立命館のアカペラサークルに参加してよかった、と思っています。色々な面白い経験があったし、学び事ももちろんありました。言語的に学んだ事と言えば、日常的の大学生の通り言葉とかよく聞きました。たとえば、KYは「空気が読めない人」という意味です。それにアカペラの曲を歌うときに、歌のソロイストが自由に歌うときの事を「フェークする」と言う言い方を初めて習いました。英語では ”to riff” といいます。
立命館のアカペラサークルに参加してよかった、と思っています。色々な面白い経験があったし、学び事ももちろんありました。言語的に学んだ事と言えば、日常的の大学生の通り言葉とかよく聞きました。たとえば、KYは「空気が読めない人」という意味です。それにアカペラの曲を歌うときに、歌のソロイストが自由に歌うときの事を「フェークする」と言う言い方を初めて習いました。英語では ”to riff” といいます。
I’m not sure exactly what I was expecting when I climbed the four flights of stairs to K-Classic Ballet Studio that first Friday night in September. Still, having taken ballet classes since the age of four at varying degrees of frequency, I seem to recall feeling pretty excited–but not at all nervous–about the prospect of taking ballet class in a foreign language for the first time.
Boy, was I in for a surprise. Once I’d explained myself to the petite, gently smiling woman whom I encountered just outside the door, I followed her inside–where my jaw promptly dropped. Plaques, award certificates, and trophies from Japan’s most prestigious ballet competitions lined the walls and covered several shelves of a bookcase, while about fifteen elementary-school-age girls diligently practiced their changements and glissades in the center of the room.
But it wasn’t until class actually started that the real surprises began. I would soon learn that the seemingly mild-mannered woman whom I had encountered at the door was in fact O-sensei, the owner/operator and head teacher at K-Classic Ballet Studio. Not only that, but she utterly transformed into a strict taskmaster the very moment she commenced the class with a simple and elegant upward twist of her right wrist.
Now, I studied ballet on the pre-professional track in the United States from about age eight to age fourteen–I thought I knew what a serious class atmosphere looks like. But the laser-like concentration of my fellow dancers here in Japan puts many of their American counterparts to shame. Throughout the class, no one speaks except for O-sensei. There are absolutely no private conversations held, except perhaps for a whispered confirmation or two that one is standing with the correct group in preparation to go across the floor. Despite this apparent lack of student-to-student communication, the hour and a half of practice always runs smoothly, with none of the interruptions (such as clearly incorrect execution of the given steps or trips to the bathroom between combinations) that can sometimes plague American ballet classes.
The students may not speak, but O-sensei certainly does–and there is no ambiguity about what she means. Words of praise are seldom heard, and corrections are given in the Japanese language’s direct style of speaking, rather than in the more polite distal style. For example, if a dancer is behind one count in a fast-paced jump combination, O-sensei is far more likely (based on my observations thus far) to simply shout “Osoi” instead of “Osoi desu yo.”
I fear that, up to this point, I may have portrayed K-Classic Ballet Studio as a somewhat stressful and uninviting environment. That could not be further from the truth! While the goal during each class is clearly to improve one’s ballet technique by whatever means necessary, outside of class my fellow dancers welcome me every week with “Ohayou gozaimasu” and broad smiles. Furthermore, O-sensei and T-sensei have both been remarkably patient and understanding in helping me work out the scheduling and payment aspects of my participation.
As the semester comes to a close, I feel incredibly grateful to everyone at K-Classic Ballet Studio for allowing this rather-out-of-shape ryuugakusei (study-abroad student) to invade their ballet classes on a regular basis. Thanks to their warm welcome, I’ve been privileged to see a whole new side of my favorite hobby, and have become more inspired than ever to work as hard as I can to do justice to ballet, the art form that always manages to transcend linguistic and cultural obstacles in surprising and beautiful ways.
For my CIP, I volunteered at Niconico Tomato (Link), an organization focusing on creating events for hospitalized children at Kyoto University Hospital. I went to the volunteer office every Thursday to help with event preparation and occasionally participated in afternoon workshops to play with children. My tasks included making holiday cards, delivering items from the basement to the playroom, taking photos during the event and cleaning up after events ended.
