Yiqing Fang: Kyoto University Mixed Voice Chorus/Ikebana

For the past 3 months, I have been participating in the Kyoto University Mixed Voice Chorus and various Ikebana related activities for my CIP. I was originally hoping to become a member of the Kyoto college student origami circle. Unfortunately, I lost contact with the group after an awkward first meeting. The group had responded positively to my first email inquiring about becoming a member but any further email received no replies.  Nevertheless, I decided to attend one of their public meetings. The group was very obviously not prepared for newcomer. While some of the senpais tried to make me felt welcomed, the atmosphere remained very stilted for the rest of the night. After this, I emailed them about attending future meeting and never received a reply. I took their lack of responses as a sign that I will not be welcomed.

My experience with the Choir has been quite good, if not what I expected. There are many established rituals and unstated knowledge. For example, everyone in a certain voice section will respond to announcement or direction in a certain way. The girls will say “安い!”together in a high pitched voice anytime announcments turn to money related matters. Each voice section also have their own unique songs they sing to welcome new members.I was not taught any of this and the assumption seemed to be that new member will just slowly pick up these knowledge. Members were able to use this kind of common background to communicate with each other in ways that would not make sense to any outsiders. I was quite thrown when they first introduce me to the chorus at large. The way they welcome new members was like nothing I had ever experienced. They asked all the new members for our information before the rehearsal after. After the rehearsal was over, they had sign made from our information ready f and made us introduce themselves in front of the whole choir. After each introduction, the corresponding voice part would sing a song to welcome their new member.  Everyone tried their best to make me feel part of the group and I really appreciate their efforts. I often had trouble understanding director’s direction but by focusing on body language and with help from the other members, I was able to follow along.  My one disappointment has been the lack of individual interactions. Due to the way the rehearsals are scheduled, there is very little free time to just talk with people. Another reason I feel a bit distant has been that many of their social activities have been during my class time. I feel like I didn’t really have a chance to get to know everyone better outside of the formal practice.

I have had some wonderful experiences learning about Ikebana with Ikebana International. They seem genuinely excited that I have such an interest in the art of flower arranging. I learned a lot about Ikebana from their events and had some wonderful conversation. For example, after one of the demonstration, I talked with Kitamura-san (the director of special events) about why certain flowers were chosen in this specific arrangement, the shape of the vase, and other such things. I felt a little awkward talking to them at the beginning but they kept prompting me and I eventually opened up. I had a lot of opportunity to practice my keigo. They have invited me to more upcoming events but I unfortunately had to decline due to time restraint.

I think the main thing that has prevented me from getting as much as possible out of the CIP experience has been the issue of time. Choir had a month long break in March because it was Japanese’s college’s spring break. Some of the other clubs I was potentially interested in were no go specifically because of their lack of activities. I was also unable to attend many of Choir’s outside activities because of time conflict with classes. Further more, 4 months is really a bit too short to expect much commitment from either side. One of the positive take away from the whole experience has been to keep an open mind. Don’t restrict yourself to what you perceive as your official CIP. Attend as many outside activities as you can, you never know who you might connect with.

Michele McAndrews: Manga/Origami

In the spring semester I found it rather difficult to find a regular Community Involvement Project, which I think had a lot to due with the timing. Japanese student groups were not meeting much over their spring break before the new school year started in April, but the Japanese teachers were really helpful and usually went out of their way to find something interesting. Throughout these past few months I’ve been going to arts-and-crafts project groups, with a focus on origami.

A few times I participated in going to the KIXS meetings (Kyoto University International Exchange Society) where I would mingle and chat with Japanese students. But as school went on break, less and less people attended. The most fun I had at a KIXS conversation table was when we all went to dinner together. The conversations flowed the best while we were gathered around good food, and there was lots of talk about upcoming plans for the break or graduation.

What ended up becoming my ‘main’ involvement project was attending origami circles. The first time my friends and I dropped in on a Kyoto student group, the atmosphere felt very awkward. The students didn’t have much of a plan and so we each created individual projects without much involvement as a group. Different origami meetings were held at the Kyoto Station, with a much better structure and lots of friendly people. Everyone was sweet and willing to help with any difficulties anyone had with folding.

