私のCIPは大原学院という小学校の英語アシスタントである。毎週、大原学院 の教師と一緒に英語を教える 仕事である。英語の発音をはじめ、文法とか単語などを教える。大原学院で色々なことを教えなくてはいけないが、一番大切なのは発音だと思う。
例えば、大原学院に行く時十二時から一時までは生徒の食事の時である。その時私は生徒と一緒に昼ご飯を食べながら、英会話を練習する。それに、英語の音楽をよく聞いてからサイモンセズのような英語のゲームをする。その時は本当の授業ではないが、生徒は私の英語を聞いたら発音が上手になる。食事の後で、教室でも少しフォーマルな教えることができるが、大切なポイントはいつも発音である。
たいていの場合は、私に教えてもらう生徒は小さい子供だが時々大原学院の中学生もいる。中学生の場合は大切なポイントはまだ発音だが、英語の読み方と書き方も一所懸命勉強する。それに対して、難しい文法を使うために英詩とかスピーチなどをよく勉強する。その時私の仕事は英語の間違いをなおしてあげることである。
大原学院は小さい学校だから、私は生徒のみんなを一回はおしえてあげたと思う。みんなの能力にすごくてびっくりした。英語に対する興味があるかを問わずみんなは会話すできることはすごいと思う。
「Volunteering」カテゴリーアーカイブ
Shauna Moore: International Exchange Team: Giving Directions and Event Planning
I’ve learned a lot from my CIP experience with regards to both culture and language, and I’m certainly glad I participated in it. The primary function of the “International Exchange Team” was to plan events in which native Japanese speakers and foreigners could converse and exchange ideas in a fluid and unassuming environment. However, on a day-to-day basis, we visited tourist hotspots in hopes of finding people who were in need of directions. Naturally, we congregated near maps, floated meaningfully around significant temples, or otherwise foraged through wide, brightly lit streets. I’m still not very aware of what the other volunteers, interns, or part-time employers do in their working or university lives, but, we gathered in Higashiyama for these purposes.
In general, the act of guiding people and giving directions did not prove fruitful for me because I was almost completely useless in this task. When I first started to volunteer with this team, I understood the conversations between my peers and senpai fairly well, but the conversations often lapsed into the casual, and I’m sure the other team members kindly tailored the conversation to my needs. When asked for directions, I understood the language surrounding the locations, but was unable to understand the precise locations they were looking for, and I certainly could not tell them how to actually reach said destination. (I, myself, got lost on the way to my CIP every day except for one, as a result experimenting with faster transportation methods).
However, I realized that my primary job within the volunteer group, unlike the other members, was to deal primarily with foreigners. In this situation I could communicate with them, but not an entirely concise or accurate way. We ended up working with a rudimentary methodology in which I translated any English questions into Japanese, and then translated the responses back into English. This was a very uncomfortable experience for me because I always felt as if information was lost in the rapid exchange and I would worry afterwards. However, having vague and slightly warbled directions was slightly better than being completely lost, I supposed, with no slight mortification.
Among the other volunteers, thanks seemed to be a primary motivating factor. Hearing one’s gratitude was well-worth the experience of appearing shady and conspicuous, holding up ghostly signs in the rain. When we weren’t helping lost souls, I had many great opportunities to practice Japanese with people my age as well as people who were just a bit older than me and had recently entered the workforce. The oldest man, whose age was never verbalized, already had two daughters and a wife, and treated me in a very avuncular manner. He constantly assuaged my trepidations, telling me, “We’re not like normal Japanese, so if there’s anything wrong, tell us!” He was an important contributor in the team, as well as several other volunteers who came and went, including many warmhearted and charismatic young ladies. My main correspondence was with a twenty-four-year-old employee who had studied abroad in Australia. He had been lost many times in Australia, but kind strangers had always been present to direct him to his destination. This, he expatiated, was his impetus for heading the International Exchange Team. For this reason, most of my conversations were with him, and he spoke with me patiently in Japanese throughout the evening. Typically towards the end of the evening, he would switch into English, and we would continue in that vein until it was time to call it a day.
The Japanese conversations were an interesting blend of keigo, often quickly switching from very humble forms to very casual forms before I could properly assess my position within the conversation. This really helped me practice how to adjust my level of formality according to the flow of conversation. I also learned things like how to accept a business card (although most of the keigo slipped right off of my brain without entering it), and how to conduct a meeting which we plan activities, events, etc.
The “guiding” and event-planning by itself was a truly difficult experience for me, quickly becoming something I largely preferred to avoid. However, the people who I worked with were such compelling folks and I really enjoyed working with them. They, likewise, were not impervious to the fatigue of such monotonous tasks, and seemed to generally be able to sympathize with the Japanese-induced headache behind my eyes. They were all very hard workers and generous with my mistakes, often glossing over them completely. I didn’t want to burden them, but I have certainly learned a lot from them, and I hope I have been able to contribute in some capacity to their English education. I cannot thank them enough!