What has caught my attention was how professional Niconico Tomato is. The professionalism of the organization can be seen from the following aspects: the attitude in which members approach their work, the variety of workshops and activities, and the attentions paid to those hospitalized kids. Members always take their tasks very seriously. For example, when the group was making Halloween cards, if any minor fault occurred, say the double-side tape stuck out a little bit, members would take trouble to fix it until the component they were in charge of looked perfect. Workshops range from science experiment session to balloon modeling session. Besides workshops, the organization also incorporates large-scale events such as bi-annual bazaar and Christmas café for fundraising purpose. The variety of events enables kids to explore their interests and to enjoy their ward life more cheerfully. These children definitely mean a lot to Niconico Tomato. The organization shows its care by updating the photo wall weekly with photos taken from events, displaying paintings and calligraphy pieces done by kids and designing a yearlong work plan in advance to ensure everything proceed smoothly. Although having participated different volunteer groups in China and in U.S., I have never seen such a high level of professionalism as Niconico Tomato has achieved.
How has such a high level of professionalism developed in Niconico Tomato? Based on my interview with the founder and my observations, the professionalism comes from members’ sincere love towards those children who are suffering from illness and the solidarity among the group. Starting from a small group comprised of only the founder and several of her friends, Niconico Tomato has attracted many more people who expressed interests in bringing happiness to hospitalized children and the group has become an 80-people team in the past 20 years. Among the 80 people, half of them have volunteered to design and lead workshops, making workshops available to children almost every weekday through out the year. In addition, these members deeply dedicate themselves out of pure love. For example, during the Halloween parade, a 50-year-old member wore a Godzilla costume for the entire afternoon and played with children in order to cheer them up. Later she told me that the costume was too warm for that day yet witnessing how children smiled when they saw her made her effort completely worthwhile. In addition to members’ good intentions, their solidarity helps achieve efficiency and complete wonderful works. The event preparation always splits into smaller tasks; each member voluntarily takes their parts and works very hard for the team purpose. The constant efforts from each member congregate and enable the group to operate in an efficient way. Overall I feel impressed by what Niconico has achieved and proud to be part of the team in the past four months.
I definitely planned on getting involved with a dance group while studying in Kyoto because I love dancing and I wanted to learn how a country like Japan practices an activity that can get very physical and personal. This is why I decided to join Kyoto University’s Amateur Dance Club. Every Saturday from 10am – 1:00pm, I took the Karasuma line and got off at Karasuma Oike station where I walked for a couple of minutes to the Kyoto Wings Center. Once I arrived I would head towards a small room where all the other ladies were changing into their practice clothes. One thing that surprised me was how comfortable they were changing in front of an outsider. They were not shy at all and immediately started asking me to call them by their first names and encouraged me to add –tyan. They were so kind and welcoming from the very beginning and I am so grateful to have been a part of their group.
One big difference during practice is that girls and boys practice away from each other. This is odd considering it is ballroom dance where it is essential for partners to move according to each others movements. In America, both women and men practice with each other from the very beginning. The only time they do not practice together is when learning techniques like proper posture and foot work, but when learning choreography you usually practice with each other. During practice, half of the room was used by the ladies to practice the choreography while the boys were on the other side practicing their own choreography. After everyone had memorized their choreography we began practicing together. In my opinion, this was very difficult. For example, if I made a mistake, my partner would not be able to help me because he does not know what I am suppose to be doing. Every time either one of us made a mistake, we had to ask our senpai where to place our feet when dancing with each other. It just seems to cause more trouble practicing separately.
Other than this, everything was so much fun. I learned several dances like the waltz, rumba, samba, and modern dance. I met new people, made new friends, and practiced casual speech. My CIP has definitely been one of my greatest experiences while studying here in Japan.
Because I switched my CIP in the middle of the semester, I experienced two very different atmospheres and learned a lot about Japanese relationships, especially in a group setting of young adults. I originally joined Yosakoi dance circle in the hopes of bonding with peers over our love of dance. Every Thursday evening by the Kamogawa River, we would practice for three hours and learn a dance each week. Everyone was very friendly and polite to me at first, but after a couple weeks it struck me how distant everybody seemed to be relationship wise—everyone used nicknames to address each other, and even when I asked their real name they would tell me their nickname. Also, during water breaks, people would break up from their formation and divide into little cliques, usually formed by school year. It was hard for me especially as an outsider to break into these circles and bond with anyone. Their politeness only went so far, and thus, there were very awkward times where I would stand around while people talked to their cliques around me.
