I was supposed to meet some friends in Takasaki City at 6:30 on Saturday evening; having, however, arrived by chance a little before 4:00, I had a full two hours to spend before it was time to meet. I had pinned one area of the old downtown section "Cool Place" on my iPhone in September 2010 but had allowed 18 months to go by without exploring it fully. Here was my chance.
"Cool Place" might well have been christened "Old Place"; it's a covered section of shops on the northwest side of the station spanning some ten blocks, more than half of which are closed down. The ones that are still in business seem rarely frequented, and their aging proprietors, surely having worked there their whole lives, seem solitary souls.
I started on one end at a dusty china shop. Outside, a table was laid out under the dreary April sky, laden with rice bowls, sake cups, handleless tea cups, and other assorted dishes in piles of 50 yen, 100 yen, and 200 yen sections. Upon entering I was shocked by both the lack of customers and the wealth of wears--teapots, glasses, cups, and plates were precariously balanced on shelves lining up all walls. For all their splendor, though, there was a fine layer of dust over everything and the store had the feeling that no one had cleaned in years.
Even so, I found many pieces that I loved, and set them out on the counter for the chain-smoking tenin to wrap for me. According to the labels affixed on the pieces, I should have ended up paying more than 6000 yen, but he gave me a gigantic discount (without having asked for it). The 2800 yen flowered tea pot that I loved was acquired for only 500; the 800 yen chopsticks were lowered to 200 yen each. He wrapped everything in newspaper, smilingly told me my students were lucky for having such a pretty teacher, and sent me on my way.
I wandered up and down the street of other shops, stopping at a stationary store and a sweets shop, imagining life in Japan back when these stores were up and bustling. Surely in the 60s and 70s this area was the place to go--first to the vegetable shop, then the meat shop, on to buy books at the honyasan, a hat at the hat store; each shop dedicated to one purpose and surely having the best quality for it. Now, walking this line of half-closed down stores filled me with such nostalgia for a world I never knew, I almost felt like crying for its loss. I hadn't meant to buy anything that day, but sensing the hopelessness of decaying businesses, I felt compelled to contribute something to keep them going.
Of course modern life is convenient, but I still get filled with sadness for a life rapidly disappearing. No one wants to go shopping in the old stores downtown; they want to go to the places right around the station, where everything is together, or at the mall, way out of town. Ironic that right after shopping at these mom-and-pop stores I went to Costco. What can you do to preserve the simplicity that once was found here?
It's not just Japan; the U.S. has long since felt the sting of big box stores swiping business away from individual small business owners. Luckily there are downtown revitalization programs sweeping the country as well, but I know it'll never be what it was before I was born. I know the words "progress" and "change"--I just prefer "simple".
(Post Script: I've been reading "Jane Eyre" for the past two weeks; I think my writing is accidentally getting a 19th century feel as a result.)
Monday, April 23, 2012
Tuesday, April 17, 2012
In Defense of Small(ish) Towns
10 Biggest Cities I’ve Been To (And Their Populations)
10.) Nagoya (3,377,000)
9.) Washington, D.C. (3,927,000)
8.) Madrid (4,072,000)
7.) Toronto (4,657,000)
6.) Chicago (6,945,000)
5.) Osaka (8,815,000)
4.) Manila (16,300,000)
3.) New York City (19,750,000)
2.) Mexico City (20,450,000)
1.) Tokyo (32,450,000, currently the largest city in the world)
(Population numbers from worldatlas.com)
Big cities have a lot going for them. They’ve got good art, culture, museums, music venues, international establishments, lots of diversity, all the types and variations of all the food you could ever want or think of, fashionable clothes, fun places to shop, entertainment up the wazoo, all kinds of people from hipsters to the homeless, bars, clubs, parks, places to hang out, and more. There are more jobs in the cities, so they're good for the economy. Thus, they are, for the millions and millions of people who live there, the place to be.
But they’re also terribly crowded: crowded trains, crowded streets, crowded restaurants, crowded train stations, and it takes an eternity to get anywhere, either jostling for a space on the jostling train or sitting still in terrible traffic watching the hours flow by. Even so, everyone is in a hurry, rushing from platform to platform, taking the stairs two at a time, never slowing down. Things are expensive in a big city, too, from housing to a vending-machine coffee.