Elizabeth Murillo: Practicing English with High School Students in Japan
For my CIP I choose to be an English assistant at Kyoto Bunkyo, a high school/middle school combination school. Most of the students I interacted with were high school students but on the occasional tours around the school I was able to interact with the middle school students as well. I have only been able to attend my CIP four times this semester, and have only interacted with two students, but I learned a great deal about the nature of English learning in Japan. English can seem pretty daunting to nonnative students of English, alongside the complexities that exist within the English language, the cultural aspects of language don’t always translate. In order to surpass these cultural barriers, I believe that the student has to have some experience interacting with the culture that speaks the language. It wasn’t surprising when I realized that the only students that approached me were ones that already had prior experience living in a foreign country. Both students I had conversations with studied abroad in Australia and had achieved a certain level of linguistic and cultural proficiency. These students were inherently outgoing and inquisitive and were eager to talk to me. We talked about very mundane topics, such as school, music and boys, and I felt very relaxed around both students. However my interaction with the rest of the students present in the classroom was very scarce. The first time I visited the school the teacher urged the students to try to talk to me but the effort was futile and at some point I solely focused on the students that I met. They were so excited to befriend me that we even went out together and interacted with each other in a setting outside of school to practice using practical English. The student’s commitment to speaking only English was very commendable but it was due partly because of their great interest in Western culture. One of my students loved hip hop dancing and showed me pictures of her in Australia dancing. My other student loved Disney and Western music. It was fairly easy to keep the English conversation flowing between us. Apart from observing how these students interest in English helped motivate them throughout my talks with them I was also able to observe how the primary education system in Japan looked like. I was given the impression that learning English was not really something the students were interested in but was something that only people with a keen interest were able to achieve. Perhaps the same could be said about Japanese. I haven’t gone enough to be able to observe more than this.
Catherine Alexander: Bazaar Café
For my CIP I chose to volunteer at the Bazaar Café. Bazaar Café, in the way it functions, the Bazaar Café is much like any other café; however, it does have a few special traits that set it apart. One thing about the Bazaar Café that differs from the average café in that many of the workers there are volunteers. In addition to this, the café also actively participates in the Kyoto community to spread acceptance and has a policy of openness toward all races, nationalities, and religions.
Through my experience at the Bazaar Café, I feel I learned a lot about group work and work relationships in Japanese culture. In the kitchen, there are few set roles, and teamwork flows almost naturally. Everyone is attentive to the simultaneous tasks around them, so they know when and where to step in and help without being asked. Not having to ask for help prevents the feeling of placing a burden on others, which is something that seems to be avoided in Japanese culture. Also, whenever someone fills in a helping role, for instance, drying dishes, the one they are helping will almost always reply to this action with the set phrase “onegaishimasu” or “arigatou gozaimasu”. These set phrases serve as simple but meaningful ways to express thanks as well as smooth and efficient transitions into group tasks. On top of this, these phrases are used without connection to age or rank, therefore they also simplify complexities of hierarchy and honorifics in the Japanese language and make teamwork easier. Overall, through my experience as a volunteer, I feel like I was able to see how aspects of Japanese culture carried over into a work group environment in the Bazaar Café Kitchen.
In regards to entering a new community like Bazaar Café, one important thing I would stress is observing and learning from those around you. There are things you are expected to do or know that you won’t be told directly, as they are already obvious to the members of the culture or community. Being able to adapt is a huge part of your CIP.
Ife Samms: Doshisha Church Children’s Service Violin Player
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!
Rachel-A'lexandria Hawkins: Ohara Gakuen
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.
Abby Hu: Niconico Tomato
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.
Hayley Valk: KYOTO EXPERIMENT Kyoto International Performing Arts Festival
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.
Augustus Chow: My CIP Blog
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.
Alejandro Ruizesparaza: Bazaar Cafe
When I first joined the Bazaar Café, I wasn’t sure what to expect. I was originally drawn to the idea working in a café for the sake of exposure to part time life in Japan. I wanted to use keigo, see how people interact behind-the-scenes of a restaurant and try something new. Admittedly, the prospect of a free lunch was also a lovely addendum. But when I first walked in to ask for a position, found out that one of the two managers (and my main source of contact) is Brazilian, the staff consists of immigrants from all over, and the café is a hub for discussing social and health issues, I realized the experience was going to be much more interesting than what I pictured.
Bazaar Café is only a couple of minutes away from Doshisha University and open Thursdays, Fridays and Saturdays. Each day has a specific regional cuisine dependent on the people cooking that day. I worked on Thursdays, when we would normally prepare Brazilian food. My usual job consisted of washing dishes, helping set lunches on trays and delivering meals to guests. Each Thursday was also a chance to get to know the other workers a bit better and learning how to flow as a group. Early on, I definitely felt like more of a disturbance than anything. But being with the group longer established a sense of unity. Though during work we were focused, at lunch-time we all came together and discussed whatever random topic came up.
My biggest impressions of Bazaar Café, however, actually came from outside of normal working hours. I was invited to help out at a party for some theology students and missionaries interested in the café’s purpose of highlighting social issues. Another time I helped out at a health festival focused on sexual health and STD awareness. Through those experiences I learned that the café had some rather ambitious goals but strove to establish a safe space for those sorts of topics. Through talking to staff I also realized how rare it is to have spaces like that in Japan. But if the home-like café setting and warm atmosphere isn’t convincing, the actions of the workers definitely are.
As my time is coming to an end here in Japan, I find myself sad to soon leave my new friends among the staff. As a final act of warmth, they’ve told me to come in the day before I leave for a Christmas party that will double as a Sayonara party for me. At only a semester, the time at the café was relatively short-lived. But I’m happy to say the experiences and what they had me think about are likely to be long-lasting.
Thank you Bazaar Café!