Submitted by: D. Eyerman - Shiga, Japan

Is a question I have received frequently from my students. I’ve both told them the truth and lied, but no matter what, they’re confused. If I’m Japanese, why do I speak English and have curly hair? If I’m not Japanese, how is it that I’m living in Japan and can speak some Japanese?

So, am I Japanese?

Yes:
-I eat just about everything with chopsticks.
-I apologize unnecessarily.
-I eat fish, rice and miso soup for breakfast.
-I recognize the supreme authority given to Rock, Paper, Scissors for resolving interpersonal conflicts.
-I can be sitting with 4 friends at dinner, and be (just as everyone around me) pounding away on my cell phone sending emails.
-I take my shoes off when I come home, and require that of all my guests. My take-off-shoes reflex is so strong, that when entering hotel rooms, I feel odd leaving my shoes on.
-I look forward to nights out ending with a trip to the local karaoke place.
-I eat Japanese-size portions.
-During conversations, I make “I’m listening” grunts and short “OK” comments, even to Americans, which throws off some Americans who are used to silence on the other end when they are speaking. Similarly, if I’m speaking to someone and I don’t receive that same feedback, I wonder if the person I’m speaking to is still there.
I stare at any and all foreigners.

No:
-I’m tall.
-I have curly hair.
-I cross the street on red.
-I can’t stand natto. (a popular bean curd dish - it’s the Japanese Vegemite)
-I think for myself, openly question authority.
-I can’t read kanji.
-I don’t consider 9:31 to be late, when the schedule says 9:30.
-I can’t sit in the seiza position.
-I hate sitting on the ground.
-Lastly, I was born in America..

Submitted by: Keri West - Akita City, Akita

Take a look at the photo I’m including with this story. I took that shot on an average afternoon, just because the building was so tiny and run down. It looked like a garden shed compared to all the modern cement buildings of Akita City. Two weeks later I was walking by again, but this time, it happened to be late on a Thursday night. Jazz night. Yep, on the first Thursday of every month, that tiny building is an after-hours jazz club. There’s just enough room for a row of 6 bar stools and a long thin bar (when my friend sat down on a stool he effectively blocked all exits from the building). The bar back is overflowing with tapes and CD’s of the greatest crooners and torch singers of the 30’s and 40’s. Blue smoke and Julie London’s voice fill up any remaining room.

The clientele that night included: a blue collar guy from the nearest construction site, Johnny Cash’s Japanese twin, a thoroughly sloshed housewife, and the owner/bartender himself; a Tokyo company man who spoke four languages and operated the jazz club in his free time, just for the love of it.

One of my favorite things about living in Japan is that every little back alley has something interesting going on. You can walk down the same street for months and then one day there will be a door open that was never open before. Suddenly you’ve discovered a sake factory, a seasonal sweet bean pastry vendor or the local Taiko drum club. Definitely, definitely go inside.