「KCJS Year」カテゴリーアーカイブ

Natasha Gollin: Kyoto University Gasshoudan

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For the past 2 months or so, I have been actively participating in the Kyodai Gasshoudan, or the Kyoto University Mixed Voices Chorus. I have been regularly attending practices twice a week and intend to appear in the annual winter concert on Sunday December 4th.

At first it was not easy—the other members had already learned the songs, so I had to catch up and learn to sing the women’s songs in Japanese. On top of that, the songs for the mixed choir are in Hungarian, which is far harder to pronounce or remember than Japanese. But I persisted, and with the help of some optional long practices, as well as the gasshuku (retreat), which was more work than play, I got a better grip on the lyrics and melody and now intend to sing in the whole concert. I still need to look at the sheet music at times, but I will work hard to be off-book by the concert! At first I may have been a hindrance, but I want to help the choir instead of dragging them down, so I have been practicing all-out. Other than giving it my all, stapling tickets to flyers, and occasionally sharing snacks, there is not much else that I can contribute, but I do what I can.

Through this choir, I realized that singing groups in different countries may share some essential elements, but are ultimately different. Until I joined an a cappella group in sophomore year of college, choir was always a class and not an extracurricular for me. This choir requires an extra time commitment, so the people in it tend to be super-committed to the choir’s activities, not to mention paying its many expenses. Also, like other circles in Japan, people tend to make this their main activity during college, while back in America, people would usually have other activities and choir would not be their main focus. Another difference: this choir has various customs that are, shall we say, different from what I’m used to. This includes various cute and sometimes bizarre nicknames (e.g. Nojinoji, Winter, Zukkii), having long announcements by people in management positions after practice, staying after practice to sing extra songs, and slightly offbeat exercises and warm-ups (such as lip trills and hip-rotating…at the same time). But I suspect that this is not the standard of all choirs in Japan: it is unique to the Kyodai Gasshoudan, a group with a long and distinguished history of excellence and quirkiness.

Being let into this group meant a lot to me. I know that there is already a precedent for KCJS students being in this choir, but even so, the fact that they welcomed me with open arms says a lot about their kind and open-minded spirit. However, that does not necessarily mean everyone is going to talk to me or be my best friend. In a group of about 80 people, it is hard for even native Japanese to get close to each other. Still, through different activities, I was able to socialize and befriend my fellow altos and first-year members, and now my closest friend who helped me from the start (nicknamed Christine or Chris) is even planning on sending me a New Year’s card, which is very flattering if you know how much it means in Japan.

From my CIP, I learned a few new words that I would never have known otherwise, such as gakufu (sheet music) and ensoukai ni noru (to appear in a concert, lit. “ride”). But more importantly, 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 want to be there for them, and I plan to continue participating through next semester and doing what I can for the Gasshoudan.

In order to succeed in your CIP, do not hold back. Even if you are shy or not confident in your language skills, it never hurts to put yourself out there and try to make friends. There may be someone who is outgoing and interested in Western culture who befriends you first, but that is not always the case. So start talking with people, and of course, always do your best, because when your peers see you working hard, they will appreciate your presence and accept you as one of the group. Do not be afraid to ask questions, and most importantly: just have fun!

Michie Adachi: Zenryuji Nursery School

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Hidden in the historic Gion district notorious for spotting Geisha and experiencing traditional Japanese culture, you will find the Zenryuji Nursery School. With Zenryuji Temple to the West and Yasaka Shrine to the North, it is located in a special place. Commuting here with fellow KCJS-er, Trisha Martin and being greeted by a sea of shining, smiling faces of the children at the nursery school every Tuesday was truly a pleasure. No matter how difficult my morning Japanese lessons, or how tired I was, the children, little bursts of energy, always refreshed me.

All throughout high school, I worked at an afterschool childcare program for K-4th graders, so I assumed that this Japanese equivalent would be rather similar. However, the differences were striking. I’ve never seen a group of such well-behaved children in my life. From putting away their backpacks to folding their clothes, these young children, mostly 4-6 year olds, performed these tasks with almost military efficiency with only a short prompt from their teacher. Before every meal, they wash their hands (twice!) and sing a song showing appreciation to God and their parents for providing the food. After every meal, they brush their teeth and neatly put away their chopsticks and other eating utensils without being asked. I constantly question whether these little creatures are human beings or robots!