During Spring Break, I spent five days bouncing around Omiya, Tokyo, Nagoya, Yokohama and back to Tokyo, during which I had ample time to dwell on the positives and negatives of living in a big city. After not a lot of reflection, I confirmed what I already knew: for me, it’s a vehement no.
It’s not that I dislike visiting big cities. On the contrary, I love the flash and excitement that comes from visiting a huge place. I’ve seen and done fantastic things in this metropolitan world that I’d never have a chance to do in a smaller location. Plus it’s self-affirming to be armed with just a map of the subway system, a travel guide, and an iPhone to be able to travel around a city. (Although of course I much prefer visiting someone who lives there who can be my guide.) But to live forever in a city of over a million? Never.
I suppose it’s all a matter of taste. Where the city is too stressful, too superficial, just too damn big for me, a city under a million is just too dull for others.
Maybe because I grew up on a family farm at the end of a dirt road in rural North Carolina. Maybe because we only had one high school in the whole county. Maybe because I read too much Laura Ingalls Wilder (Little House on the Prairie, anyone?). Maybe because my hobbies run more towards reading under a tree than clubbing in Shinjuku. Whatever the cause, I am able to appreciate the down-to-earth-ness of a medium-sized city more than the glamour and excitement of urban life. I, though world-traveled, sophisticated, and multi-lingual, am no 21st century urbanite.
Look at small towns in Japan. A chestnut farm, a cabbage farm, a strawberry farm, a local vegetable stand. A dilapidated temple falling down from disrepair. Little restaurants, coffee shops and bakeries that close at 5:00 p.m. but that have the most delicious food you’ll ever eat. A smiling “irashaimase” from the proprietor. A huge blue sky over groves of cherry trees.
Small towns in the U.S. We’re not talking about politics here. There is something lovely about the salt-of-the-earth folk, the countryside diners with fried chicken and okra, the post office, supermarket, bank, farmers’ market people all knowing who you are. Sure, there’s small-town gossip, but that’s better than being invisible. And in a city of 200-400 thousand, you can still get a small-town feel without feeling stifled.
I don’t need a lot to be satisfied with life, despite my actions which might make some of you think I crave constant change and excitement. [I did move to Japan, after all.] But I discovered way back in high school that it doesn’t really matter where you live as long as you have friends with you. (Thank you, Erin, Jacquie, Phillip, and Walker.) Because where’s the fun of living in Manhattan if you don’t have anyone to hang out with? Why work your ass off every day to pay your exorbitant rent if you don't have anyone to chill with after work?
In terms of the city itself, there are a few things that I find indispensible. I need a good grocery store, a farmer’s market, parks, and a local coffee shop. It would be even better if there were a used bookstore, international independent restaurants and relatively inexpensive yoga classes, too. Then I’d be super happy. But I'd settle for just the first few. I don’t need or desire designer clothes, super hip bars and clubs, or a condo with a skyline view.
I’ve traveled to six countries and lived in three of them. I’ve enjoyed their culture, art, museums, sightseeing places, tourist destinations, food, and shopping. And before I die, I want to go to Buenos Aires, Santiago, London, Paris, Rome, Oslo, and Helsinki. It will be wonderful to see all that those cities have to offer, and I will lap it all up eagerly. But I’ll also be glad at the end of those travels, when I come home to my house in a city I don’t yet know, in a neighborhood I haven’t yet visited, but that surely has copious amounts of trees under which I can sit and read to my heart’s content.
Wednesday, April 4, 2012
New Teachers and New School Year
Last year, when all was new, I wrote a long post about graduation, going-away ceremonies, new student matriculation ceremonies, new teachers coming in, and all of the huff and fluff that comes with the ending of one school year in March and the beginning of the new school year in April.
Since you've read the same thing already, I won't bore you with the details of this year's changes. I will say that my favorite teacher/supervisor/mentor left my school to go work in the Board of Education, which makes me very sad because we won't be teaching together. We will see each other once or twice every few months when I have B.O.E. meetings, but it's not the same. Most of the new teachers seem cool--again, they're young like last time!
