「The University of Pennsylvania」カテゴリーアーカイブ

Van Dinh: Farming

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When I started my CIP, I didn’t really know what to expect from it. To be honest, after the initial meeting with my CIP contact, I wasn’t really looking forward to it at all. It wasn’t because farming didn’t seem interesting or fun, but because I had such a hard time following along with what he was saying. My Japanese isn’t what you would call good. Of course, I knew that in theory, I should slowly improve as the program goes on, but still, I had my worries. What if I couldn’t talk to anyone there? Or no one understands me because my Japanese is so terrible?

During the first weekend, I admit that I didn’t really make a lot of effort to talk to the other people there. It was intimidating and I was afraid of making a lot of mistakes and embarrassing myself. However, they were really nice and would ask me simple questions about myself. Since I didn’t know what else to say, I just asked them their questions back at them. It wasn’t much, but it was at least something I thought. As time went on, it became a little easier to talk to the Japanese people. I found that it was better to talk to someone one on one versus in a group. It was less scary that way. Also, I adopted a strategy of asking them questions so I wouldn’t have to talk all the time.

In the end, I’ve learned that in order to progress with my Japanese, I need to stop worrying about how I can’t speak Japanese perfectly. People will respond to my efforts, and if I do make mistakes (which is inevitable), then they will be kind enough to correct them so that I won’t do it again in the future.

Yueyi Zhou: Kyoto University Tennis Circle

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In comparing the tennis practices from my high school team to the ones in Japan, I honestly didn’t notice much difference in the tennis itself. Every practice started out the same way, with the relaxed long-range rallies sans the jogging around the courts (supposedly because the courts in Japan are shared with about 5 other groups at any given point). When all the important sempai had finally assembled, we would gather in a circle and wish each other well, then splitting off into two groups: one to return the practice shots, and another to catch the balls and return them to the baskets, where the “instructor” sempai would grab them and shoot off practice shots to the other side. Interestingly enough, Mika, our “guardian sempai” who looked over us from the first day, would always direct us as to which group to join. After a few practices, I started realizing that our group never had the opportunity to practice smashes, volleys, or line drives – that is to say, Mika had purposefully funneled us into the “lower level” group. A month or so in, she stopped directing us, a psychological graduation from our initiation into soft tennis. Practice would ensue, with the two groups switching off, culminating in 3-point sets played across two courts. “Don’t mind!”, “Nice Shot!”, and “LAAAST!” (to signify the last few shots before a switch off) resounded around the courts. Finally, two “representatives” would start sweeping the sand evenly back across the courts while the rest of the team congregated around the benches for some idle post-practice chatter. At the very end, another group circle-up and “Otsukaresamadesita!” concluded the events of the night.

With just these actions, there were a few key differences that I immediately picked up on between Japanese and American tennis practices. They were both highly ritualized – the American one was mostly a physical ritual, beginning with a jog, then a mini rally by the net, moving gradually further back to coincide with the long-range rallies beginning the Japanese practice. Japanese ritualization, however, was more of the language and social hierarchy that was implemented, such as “Yoroshikuonegaishimasu!” at the beginning of practice and per switch-off, having assigned “court sweepers”, and subordination to (through fetching balls for) the sempai who were conducting the drills. Distinguishing between the upper and underclassmen was made incredibly easy due to the standardized greetings afforded to upperclassmen compared to the casual waves to incoming underclassmen.

Another point of interest was the use of English phrases (as exampled above) throughout practice. At first, I had to really strain my ear to figure out what was being said, but once figured out the phrases became second nature. As these phrases are actually more ingrained into Japanese culture, it’s totally understandable that the group would use these set phrases, but I’m still curious to see if other sports / CIP groups tend to use English exclamations.

All in all, soft tennis will definitely mark my experience in Kyoto – the foray into Saiin, the sand in my socks, soft tennis balls hurtling at me at breakneck speed. But most of all, I’ll remember the members of Kyoto University’s Soft Tennis Circle, for all their their kindness and the wonderful memories they’ve left with me.