My last meal...so yummy (and free)!!!!

After a couple of visits, I quickly became accustomed to their daily lunch routine and subsequent nap schedule. However, for about a month, Trisha and I still felt like outsiders. We felt as though we were an interruption to the smooth flow and efficiency of the operations at this daycare rather than helpful volunteers. And then, unexpectedly, the awkwardness dissipated. The other teachers started asking us to do small chores, such as clean off the tables and even plan little games to entertain the kids while their lunch was being set-up. The kids themselves also started treating us differently, approaching us without fear and freely talking to us as friends rather than foreign specimen. While the children’s strong kansai dialect and simple sentence structures challenge our language comprehension abilities, hand and facial gestures facilitate our communication.

My experience volunteering at the Nursery School has definitely opened my eyes to another side of Japan. Through the children’s eyes, I can see a picture of Japan that is not clouded by excessively polite speech and tatemae. I truly value their insights and being able to see how Japanese education and childcare transforms these little people into Japanese citizens.

[Update]: Today was my last day at the daycare. The children have a performance this weekend for their parents, so I got to witness the dress rehearsal…such organized chaos!

Brandon Syms : Assistant English Teacher

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My experience with CIP has been excited, yet a little unfulfilling. I say that because although I enjoyed going to the school to partake in the activities with the students often I was unable to because I was scheduled on a Friday and it seems that many field trips and holidays fall on that day. I originally decided to become an Assistant English Teacher for my CIP because I was thinking of doing the JET program and I wanted to be sure that this type of work would be something I would want to do. I got quite a few other things out of the experience as well. For instance, I got an insight into the Japanese education system. The thing that shocked me the most of is how relaxed the atmosphere is while still managing to maintain the same structure. The teacher has a friendly relationship with is students and yet he still holds together this structure. The role I played was at first more difficult that I had expected. Not using Japanese with the Japanese teacher was strange to me. I felt as if it kept the students outside of the conversation. Something I realized about the English classes in Japan, is that it is taught in much the same manner that Japanese is taught to native English speakers. However, I still don’t quite understand why it is done in such a strange manner, yielding very few that are able to fully master the other language due to things like limited vocabulary and intense grammar. A suggestion that I have to offer to the English Education Department is to perhaps focus on two things, vocabulary themes (lists that cover all the words of the same theme) and more frequent speech practice. I understand that not all students want to learn English but with the way it seems to be structured, those who do want to learn won’t be able to do so to the extent of their full potential.

On a lighter note, I really enjoyed getting to know one of the classes, I remembered a lot of their names and they really enjoyed my lessons. One lesson in particular I really enjoyed because I got the chance to explain the grammar point in Japanese to the students. Unlike Japanese classes in America, English classes in Japan are taught in English at the middle school level. I can only imagine how difficult that must be to grasp if you do not understand the language of instruction. When I explained it to them in Japanese, they were more enthusiastic and they began to correctly use the grammar point.

Being a foreigner in that setting is also very interesting. Unlike adults, children are not as accustomed to foreigners since they wake up early and go directly to school where they socialize with other Japanese children and leave later to go home where they spend time with their family. So as a foreigner I at first felt a little awkward because I didn’t understand from their point of view why I was so astonishing. But little by little I grew very comfortable and eventually feeling more prideful able being a foreigner. For the most part Japanese children thing foreigners are cool and mysterious. So all the students are just very curious of me and about where I come from. I think in all, my experience was different. I am just glad that I got the chance to see what a Japanese school is like in a hands-on way. I’d recommend it but only if you can go more than once a week.

Nicolas Parada: Rugby with the "Freeks"

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Kyoto “Freeks”

            As I wrote in my previous blog entry, rugby has been an enormous part of my life for the past 6 years.  Since high school, I have trained and played almost religiously, and with Japan’s growing notoriety as a great Rugby nation, I couldn’t pass up the opportunity of playing the game I love overseas.  I was excited to compare my skills and knowledge of the game with my Japanese counterparts, perhaps improve my game, and keep fit for when I return to my team at home.  These original goals were personal, and rugby oriented.  While the CIP portion of the program is meant to help better immerse students in the language and culture of Japan and the student’s immediate community, I initially didn’t look at this opportunity past the point of staying fit and getting a few more games under my belt.  After more than 3 months practicing and playing with the “Kyoto Freeks” (yes, it is misspelled on purpose…or perhaps not?), however, I have realized that my CIP experience has yielded some valuable experiences.