In addition, because the circle had over one hundred members (and they were not required to come to every practice) there was a lack of unity across the entire circle I felt. Even when learning dances, the veterans would split off to learn a new piece while the first years would learn last year’s piece. There didn’t seem to be much social interaction between first years and veterans, and when there was, they would speak in a very polite manner. The members would use the same polite form with me no matter their age (granted we weren’t friends by that point) but what they meant as politeness I took more personally as a way of distancing themselves from me. Even right after they would speak formally to me, they would turn to their friend and speak in a very colloquial speech pattern – emphasizing the social gap between us.
After a point, I felt like I had observed as much as I could from the experience and wanted to try something more intimate and accessible. Thus, I joined a Kyoto sightseeing circle! This circle was much smaller than Yosakoi and was certainly nice in that I got to explore more of Kyoto, including sites such as Kinkakuji and Kiyomizu Dera. The members were all very polite and friendly, often trying to explain information about the sites we were visiting while walking. Like Yosakoi members, they used formal speech when talking to me, but I was also a year above them, so that may have been a contributing factor. And even though there were only twenty members or less, social conversations seemed segregated by school year as well.
Although I didn’t go to this circle as much as Yosakoi since I switched later in the semester, I did take away one major lesson from both experiences. It seems to me that for Japanese students, a lot of their friends and close bonds come from the circles they’re in. I’ve seen various friend groups from Yosakoi hanging out in the shokudou or around campus. And two members of the sightseeing group are even dating right now! Overall, I’m appreciative of the experience I’ve gained and definitely have a more nuanced idea of Japanese relationships.
Upon entering the dojo, one must bow to the dojo itself; that is, not the teacher nor the student, but the entity and history that the dojo represents. This is what comes to be called the sacred in Western culture. Often times, however, this deification comes primarily from ignorance regarding the true nature of the respect offered. During the Fall of 2014, as part of the Kyoto Consortium for Japanese Studies curriculum, I participated in nearby Kendo Dojos including the Kyoto University Kendo Circle, Kyoto Budo Center Kendo Team, and a visit to Satosho Budo Center Team
Kyoto University Kendo Circle (http://www.geocities.jp/kendo_shishinkai/) meets on Wednesdays and Fridays, with a join practice at the Budo Center on Saturdays. The skill level varies in the team but does require at least a year’s worth of experience. The practice is led by Okaya sensei, a 6th Dan. In general, while around a dozen people practice, the club boasts over twenty active members. All of whom, myself excluded, are students of Kyoto University.
Practice usually consists of three segments: warm-up, basics practice, and free practice. By warm-up I mean a set of stretches and around 150 practice swings to warm up the body. Warm up typically lasts for about twenty minutes, at most. The majority of the practice is taken up by basics practice, which begins with simple one step technique and finishes with continuous multi step waza. Free practice is rather similar to a match, other than that score is not kept. Rather, free practice is intended as a review for the skills learnt on that day.
What appeared the most interesting was the deeply rooted culture of respect and etiquette. Kendo is said to be an art to grow as a person—through learning etiquette. Having identified myself as a senior, I was surprised that even those more skilled than me would speak in keigo and kenjougo. When addressing a group, the teacher and the club leader would also speak formally. Only in private conversation between friends would those of higher standing speak in simple form.
Due to time constraint, I would attend the Saturday practice at the Budo Center (http://www.kyoto-sports.or.jp/shisetsu/detail/budo.html). Other than age differences – Budo center practice has older and younger people – there was a minute difference in basic etiquette. For example: the seiza sitting position and entering the position remains the same across dojos. However, the Kyoto Martial Formatted: Indent: First line: 0.5″Arts Center Kendo Team would place the shinai (bamboo katana) on the right side rather than the left. Symbolically, a katana on the left symbolized being armed, where on the right the swordsman is disarmed. In Satosho, the classroom teaches that the bokuto (wooden katana for Kendo kata) and the iaito (unsharpened katana) are placed on the right, whereas the shinai remains on the left. Contrary to these nuances, however, the general responsibilities and duties remained the same regardless of the dojo.
