As the sun slowly sets on my time here...

The past few weeks have been rather strange for me emotionally.  I’m not looking forward to the prospect of leaving Japan.   Lately, I’ve found myself almost melancholic when visiting the supermarket, filling up gas, going to school or seeing the local kids playing outside.  Even the damn advertisements that come on before the Youtube clips (except for that annoying fabric softener one with the fluffy towels!) have reminded me that in a months’ time I won’t see any of this stuff anymore.  This will no longer be my reality.  Instead, I’ll go back to where I came from.   Back to the place that supposedly makes more sense to me.    It’s the place where I should feel the most secure about myself.   It’s the place that I should be sprinting back to, surely?  I’ll be able to comprehend every written word with ease.  I’ll pick up on every nuance and subtle message underlying every conversation I hear or engage in without breaking a sweat.  I’ll be able to speak English again at my crazy, hyperventilating pace about things that wouldn’t shatter a thin sheet of glass much less the earth.  I’ll be able to watch any movie I want, without having to check first whether it’s been ‘subbed’.  I’ll be able to go to McDonalds, order a combo, and change it several times knowing that the cashier is easily able to keep pace with me.  I’ll even be able to hear Samoan and Tongan being spoken on a daily basis, if I stick around Auckland long enough.  I’ll be able to watch all the mindless TV I want, meet up with friends over coffee to have superficial ‘deep and meaningful’ chats that stir up emotion rather than inspire any purposeful action, run without having to worry about snakes sinking their fangs into my ankles and gorge on all the food I used to eat, but strangely never actually missed.  I’m hot and cold about going home, not sure if I’m ready but deep down I know that it is the right time for me to leave Japan.   

Living in Japan and experiencing something of the culture on a daily basis, there’s no mistaking the air of ‘innocence’ about the place and its people.  Japanese people in general exemplify what it means to live and breathe respect for others.  They have a positive outlook about life which I think largely stems from the respect they so easily carry within themselves.  They like to think the best of others.  It’s not that they’re naïve or suffering from some kind of ‘rose tinted’ blindness.  It’s quite the opposite.  Japanese people are very astute.  This just seems to be the perspective they choose to conduct their affairs from.  Always lead with sunshine.  Put an umbrella up for when it rains.  Not once have I felt that people were wary or guarded around me.  I mean there’s so many of us that come here to teach their children who are the most vulnerable sector of their population.  Why would they allow this if they were mistrustful of non-Japanese people? 

The Japanese are genuinely very nice people.  That’s not to say that there aren’t nice people in my own country.  It’s just that it seems more obvious here.   Every aspect of life in Japan promotes respect for others.  Even the environment is respected.  This country is so pristinely clean I wouldn’t be surprised if they were polishing the roads.  A lot of foreigners comment on the lack of public bins around to sensibly dispose of rubbish.  That’s because people tend not to litter, and what rubbish they may have accumulated over the course of the day, they hold onto until they find that elusive trash can.        

These days, peoples’ motives are examined thoroughly.  Not a lot seems to be taken at face value anymore.  ‘Suspicious Minds’ has made its way back onto the charts.   People I guess are not as trusting as they once were and perhaps that’s because we’re not as trustWORTHY as we used to be.  We’re always in a rush, and stressing out over one thing or another.  Our world has become smaller and our view much narrower to the point where we can’t see anything or anyone past our own wants and needs.  And respecting others as a priority goes down the toilet.  That’s all a bit dramatic and grossly inaccurate but it could happen if we’re not careful.  You can’t dispute that most of us instinctively hesitate before offering help (in the case of strangers).  We most certainly take pause before accepting help.  Maybe it’s justified with the rise in violent crimes all over the world, in recent years.  You just never know.  But this shift to look out only for number one is made at the expense of community which seems to have largely eroded away with precious little left. 

Here in Japan, people help each other because it’s the right thing to do.  I’m not saying that this is a hotbed of angels, martyrs and saints.  Japanese people do not have a monopoly over the world’s empathy and compassion.  What I am saying is that their response in my view is not burdened with ‘what ifs’.  They react promptly to a situation, and work through it until they have reached an acceptable solution.  They support because they can.  They rally around because the alternative is to do nothing, and that makes no sense at all.  I can remember several different occasions where people have gone out of their way to do things for me, when I’ve asked for assistance.  It’s not because they’re trying to impress me.  It’s not because I’m anyone special either.  It’s because, they genuinely wanted to improve my situation, because they could and because I asked.   They don’t know me from a bar of soap and yet they never hesitated to lend a hand.  You do feel kind of statesman-like, when your issue takes precedence and every other matter is put to one side so that your problem is attended to straight away.  It’s a little embarrassing at times, because you’re thinking, who am I? I’m happy to wait for my turn thanks.  But then again, if you insist.    