Kyoto Freeks is a men’s rugby club comprised of mostly men in their 30’s. There are a few younger, and quite a few older, but all are working adult men. My friend Garrett (also from Amherst, studying in the Nichibun program) and I were the youngest members of the team. Most of the players on the team have extensive rugby experience, and while Japanese ruggers aren’t known for their size, I could definitely tell that many of the guys had been playing since middle school.

The first few weeks of practice consisted of joint sessions of the Freeks and the Doshisha High School Rugby Football Club at the high school grounds. Perhaps the first thing I noticed was the absolutely horrid condition of the field. The last time I played rugby was on the lush, soft, green fields of Massachusetts, offering a gentle cushion when being slammed into the ground by the opposition. But here, at my first practice, I looked upon a rectangular patch of sand. Not dirt. Dirt would suggest that there might have once been grass here, or that grass could foreseeably grow again in the future. Underneath the top layer of coarse sand was hard, unyielding, packed earth. I heard from a team member early on that the only other foreign player on the team was out for the season because he had snapped his collarbone simply falling over on the concrete-like pitch.  To my surprise, these kinds of fields are the norm in Japan. The only fields with grass are larger stadiums style grounds that a reserved year round for match days.  None of the Freeks or the high school players complained as we took the field, and I resigned to accept it just as they did.  But I came to realize that the field was the last thing these players were concerned about.  I’m convinced that if practice was held in a parking lot, they wouldn’t offer a single word of complaint. This was the first glimpse I got at the amazing work ethic of Japanese players, and as I would come to recognize, the no-nonsense work ethic that permeates all of Japanese society.

Something else that caught my attention was the unexpectedly clean standard of play I saw and experienced. Rugby is known worldwide as a rough man’s sport, full of hard hits that sometimes escalate into fights. But what I saw here was a calm that is rare in the states. There were moments where I thought a temper might rise to a boiling point, but the game always continued on without incident. It was refreshing to see the REAL “gentleman’s game” played as it should be. The referees were extremely professional as well, and all the players on both teams offered the referees the respect they were due. The discipline of Japanese players is second to none!

 

Although it was difficult to notice at first, I gradually became aware of clear senpai-kouhai relationships within the team. Unlike on many American teams, where the better players receive greater voice and respect, the kouhai on the team were quick to carry bags, shag balls, prepare the field, clean up trash, and poor beer for their senpai during nomikai. It was difficult for me to find a place within these dynamics. As a guest and a (large) foreigner, I was deferred to with much respect by all the members of the team, despite my efforts to lower myself appropriately.   Most players originally thought that my age was closer to 31, not 21, which further complicated things.  Many players had trouble with their interactions with me. The language barrier was of course a powerful issue, but I think there was more to it. I have a hunch that part of the reason I was shown such unyielding respect was because my host father, a 60 year old senpai of the club and former Doshisha rugger, introduced me.  3 of the more influential players on the team were also very close friends with my host father’s daughter and son, which made their giri to my host father even greater. As such, perhaps they felt a need to give me particular attention.  Yet, I think it more likely that the kindness and respect I was shown was reflective upon my gaijin status, as removed from their uchi group, thus requiring me to be deferred to with greater emotional/social distance.  In the end, I decided to continue using humble language and conduct with all the Freeks members.

By the end, my team mates became more comfortable with using Japanese with me, rather than attempting to communicate in hand gestures and broken English. Though I sometimes had to ask them to use less kansaiben, many players started to joke with me and I really started to feel like part of the team, especially after games with all the typical hugging and high-fiving.  My Japanese got a good amount of practice as well. Through exchanging emails with the team captain, communicating with players on the field, and even doing a couple of one night homestays with my captain’s parents the night before some early morning games in Nara, I got to use Japanese more and see more of Japanese family life.