Chang won Lee: Ultimate Frisbee Circle – Breeze

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I originally planned on learning kyudo (Japanese archery) for my community involvement project, but ultimately decided to join Kyoto University’ ultimate frisbee club “Breeze” in hopes that this intramural sports circle would provide more opportunities for conversation with Japanese students (I definitely needed the exercise as well). Reflecting back on the semester that flashed by, this proved to be a great choice; I met wonderful people, improved my Japanese speaking, and learned more about Japanese culture. Though of course, this experience was not without its challenges.

A cultural difference I quickly realized was the attitude towards intramurals in Japanese universities. Unlike the more light-hearted and playful mood that surrounds the activities of US intramural clubs, Breeze’s practices were in comparison carefully regimented and serious. Each practice, all members performed basic training exercises then split into the men and women’s team to work on team-specific drills and exercises. With every practice matches followed a round of discussion in which the senior members taught junior members the finer points of the game. While this approach to intramural sports did not mean the team was strictly competitive, the members’ attitudes made the purpose clear that the practice was not solely to have fun. Hence, my lack of experience became the biggest obstacle that inhibited my involvement within Breeze. Even freshmen players, with already five months of practice under their belt, had developed into skilled players while I still had to learn the basics. Due to this skill gap, I was unable to participate in practice matches and at times practiced separate from the main group of members.

While I could not fully integrate myself into the activities of Breeze and its members, joining Breeze was a wonderful experience as this provided plenty of opportunities to practice my Japanese speaking skills. Breeze has over 30 members and there were always opportunities to engage in quick conversations with different members. Though, I became particularly closer with the managers for the men’s team of Breeze. My exclusion from practice matches actually contained its upside as this provided lengthy windows of time that I could fill by chatting with the team managers. These conversations undoubtedly led to the most memorable conversations during my time at Breeze. In one conversation, the manager and I discussed possible reasons why the system of day light savings was not used in Japan. Of course, as with all conversation topics that entered a realm that required terms outside the commonly used, everyday vocab, this conversation inevitably led to some use of the dictionary and hand gestures. In the end, my time in Breeze allowed me to further increase my knowledge of Japanese culture and improved my speaking skills. I even acquired another unexpected skill: remembering Japanese names (which I probably learned a bit too late).

While short, Breeze was indeed a memorable experience; the club is filled with nice, sincere people and I greatly enjoyed the conversations I shared with them. I even developed a greater interest for the game of ultimate frisbee and plan to join an ultimate frisbee club at Penn once I return to the United States.

エイミー・シン：エンジェルネット

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初めまして。ペン大のエイミーシンと申します。私 はエンジェルネットというところでボランティエをしています。エンジェルネットは 子供が来て、おやつをたべたり、宿題をしたり、あそんだりするところです。そして、毎週私は子供の手伝いをしています。

私はいつも二時半にエンジェルネットのビルに入って、靴を脱いで部屋に入ります。子供は私を見ると笑らいます．その後で子供はおやつを食べます。おやつは 私は子供に水をあげます。おやつの後でみんな歌を歌って、とてもかわいいです。歌はたくさんあるんです。例えばおやつの歌とかどんぶりの歌があります。その後で、子供はいっしょにレゴとドミノで楽しそうに遊びます。私は五時半まで子供とゲームをします。金曜日は散歩をする日です。散歩をする時は、エンジェルネットの外の商店街でします。ほかの人は子供達に「こんにちは！」とか「かわいい！」と言います。いつもとてもおもしろいと思います。五時半に私はエパートに帰ります。

これが私の普通のスケジュールですが、毎回同じというわけではありません。時々私はほかのことをします。例えば、時々エンジェルネットのちらしをたたんで、封筒に入れます。この仕事はおもしろくないと思います。でも、エンジェルネットにお客さんを引きつけるために、ちらしを配った方がいいです。

エンジェルネットに三人の先生がいるから、時々先生と話します。二人は英語を話せないから、日本語で話します。でも、一人は英語を勉強しているから、先生の英語の勉強のために英語で話します。子供は時々英語を話したり、時々日本語を話したります。でも、子供はとても早く話して、関西弁だから、時々全然分かりません．そのような時に、私は微笑んで、「分かりません」と言って、新しい話題について話します。でも、私はCIPを参加して日本語を習いました。だから、嬉しいです。私のブログを読んでくださってありがとうございました。