There's a 22- (23?) year old girl who just graduated from college who will teach math, a 29-year old P.E. teacher (married to my old JTE from two years ago--how funny that he works in the same school she did!), and a 28-year old Japanese teacher who sits in front of me and who luckily can speak a little English. My new JTE is a friendly, energetic woman in her 30s; I'm looking forward to working together. There's also an assortment of "older" (40+?) teachers who seems like nice people, in the two days that I've known them.
It's a strange feeling, though, to know that I'm only going to be working here for three and a half more months. It's just enough time to get to know everyone well and become friends before it's time to pack up and move out. I hope my successor enjoys working here as much as I did! It looks like she/he will have a lot of cool people to hang out with at work! It's the teachers as much as the students who make this job so enjoyable; I'm a lucky girl to have had so many nice folk.
Since you've read the same thing already, I won't bore you with the details of this year's changes. I will say that my favorite teacher/supervisor/mentor left my school to go work in the Board of Education, which makes me very sad because we won't be teaching together. We will see each other once or twice every few months when I have B.O.E. meetings, but it's not the same. Most of the new teachers seem cool--again, they're young like last time!
There's a 22- (23?) year old girl who just graduated from college who will teach math, a 29-year old P.E. teacher (married to my old JTE from two years ago--how funny that he works in the same school she did!), and a 28-year old Japanese teacher who sits in front of me and who luckily can speak a little English. My new JTE is a friendly, energetic woman in her 30s; I'm looking forward to working together. There's also an assortment of "older" (40+?) teachers who seems like nice people, in the two days that I've known them.
It's a strange feeling, though, to know that I'm only going to be working here for three and a half more months. It's just enough time to get to know everyone well and become friends before it's time to pack up and move out. I hope my successor enjoys working here as much as I did! It looks like she/he will have a lot of cool people to hang out with at work! It's the teachers as much as the students who make this job so enjoyable; I'm a lucky girl to have had so many nice folk.
Friday, March 23, 2012
End of the School Year
This past week was the last week of school before spring break and the start of the new school year in April. It’s been predictably free for me—ever since 3nensei students graduated on March 13 (leaving a gaping hole in the middle of my heart), I haven’t had much to do besides teach a few “fun” review classes for ichi and ninensei. So to fill up my time when I’m not looking up new recipes or planning my next trips, I’ve been going to other teachers’ classes to watch.
Today I went to an ichinensei Japanese class and a ninensei math class. Both of the teachers are fairly young and have adopted fun teaching practices that I haven’t seen much of in the older teachers. The Japanese teacher brought individual whiteboards and whiteboard markers for the students to use while we discussed grammar in groups, and the math teacher timed us to race to complete the math problems. We worked on dividing and multiplying fractions and doing 3-step problems with mixed numbers. For example:
1/2 + 3/4 ÷ (-2/3)
(It’s -5/8, by the way.)
I missed five out of 40 problem, which I guess isn’t too bad considering I haven’t studied this stuff in 15 years. I was also happy to hear the math teacher say two things I really didn’t expect: 1) It doesn’t matter how you solve the problem, as long as you get to the right answer; and 2) Math isn’t about memorizing; it’s about thinking. Somehow in my head I thought Japanese education was all about playing by the rules and going by the book, so it was pleasantly surprising to see how wrong I was. I still think Japanese teachers work too much – being at school from 7:00 a.m. to 9:00 or 10:00 p.m. every day is just a little extreme – but it’s good to know that they’re still passionate about helping kids learn.
By the way, they’ve made the announcements for next year’s leaving and staying teachers. The three English teachers I work with now are all staying, but my favorite, the kind, helpful head of the English Department who has been here since I first started in August 2010, will leave. The librarian, a first-year math teacher, two of the disciplinarian heads, and the sexy gym teacher who just started last year, are also all leaving. I wonder who will come take their places . . . even though, in the long run, these changes don’t affect me too much personally, although they do affect the ALT who will come after me. After turning 30 on August 2nd, I’ll be returning to the U.S. for good to start all over again.
Or at least until another traveling bug hits me.
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
Conversation about Work
Me: I really like working at this school. I'm going to miss everyone when I go home.
