投稿者「KCJS26」のアーカイブ

Michele Li: Doshisha Animal Life Circle

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For my CIP, I participated in the Doshisha Animal Life circle with Ryan. It meets every Thursday at 6:30 at the Doshisha Shinmachi campus and this study group’s aim is to enrich their own knowledge on the current situations of animals around the world. But since there were school festivals (Clover Festival and EVE Festival) coming up and free papers they had to finish, their usual study meetings were put on hold to discuss what kind of booth they wanted to set up and what kind of layout they wanted for the free paper. As part of my CIP, I decided to observe if there were any differences in the way they treat foreigners as compared to the way they treat other Japanese students.

Through my participation, I realized that their attitude doesn’t depend on whether you’re a foreigner or a Japanese person, but whether they think of you as a friend or a stranger. If you were a complete stranger, as well as a foreigner, the club members tended to avoid striking up a conversation and preferred to ignore your presence. For example, when Ryan and I went to the first meeting, although they first greeted us with smiles and snacks, as soon as they started to discuss the festival preparations, they turned their backs to us and proceeded to speak amongst themselves. Not once during the meeting did they meet our eyes or try to talk to us. We were left to figure out what was happening by ourselves. This continued throughout the semester. There was another instance when Ryan and I were working with a Japanese club member in order to make decorations for the club’s booth, but it was basically us working in silence. We tried striking up a conversation, asking what last year’s booth was like, etc., but the conversation always died after one exchange. The Japanese student didn’t try to continue the conversation and seemed like he felt uncomfortable talking to us for more than a minute. On the other hand, if you were someone they knew, they would greet you with exuberance and constantly joke with you, even if you were a foreigner. For example, there was a Korean exchange student who was in the club with us, but since everyone in the club was familiar with him, they would constantly chat with him and poke fun at him. There was even this one time when the president of the club wasn’t able to come to a meeting, so she made the Korean student the leader of that day’s meeting instead. Although it was a little disheartening to be ignored after trying to converse with them, it was still an interesting experience to see how the club members acted around each other.

Ife Samms: Doshisha Church Children’s Service Violin Player

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As I have been attending the children’s services at Doshisha Church, more and more I realize that there are typically more adults who do not bring children at the service, than there are adults who are actually bringing kids. Although it may appear to be sketchy, rest assured that most of these adults are staff members who help out before and after the service—handing out flyers, setting up the projector, helping to carry in the keyboard, and such—but still, I decided in my mind that there must be something that these adults are getting out of coming to the children’s service every week. In my curiosity, I decided I would interview three adults whom I regularly meet at Doshisha Church every Sunday.

I interviewed two staff members and Doshisha Theology students, Shimiri and Noyuri, and one adult who did not have children, but regularly came to the services, Ms. Sekiyama, just to see why these people attended the services, and to find out what they were getting out of it. When I interviewed Shimiri, she told me that one of the requirements for Theology students at Doshisha is to run the children’s services, so when I asked her why she continues to come, of course her answer was “I come because its my job to come.” However, when I pried for what she got out of coming to the services, she said her favorite part was playing with the children, and that she seemed to become naturally energized because of them. From Shimiri, I learned that she thought that three year-olds and eleven year-olds who attend the services should not be given the same activities to do, and if she could change it, she would. As for Noyuri, although she got involved with the children’s’ service because she is a Theology major, she said she knew the experience would “be helpful in the future.” She shared with me that she didn’t like children before, but now she loves them and thinks that they’re cute. Noyuri also said that she thinks its great to get to hear sermons from people other than Doshisha’s head pastor, she loves being able to gain spiritual peace through the easy to understand message, and that learning about the Bible along with the children makes her think that “God is sweet and kind, but also strict at times.” I was thrilled to hear that although her participation in the services was not initially her choice, she still was able to feel that she had grown and received something positive from her experience as a staff member. In Ms. Sekiyama’s case, when I asked her what she has enjoyed about coming to the children’s service, she said that “the sermons are easy to understand—I was able to become like a child!” When I asked more about that, she said that Jesus said in the Bible that those who will inherit the kingdom of Heaven must first become like children, meaning pure in heart; Ms. Sekiyama said that attending the children’s service helps her to do just that. She said that it helps her to prepare her heart, and quiet her spirit to become like a child before she dives into the adult service later in the morning. If she goes to the adult service straightaway, she says, her heart does not feel quite ready yet, but if she attends the children’s’ service first, Ms. Sekiyama says her heart is prepared to receive the message the pastor will give in the adult service.