Though I have to say my favorite group/circle that I’ve attended so far has to be the manga club. I felt like I fit in with the people there and had a lot of interests in common which made us all want to interact with each other. We all got to see one another’s art styles or portfolios, and even got prompted to draw caricatures of each other!

All in all, interacting and having a common interest with these Japanese groups made me feel really happy that I got to be involved. I feel like I accomplished one of the very things I really wanted to do in Japan, without knowing that I really wanted to do it. And through these circles and groups and clubs, I really felt like I made friends and communicated with the Japanese community.

Adriana Reinecke: Kyoto University Choir

I’m so glad that I decided to join the KyoDai (short for Kyoto University) Choir. Although I haven’t been able to participate as much as I may have liked, whenever I am able to go to practice I am welcomed and treated as a true member of the group. Though we practice in large numbers, I became closest with my fellow sopranos. I would often receive text messages from them during periods when we wouldn’t see each other often, and I remember being very gratified that I was able to tag-team joke with one of the other girls. I think it is safe to say that it was through my friendships with the members of the choir – and possibly my part-time job – that I felt most a part of the Japanese society while here in Kyoto.

Beyond the obvious friendships and interactions with the group, I found several aspects of the club dynamic and activities that surprised me. As a foreigner studying Japanese, I have spent a great deal of time learning about how Japanese rules of social hierarchy and seniority play out linguistically. My time with the KyoDai Choir has taught me that such ‘rules’ are ultimately guidelines. They would be 100% accurate inside of a ‘linguistic vacuum.’ The reality is that each group, and each individual within that group, contributes to the creation of a unique group dynamic. Similarly, each individual uses a complex and only sometimes intentional mix of many levels of formality in everyday interactions. For example, each member of the choir has a nickname. Some of these nicknames have nothing whatsoever to do with the person’s actual name, which meant that I had (and still have) a hard time remembering them and keeping them strait. These nicknames are used by all members of the group regardless of seniority. In Japanese I have heard two different expressions to refer to language in practice. These are “raw,” and “living.” Choir was one of my main places that I was exposed to, and involved in the speaking of “living Japanese.”

The other thing that surprised me was the system by which the new club officers were chosen. One afternoon, I was invited to have an early dinner with the member of my voice part before practice, during which the newly appointed part leaders would speak to their wishes and goals for the year to come. It was nothing like I expected. It was very formal. Each of the girls – Koude-chan and Mika-chan – had prepared lengthy speeches. They talked about how they became involved in choir, what they liked about it, why they wanted to be part leader, what skills they brought to the group, and what things they hoped to accomplish. The surprising part was that we, as members of the soprano section, were then invited to ask them questions. It was as if we were interviewing them. At the end, we even took a vote, during which we had the option to object to their leadership. I didn’t realize just how foreign the whole concept was to me until I was prompted to ask a question of the girls – I had no idea what to ask. The girls were voted in unanimously, but it seems that this is not always the case. It is not that we don’t have a similar system for electing part leaders in the US (typically it’s by vote or merit), it was just the formality and the possibility of rejection that surprised me. I can’t say that I came away with a particular lesson, more that it was an unexpected learning experience for me.

I will remember my time with the choir fondly and make the most of my final weeks here with them. I hope someday we’ll meet again.

Gabrielle Reinecke: O-koto and the Kyoto University Choir

While establishing a CIP and forging connections can prove a daunting and sometimes discouraging process, I found it to be an ultimately invaluable part of my time at KCJS and my life here in Kyoto.