Mr. S.: I've been teaching JHS for 16 years and I've never heard students say they love their ALT like these students love you. You love them, so they love you.
Mr. S.: I've been teaching JHS for 16 years and I've never heard students say they love their ALT like these students love you. You love them, so they love you.
Sunday, March 18, 2012
Food Glorious Food
I started running sorta-kinda regularly in January as part of Jaimie’s 2012 New Year’s Self Improvement Plan, and bought a pedometer to measure my progress. This pedometer doesn’t only measure steps but calories burned as well. Did you know you have to run 5,733 steps (something like 3 ½ miles) to burn only 248 calories?! That’s so depressing. One of my friends is training for a marathon and says that he burns 800 calories in a 10K run. That’s running 10K just to burn off one school lunch (great for the growing teenagers served—bad for the rest of us). I never knew you needed to spend that amount of energy just to burn so few calories!
But I’ve been doing pretty well running a couple times a week and trying to eat well. Because school lunch is loaded with so many calories, I try to eat only half or ¾ of it, except on curry days when I eat all of it because it’s so good! I’m biking to school as often as it doesn’t rain, and I go to track and field practice after school when I can, too, where I can do fun things like jumping hurdles and doing chin-ups.
I bring all this up because after making such an effort to Improve Myself, I had a good week in there when all those efforts went completely to waste.
Wednesday, February 29 was the last day of my Tamamura Japanese class. We had all worked hard for the past ten or twelve weeks, so to celebrate our last day we had an international party where everyone brought food from their country. There was American macaroni and cheese and chicken pot pie, deep-fried vegetables and sauce from China, Mexican taquitos (yes, I brought those), and a ton of Japanese food. Plus dessert – cupcakes, cheesecake from Costco, muffins . . . it was a veritable feast! And we all feasted like there was no tomorrow!
Two days later Mark had a Milkshake Murder Mystery Party for his 25th birthday. It’s just as its name implies: we all played a part in a murder mystery (I was poisoned by the Mayor just an hour in—thanks, Will) and drank as many milkshakes as possible at the same time. Again, the spread was incredible: pizza from Costco (thanks, Graham & Sam!), roast chicken (also from Costco, Chris and Hannah no okage), Emma’s delicious eggplant parmesan, and all kinds of other assorted deliciousnesses. It’s impossible to look all that goodness in the face and not enjoy it. Even when I was full to bursting, I couldn’t help having another ice cream sundae, especially with all the cherries and bananas and chocolate sauce lying around . . .
The day after Mark’s party, I left early in the morning to go to Shizuoka Prefecture with 11 of my teachers from school. We took a bus for the four-hour ride south, stopping several times along the way for snacks and breaks. Lunch was a seven-course delight of Japanese cooking: thin fried fish, assorted vegetables, rice, miso soup, green tea, and I don’t remember what all else.
When we arrived at the ryokan we were staying at, we changed into yukattas and sandals (there’s a word for them, too) and went to soak in the outdoor onsen before dinner. The rooftop bath had a spectacular view of the ocean and the sun sinking behind the clouds. Then it was dinnertime.
I had never seen so much beautifully arranged food in my life! A whole fish was the resting place for slices of sashimi and various other seafood, as well as rice, soup, salad, pickly things, and other food that was very good but whose names I don’t know. We ate and drank for two hours, then went back to one of the rooms to drink more and eat snacks! I was exhausted after so much hot tubbing and eating, that I went straight to sleep on my futon.
Our seven o’clock breakfast was almost as elaborate as the meal the night before. There was fried fish and a salad and miso soup with a giant crab claw in it, plus rice and tea. It hadn’t even digested properly when we sat down at a Chinese restaurant in Yokohama for lunch just a few hours later. And even though it was delicious, and I kept eating, I felt vaguely sinful . . .
Oh, that week of gluttony! What an unfair world we live in, where there is too much food for me and not enough for everyone else! It’s back to running again . . .
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
Takuya and Tomomi Get Married!
Back in September, my friend Takuya told me he’d be getting married in January, and asked me to sing at the reception. I felt really honored to be invited to this—my first—Japanese wedding, and was pretty sure the singing thing was just a joke he said over a few drinks. It turns out he was serious, though, which cranked my nervousness level up a notch. Now, not only would I be the only foreigner in a crowd of Japanese guests, following whatever unknown etiquette and wedding protocol there is, but I’d be playing the piano and singing a solo, too!