Overall, it has been a pleasure being able to continue practicing the art of Kendo in Japan. Learning the importance of respect in kendo helped gain deeper understanding of the entire Japanese culture.
For my CIP, I participated in a Kyoto University swimming circle called Miconos (http://www.miconos.net/ ). This experience was great for me, and taught me about Japanese college social life. I met a lot of really nice people, had a blast swimming, and am happy to be able to continue participating in this club next semester.
Prior to coming to Japan, I had some presumptions on what Japanese sports circles would be like based on my own experiences studying abroad four years ago at Doshisha International High School, my playing Water Polo at the club level at Hamilton College, and from various TV shows and anime. I had believed that sports circles would be very strict, and that participating in practices and other events would be mandatory. This assumption stemmed essentially from my applying an even stricter hierarchical relationship, and expectation to participate to my surprising strict Water Polo club in America. But when I started participating in my circle, I quickly realized how wrong my assumptions had been. While there certainly is a stricter hierarchy relating to senpai-kouhai status, there is very little pressure to go to practice or other events. When I was first searching for a club to join, I found Miconos’ website which stated that swimming was to be done at one’s own pace, and that members were expected to participate in the after. After is the act of members of the club going out to dinner after practice. Despite the website’s claims, I found that even amongst the members who went to practice the number of members who participated in the after was less than those who don’t.
Additionally, I discovered the swim at one’s own pace part turned out to be a bit of an understatement. The club is much less focused on swimming than I had thought a swimming club to be. Although I did not expect everybody to be swimming for the full two hour practices, I was still surprised by the lack of swimming going on in the swimming circle. Most members would do a lap or two every now or then, but the majority of the time in the pool was spent chatting with each other. Most members were part of a swimming club at their High School, so they are definitely able to swim much more than they do, but instead most of them eventually spend a good amount of time in the pool’s Jacuzzi rather than swimming laps. In my college’s Water Polo team, we bond over overcoming arduous training regiments together, but in this Miconos that is not the case. I had assumed that the circle would be an incredible tight knit group that spends most of their free time with each other like a high school club. But Miconos did not reach the level of camaraderie that I was hoping for in a sports circle.
Although Miconos was not at all what I was expecting it to be, it is certainly not a bad experience. Because there is a larger focus on talking than swimming, I am able to better work on my Japanese by conversing with my fellow club members. Considering that most of our conversations pertain to past sporting events in High School, I believe that most of the members I converse with still love swimming. Yet, because they are no longer competing in meets, they are able to simply swim because they want to. Additionally through the club, they are able to meet people with similar interests, thus although the club does not have the athletic camaraderie that I love about sport teams, the circle appears to consist of several groups of friends, usually split by grade. Right now, I straddle an awkward position of foreign exchange student where I am friendly with most of the people in the circle, and their friend groups, but I am still an outsider to each one of the groups.
Overall, I am incredibly happy with the circle that I am participating in. It has taught me a great deal about Japanese college social and sports culture. It’s always a fun time swimming, talking and eating dinner with the members. Although I may not be completely satisfied with my current situation, I have a whole other semester to better get to know, and become better friends with my fellow club members.
I believe the most important point in picking a CIP is finding one that deals with something you have a lot of experience with, and are passionate about. Whether that be a certain sport, musical instrument or even a niche interest. Commonly shared experiences are some of the easiest way to make connections with people, and as foreigners, we really don’t have many with Japanese students when it comes to everyday life. But one shared experience you are bound to have in your CIP is an interest in whatever the subject of said CIP is. Therefore, you will have a lot more to bond over, and talk about if you are more invested in the topic which your CIP covers. This can come from connecting over long arduous practices routines you suffered through while in high school, songs you know how to play, and teaching others how to play them, or a show that you and those in your CIP have watched and enjoyed separately. It will definitely be awkward in the beginning, especially if you are the only foreigner in your CIP. But if you can reach out and bridge the gap between you and the members of your CIP through these shared experiences, I’m sure you will have a great time.