As a non-native Japanese speaker, I certainly understand enjoying the children’s service simply because it is easy to understand. As the adult service can be—more times than not—difficult for me to comprehend, the children’s service is given in simple Japanese, with a message that all ages can benefit from. Through my experience coming to Doshisha Church every week, I’ve learned that being with children, playing, and learning the things they are learning all have great benefits for the adults who participate, including me!

My experiences playing the violin at a church in Japan have also been drastically different from my experiences participating in the praise band at my church in America, Binghamton First Assembly of God. Namely, the way of communicating and scheduling when someone will play is quite different at Doshisha. Every month a small group of staff members meet to schedule who will be in charge of music each week, then that schedule is passed out to staff members later. In America, there is a website that the praise band uses allowing everyone to input whether or not they will be free to play the date they are scheduled for. As music for the services at First Assembly changes week to week, the website allows for music and schedules to be sent out easier; however, at Doshisha Church, the music the children’s service uses stays the same week to week, reducing the need to use a more complex scheduling website. The genre of music played at Doshisha was also a drastic difference from the church music I had become accustomed to in America. While the Christian Alternative Rock I played in Binghamton had been used at times to stir up the congregation into praising God openly and loudly, I felt that the music at Doshisha was used in a much calmer way to aide the congregation in praising God through softer means.

I learned that in my CIP I had to be open to learning about a new way of doing things using my interests. Instead of comparing my accustomed way of doing things with the staff at Doshisha’s way of doing things—causing myself a great deal of frustration in the mean time—I found that it was best for me to realize that this culture is not worse or better, it is simply different from my own; in that realization, I allowed myself to try new things, to create new relationships with people I never imagined I would meet, and to learn about the world in a new and profound way. Playing the violin at Doshisha Church’s Children’s Service as my CIP has been a great experience!

Jeremy Chen: Ceramics Studio

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After weeks of emailing various places, trying different things, and sorting out a few problems, I finally ended up at the Kamogama Ceramics Studio with a wheel to myself and all the tools, clays, and glazes I would need to keep me going for the next few months. Honestly speaking I was unprepared for the amount of freedoms they offered me considering the other studios I had emailed or visited did the exact opposite of that in the form of time, materials, or cost limitations. But since this place was offering everything, I figured it would be a waste to let this opportunity go by, and I jumped on the offer. Only five people worked at this ceramics studio-store-coffee shop hybrid, so I wasn’t expecting too much contact with people my age let alone people at all given that most of the staff worked the cafe. Fortunately the woman who worked the ceramics side of the business made it her informal job to be my ceramics instructor and go to person for questions regarding Japan. Through this relationship, I came to understand a lot about what Japanese people see in foreigners.

Communicating with my instructor was easy. I spoke enough Japanese to describe the things I wanted to do with my pieces, and in exchange, my instructor would teach me what the Japanese term for said action was. However, whenever the topic strayed away from ceramics, my instructor would immediately assume that I practically didn’t know anything about Japan. At times I appreciated this because of the depth of the explanations she would give me, but also I started to wonder what she actually thought of me. I would start a conversation about Christmas traditions in Japan, for example, and without fail, as she does every week, she would compliment my Japanese skills and then continue on about Christmas. My limited conversations with the other staff reinforced the idea that they were actually fixated on the fact that I was speaking Japanese to them even after weeks of coming to the studio.