OK, so being the only foreigner isn’t that bad, since I am pretty often. Usually, I’m with a group of friends, though, not venerable family members and business acquaintances! I felt pressure, like the weight of the entire American culture was resting on my shoulders, and I’d better not mess up. Plus, Japanese girls are always so beautiful in their cute expensive dresses (or kimonos) and elaborate hairstyles that I was afraid I’d be frumpy and foreign and unattractive beside them. Weddings are formal and stiff enough anyway, which makes me uncomfortable, but being stiff and formal in another culture is even scarier.
I think I prepared more for this wedding than for any other one! I bought my dress two months beforehand, spent too much money on a piece of sparkly rayon/polyester to cover my shoulders, watched countless YouTube videos on how to do my hair (but which I never really mastered), fretted over what jewelry to wear, and polished my shoes in preparation for the big day. I wrote out a two-minute speech in bad Japanese that one of my friends re-wrote in good Japanese. I even did the Japanese gift-giving tradition of money in a special envelope, since they don’t do gift registries here. And of course, I practiced playing and singing every day.
Choosing which one to do was hard, since I’d feel ridiculous singing the traditional wedding pop songs most people suggested. I finally settled on a nice arrangement of “Be Thou My Vision” by the Martins, since my brother sang that song (although not that version) at my sister’s wedding back in 2002. I really wanted to play a piano piano, but they didn’t have one at the wedding hall. So I had to make do with a keyboard that my school was nice enough to lend me.
In retrospect, I didn’t need to worry half as much as I did, but on the day of the wedding, I so nervous it was hard to breathe. I took a taxi to the wedding hall at 9:00 a.m. and ran through the song twice with Takuya playing guitar. It went OK. But my hair that I had so meticulously put up in the morning was coming undone, and I had to ask one of the wedding hall attendants to re-do it for me. Then I remembered I hadn’t practiced my speech, so I started working on that while sipping the coffee that one of the attendants brought me. Another girl brought me a small cup of nihonshu sake, which helped me relax a bit. I kept telling myself that Takuya and Tomomi are doing a whole lot more to be nervous about than I am, but it didn’t really help.
The whole vibe to the wedding was different than a traditional ceremony in the U.S. (for obvious reasons). Instead of a church, the wedding venue was a beautiful brick hall with a small chapel upstairs and a large room downstairs with big glass doors that led into two meticulously maintained gardens. There was no priest or pastor; instead, an attractive woman with a voice like silk guided us through each part of the ceremony as the master (matron?) of ceremonies. There were no bridesmaids, groomsmen, flower girls, or ringbearers, either, just the employees of the chapel, who glided around efficiently, making sure everything was running smoothly.
The wedding ceremony itself was held in the chapel, big enough to seat the 50 guests with about five chairs left over. Before the bride and groom walked in, we watched a short video that had copious pictures of their wedding rings in it. Then the great doors opened and Takuya, together with his parents, walked in with a long red ribbon strung between them. In the same way, Tomomi and her parents entered the room a moment later (no one stood up, but there were many pictures taken), also with a ribbon. There was no bridal march; instead it was all Japanese pop, albeit romantic Japanese pop. At the front of the room, the ribbons were taken from them, and Takuya and Tomomi stood in front of the room by themselves. They read their vows aloud from a card, together in one loud voice. All I really understood was “Today in front of everyone” but I'm sure it was very nice! After they exchanged rings (given to them by one of the black-attired attendants), they held their left hands up in front of the guests, who clapped. Takuya planted a chaste kiss on Tomomi’s forehead, then the new couple, as well as their parents, signed their three separate certificates and held them up high in front of the room. There was a lot of bowing, picture-taking, and reserved clapping, and it was over.