I’ve long been interested in theater and am actively involved through campus groups and internships at home, so when I arrived in Kyoto I immediately sought out an opportunity to be involved in the performing arts here. Kyoto Experiment stood out to me for its contemporary, international focus, and I was grateful that they took me on as an intern based on past experience and my first Japanese resume and interview.
In New York I interned in an American performing arts department that used Japanese as a second language, so it was really fascinating to intern here for a Japanese performing arts department that used English as a second language. The goals and activities of the organization were similar, so I could generally infer what was going on, but I was constantly left wishing that I had a more thorough understanding of what everyone around me was doing. Unfortunately I struggled to balance my desire to ask questions and have conversations with the understanding that this was a professional work environment where I didn’t want to be a distraction or nuisance.
One of my primary activities was translating between English and Japanese for the website, artist submissions, emails, etc. The dictionary was my best friend, and at times I ended up having to translate poorly-written English profiles of dance performances inspired by cannibalism to Japanese, but overall it was great practice and a useful learning experience. Generally the staff had positive feedback towards my work, but an interesting dynamic emerged concerning their desire to constantly check and edit my English, even though their knowledge of English was not strong (despite this being an international festival with almost all information bilingual, I failed to ever find someone on the staff who was really fluent in English and responsible for other translations). At times there would be opportunities for a back-and-forth where they could edit my content and I could brush up the language, but in other cases I wasn’t consulted, and later found my translations edited for the worse. However, I wasn’t surprised by my superiors’ constant desire to review every detail, and I observed that it applied not only to me but to senpai/kohai interactions across the staff. In the end I am proud to have some of my translations (only slightly edited) published on their website.
I would have liked more opportunities for conversation and interaction during my time at CIP, but unfortunately the office was usually quiet and oriented towards independent work, especially after the festival performances ended in late October. I was able to learn a bit about Japanese office culture, particularly linguistic variations depending on position and age. For example, I was able to observe different greetings when someone enters the office and thanks when someone leaves, and the difference between my supervisor’s in-group language (occasionally tending to be more informal towards kohai, especially in chatting situations) and the very formal language she used towards outside parties in phone conversations. I was also able to observe interactions between staff members and patrons at performances, which I found more polite than in the U.S., and had the authentic experience of saying いらっしゃいませ hundreds of times.
All in all the setup of my CIP did not lend itself to many opportunities for ethnography, and I wish that my Japanese language skills had allowed for a more fruitful experience, but I think interning for Kyoto Experiment was a great opportunity to be involved here in Japan in a field that I’m passionate about. I am thankful to have met a community of people with similar interests, for the challenging but rewarding work translating, to have seen (for free) some crazy performances, and to have gained professional experience and connections related to intercultural arts that will hopefully benefit me in the future.
This semester I participated in Doshisha’s Piano Circle, and it proved to be a very interesting experience, despite being nothing like I expected. For starters, there was no set “meeting time” for the circle. Instead, there was just an open room in the Shinmachi campus building where club members could come in, play piano, and talk. I went to the club almost every week, and stayed for a few hours every time. However, I probably played a grand total of about 20 minutes of piano. The rest of my time was spent talking with the club members. We would talk about all sorts of things, from our majors, to our favorite music, to our favorite characters in Super Smash Bros. It was a very informal environment, which I think helped me quickly get comfortable with participating every week.
Although convenient, the flexible time schedule of the club did have its downsides. Since people could come whenever they wanted, and the club was comprised of about 70 people, I would rarely ever get the opportunity to meet the same person more than once. This made developing any sort of deep connections practically impossible for me. However, although the people would constantly change on a weekly basis, the general atmosphere of the club remained the same. People would often bring their lunches to the clubroom, and just chat with the other members there. Occasionally someone would play the piano, but there was never any real formal practice.
After seeing this week after week, I came to the conclusion that Japanese students use the Piano Circle as a way to meet new people with similar interests, and keep in touch with friends in a smaller, less crowded setting. Actually playing piano is secondary to talking with people and hanging out. When I think about it this way, I feel like this concept is reminiscent of my experiences joining clubs at University of Michigan. While some clubs have serious, regimented schedules, a lot of them exist for the sole purpose of making the campus feel smaller, and providing more opportunities to get to know other people who like the same things that you do.
