000 yen per shoe or less than $8 in American money--and she trekked us past the buildings we exited earlier.

July 22nd, 2008: Getting to Japan! Excitement!

When we landed, the excitement built up again inspite of the 11-hour flight and the warning ache in my stomach. Once the plane made an anticlimatic landing, we set foot on the Land of Japan. We followed the masses over flat escalators for 200meters before climbing down stairs to go through our passport check-in, and finger-printing and photo. We claimed our luggage and made a quick trip through customs before wheeling our bags out into an immaculate hallway and a clearing of people looking for their loved ones. Eriko and Risa ran up to us, holding out signs with our names on it.

"Kochira wa..." and I went on to introduce everyone else in Japanese before we exchanged our US dollars for yen. My $370 yielded 38,000 yen for me. We left and went straight through the trains that stemmed like roots from underneath the Narita Airport.

We spent another 4 hours waring through Japanese people, most of which were businessmen and a few yukata-clad festival goers. We talked to the two girls as we held round plastic rings for support and swayed with the trains many stops and go's. Eriko, an English major, held a better grasp of the language, translating the long explanations of certain questions in Japanese to Risa whenever possible. Risa, with her bright smile, was quite the fashionista out of the two girls. She wore white high heels that seemed to be pulled out of a fairy bridal magazine, a brown tunic, and black shorts that peeked out from the tunic's chocolate material.

The trains weren't packed like I assumed. We simply rode, watching lights zoom past our eyes with pictures and Nihongo splayed across billboards and signs. There was nothing disinteresting to look at. On our last train ride on an express train, we snacked on sandwiches with the crust cut neatly from the rest of the bread. It was good, but the long trip over the Pacific Ocean and the multiple train transfers began to take its toll on me. I napped between stares out the window, enjoying the feel of my body succumbing to the fatigue.

After the last train, we hurried down several stairs to be greeted by a group of Japanese people, all happy to see us. There was a lot of commotion, and I'm certain we made passerby head turns. We introduced ourselves, becoming excited from the bubbly energy from the crown, and nervously introduced ourselves with the knowledge that our train-bouncing had ended.

Many pictures, laughter, and introductions later, my host family--Eriko and her parents--lead me to their car and loaded my two bags into it. We chatted as Eriko's father, Papa-san as I call him, wounded down the narrow streets of Odawara, driving on the left hand side. It was completely different driving in Japan versus driving on the right side in America.

Arriving "home", I took off my shoes when I entered and followed Eriko up to my room with my luggage. They had prepared a small room for me, equipped with a futon, a flower rug, small drawers, a small bedside table, and an electric fan. I unpacked the gifts I brought and gave them to the family. I gave the parents a bottle of American wine, Eriko a few small gifts, and T-shirts I designed, and See's Candies lollipops to all. Apparently, See's Candies is a highly expensive brand in Japan, and it is a common gift to Japanese people from both tourists and Japanese alike.

Once the gifts were exchanged, Eriko showed me how to use the shower. It was very different to say the least, from an American shower. You sat on a plastic bench and switched the water between facet or shower modes. I stood up to accommodate the rather awkward seating. I was in desperate need of a shower after 48 hours since my last one.

In the Japanese shower, once finished scrubbing and washing my hair, I dried myself with a small thin towelette before entering the room attached holding a regular towel to dry everything. I felt at ease and warm after my shower and proceeded to talk to Eriko about the next day's activities. Soon, her mother announced that she was retiring to bed and before long, Eriko was showing me how to turn on the fan for 3 hour timing, if needed. I finally drew the thin covers they supplied with the futon over my body, and once my head hit the pillow, I was out like a light.