Although not ideal, I prefer this over being spoken to as if I were a Japanese person. I actually sometimes play the foreigner card to ask really silly questions like “Why is a lot of anime about school?” or “Why do the pottery wheels spin the other way here?”. I feel like this small studio is more like a second homestay rather than a CIP project space although the people here never seem to get that my Japanese skills have gotten me through everyday life for the past few months. Just the other day one of the staff members complimented me on my ability to write in both hiragana and katakana even though my emails go far beyond that. Still, it’s been fun in its own way, and I’m going to miss everyone that helped me along the way. I’ll be sure to remember them through the pieces they helped me make.

 

Dylan Manning: Track Team

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The first day I showed up at a Doshisha Track Club practice was a nerve-wracking one; I hadn’t emailed anyone prior and took the 60 minute journey to Kyotanabe myself. I had gone over in my head exactly what I would say (it was early in the semester, my Japanese was still no good), making sure to throw in the –nkedo at the end to come off as not too forward. When I finally arrived I just stood at the side of the track, had a mini panic attack, and decided to cash in on the I’m-a-nervous-foreigner card. Hard. A girl approached me as I stood drawing circles in the dirt with my foot and, in well-articulated English, asked me what I was doing there. This is your moment! I thought, and managed to stutter out the lines I had rehearsed so thoroughly. After that things were a blur, and even today I am still surprised at how easily I was accepted as a semi-regular member of the Doshisha track practices. Even on that first day I was asked if I wanted to participate in the meets, full uniform and everything. I was taken aback, but unfortunately, due to being in Kyoto for only a semester, the logistics of it would have been too difficult, and I was relegated to a practice-only “member.” And so began my CIP journey.

I’m not exactly sure I can say I learned a lot through my CIP. Some other students throw themselves into completely new and foreign experiences, but I chose to go with something more familiar. Being already well-versed in the activity itself, I had the chance to focus on the differences between American and Japanese sports. It was a bit difficult to practice my Japanese at first, as many of the students liked to practice their English with me, and asked a lot about America. I consented and spent the first few sessions speaking a good deal of English before the shininess of the new American runner wore off. After that, I was able to pick up on a lot of the unique things about the team.

Being somewhat versed in Japanese culture, I expected a good deal of the experiences I eventually underwent. I knew there was going to be clear hierarchy within the team, honorific language and the like, and I knew there was going to be a certain intensity that contrasted to the often lukewarm commitment of American athletes. All of this was true, but I was surprised by the degree to which these things revealed themselves.  I remember one day when I was doing a hill workout with Nakaoka (essentially my assigned training partner, at least in the first few practices) and a few other underclassmen that this hierarchy revealed itself. I should note that Nakaoka and I are juniors, while the others seems to be freshmen and sophomores. After the first rep, which we all did together, I was approached by some of the other members with a water bottle and a towel. At first I was confused and said that they didn’t belong to me, sorry, wrong person, but they continued to insist. I then realized that they were the team’s towel and water bottle, and they were giving them to me because I was an older person on the team. This kind of behavior would never fly in America, due to ideals of equality and a fear of elitism. After the workout, those same athletes collected the towels and water bottles in a bucket and took them back to put them away.

This was easily the most surprising experience of my time with the team. Many other differences eventually revealed themselves, though mostly in terms of training philosophy and preparation. My time with the track team at Doshisha was a fun one, and it certainly made very real the things I had only learned about. Thanks to the team, I realized my dream of becoming the person with the strongest body at KCJS this semester.

 

 

Sebastian Pratt: Football Crazy, Football Mad

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I dreamed of boarding my homeward bound flight, a renaissance man, proficient in countless traditional Japanese arts. The prospects of representing my country in kyūdō, quite surprising my family with a Christmas shakuhachi performance, and, abandoning my awful handwriting for my newfound shodō brilliance provided me with a reason to actually look forward to the end of this semester. Save for a dramatic turn of events, these arguably lofty dreams look to be well and truly crushed.