After the ceremony came lunch—a delicious 6-course affair of smoked salmon, soup, butter fish, yuzu sherbert, roasted chicken, and rice in broth. It’s a shame I was too nervous about my impending performance to do more than just nibble at the plates as they were set before me, delicious as they were. I tried to make pleasant conversation with the people at my table—a couple from Takasaki with their 9-year old daughter, a 38-year old man from Osaka, and a 28-year old guy, the easiest to talk to because he could speak Spanish, too. We watched well-wishing videos from Takuya’s brother in New York and his friends in Chile, and a slideshow of Takuya and Tomomi growing up—so cute! Then for about half an hour, friends and relatives went to the front of the room to make speeches, none of which I paid any attention to but all of which I’m sure were kind and interesting. What I did keep noticing was the hip-looking photographer with the chinstrap beard as he slid around the room taking pictures . . .
Then it was my turn! I took a deep breath, said to myself, “I can do this,” and walked the million miles across the room to sit at the keyboard. Takuya picked up his guitar; I flipped the “on” switch on the keyboard. We shook hands gravely and said, “OK, let’s do this.” I pressed the keys, prepared to hear the song wafting from the speakers.
Nothing happened.
I tried again.
Still nothing.
“Sho-sho o-machi, kudasai,” I said politely (please wait just a second).
Two attendants rushed over to see what was wrong. While they fiddled with switches and plugs, Takuya told the audience, “This is Jaimie’s first Japanese wedding, and she’s really nervous, so let’s give her a loud round of applause to make her feel better.” Everyone started clapping and I started laughing at the ridiculousness of it all. My nervousness began to slip away. That’s when I noticed that some well-meaning person had mistakenly plugged the pedal into the power outlet, and vice versa. So I did a little switch-a-roo, and we could start for real.
The whole thing went off without a hitch! After the first verse ended, a few people burst out into spontaneous applause—because it was so good, I hope, not because they thought it was the end. I even hit the high note without too much trouble. No one could see my right leg trembling on the pedal, even though they might have been able to hear some of the wavering in my voice. The thing is, though, as soon as I was actually playing, I was mostly okay.
When the song was over, it was speech time. I had forgotten to bring my notecard up to the front, so in my broken Japanese, I said:
“Thank you so much. The truth is, when Takuya asked me, ‘Please play at my wedding,’ I thought it was a joke. Because everyone was drinking. But, it wasn’t a joke. Really, I feel very happy to have been invited here. (Switch to Spanish) It’s an honor to be here. I hope you are always very happy. (Back to Japanese) Forever, forever, I wish you happy. (Spanish) Congratulations. (Japanese) Thank you.”
When I sat down again at my table, I felt so relieved that it was over that I downed a glass of beer. Finally, I could relax and enjoy myself.
The rest of the afternoon went by quickly: there was a long, outdoor dessert buffet loaded with wedding cake, cheesecake, chestnut pie (similar to pecan pie but less sweet), assorted jellies and puddings, sweetrolls, ice cream, and other deliciousnesses just waiting for me to eat all of them. I also caught a picture of Mr. Photographer with my own camera while he wasn’t looking . . . but shhh, don’t tell him.
Finally, all the speeches were over, the tears were shed, the final “omedetous/congratulations” said. It was time for Party #2.
Most of the guests went home, but about twenty of us went to meet Takuya and Tomomi at a restaurant in Takasaki. One of the wedding hall employees, a beautiful 27-year old girl, came too. We hung out there, snacking on izekaya food and drinking assorted beverages until 6:00 p.m. There I learned that while I’d been sneaking glances at the photographer all day, he’d been sneaking glances at me, too. “He really wants to meet you,” Sanae confided in me. “He told me.”
So, at Party #3, this time in downtown Takasaki, I found myself sitting across from Yuu Inoguchi, suitless and camera-less but still hip in his olive green sweater and black hat. We ignored most of the other guests, who were busy knocking back as many beers as possible, to begin the getting-to-know-you process. His English is just about non-existent, so we relied heavily on my so-so Japanese, an electronic dictionary, and Takuya (“Como se dice ~~ en japones?!”), whom we called over often. Throughout the course of our conversation, we discovered that we like a lot of the same things--movies, outdoorsy things, mountains, reading in the park, that sort of thing. And it was really fun to talk with each other. I don't have any illusions--we just met after all--but I am smiling with possibility. If nothing else, we'll be friends, and having new friends is always great.