It was a shame to have so little time with the Kyoto Freeks. Just as I felt I was becoming a real member, my time has run out. I hope to return to Japan on the JET program, and perhaps I will be able to pick up where I left off with my new teammates, or at the very least stay in contact with them and visit.

Anthony Shimamoto: Volunteering with the Homeless

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My CIP of choice was participating each week on Monday evening by heading to the Kawaramachi Catholic Church to go on a night patrol of the streets of Kyoto in order the provide the homeless with tea, warm clothing, blankets etc. The number of volunteers fluctuated each week but generally there was around 4-5 members in each patrol. The three areas of the city that the groups would patrol through were Sanjo, Shijo and Higashiyamadori. The route that I most frequently traveled was the Sanjo route.

At the base of the volunteering organization are around 4 key members who come each week and who over a number of years have come on good terms with the homeless in the local area, almost always being able to recognize each homeless person by appearance and they always knew their names. Upon meeting the homeless the conversation would generally devolve into one concerning the living conditions and needs of the person as well as possible insight into any information about new homeless people who have moved in the area. These members were extremely thorough in their note taking and all three groups would convene together at the end of each patrol to go over the name of the homeless person, a detailed description of where they were found and a short summary about what was talked about. These members who were regulars each week also had a great intuition about the different locations that the homeless would find to sleep in. The most common spots being in the stairways to the underground parking lots where it was warmer and where one would be spared from the wind.

In general it was quite an enlightening experience being able to come into contact with the Japanese homeless population. The most part the homeless people that we encountered were around 60 years of age and always male. Perhaps the most interesting part of the interaction was the civility of the  homeless when interacting with the church members. Often times they would reject items like hand warmers if they felt that they didn’t need them and one time a homeless man who had extra sleeping bags gave them to the church members so that they could give them to other people who needed sleeping bags. Overall working with the homeless was an interesting experience that allowed me to gain insight into a part of Japanese society that is often not very visible.

 

Ann Chunharakchote: NICCO Volunteer

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My Community Involvement Project (CIP) is helping the PR officer edit and compose reports in English. Every Tuesday, I would spend 2-3 hours at the small office of Nippon International Cooperation for Community Development (NICCO)  located in a machiya (Japanese traditional house) that serves as a casual office complex. The atmosphere therefore is naturally homey. NICCO is like one big family united by a common vision and goal to make the world a better place. Despite the fact that the people of NICCO are really warm and kind, I had difficulty feeling like I was one of them. There are several reasons why I am still an outsider. The first and most obvious reason is because showing up at the office once a week was not enough. Secondly, I did not share the same amount of dedication and stamina as the people of NICCO did.  The people at NICCO are very serious about their work. Although we all sit very closely to each other in the tiny office, people do not make small talk or chit chat.

I have done volunteer work since high school, but I never thought about actually pursuing a career in this sector. Sadly, volunteering is a side-project not a top priority to me. The opposite, however, goes for the people of NICCO and I truly admire and respect them for that. These people would travel to countries such as Malawi, Pakistan, and most recently the Tohoku region to rebuild the lives of the disaster victims. But because my selflessness and passion did not measure up to their level, I did not feel like I belonged there. Furthermore, because the nature of my responsibilities did not require frequent interactions with others, I also could not develop deep relationships with my colleagues and the other interns.

The most interesting thing I experienced at NICCO was when I had to write two letters of apologies. One of them was an actual letter of apology and the other one was somewhat a different type of  letter of apology. The reason I call it different is not because the NICCO staffs intentions were not sincere, but because we had to apologize to the person that had to cancel last minute. At least in the West, the party that cancelled last minute would be the party that is expected to send the letter of apology to the organization. But as I have learned from this situation, in Japan, if a person had to cancel last minute, it is because they were forced to. Therefore, in Japan, you have to apologize to that person for causing them to make a last minute cancellation even if you really had nothing to do with it.

I am positive that if my Japanese skills were advanced, I could contribute more to NICCO and also fit in to the organization better. Due to the nature of my responsibilities, and the fact that my supervisor can speak English, there have been times when I had to resort to English. I try my best not to, but because I need to make sure that I understand her instructions perfectly, I have committed the crime of using English during my CIP.  Because my tasks involved public relations, it is crucial that I know exactly what I am doing or else the results may reflect poorly upon NICCO.