Advised, by the powers that be, not to try my hand at an activity I had no experience in, I regretfully crossed off pretty much every possibility on list. I’m an Englishman. Football is my inochi, how spectacularly original. I stalled before reluctantly accepting that my CIP was to be football. After much research, aided significantly by Yamaoka-sensei, I trotted down to the Kamogawa one fine Saturday morning. Despite not finding the one I had been hoping to, I ended up joining the team that was training there. I say with questionable certainty that this team’s name is Nyū Borā; my understanding is that it came from some Italian phrase.

Football is, in theory, a very rewarding CIP. Unfortunately, I was only able to attend the team’s Saturday training sessions, and even then I missed a bunch of them because sometimes there were matches and other times I was getting lost elsewhere during my travels. A team sport whose squads consist of usually 20+ members bound by banter and strong camaraderie, football does provide a solid opportunity to make Japanese friends.

To my relief, the team seemed to jump at the opportunity to count an igirisujin amongst its members; coming from a football-crazy nation helped. Even though they did not add me to their Line group, the players welcomed me with varying enthusiasm, but enthusiasm nonetheless. Many were eager to befriend me in the hope that my English be contagious. I shared meals with a few members, and became as close as my Japanese permits to the only other Doshisha student in this Kyodai circle. Though at times it was tough to keep up with the Kansaiben and speed of speech, conversation was manageable because, unsurprisingly, all of the members were happy to talk about football. There is a strong sense of hierarchy and seniority and an absence of honorifics. Amusingly, when the ball flew into the river the newcomers were expected to retrieve it, and one actually disrobed and entered the water. Upon approaching the team, I was immediately directed towards el capitano, who would often express his surprise at my use of honorifics in emails. This is not different to what one would expect in any other country.

My CIP was enjoyable despite my infrequent attendance preventing my participation in the matches. I made some acquaintances, understood a joke here and there, and tried to improve my embarrassing casual Japanese.

Meng Zhao: Ima Tenko Butoh Workshop

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I participated in Ima sensei’s butoh workshop this semester. This experience was a whole new experience for me. I had some theater and dance related experience before but what I had was backstage work, such as theater management, stagecraft, and community arts theory etc. The butoh workshop was my first time moving from backstage to front stage after quitted dancing when I was a fourth grader, to learn practicing arts as a real artist instead of being a supportive staff. The workshop was also a special experience because what I experienced was so different from the traditional class I read in book or from other people’s experience that there was no hierarchy in the class that no strict  teacher and student relationship existed.

Ima sensei is a really nice person. The whole workshop was conducted in a comfortable environment. There was great freedom of self expression in class. We had improvisation practice every time but she never gave concrete description that she left a lot of space of imagination to us. For example, we were often asked to play “something” dancing in the air. The question of what object to play, how to play and play with what kind of emotion etc. were all left to us.  The only thing she asked us to do was to relax and move slowly to feel the change of body dynamics but how slowly was also not defined. During the class, she seldom judged or corrected our dancing. The only time she explained what is right or wrong was when she expected us to explore certain things, for example the posture of a obaasan. She would make sure everyone is doing the right obaasan posture so that everyone is on the same track. Yesterday she made an interesting comment on my dancing “Maggie san’s dancing looks different from the others’. It made me remembered something (I can’t catch that part) I saw during old school days but I’ve been unable to remember what it is until I saw your dancing”. She further explained that each body is different and we have different abilities to control our body so she enjoyed observing how people manage their body differently, especially in this class where people have different background and different level of experience with performance arts.

While sharing with other people in my class about my CIP experience, especially Helen since we all took dance class in Japan, it was so interesting to see that even though we both took dancing, how our experience differed that I didn’t experience any 厳しさ of Ima sensei. I was so surprised to find that the environment of the class was similar to dancing workshop in America. I thought it was due to the nature of modern dancing where self expression is expected that the need of breaking the existed system of arts and doing something new is celebrated. Since butoh explored human body, the most natural way one presents is the most correct way that there’s no right or wrong.