So, in the immortal words of Takuya Sato, “The past is the past, the present is the present, and the future is the future."
Happy Happy Wedding Day!
OK, so being the only foreigner isn’t that bad, since I am pretty often. Usually, I’m with a group of friends, though, not venerable family members and business acquaintances! I felt pressure, like the weight of the entire American culture was resting on my shoulders, and I’d better not mess up. Plus, Japanese girls are always so beautiful in their cute expensive dresses (or kimonos) and elaborate hairstyles that I was afraid I’d be frumpy and foreign and unattractive beside them. Weddings are formal and stiff enough anyway, which makes me uncomfortable, but being stiff and formal in another culture is even scarier.
I think I prepared more for this wedding than for any other one! I bought my dress two months beforehand, spent too much money on a piece of sparkly rayon/polyester to cover my shoulders, watched countless YouTube videos on how to do my hair (but which I never really mastered), fretted over what jewelry to wear, and polished my shoes in preparation for the big day. I wrote out a two-minute speech in bad Japanese that one of my friends re-wrote in good Japanese. I even did the Japanese gift-giving tradition of money in a special envelope, since they don’t do gift registries here. And of course, I practiced playing and singing every day.
Choosing which one to do was hard, since I’d feel ridiculous singing the traditional wedding pop songs most people suggested. I finally settled on a nice arrangement of “Be Thou My Vision” by the Martins, since my brother sang that song (although not that version) at my sister’s wedding back in 2002. I really wanted to play a piano piano, but they didn’t have one at the wedding hall. So I had to make do with a keyboard that my school was nice enough to lend me.
In retrospect, I didn’t need to worry half as much as I did, but on the day of the wedding, I so nervous it was hard to breathe. I took a taxi to the wedding hall at 9:00 a.m. and ran through the song twice with Takuya playing guitar. It went OK. But my hair that I had so meticulously put up in the morning was coming undone, and I had to ask one of the wedding hall attendants to re-do it for me. Then I remembered I hadn’t practiced my speech, so I started working on that while sipping the coffee that one of the attendants brought me. Another girl brought me a small cup of nihonshu sake, which helped me relax a bit. I kept telling myself that Takuya and Tomomi are doing a whole lot more to be nervous about than I am, but it didn’t really help.
The whole vibe to the wedding was different than a traditional ceremony in the U.S. (for obvious reasons). Instead of a church, the wedding venue was a beautiful brick hall with a small chapel upstairs and a large room downstairs with big glass doors that led into two meticulously maintained gardens. There was no priest or pastor; instead, an attractive woman with a voice like silk guided us through each part of the ceremony as the master (matron?) of ceremonies. There were no bridesmaids, groomsmen, flower girls, or ringbearers, either, just the employees of the chapel, who glided around efficiently, making sure everything was running smoothly.
The wedding ceremony itself was held in the chapel, big enough to seat the 50 guests with about five chairs left over. Before the bride and groom walked in, we watched a short video that had copious pictures of their wedding rings in it. Then the great doors opened and Takuya, together with his parents, walked in with a long red ribbon strung between them. In the same way, Tomomi and her parents entered the room a moment later (no one stood up, but there were many pictures taken), also with a ribbon. There was no bridal march; instead it was all Japanese pop, albeit romantic Japanese pop. At the front of the room, the ribbons were taken from them, and Takuya and Tomomi stood in front of the room by themselves. They read their vows aloud from a card, together in one loud voice. All I really understood was “Today in front of everyone” but I'm sure it was very nice! After they exchanged rings (given to them by one of the black-attired attendants), they held their left hands up in front of the guests, who clapped. Takuya planted a chaste kiss on Tomomi’s forehead, then the new couple, as well as their parents, signed their three separate certificates and held them up high in front of the room. There was a lot of bowing, picture-taking, and reserved clapping, and it was over.