Nonetheless, my CIP experience at NICCO has been a positive one. Despite the fact that I never became a real member of the organization, the people of NICCO are perhaps one of the most caring and selfless group of people I have encountered and for that I am truly grateful.

 

 

Keeley Nakamoto: Sunny Bits Volleyball Club

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When asked to write a blog post to reflect on my experience with the CIP and the idiosyncrasies I observed while interacting with my native Japanese peers, I was at a loss as to what I would discuss.  Being restricted from regular participation in my activity due to infrequent meetings and inconvenient holiday schedules, I was not sure I could convey any perceptions with complete confidence that what I had noted was more than a one-time occurrence.  Upon further consideration, however, I realize that I have gained deeper insight into the way in which Japanese people interact–insight that renders my assumptions prior to joining Sunny Bits completely false.

The task of joining a circle activity seemed incredibly daunting at first given the teinei speech patterns presented in our CIP booklet and the senpai–cohai relationships which, we were warned, must be strictly observed.  After numerous emails back and forth, the  club president and I finally met up and biked to the gymnasium where practice is held.  While the rest of the females wore long sweat pants, I donned my embarrassingly short spandex, the common attire for female volleyball players in the United States.  Immediately, people could tell that I was not from here.  After being called to order, all the members made a circle and waited silently while I gave my self-introduction in Japanese.  Despite the nearly tangible tension I felt while standing in that circle, this feeling quickly melted away as soon as the scrimmaging started.  Neither a hierarchy in players emerged nor did any sort of gender stratification occur.  While most every member of the club is highly competent in the sport, even new additions who barely knew the rules of the game were encouraged and given equal playing time.  Nicknames were commonly used, and merciless, yet good-hearted, teasing plagued all members.  At the practice’s end, every member who had had an uncelebrated birthday during the summer was given a scrapbook adorned with pictures and messages from all the players.  A genuine warmth radiated from this group of individuals for whom volleyball placed second to friendship.  My preconceptions of what Japanese circle activity dynamic was like were shattered.

I am grateful that I had the opportunity to see this side of Japanese culture that is not oft spoken of.  After being with Sunny Bits, I realize that not all clubs subscribe to the old-fashioned formality of pecking order or complete seriousness in one’s craft.  One of my only regrets is that my short stay in Kyoto did not allow me to form as deep a bond with the team as I would have liked to.  It shows that in Japan and America kids our age really aren’t that different; everyone just wants to have a bit of fun.

Katrina Vizzini: Kyoto University International eXchange Society (KIXS)

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When I began looking for a CIP, I really began it halfheartedly. Most of my interests that have the possibility to be a CIP lie in activities that are most often accomplished solitarily, leaving little room for cultural or language exchange. I toyed around with joining an art circle or a piano club, but honestly, I didn’t imagine that those clubs would lead to much socialisation. Thinking about what I do on a normal day to day basis, I realised that I usually just like to be around people, no matter what activity it is that we are doing. Acknowledging this, I joined KIXS over at the University of Kyoto.

As detailed in my previous post, KIXS meets for dinner at Renais (ルネ）, the cafeteria, once a week to eat dinner together and socialise. KIXS couldn’t be a better fit for me. Through KIXS I’ve been able to meet and make friends with people not just from Japan, but from all over the world. I’ve yet to meet everyone yet as KIXS is a rather large circle having over 50 members I believe, but how involved you are is entirely dependent on you. Keeping this in mind, I have tried to help out and be “part of the group” as much as possible. It is a bit difficult, as the circle is based at the University of Kyoto, so there are sometimes that I cannot participate in events, but I try my best to do so anyways. For example, KIXS has sold food at two events since I began attending meetings. At both events, I have helped sell the food, asking passers-by in rather formal speech if they’d like to buy a churro or a moffle (a sweet rice flour waffle). The Japanese people passing by seem to take more notice at this foreigner speaking Japanese to them than they do at the Japanese students dressed up like anime characters or cross dressing. Through this, I got quite a few people to stop and purchase churros and moffles, including completing a to-go order where I got a chance to use even more specialised formal language.