Another reason is that butoh which has a history of merely 70 years is still under development. Tons of unknown things are still under research that it’s important to keep learning and being humble. This point is further illustrated by the way of talking in class. While talking to sensei, we all used ます form most of the time but not keigo, including pro dancers. Sensei used short forms most of the time. The way we called her also differed a lot. I called her Ima sensei and there were people calling her Ima san, Tenko san etc. I asked her how she thought of the use of language, she said that should be the way you talk to 年配の人 and she didn’t mind how people call her. Talking to elderly with respect shows good manner is 当たり前 in Japan. It’s interesting she put herself as a person with more experience because she is older instead of being a sensei with more experience and more professional. I guess it was because of the nature of her work which involved observation and learning from other people with different backgrounds a lot where she didn’t have to fully establish her status as a sensei who makes no mistakes and controls the class.

Taking Ima sensei’s workshop was one of the best things of the semester. It was good to exercise every week while learning what my body can do and experience how modern arts in Japan is like. I truly recommend Ima sensei’s butoh workshop to anyone who has interest in modern Japanese arts.

Jennifer Wang: Piano Circle

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Now that the semester is coming to an end, I can say I’m glad I joined the piano circle – even though I have mixed feelings on my experience. It was great to get a taste of Japanese college student life through circle activities and meeting new people, especially since the piano circle was a diverse group with different backgrounds and levels of experience talking with foreign exchange students.

While everyone was friendly, I found it hard to make closer friends. Since many of them don’t have a particular interest in spending time with exchange students, they tend to stay within their groups of friends that are solidified outside of the circle. In making piano circle friends outside of the circle’s room (box), I found that the power of your school year was surprisingly strong. Surprisingly so in that I didn’t observe any emphasis on senpai-kohai relationships in the circle, but ended up invited to an all first-year piano circle casual dinner at the 食堂. I additionally observed, when helping out at the school’s EVE festival, the other two first years that I was advertising our booth’s food with started joking around and overall acting casual very quickly, though they had just met that afternoon. Bonding within your own school year was evidently natural, and bridging the senpai-kohai dynamic to become close friends seemed rare if done at all. That also brings me to the point of my own ambiguous status as an exchange student, since although they invited me, I doubt they would have invited a third-year Japanese student. (Of note, as an exchange student, you’re also not an “official Doshisha student” for any event purposes, etc.)

The other major difficulty in making friends is that the piano circle has no fixed meeting times every week. While that’s ideal for fitting into it into one’s schedule, I would generally only see the same member once or twice per month even if I went at the same time every week. At the beginning, I asked a few members when they usually go, and the reply was generally “when I have time.” I was surprised by how some people always seemed to show up at the same times though, and wonder if there’s a reachable level of friendship where you’ll casually text the other when you’re at the circle box. Regardless, whenever I did go, the members were always open to talking and helping out with my homework. I could tell that some of them weren’t used to talking to exchange students, aka figuring out my strange Japanese, but they all responded to my questions and often asked questions in return.

Ultimately, I didn’t get that much piano practice done this semester, but I had an interesting experience! Even if I got along with a smaller percentage of the piano circle students than students that have a particular interest in meeting exchange students, I’m glad I got to meet a diverse group that is likely more representative of Japanese students as a whole. My one regret is that I wish I had understood the above dynamics earlier and made more of an early effort to become closer friends with some piano circle members. But I’ll be here next spring, and plan to continue my piano circle adventures until the end of the semester in February. The piano circle is a no stress, social option for anyone with even a slight interest in piano, and I highly recommend it. 🙂

Rachel-A'lexandria Hawkins: Ohara Gakuen

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I wasn’t sure what to expect when I finalized my plan to volunteer at Ohara Gakuen. I was worried that with my limited Japanese, especially in using keigo, I may not be excepted. Nervous and confused, I went to meet with the English teachers and principal. I left Ohara that day feeling that I would be not only accepted, but also appreciated.

The first unexpected thing that I noticed was that all of the staff treated me as an adult. Being nineteen, I’m just barely considered independent in America, and certainly not in Japan. However, as I was held to a high standard of responsibility, and I found myself naturally rising in an attempt to meet expectations.