Of course we have to offset this view with some real truths so people don’t think that Japan is one big ‘bubblegum jellybean candy land’ of sorts.   Of course, Japan has crime and deviance.  There are miscreants here who have done terrible things to others, without so much as a backward glance.  With every basket, there’s bound to be a few rotten apples.  But the majority of people here I believe are decent, respecting everything and everyone.   

You may say that this is just sentimental, selective drivel.  ‘She’s going soon, of course she’s going to say that‘.  But it’s true.  It honestly is. 

Maybe it’s a rural thing.  I don’t know.   But I have to say even in the big cities where it’s over run with crazy busy people I’m usually on the receiving end of kindness and generosity, from both strangers and acquaintances.  I’m not one of those pathetic, clingy types either, playing the perpetual victim.  I’m at least a head taller than most Japanese people and for a country where English proficiency is not the greatest, well, that’s my mother tongue!  Why would anyone in their right mind come anywhere near me?   

Living in Japan reminds me a lot of my childhood.  I have vivid memories of seeing my Dad and other motorists jump out of their vehicles to help push start someone whose car had suddenly stalled on the open road.   Rain or shine, they never hesitated to help out, and when the deed was done, they’d hop back into their own cars and drive off as if it was nothing.  That doesn’t happen a lot these days.  Most people slow down only to speed up again and pass by, thinking, someone else will come along and help.  Random acts of kindness were an everyday thing, not a catchphrase.  There wasn’t a calendar day dedicated to it, no books written about it and certainly no guest appearance on a cheesy chat show to broadcast to the world how great you apparently are.  People just got on with it.  Like they still do here in Japan. 

For the first few months, of arriving here, I would run regularly along the road, trying to maintain some kind of fitness regime.  This became all important to me after discovering that eating copious amounts of white rice, can tip the scales so dramatically so as to make your very soul weep bitterly at your lack of self-control.  One day I was running when it started to rain.  I welcomed it at first because it cooled my flushed face, but after a very short time, it started to seriously pour down and I was at least another 15 minutes away from home.  Within seconds my hair was plastered to my head, and I was soaked to the skin.  I could barely see anything ahead of me, as the water was running down my face and into my eyes.  It was only then that I realised I was the only person on the street, and safe to conclude the only one who hadn’t checked the weather forecast for the day.    

A few moments later, a small white truck slowed down beside me and then hopped up onto the curb cutting me off from running further.  A little old man jumped out of the truck and told me to get in.  I thought that was a bit odd, seeing I’d never seen him before in my life.  A woman presumably his wife was at the wheel.   She smiled sweetly at me and beckoned me to enter the vehicle.  The cab was only big enough for two people and I turned to look at the old man, who was now sheltering under a bit of roof offered by a nearby shed.  He smiled at me as if this was something he did on a regular basis.  So I got into the little white truck and closed the door.  The nice old lady greeted me and I think she said something along the lines of ‘did you not read the weather forecast today?’.  She made some grand gestures with her hands that I quickly interpreted to mean a house.  I smiled nervously at her and pointed straight ahead, and said ‘apato?’.  Thank God I lived in a small town with only one apartment complex.  She understood straight away and pressed down on the gas and we were away.  It was bucketing down even more and I was ever so grateful that this lovely couple found me.  We headed down the road, rounded the corner, and crossed the bridge in the direction of my apartment.  She came to a halt right in front of the building and I thanked her profusely, bowing several times as I opened the door to let myself out, nearly falling flat on my face in the process.  She waved out to me, smiled and then turned the vehicle around before disappearing down the road to retrieve her husband who despite the bit of roof for shelter he was currently under was probably missing the warm and dry interior of the little white truck I had just vacated.  I never saw that couple again. 

That’s what I mean about Japan being the place of my childhood.  A time rather than place, where you could trust people (to the degree that you could get a free ride home) to do what they said they were going to do.  I would never dream of accepting a lift from a stranger back home.  I would happily let the storm waters carry me down the council drain than get into a stranger’s car.   But here?????

Last year of course I was singing a different tune.  I wasn’t so generous with my praises then but that was because I was missing home, family and friends.  I think it takes at least two years to adjust, accept and embrace another country’s way of living. And now that I have, it’s time to pack up and go.

Thank you Japan for keeping me safe these past two years.