While I can’t say I feel like a “true” member of the group (I still get special foreigner discounts at the party gatherings), I can say that through KIXS I’ve gotten to know a lot of Japanese students and students from other countries pretty well and can definitely see some of these friendships continuing after the semester ends. I feel at ease at KIXS and appreciate the fact that the requirement of the CIP means I was “forced” to put my shy foot forward and get out meeting people. I enjoy hanging out with everyone and sharing our different thoughts, worries, cultures, and of course senses of humour. Can’t wait for the next meeting!

Michaela Karis: Circle Participation

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Over the course of my CIP, I experienced everything from frustration and uncertainty to satisfaction and confidence. The beginning was the most difficult—when I was still in contact with multiple circles and trying to find one that would apply to my interests, accept me, and fulfill the CIP requirements. Because of this early confusion, I decided to participate in three different Circles rather than only one. By experiencing the different circles’ unique “cultures” I hoped to gain a clearer understanding of typical life for a Japanese university student. Unfortunately, I gradually learned that the price I had to pay for this broader understanding was a less intimate relationship with the members of each of the clubs. As time progressed, I found myself gravitating towards one of the three clubs in particular: Doshisha Hiking Club. In the end, I chose to more thoroughly involve myself in this single club, rather than continue my superficial interactions with all three Circles.

That’s not to say that I didn’t learn anything from the other clubs. As an involved participant in a western theater group at my college in America, my experiences with the Theater Group Q were very informative. I was not able to participate in theater activities with this group as much as I would have liked, but I was able to observe a rehearsal and attended a showing of their fall production “Eyelids’ Woman.” The rehearsal gave me a unique glimpse into Japanese modern theater culture and the production was both well-done and fascinating. At rehearsal, some of the points which most caught my attention were the manner in which all the cast members addressed each other (both men and women used the diminutive –chan suffix), as well as the length of time of the practice dedicated to stretching and warm-up exercises. One entire hour of the three hour rehearsal was dedicated to warm-up exercises. In a conversation with one of the cast members, however, I learned that this practice was unique to the Doshisha group, rather than a characteristic of all Japanese theater in general.

In contrast to my experiences with the Theater Group Q, in which I always felt like an outsider merely observing the group activities, I truly feel that I have become a member of the Doshisha Hiking Club (http://hiking.yamagomori.com/). The club meets every Saturday for training and climbs mountains about once a month. I quickly learned that nothing accelerates group bonding like mutual pain during exercise. It was raining during my first training practice so we ran up and down flights of stairs. Training was short but intense, and followed by a long period of relaxing together talking and a late lunch. The combination of the work-out and the relaxing time was perfect to break the ice and then give me a chance to talk to Japanese students with absolutely no ties to KCJS. It was rewarding to make friends with Japanese students who didn’t have a professed interest in American culture or English, and to do so entirely on my own.

The Hiking Club lunches quickly grew into one of my favorite activities, and was, I think, one of the only times during this program that I can say that I really felt entirely like a Japanese university student. It is easy to become stuck in the KCJS bubble, surrounded by people who understand English, and it was refreshing (if a little exhausting) to operate outside that comfort zone. I especially enjoyed bonding with Oohashi-san, the only other girl in the club. She seemed pleased to have someone else to work out with, professing that, as the only girl, she often had to run by herself and was often the last to return. I was glad that I could give her company, and in return, she was always happy to answer all my questions.

Through my experiences with the Hiking Club, I was able to personally observe some interesting aspects of group behavior in Japanese clubs. One aspect that surprised me was the awkwardness of introductions, which I had always chalked up to my inadequacies in Japanese, actually exists for native speakers as well. My first practice with the club also happened to be the first practice for another new member. When he was introducing himself, he mentioned that he was a third year. This lead to a small stumble in the conversation when he asked how he should address my friend, Oohashi-san. Normally, Japanese protocol would direct the new member to call one of the group’s senior members with the formal “last name-san” construct, however, since Oohashi-san is only a second year, she felt awkward having someone who is technically her sempai address her so formally. They decided on a compromise—Minayo-san—Oohashi-san’s first name followed by the more formal suffix, but not before a rather long deliberation. As an American who has never had to spare much thought to how to address people around me, I found the exchange fascinating. The Japanese language makes it impossible to ignore the status of everyone around you. Unlike English, Japanese formally codifies the structure of society in relation to you, so there can never be any doubt about where you stand in the social hierarchy.