Though they were clearly pleased with the fact that I was there, they were rightfully worried about presenting me correctly to the students. Having many food allergies, I couldn’t always eat all the food that the kids ate, and I was surprised by how important it was to explain to the children that the only reason I wasn’t eating was because I could get hurt – not because I didn’t like the food. I was a bit surprised, because I didn’t think that the kids would have a difficult time understanding this, but, to the teachers, it seemed to be something important to overcome.

Another hardship for me personally, was switching between English and Japanese so frequently. I’ve had trouble with this in America as well, when talking with a Japanese friend and an American friend at the same time. I was asked to just use English with the students, and I did whenever I could, but there were many times when I had to use Japanese to explain something more complicated, and when I spoke to the teachers. Especially with the younger kids, it ended up being more of me asking about their English in Japanese.

The younger children speak in such small voices that it didn’t matter if I would understand their Japanese, because I couldn’t hear them at all. I didn’t want them to shy away from me when communication problems arose, so I attempted to answer them even when I didn’t hear what they said. This is tough to do in your mother tongue. Together with my lack of Japanese fluency, and having no context for the conversation I was having, the kids would often stare at me blankly, obviously having not understood a word I just said. Even so, when I did say a sentence or two, they were wildly surprised and delighted. One boy asked me a question, and I explained to him as best I could. When I was through, he stared at me with his mouth open. I started trying to rephrase what I said, because obviously my Japanese wasn’t up to par, but after a moment of silence he exclaimed, “Wow! She can speak Japanese!” He seemed to have no interest at all in the answer to the question. I wonder, if he was so surprised, did he expect to just not understand my answer, and go along his marry way after he’d asked the question? Either way, I appreciated his enthusiasm and his cuteness was astounding.

But just in case matters weren’t complicated enough, there was one more barrier to communication that I was surprised to find. In one case, I used the word “novel” while explaining my hobbies to the first graders. The student immediately responded, “What’s a novel?” Caught off guard, and trying to remember if that was indeed the Japanese word for novel, I didn’t respond at first, eventually stuttering out “N-novel?” in hopes that this time around I would say it correctly. The little girl ran over to the teacher and repeated the question. “A novel is a story,” the teacher answered, and the girl, who had since lost focus on the conversation we were having, trotted off to play with everyone. That was an experience I never thought I’d have.

The one downfall of it all, is that I don’t feel as though I’ve done all I can for Ohara. I would attempt to assist in lessons, teach pronunciation, and talk to the students, but I was unequipped to do the latter. I had never been to a Japanese middle school, and I certainly hadn’t studied the English education system for that region of Japan, so I was completely amiss as to how much English a student knew. Then there’s the individual difference between each student. I only ever had the chance to have a few sentenced conversation with any individual student, because the school was large and there was only one of me. And in that conversation, I couldn’t overcome the student’s shyness, gauge how much English they knew, and then make up a conversation that uses their level of English so that they could practice. In that way, I wish I had more time with them, I would have learned more, an I believe I maybe could have had more of an impact on them too.

Some of what I predicted was true; there were levels of formality and structure that I was foreign to, and needed to work hard to overcome. And a lot of what I feared turned out to be just fine. My confidence wavered throughout the program, as I battled with things I thought could be better, and melted as the kids became more and more animated about talking to me and learning about a foreign culture. But in the end, the hour commute to Oohara every week was not something that I dreaded, it was in fact something that looked forward to. On the long bus ride into the mountains, I could feel my eagerness and excitement swelling in me. Even if I had had a terrible experience on every other day, in every other class, it would all be worth it for what one first grader said as I entered the room. 「レイ先生　来てくれた！」”Ms. Rei came for us!” The feeling in my heart that that one little boy drew out, was worth everything in the world.

Thank you Oohara, it’s hard to say good-bye.