シュウ・ユエイ：京大ソフトテニスサークル

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CIPを決める時には、過去経験した事がある内容のサークルに注目しました。特に京大のオーケストラやテニスなどのサークルに興味を持ち、少し調べてみました。オーケストラに参加する場合に備えてトランペットのマウスピースをアメリカから持ってきましたが、テニスラケットだけは大きすぎて、とりあえずアメリカに置いてきました。しかし、オーケストラの方は楽器を借りないといけなくて、一学期しか参加できなくて、半年だけで戻ってもオケの皆さんに迷惑になるかと思いながら授業で先生に相談しました。

その後わずか一週間後に私は西院テニスコートで京大ソフトテニスサークルの練習に参加させてもらいました。ラケットまで貸してもらって、サークルの皆さんはとても優しかったです。私はもうレギュラーの様に見られて、紹介などはありませんでした。後から見ると、サークルには毎日３０人ほど練習に参加して、今でもまだ会った事も無い人たちが毎週数人会います。その理由は、このサークルは試合やトーナメントなどはなくて自分の為に練習するので、毎週参加する人はその週が暇な人だったということなのでしょう。

ソフトテニスは難しいですが、この一ヶ月間で大分上達できたと思います。サークルのおかげで京大と同志社の外の生徒さんに会う機会もいただいて、本当にうれしいです。毎週練習に参加する時は、「今日はまた新しい生徒達に会えるかな？」と思いながら楽しんでいます。

イ・チャンワン：フリズビーサークル

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みんなのかばん

私のCIPは京都大学のBREEZEというULTIMATE FRISBEEのサークルだ。まだ練習は五回ぐらいしか行っていないから多くないけどもういろいろなけいけんをした。実は、私はFRISBEEのけいけんがなかったから本当に心配した。初めの練習で、私は「けい」という二年生と会ってけいくんとFRISBEEの練習を始めた。でも、私の日本語はまだよくなかったし、FRISBEEの能力もだめだったせいで、他の人と話すことがあまりなくて私がほかのメンバーと話す時はだれも私をしらなかった。


フリズビー練習！

でも、私はもっとがんばった。そして、私の日本語の能力とFRISBEEの能力も向上しつつあり、他のメンバーと話すきかいが多くなってみんな、私をもっとわかるようになった。今、私は練習ごとにたくさんBREEZEのメンバーと話して少しずつ友達もつくってきた。もちろん、まだBREEZEの中でたくさんすることがあるけど本当にがんばって来たと思う。今までは、BREEZEのサークルは楽しくていいけいけんだった。

ヴァン・ディン：農業

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私のCIPは「モリノメグミ」という農業のグループです。ブリーデンさんと一緒にしています。国際会館駅に行くと、かわくぼさんが待ってくださっています。そして、私たちを畑まで乗せて行ってくれます。初めは、大津市の近くの田んぼに行きました。８人ぐらいいました。手袋を買いましたが長ぐつを持って行かなかったので、かわくぼさんが貸してくれました。１１時から４時まで米の刈り入れをしました。難しいですが、とても楽しかったです。みんなやさしかったです。毎週末、農業を楽しみにしています。

Yiqing Fang: Kyoto University Mixed Voice Chorus/Ikebana

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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.

Manxian Zhang: Zenryuji Nursery School

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Back in the United States, I mentored a Chinese toddler who was adopted into an American family at the age of one. While I introduced aspects of his forgotten culture to him, he showed me what it is like growing up in an ethnically different family in a foreign country. I found that mutual exchange of knowledge extremely gratifying so I decided to continue that sort of interaction with children while I am here in Kyoto. I figured that volunteering in a nursery school would be the best choice since I would be able to teach the children some English and perhaps some American children games while their behaviors as well as the teacher’s actions would allow me to observe the values and expectations instilled in four to five year- old children.

That sort of interaction was not so easily achieved. My duties initially comprised of patting the children to sleep and disinfecting their toys. Not a single word was exchanged during my first couple of visits. So I decided to come an hour earlier and eat lunch together with the children. Changing my hours was the right decision. During lunchtime, I would pick a table to sit and talk to four or five kids as we eat. Japanese suddenly become ten times more difficult when talking to the children in the nursery school. Not only did they have strong Kansai dialects, but also they would talk about their classmates and address themselves in the third person, which sometimes confused me, as I would lose track of the subject of the conversation. I also noticed that children could play with anything you give them. During playtime, the teachers usually provide a few selections of toys for them, but that did not deter them from having a great time with clothespins and cups, not your conventional toys.