My first CIP, which I have continued both semesters here, is learning how to play the koto (A traditional Japanese string instrument with moveable bridges) and it was through what I suspect to be a combination of serendipity and extreme thoughtfulness on behalf of the KCJS staff that I was placed in a homestay which made these lessons possible. My host mother had studied the koto for quite some time and was kind enough to introduce me to her sensei, who has been generous enough to teach me free of cost for the for the past eight months. This connection made my CIP search easier than most, as I had long admired the instrument and had vague hopes of learning to play it while in Japan. Their long-established relationship made the introduction process very easy, and it wasn’t until I undertook the task of introducing another student that I began to more fully understand the complexity and cultural context surrounding such arrangements. Because all parties involved lived in the same neighborhood, special care had to be taken in regard to kinjo no tsukiai (neighborhood relations) between my teacher, the host families, the students, and all combinations thereof. What I suspect might have taken two or three phone calls in the US took over fifteen phone calls and some rather complex social maneuvering and face redress strategies so that no party felt disregarded – no small task when it comes to the finer points of Japanese joshiki (common sense, if you will) and etiquette.

My subsequent interactions with my sensei and her other students always left me a bit flustered as I could never be sure I was properly adhering to these unstated (and, as a foreigner, rather opaque) social codes, but they were sensitive to my situation and my language skills helped carry me through reasonably well.

My sensei is a true bohemian and has that slightly eccentric flare I personally associate with masters of traditional crafts and art forms – a trait I’ve come to find very endearing, though it certainly threw me at first. She has a very flowery way of speaking that utilizes an impressive range of keigo (formal speech) and Kyoto-ben (the local dialect) which, while I had no trouble understanding linguistically often surprised me in usage. For example, though I am the student and much younger, she often uses formal speech towards me, that is to say, the sort of language I would be expected to use towards her. However, I quickly came to realize this is more a reflection of her personality than misinformation on my part in regard to the way formal language is used in a real-life context.

The sequence of aisatsu (salutations) took a while for me to grasp. One might think, ‘how many salutations can one possibly use?’ but Japanese salutations are not limited to words of greeting. Also included are acknowledgements of the previous meeting, a request for guidance in the day’s lesson, a promise to work hard, and any number of repetitions and reiterations thereof based on my sensei’s responses (which, in accordance with her speech style, were rather numerous). Another repetitive sequence also concludes the lesson.

Also of interest was the occasional use of the greeting ‘good morning’ despite the fact that my lessons have always taken place in late afternoon. This is something not usually taught in Japanese textbooks, and is apparently not even common knowledge among Japanese until about college age, but the greeting ‘good morning’ can be used the first time you see someone in certain contexts (at part time jobs, in the world of the arts, etc.) regardless of time-of-day.

Of course, I also learned quite a few pieces of music, including two of Japan’s most well known songs, and had the opportunity to perform on numerous occasions, but what remains with me was the time I spent with my sensei and the extreme care and kindness she showed me. It was my first time interacting with a Japanese person of her age and occupation, and I believe it gave me valuable insight into the inner workings of Japanese relationships on the whole, despite her undeniable uniqueness. I will remember the time I spent under her tutelage quite fondly and, with any luck, will have the opportunity to make use of what I have learned in the near future.

My second CIP I began only this past semester, but while it was also music-related, it gave me a very different insight into Japanese society, and Japanese college life in particular. Natasha helped introduce me to the KyoDai Gasshodan (Kyoto University Choir) and from day one they welcomed me as a real member. Because our school schedule operates on a different calendar from that of Japanese universities, it is understandably difficult for us to truly experience campus life here the way we would in the US. I never really felt like a student at Doushisha (or Kyoto Daigaku) until I had the chance to sing with them. For the first time I thought “so this is what it must be like to be a ‘regular’ student.” That feeling of belonging was invaluable, and I will  treasure the time I spent with them and the memories we made. I know how difficult it can be to get involved in a campus club or circle, but if you can make it work, it’s more than worth it.