Nia McDonald: Manga Class

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For my CIP this semester, I’m in a manga class. So far I’ve attended about 5 sessions and I’m enjoying my experience for a couple of reasons. My CIP is scheduled for every first and third Saturday from 4pm to 7pm, but my teacher has added additional lessons. I’ve been going every week for the past 3 or 4 weeks. When I first went to my class, there were 2 girls stationed at 1 table and the other only table was empty, so I sat there. Because I don’t talk often, I actually don’t remember the names of the girls or the names of the 2 (sometimes 3) teachers that I work with. This may be different fro another person who is more talkative than myself. We’ve all been working on individual projects so my teacher rotates between us, occasionally checking up on out work and giving advice, suggestions, corrections, etc. Because of my short time time attending the class, and my skill level, my focus is practicing on drawing ‘real manga’ using multiple tools and techniques for experience’s purpose.

When I first entered the class I would say for sure that I was a little bit lonely because it was a quiet space and I’m used to the very social bustling art spaces that I’ve experienced in the US. This is not to say it can’t be this way, but coupled with my language barrier and our personalities, it ends up being mostly quiet besides our teachers talking amongst themselves. There is 1 girl that started coming and she is very energetic and fun to listen to. She and the teachers didn’t speak much to me (besides teaching) for the first 3 classes, but I think as they realized that I can communicate in an okay manner, they’ve begun to engage me more. They ask me questions about America, English, the Caribbean (I’m Caribbean American), etc. I really enjoy these conversations because I think they make everyone ore comfortable. Including myself. I think for class the experience is really what you make of it. You’ll be working on your own individualized project, so its good to pick something you actually want to focus on.

 

 

George Hill: Doshisha Hiking Club

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For my community involvement project I participated with the Doshisha Hiking Club. Although it is called a club, the Doshisha Hiking Club is actually a circle, which gave me insight into the difference between circles and clubs in Japan. Although I have had no experience with true clubs in Japan, from what I have been told they are quite serious and require mandatory attendance usually multiple times a week, and I imagine this is what the Doshisha Alpine Club is like, who occupy the room next to the Hiking Club’s in the Gakusei-kaikan (Student’s Hall). Because of this distinction, the Hiking Club has a very laid-back and relaxed feel. Attendance is not taken, activities are not necessarily mandatory, and exchange students are always welcomed, making the Hiking Club and excellent circle for KCJS students to join because it easily conforms with the unique KCJS schedule.

Although the Hiking Club was simple to join and very relaxed, there were many things about the club that I found surprising and very different from hiking and outdoor clubs in North America. First, when we didn’t go on hikes, we did training, which was jogging along the river. This was surprising as people don’t train for hikes in North America unless they are doing serious mountaineering. When I told other Japanese friends about training, they were similarly surprised. Therefore, training added a strange element of seriousness to a very relaxed and not necessarily serious club. A few members always opted out of these training sessions, but still met at the Gakusei-kaikan at the meeting time. This led me to realize that the training sessions served as a secondary activity to the weekly meeting—their main purpose was to bring the group together once a week. Rather than only meeting once a month to go hiking like a typical group at a North American university would, the Doshisha Hiking Club meets every week to strengthen the group dynamic in between hikes. This commitment to the group beyond participating in the commonly shared interest reflects the strong commitment to unity among groups prevalent in Japanese culture.

The second most surprising thing I observed was the friendliness we showed to other hikers on the trail. On our first hike up to the Daimonji near Ginkakuji, the trail was relatively crowded, but we never hesitated to give an energetic and lively “konnichiwa!” to every single person we passed. While saying hello to strangers on the trail is certainly not unique to Japan, the amount of people we said it to and the emotion we put into every greeting certainly was. This makes the trail in Japan a very friendly place, and there is a sense that everyone is engaged in the same struggle together.

Despite my limited Japanese skills, I was able to make some valuable insights into how one of my favourite activities is affected by a different culture. Joining the Hiking Club was very fun, laid-back, and often pleasantly unexpected. I wish I could be here between the spring and fall semesters when they do more serious hikes further away from Kyoto.