Also, I was pleasantly surprised by the extent the teachers allowed me to help out. I poured tea for the kids, brought out some of their meals, put the tables away, wiped the chairs and helped perform some other miscellaneous tasks. Initially, I was allowed to play with the children after lunch, but the duties I have to perform increased incrementally to the point where before mealtime I helped prepare lunch and afterwards, after cleaning up, I was usually sent downstairs to pat the younger children to sleep.  So the time of actual interaction with children was limited to just lunchtime and even the time set aside for lunch was not set because it seemed like every time I go there, lunch ended at a different time.

I did not succeed in getting the amount of interaction I wanted with the children (I never got to teach them children games or fun methods to learn English) and with the teachers (they were all very busy throughout the time I was there, as their duties range from a caretaker to a janitor). Despite the short amount of interaction, the teachers did not make me feel as an outsider as they would have me help out as much as possible. In addition, I was able to observe the values and expectations promoted in early Japanese education and I witnessed the dynamics of the children’s interaction among themselves and with the teachers. Although my CIP experience was not everything that I had expected, I learned so much from it and gain so many unforgettable memories. So my best advice to future students who are looking for CIP activities, don’t come into it with a list of expectations, you probably won’t fulfill all of it. Instead, enter your CIP with an open- mind and be prepared for failures and unexpected achievements.

Jacqueline Wee: Noh Masks and Woodblock Prints

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Masks are creepy.  I think that’s a fairly agreed-upon opinion.  And yet, somehow I’ve been spending four hours of my Mondays, almost every week, surrounded by them.  My Monday activities started about halfway through last semester, at the beginning of November.  After my host mother’s coworker heard that I was taking a class on Noh theater, she invited me to her house, where her father and one other person were learning to carve Noh masks from a teacher.  Being an arts-and-crafts person, and having always been fascinated with wood carving, I agreed to learn Noh mask carving.

The classroom is an extra room in an acquaintance’s house.  The other two students, who I’ll call Tail-san and Village-san, and teacher, Inside-sensei are all ojiisan (grandpas) who have been friends for a very long time.  On top of gathering at Tail-san’s house every Monday to hack away at some wood, they also play mahjong and basketball at other times in other places during the week.  Going to my Noh mask class might be my favorite part about being in Japan.  A lot of people who hear about my latest hobby give me a weird look when I mention that it involves hanging out with grandpas almost every week.  They go, isn’t that…boring?  But it’s far from that.  The three of them are some of the most interesting people I’ve met since coming to Japan, and having lived for quite a deal longer than I have, they have tons of stories and knowledge of things I’ve never even heard of before.  Also, since they’re good friends with each other, despite being “old”—a word I don’t buy anyway since I consider age more of a mental thing than something purely decided by number of years one has been alive—they’re always cracking jokes and displaying their competitive side.  For example, they’ll pull out a scale and argue about who has carved his mask thinner and lighter.  Or who has managed to make his mask look older and more weathered.  Every minute spent in that classroom with those three is fun, and I feel like I’ve slowly become a part of the group.

Also, although it’s not really directly related to mask carving, the actual setting of my lessons is also lively.  Since I’m there from 12:30pm to 4:30 pm, in between carving, we take lunch and snack breaks.   Sitting around the floor eating various Japanese snacks with tea, I listen to stories about Japanese customs and traditions, as well as hearing about everyone’s families and histories.  Tail-san’s wife is a talented cook, and everything she makes is delicious, from the familiar and comfortable oden to the chewy and flavorful boar meat, which I tried for the first time last week.  They also live in the countryside, in a traditional house that’s more than a hundred years old.  Between coming and going to the classroom, I walk through the well-groomed garden, and even going to the toilet brings me through the wooden corridor bordered by sliding doors.  On top of everything else, by going to mask class, my comprehension of Kansai-ben has gotten infinitely better.  When I first started going to class, I could barely understand anything that anyone was saying, but now I can get through with very few understanding problems.  And I’ve picked up some phrases that I would have never been taught in any Japanese classroom.