Marli Gordon: Kyodai Choir Reflection

The first choir practice I attended at Kyodai University held many surprises for me.  That first day, four other KCJS students and I were warmly greeted by three choir members at the entrance to the University.  They then lead us upstairs to a large room where the rest of the choir was assembled.  Members surrounded us and introduced themselves, pointing to their nametags which they all had hanging on strings around their necks.  Every single person I talked to made sure to make us feel like we were part of the group.  As we participated in the warm-up exercises, the moment we looked confused, or even before we had a chance to, someone was always there to help us along.  We went through the routine of stretching, singing while walking, singing while walking backwards and other voice exercises.  The new members had their voices examined and I was placed into the Alto section.  We practiced with our section and then sang the piece as a whole choir.  After practice there was a designated time for people to make
announcements.  I quickly caught on to choir rituals such as the established responses to certain phrases.  Whenever a member was speaking to the choir he or she announced their name and everyone responded: “Whoa!”  If they mentioned a place: “so close!”, a time: “so early!”, a price: “so cheap!”  and so on.  These responses united
the entire club and created a fun atmosphere while listening to numerous ordinary speeches.   Once the announcements were finished we met with our section groups one last time before disbanding.  The Alto leader gave us a recap on practice and there was time for Alto-specific notices.  After some cleaning and a song by the guys,
then girls and finally everyone all together my first practice came to an end.

Before starting my CIP, I had been warned that it can be particularly difficult to engage Japanese in conversation but, instead, I found that I couldn’t get a word in edge-wise and was shocked by the contagious energy that everyone seemed to be bursting with.  After the first day, I left feeling confident that I would quickly make tons of friends.
However, as time passed and our novelty wore off, students stopped approaching us on their own.  I regularly talked to Alto members but otherwise I felt like I was sliding backwards and losing that initial sense of membership.  In retrospect, I think joining the circle with five other KCJS members and having that first overwhelming interaction with the Japanese students gave me a false sense of security that ended up reducing my efforts to socialize.  Another deterring factor was the number of practices.  The students
had most of February off and then when they did meet we were on Spring Break.  Despite these drawbacks I do enjoy being a member of the choir and internalizing Japanese social norms.  I hope to make the most of the last few practices
we have left and solidify the friendships I have made.

Natasha Gollin: Kyoto University Gasshoudan

I have been attending choir practice regularly since I first joined the Kyoudai Gasshoudan, or the Kyoto University Mixed Voices Chorus, early in fall semester. There was a break for approximately a month this semester, but other than that, I have usually been going to practices twice a week, and if all works out I intend to appear in part of the annual spring mini-concert/happyoukai on April 28th.

Starting choir last semester was hard because I did not know anyone there, save for one classmate. Additionally, the others had a head start on the songs, and I even had to learn how to pronounce some Hungarian! There were also some choir traditions and routines that I had to get used to—staying after for announcements and optional singing time, for one. But now, not only do I understand a lot of the musical terms (such as gakufu, “sheet music” and ensoukai ni noru, “to appear in a concert, lit. ‘ride’”) and find the music easier to learn, but I have several fellow KCJSers there with me! I feel like my decision to continue choir had a large influence on the decision of not just one, but FIVE other students to join as well. I am also used to the routine of things, though it gets tiring at times going over the same part in the music ad nauseam, or doing exercises for reasons unclear to me.

Due to the costs and time involved, this time I also passed on a couple of major choir happenings that I had participated in last semester: the retreat (which cost far more than last time, and even included some school days), and appearing in the full concert (which costs around 10,000 yen, but I decided to at least be in the E-ru (theme/fight song?) and encore, which only costs 2000 yen—not cheap, but at least I perform at all). However, because of this and the time off, I feel a little less connected to choir this semester. There is less motivation to keep attending each practice when I will not actually be performing the songs.

At first I may have been a hindrance, but now I feel like more of a “real member” than before. For one, since the end of the winter concert, I have graduated from a chorus first-year to a shin-nikaisei (“new” second year)! Also, I have been part of a planning team for a fun Christmas event with party games and song performances for each other. I have also performed an English song (Jason Mraz’s “I’m Yours”) with two other KCJSers at this semester’s version of that event…and it was a huge hit. One person didn’t even care about looking up the actual song—he just wished he could hear OUR version again.  We found out a few weeks later that our act had won the grand prize by popular choice! I haven’t been so pleasantly shocked in a while.

