The Dear Japan Letter

On the topic of transitions, I've been really busy lately and was just catching up on a few friends' blogs to see what they're up to and how things are going. This included one blog belonging to a fellow American female who moved to Japan the same time as I did, whom I have shared a community (and some interesting international travel tales!) with and who is struggling a bit with the contradicting and confusing sensation of wanting to leave Japan this summer, yet finding it hard to do so at the same time. I've been there, but not to this extent, so it's not surprising there are a lot of emotions floating around her blog right now (oh, man, makes me think next year will be interesting).

Anyways, one of the posts on this woman's blog was a list of her top things that will be missed from this country. You would be surprised what was on there (weather comments, housewives, small expensive dogs... and I actually found the No. 7 - "My Friendly Next Door neighbor" - reason choke-on-the-water-I-was-drinking funny), but I wanted to share one letter I had totally forgotten about, think is amusing and demonstrates just how far we've come in the last two years.

This letter (with picture) kind of got to me: (#4) The nail that sticks out, gets hammered down. There's a lot of different directions you could go with that saying, but my friend had pulled a picture and quote from Facebook that I thought summed up the point she was trying to make well:

4. The nail that sticks out, gets hammered down
I had had my share of celebrity-ism. This letter from Facebook best sums up my feelings:

Dear Japan,
Stop watching me do stuff... it's creepy.
Thank you.

Amendments to the agreement:
You may watch me do stuff if:
I am wearing a costume,
I am holding a cute animal,
I am driving circles around your car in the parking lot,
I am singing that song about the milkshake bringing boys to the yard,
You give me a cookie,
I am performing hilarious manzai show,
I put on a fleece Godzilla costume and follow you through a world heritage site.I could completely relate to this letter and picture in my first year, but have somehow learned to just rebuff the stares to some extent. Maybe I expect them now? Have gotten used to the attention? But I know how she feels. You hate it, but maybe you will miss it or notice it even more once it's gone?

This might not be personal growth, just survival in some essence, but I believe it shows we have been able to adjust to a new community, adapt to a different culture and accept what is not going to change (while making small strides towards helping educate others on the global community). And I guess it makes for some funny stories and raised eyebrows back home?

I can give you the blog address if you want to read more (pending my friend's permission), but this took me down Japanese memory lane a bit. Oh, Japan. *sigh*

SIDENOTE / Afterthought: Right after writing this post, I closed down my computer and walked through Takasago, the town I work in, to the train station. Down one narrow street, I passed a park where a small group of children were playing tag (or something like it where they were running around). They were obviously really into the game, but when one of the kids, about age 8, saw me, he stopped running, pointed at me walking by and yelled "FOREIGNER, FOREIGNER!" Then all the kids stopped playing, ran over to where he was, and just stood there, watching me walk by the length of the playground (down the path I walk down every day, and have for the last two years). I had headphones on so I pretended I didn't see or hear them, but I guess I may have overestimated the level to which you don't even notice the attention... it might just depend on what mood you are in... and my friend was right, it's there.