All things considered, I’m glad the Piano Circle turned out to be the latter kind of club. It was great getting the opportunity to speak with Japanese students in a relaxed, informal setting. However, as I mentioned before, it’s a real shame I didn’t have many opportunities to develop any deep connections with people, as I would often see them only once, and then never again. Despite that, I feel like my participation in the club has taught me a lot about daily student life, and how similar it is to my own.
While I started my CIP in a temple and shrine sightseeing circle, the circle’s schedule proved to be unfeasible for a CIP project and I instead joined Klexon. Klexon is a volunteer organization in the Kyoto area that is the equivalent of a meet-up group. In this case, Klexon is a meet-up between fluent English-speakers and Japanese in the Kyoto area who want to speak English.
During my various CIP experiences with both Klexon and the sightseeing circle I’ve encountered a few facets of Japanese culture and society that seem to coincide with what I’ve experienced outside of CIP as well. In CIP, we are asked to make hypotheses and generalizations about the Japanese. But to a large extent, what my CIP experience has taught me is that there are various Japanese people who don’t all believe the same things.
For example, my first night at Klexon, we were asked to draw a fall festival from our hometowns and talk about them. Obviously, I had no choice but to write about Halloween. Others wrote about different festivals. I asked two Japanese people what their festivals celebrated, because they only explained what happened during the festival, and I’m interested in that sort of thing. Both said they didn’t know and seemed slightly troubled by my question, but, after the second time, one of them told me that the Japanese sometimes just hold festivals and that they don’t necessarily mean anything. Now, we weren’t speaking in his native language, so I can’t say for sure. I can think of half a dozen alternatives off the top of my head, but I had the sense that my questions had been offensive or perhaps troubling to him in some way. The next day, I spoke to my Japanese language partner and asked her what she thought of my question, but she thought it was a perfectly normal thing to ask and that the festival probably had some sort of origin.
So, while it is a small example, it still provided an insight that I try to keep in mind. Not all Japanese people will feel the same way about something. So I’m largely reluctant to do anything that involves making generalizations about a group of people.
Having said that, I’m going to make one based off of my CIP experience that has been supported by my interactions with Japanese outside of CIP. During my time with the sightseeing circle, we climbed partway up Fushimi-Inari Taisha. A little way up, we all went to a stone where you would make a wish and try to lift the stone. If you could lift the stone your wish might come true. I lifted it, yay me, but my wish is a secret ;P—Anyway, after everyone tried lifting the stone, people started asking everyone around them if they had a girlfriend, particularly those who couldn’t lift the stone. I got the feeling they were asking whether they wished for girlfriends, but my Japanese wasn’t good enough to tell. Then, they asked me if I had a girlfriend. Now, in the U.S., that kind of question is a little forward, because, if the person doesn’t, that might be inconsiderate. Also, when someone asks you that there’s some level of connotation that they’re asking for themselves or for a friend. Fortunately, I didn’t jump to conclusions and assume I was being asked out. After I said I didn’t, they asked me if I was married; though, I misunderstood them to be asking if I wanted to be married. I said once I found the right person, yes, I’d like to be married. But, after that, I kept on hearing kekkon (marriage) being brought up in the various conversations around me. I was a little surprised, because Americans typically aren’t so forward about those questions with people they’ve just met. But, from what I’ve experienced in Japan both in CIP and outside, these kinds of questions seem to be pretty normal. For example, my friend’s adoptive Japanese family took a few of us out to lunch. In the middle of lunch, the mother turned to me from a long conversation with someone else and, without context, asked me what I thought of Japanese girls. Stunned, I managed to remember how to say that between American girls and Japanese girls either is fine. Another example would be in Klexon. One man I spoke to was quite interested in my love life and asked me if I had a girlfriend. After I said I didn’t, he said I should get a Japanese girlfriend. Upon hearing that I had a host sister, he asked if she was beautiful. The next day, I went to my Japanese language partner and asked if these kinds of questions are normal. She explained to me that they’re pretty normal questions when people first meet new people. So, while these questions may be incredibly awkward and forward in America, they appear to be standard operating procedure here in Japan.
So, yes, I would say that I’m reluctant to make generalizations about groups of people. But, at the same time, there are customs and cultural norms that are different here than elsewhere. I guess that’s just something to keep in mind.