After my time with the Gasshoudan, I came to see that its members are committed in a different way from typical American choruses—perhaps more at the same level as a college a cappella group. Because of the choir’s many expenses and hours of practice per week, the members have a high degree of loyalty and commitment to the group—often it is their only extracurricular activity.  Also, as I mentioned in my blog last semester, this choir certainly has its traditions, or shall I say quirks—odd nicknames, staying after practice for announcements where people in various leadership positions run up in front of the crowd and say things in unison, singing extra songs after that, and an array of unusual warm-ups, such as forming large concentric circles and doing scales while marching quickly backwards around the conductor. I am still fairly sure that this does not represent Japanese choirs as a whole…as I said last semester, the Kyodai Gasshoudan is just “a group with a long and distinguished history of excellence and quirkiness.”

From my CIP, I learned that people will always be there to help me or explain things to me when I need it, so I should not worry and struggle through the music director’s instructions alone. Since they were there for me, I felt the desire to continue in choir and keep working with them to make lovely music—which is, in the end, the objective here.

Though the Gasshoudan was socially out of my comfort zone, I learned that while in a foreign country, it’s always good to put yourself out there and try to bond with your peers—to start talking with people, work hard at what you’re doing, keep a cheerful and approachable demeanor, and do not be afraid to ask questions. You will get a lot out of your experience, trust me.

Angelica Gam: Kyudo and KyoDai Choir

As per usual, the days have continued to grow increasingly busy now that the end of the semester is drawing near. Even so, I continue attending practices for both Kyudo and choir on a regular basis.

First, I’d like to discuss my relationship with my bow. Emily, Megan and I have nicknamed the bow that I tend to use during Kyudo, “Edward”, as in “Edward Cullen.” Why would I ever do that to myself, you ask? See, just like the abusive boyfriend Edward Cullen of Twilight fame, I tend to get injured whenever I use the bow. And, just like a textbook case of domestic abusive, I still use the same bow because I know that the reason why my bruises from Kyudo continue to increase is because I’m doing something incorrectly. It’s all fun when we joke about my abusive bow (Bow, Beau, get it?) but whenever I think my bruises have healed, I find myself getting new ones to replace the old ones. It’s like the bows are trying to remind me that this is a sport and requires some kind of physical strain. I joked around about finding the one sport that doesn’t require running and getting exhausted when I found my strong affection for archery of all types, but after practicing for these past months, I realize that’s not entirely true. Partly because of the occasional slaps of the bow string against my arm, and partly because of the gripping energy I realize I lack after a full hour of shooting, do I realize that archery still exercises muscles more than one would think.

With that said, I’ve known for a while as to what my issue is, and I’m just having problems changing it. My fear of being attacked by the string of the bow and my improper method of handling the bow has hindered me from shooting arrows sans corporal punishment. You’d think I’d be used to dealing with pain from the string after having gotten hit so many times, but I’m still subconsciously shying away and doing weird things when I practice. Meaning, I’m not really getting the meditating aspect part of Kyudo down. I’m entirely wrapped up in going through the motions that I find that I’m having difficulty getting out of my mind. More than shooting the arrow, trying to get out of my mind is the hardest part for me.

Since I’ve figured out how to hold the bow somewhat properly, the pain has decreased over the past couple of weeks. That does not mean that I’ve been able to graduate on to a painless existence in the dojo. In the end, the pain I receive is just like when those monks hit people during meditation when they find their minds wandering. It serves as a reminder of the fact that A.) I’m still doing weird things unnatural to kyudo and that B.) it needs to stop. All I can do is keeping chugging on, and maybe Edward and I can come to some kind of compromise soon. Or I could just use the other bow we named Jacob, whom I work better with anyway. Either works.

Moving on to choir, I think my main issue is the fact that my motivation to regularly attend is like zip. My lack of motivation stems from the fact that I know I’m practicing for a performance that I don’t have the funds to participate in. I personally think it’s ridiculous that I have to pay 10600 yen to perform in my own concert. And I really want to introduce the concept of fundraising to the group. But since I need some kind of motivation to keep me going, I’ve decided to go with the cheaper option: performing the theme song and the encore for only 2000 yen.

It’s still frustrating, though. The people are really nice, and they’ve always been incredibly welcoming, and even though we’re not performing the actual set, we’re still allowed to practice with them. But perhaps actually going and practicing the set with them increases my frustration with my lack of sufficient funds to appear in the whole concert.