In the beginning, I resented the CIP as something inconvenient and stressful, particularly since I ran into so much trouble getting mine started. Now, however, looking back, I am pleased with how everything turned out. I realized recently how empowering the CIP can be. I now know that I can conduct basic conversation with real Japanese people outside of the framework of any program. I feel comfortable composing emails, finding the right locations, and interacting with Japanese people without assistance. All of these skills are invaluable to language ability and will definitely help me more fluidly navigate life in Japan in the future.

Cecille de Laurentis: Kyodai Orchestra

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I have mixed feelings about my CIP experience.

First, the good: there is no doubt that the CIP can provide experiences that a ryuugakusei might not otherwise have access to in Japan. Although interacting with our host families and with the outgoing KIXS and DESA members is certainly good language practice and often a lot of fun, generally the families that choose to host and the students that choose to join international circles are used to interacting with foreign students and enthusiastic about it. Thus, chances are we’ll be spoken to in language we’re more likely to understand; our mistakes will be more readily forgiven/breezily ignored; each participant in the interaction has a better idea of what to expect from the other. In other words, it’s less of a challenge. However, when one reaches out to a circle or community organization, one may encounter people who have never met a ryuugakusei before, creating more pressure on both ends. Talking to the people at Kyodai Orchestra was a huge change from hanging out with my host family or my KIXS/DESA friends–from their slang/vocabulary (I was totally thrown by “ikkaisei” and “gakubu” in lieu of “ichinensei” and “senmon” at first) to their mannerisms. Suddenly being polite and following cultural expectations became a lot more important–which, if I’m not mistaken, is part of the intended value of the CIP. It keeps us from getting complacent, which is definitely beneficial.

However, I must unfortunately voice disagreement with some of the things we were told at the CIP information session at the beginning of the year: namely, that it’s best to pick an activity you are very familiar with and/or good at. I understand the motivation behind that, but I honestly wish I had tried to learn (for example) the koto from scratch, or done something I was perhaps vaguely familiar with, rather than try to play cello in an orchestra, something I have done in the States for about ten years. Because I’ve been heavily involved in the Western classical music world for so long, a world in which the structure and expectations are very familiar to and beloved by me, the cultural differences in the Kyodai Orchestra system grated on and sometimes even upset me, rather than opening my mind to learning opportunities. Considering that I’ve largely found it easy to embrace cultural differences in general since coming to Japan, that is a significant thing to say. Therefore, I would recommend for future students: choose a CIP you are interested in, to be sure, but perhaps avoid an activity which you feel strongly about or are very used to in its Western form. In terms of Kyodai Orchestra specifically, the people are kind and welcoming, but due to the lack of an audition process, it’s impossible to enter the main orchestra, so that would be another thing to keep in mind.

Additionally, I feel that were I studying abroad for a full year, I would have been more motivated to form meaningful connections with the other orchestra members. For the first month and a half that I attended my CIP, I was only doing individual practice in the strings building, because they weren’t sure in what capacity I could enter the orchestra yet. I didn’t consistently see the same people every week, and it wasn’t until after I’d joined the first-year orchestra (as I mentioned above, joining the main orchestra wasn’t an option), which in turn wasn’t until mid-November, that I received a welcome party and actually had an extended interaction with the people I was playing with. Because I will probably only see them once or maybe twice more and then return to the States, I feel that I quickly dismissed the possibility of lasting friendship, which is a shame. Nevertheless, I enjoyed the welcome party much more than I expected to, and it provided me with an opportunity to experiment with some of the wakamono no kotoba and Kansai-ben I’ve picked up since I’ve come to Japan–since the other orchestra members aren’t particularly familiar with the formalized college-Japanese-student language I arrived here speaking, I wasn’t looked askance at, which was quite gratifying (though I don’t mind being mocked in a friendly way by others, of course.)

To conclude, there’s definitely no way I can say my CIP was worthless, but I feel I could have gotten more out of it than I did, which is both my own fault and that of external factors that couldn’t really be controlled.