After the ceremony came lunch—a delicious 6-course affair of smoked salmon, soup, butter fish, yuzu sherbert, roasted chicken, and rice in broth. It’s a shame I was too nervous about my impending performance to do more than just nibble at the plates as they were set before me, delicious as they were. I tried to make pleasant conversation with the people at my table—a couple from Takasaki with their 9-year old daughter, a 38-year old man from Osaka, and a 28-year old guy, the easiest to talk to because he could speak Spanish, too. We watched well-wishing videos from Takuya’s brother in New York and his friends in Chile, and a slideshow of Takuya and Tomomi growing up—so cute! Then for about half an hour, friends and relatives went to the front of the room to make speeches, none of which I paid any attention to but all of which I’m sure were kind and interesting. What I did keep noticing was the hip-looking photographer with the chinstrap beard as he slid around the room taking pictures . . .
Then it was my turn! I took a deep breath, said to myself, “I can do this,” and walked the million miles across the room to sit at the keyboard. Takuya picked up his guitar; I flipped the “on” switch on the keyboard. We shook hands gravely and said, “OK, let’s do this.” I pressed the keys, prepared to hear the song wafting from the speakers.
Nothing happened.
I tried again.
Still nothing.
“Sho-sho o-machi, kudasai,” I said politely (please wait just a second).
Two attendants rushed over to see what was wrong. While they fiddled with switches and plugs, Takuya told the audience, “This is Jaimie’s first Japanese wedding, and she’s really nervous, so let’s give her a loud round of applause to make her feel better.” Everyone started clapping and I started laughing at the ridiculousness of it all. My nervousness began to slip away. That’s when I noticed that some well-meaning person had mistakenly plugged the pedal into the power outlet, and vice versa. So I did a little switch-a-roo, and we could start for real.
The whole thing went off without a hitch! After the first verse ended, a few people burst out into spontaneous applause—because it was so good, I hope, not because they thought it was the end. I even hit the high note without too much trouble. No one could see my right leg trembling on the pedal, even though they might have been able to hear some of the wavering in my voice. The thing is, though, as soon as I was actually playing, I was mostly okay.
When the song was over, it was speech time. I had forgotten to bring my notecard up to the front, so in my broken Japanese, I said:
“Thank you so much. The truth is, when Takuya asked me, ‘Please play at my wedding,’ I thought it was a joke. Because everyone was drinking. But, it wasn’t a joke. Really, I feel very happy to have been invited here. (Switch to Spanish) It’s an honor to be here. I hope you are always very happy. (Back to Japanese) Forever, forever, I wish you happy. (Spanish) Congratulations. (Japanese) Thank you.”
When I sat down again at my table, I felt so relieved that it was over that I downed a glass of beer. Finally, I could relax and enjoy myself.
The rest of the afternoon went by quickly: there was a long, outdoor dessert buffet loaded with wedding cake, cheesecake, chestnut pie (similar to pecan pie but less sweet), assorted jellies and puddings, sweetrolls, ice cream, and other deliciousnesses just waiting for me to eat all of them. I also caught a picture of Mr. Photographer with my own camera while he wasn’t looking . . . but shhh, don’t tell him.
Finally, all the speeches were over, the tears were shed, the final “omedetous/congratulations” said. It was time for Party #2.
Most of the guests went home, but about twenty of us went to meet Takuya and Tomomi at a restaurant in Takasaki. One of the wedding hall employees, a beautiful 27-year old girl, came too. We hung out there, snacking on izekaya food and drinking assorted beverages until 6:00 p.m. There I learned that while I’d been sneaking glances at the photographer all day, he’d been sneaking glances at me, too. “He really wants to meet you,” Sanae confided in me. “He told me.”
So, at Party #3, this time in downtown Takasaki, I found myself sitting across from Yuu Inoguchi, suitless and camera-less but still hip in his olive green sweater and black hat. We ignored most of the other guests, who were busy knocking back as many beers as possible, to begin the getting-to-know-you process. His English is just about non-existent, so we relied heavily on my so-so Japanese, an electronic dictionary, and Takuya (“Como se dice ~~ en japones?!”), whom we called over often. Throughout the course of our conversation, we discovered that we like a lot of the same things--movies, outdoorsy things, mountains, reading in the park, that sort of thing. And it was really fun to talk with each other. I don't have any illusions--we just met after all--but I am smiling with possibility. If nothing else, we'll be friends, and having new friends is always great.
So, in the immortal words of Takuya Sato, “The past is the past, the present is the present, and the future is the future."
Happy Happy Wedding Day!
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