It makes me wonder though, am I in this for the music, or am I in this for the people? Giving up on performing because of funds, and losing motivation… Perhaps this also stems from the lack of practices over their spring break, and the cancelled practices due to influenza bugs going around. I miss singing like crazy, but I’m not so crazy as to spend that much on my own performance. Maybe my love for music has died over the years of not singing — although I really hope that’s not the case. I have to think about this more.

It’s at least a bit heartening to know that my issues with both kyudo and choir do not stem from some kind of cultural misunderstanding. These are things that could virtually, and probably already does, happen anywhere else in the world. Money, time, lack of skills—these are all problems common to any other college student like myself, Japanese or not. And in a way, that provides at least a little bit of comfort, knowing that I have some kind of inherent connection with this strange new world I’ve been living in for the past few months.

Woes aside, I really am having a blast. That much, at least, hasn’t changed.

Jackson Pietsch: Taiko + Igo

Through my two CIP activities, Taiko drumming at Kitanotenmanguu Shrine and the Go club at Kyoto University, I learned several new skills. First and foremost were Taiko drumming and how to play Go, but a close second came from speaking with a good number of native Japanese people who were not as used to “dumbing down” their language for gaijin as my host parents, teachers, and other Japanese friends have been. I had to deal with speech that was much faster and more colloquial than what I was normally used to, and so had to practice both asking for clarification on specific parts of a sentence, and trying to grasp larger meanings from context. Luckily, the activities of Go and Taiko can usually be broken down and explained as one simple motion at a time, so as far as I knew there were never any terrible miscommunications.
I have not been to Go as often as Taiko, and every time I went there were different Kyodai students there, so I did not make any lasting connections through Go. However, despite the fact that I was generally unable to go to after-practice dinners or other functions, I was able to speak closely and in a friendly way with several of our other team members, and also to perform at the March 25th festival at Kitanotenmanguu. The festival alone was a great experience, and I’m glad to have been able to meet some of the people I did and participate in something I otherwise would never have the chance to.

メグ・ベンヴィル:料理のクラス

メグ・ベンヴィル:日本料理のクラス

私はCIPの活動として、料理のクラスをとっています。京都クッキングサークルというサカルは月一回行きます。参加者は日本人が三分の二と外国人が三分の一です。日本人とよくしゃべれて、他のおもしろい外国人と話すことができます。アメリカから来た留学生だけじゃなくて、たいわんとか韓国とか、スパインから来た日本で働いている人もいます。皆さんと話しながら料理を作るのはとても楽しいです。
クラスではまず先生方がその日に作る料理の作り方を説明してくださいます。それから、同じテブルの六人とりょうりを作ります。はじめて行った時は、手打ちうどんとバナナチョコケーキを作りました。二回目にはひなまつりのためにちらし寿司といちごだいふくをつくりました。作るのは楽かったし、どれもおいしかったです。クラスで作ったものの作り方を日本語でも英語でももらったから、アメリカに帰ってから、友達につくってあげようと思います。京都クッキングサークルのおかげで、楽しみながら日本の料理についてたくさん学べます。

ミッシェル・マクアンドリューズ:折り紙

京都学生折り紙サークルに行った時本当に楽しいと思った。折り紙をする場所は同志社大学の新町キャンパスの和室だった。部屋は小さかったが、参加している日本人は突然来た私と二人の友達に席を優しくゆずってくれた。 そして、短くて、ちょっと気まずい自己紹介をした後でみんなは紙を折り始めた。日本人は一人ずつ折り紙を作った。ある親切な日本人はJさんと私の折り紙を手伝って、かざぐるまのような物の作り方を教えてくれた。Aさんは他の人と折り紙の本を読んだ。かわいい動物の形をしている折り紙を見て、私も作ってみたかった。花のような折り紙が机の上にあったが、本当は四つの鶴がつながっているものだった。かれんずるという折り紙だった。教えてもらったおかげで私も作れるようになった。

アメリカと違うなと思ったことは、一人ずつ自分のことをしたことだ。アメリカのクラブだったら、おしゃべりをしながら活動をすると思うのに、日本人は恥ずかしがって、私達とあまり話さなかった。それでも行ってとてもよかった。