From the combination of my Noh class and mask carving lessons, I have learned a number of things.  First of all, there’s a set number of mask types, and in the world of Noh, there is no such thing as original masks.  Of course since every mask is handmade, each one is unique in some way, but in general it follows strict mask standards.  There are even stencil-type tools that one carves the mask to fit into, and if carved properly, every curve on every mask of the same type should be the same.  For example, probably the most famous and commonly used mask type is called the Ko omote, which is supposed to represent the face of a young girl.  If you saw five ko omote masks carved by five different people, at first glance they would look exactly the same.  At the second and third glance, they’d probably still look the same.  But after staring at them for a while and getting accustomed to the subtleties of the masks, you’d start to notice a few slight differences.  The angle of the eyes might be just the slightest bit sharper on one, giving a subtle impression of slyness.  Or the corners of the mouth might lift up a little bit more on one mask, imbuing the expression with a tint of playfulness.  But take away the other masks to compare against, and you might as well have imagined the differences.

Although I started off with “masks are creepy,” I don’t actually think so anymore.  Well, for the most part.  We recently started painting our masks, and seeing multiple pure white faces lined up on the floor is still a little alarming.  But that part aside, now they’ve become like any other product of hard work.  To me, my mask is sort of pretty, rather cute, and something I’m quite proud of. I’ve also gotten a little better acquainted with traditional Japanese materials.  The tools used to carve masks are hard to find even in Japan, and I’ve never seen them in America.  They come in three general shapes, flat, curved, and diagonal, and in all different sizes.  After one finishes carving, paints the mask, but the base coat of white paint isn’t even paint at all.  It’s called gofun, and it’s used not just for masks, but also in some traditional Buddhist sculptures.  It starts out as a white powder, ground up oyster shells, and after being mixed with animal glue that resembles gelatin, called nikawa, it becomes a somewhat paint-like suspension.  Although I occasionally paint and draw, I’ve never worked with such materials in America.

After many months, I am close to finishing my first mask.  Mask making takes a long time.  A very, very long time.  But it’s a rewarding process, and through it, I’ve made friends that I wouldn’t have otherwise crossed paths with.  In contrast to my other main, wood-related, activity for the semester, woodblock printing, I’d say that I’ve found a closer community in Noh masks.  But I can where the difference comes from.

My woodblock printing class was twice a month from January to March, meaning that it only met six times, two hours per session.  I also got started slightly late, so I really only got to attend a fraction of the lessons.  The classroom was on the third floor of an art building.  Although I really love woodblock printing and think it’s very fun, I do much better in small, intimate group settings, so the structure of the class made it hard for me to make any particularly close friends.  It also didn’t help that the class met so few times and ended so soon.  For outgoing people, I think classes with one teacher and many students work fine, but since I find it uncomfortable to approach unknown people and start talking, I couldn’t get past just the friendly “hello, how are you.”  To each his own, I suppose.

I did learn some techniques and information about woodblock printing that aren’t really spelled out in books.  And since the students outnumbered the teacher, sometimes I got help from fellow students who had dealt with the same problems and figured out ways around them.  I got to learn from an experienced expert as well as normal students who had some genius tips of their own.  During these moments, I could feel the semblance of community forming, but the end of the woodblock class came too fast, and I didn’t get to see any further development.  Had it kept going, despite my slightly asocial nature, I think I might have been able to make some good friends, similar to those in my Noh mask class.  Ironically, pretty much everyone in my woodblock class was also an ojiisan.  I keep being told that I have old-person interests.  I guess it might be true.

My advice to anyone studying abroad in Japan or anywhere is to definitely find a place where one belongs and to continue going for as long as possible.  I feel most part of a community at my Noh mask class, and I feel like my closest friends are there too.  And I think part of the reason I feel so at-home in my mask class is because I got started fairly early and continued going for nearly two semesters.  For the same reason, I think I wasn’t nearly as comfortable at my woodblock printing class.  But above all, I think it’s important to take part in an activity that’s interesting.  Since I like carving both masks and prints, attending class was always fun.  And because I was surrounded by others with similar interests, I always had something in common with the people around me.