We all were introduced to our host families at the same time. We had walked from the Kenshukan (my place of residence) to the small office building, where we were politely instructed to wait a moment. The families were all waiting in a classroom type room, sitting as if they were students. Once ready (I'm sure they announced our arrival in the classroom—we had actually been very punctual, however on time in Japan is really quite early by American's standards, especially mine) we entered this classroom-type room single file, and lined up at the front of the room as if live stock, the families whispering and pointing the whole time discussing between their parties as if at an action. It was completely awkward and bizare for us though the families didn't seem to notice. I was in fact quite genki (excited, lively, healthy, etc.) this being a whole new experience for me. I also could point out my couple by their age description and lack of children as said on my silly paper. After a few extremely brief words they read off our names and who our family was, the suspense almost made it a surprise. I was third to last, the sequence appearing to have no recognizable order. My couple smiled, I said a brief few words, like hello nice to meet you, and we quickly walked out. It was rather strange we skipped the whole introduction process, which felt very un-japanese, however retrospectively thinking of all the information I had given the organization on me they most likely already knew a great deal about me—most likely from a piece of paper that starkly contrasted with the one I was given—which seemed very Japanese. I have no idea how we were placed though I am almost positive nothing was random. We chatted down the stairs and into the car, the steady, slow, precise speech a welcomed favor. They were both very kind and had a very light hearted mood which made me immediately feel comfortable. I think it was the husband's walk. It was a walk that belonged to someone who had lived in one place for their whole life—that type of person you might randomly meet who would insist on giving you a spontaneous tour of a seemingly plain alley, though their incredible insight would make it incredibly entertaining. The incredibly casual walk of someone who was as normal as could be, but you would describe as “really owning his town” when you spoke to your friends about it. We smalled talked until they brought up food, and we decided on a meal. So we stopped as a supermarket near their home where we bought ingredients for sukiaki (I believe) which is basically cooking all fresh and raw ingredients together at the table in a shallow boiling sauce. This was the first time and only time I payed for anything on the whole trip. I grabbed some eggplant, which I planned on cooking for them later as a sort of thank you. He tried for it and even pulled at it however recognizing that I wasnt going to let go he let go. Later I questioned the forcefulness of my grip during the interaction and whether it had been a wise choice so close to our meeting—polite gesture of buying something vs refusal of kind gesture. I quickly put it out of my mind. We cooked dinner that night at the table like I said. It was delicious. Though their two miniature dogs never really ceased barking at me. Perhaps they don't really like people other than their owners …......or they are just silly little dogs that wouldn't survive in the wild and have to yap to assert their only remaining hope for wild survival. If only they were younger they would have probably been more playful, but this didn’t bother me at all, other than the fact that it made my host parents a bit hard to understand, their words constantly being overcome by noisy barks, or wan's as they say here in Japan.
As a side note, the Japanese love
onomatopoeia—partly because they just don't have words for many
things: making some actions very hard to describe in Japanese (which
is one reason the meaning we derive in English from scenes in films
for example is so short when the dialog is so long—the other is
manners and polite set phrases), and partly because they are
Japanese; they are just adorable and awesome.
They said that they usually take their
host children on an outing the Saturday during their stay and asked
where I would like to go. I honestly hadn't given it much thought,
though I probably should have. I told them that anywhere is awesome.
“This being my trip to Japan I really would be impressed and
interested in quite anything,” I said, and I quite meant it.
However as my host father was checking weather (most seemed bad) I
mentioned Nikko, an extremely popular tourist spot up in the
mountains with many temples, lakes and waterfalls, both historic and
beautiful. He said it was a bit far, however, when he checked the
weather his face lit up and I knew it was decided. Japanese people
really don't like bad weather. I continue to get pleasure out of the
weather conversations here in Japan. An American might consider it a
quite superficial, common conversation, but here they do it way more
and with a sincerity most can only imagine. Before bed we used the
remaining rice and made onigiri for the next days lunch. We made some
from sort of pickled plum, some sort of seaweed mix, a really compact
fish egg thing that was very salty, and a mixture of soy sauce and
dried fish that very much resembled wood, especially as my host
father used a old-school wood plane to procure the thin flakes we
would use from a larger chunk otherwise looking like a piece of drift
wood.
I woke at 5:45am as we were
going to leave at 6:30. After a breakfast of onigiri we set off. It
wasn’t until 8:30 that we arrived however the whole trip was
entertaining to me: conversation and scenery, accompanied by a
wretched vended cappuccino that I drank with glee. Nikko was an
amazig mountain town, and the walks we did led us to many amazing
temples and shrines. I will explain more along with the pictures. All
I will say now is that these are the places that still truly feel
sacred. An incredibly old forest surrounding places of worship and
shrines that seem to belong. And being so high up in the mountains
the air was crisper, and the fall sensation I had really made me feel
alive, and strangely nostalgic as I looked upon mountain lakes,
waterfalls, and small mountain towns. It was a beautiful feeling I
will not son forget. There were a great deal of tourists at the
shrines which gave an interesting feel but as the Japanese say
shouganai (しょうがない)
it can't be helped. Not
to mention I actually
met some lady from Roseburg, Oregon which was a pleasant surprise.
The return trip we decided to take the mountain pass which was AWESOME. Loved seeing all the lakes and places. More rural Japan is definitely an incredible place that feels really right. My host parents also speculated at the price as I seemed really curious. Didn't seem to shabby.
I was able to talk at length with the father on the ride home as everyone else in the Car was sleeping and a slower more relaxed comversation was possible. It really helped me with my speaking and was a very appropriate end to an amazing day, especially as the sun dipped behind the far mountains and took the color of fall, something the japanese have a single word for, and saturated it that much more. I touched some sleep on the return ride after talking as I was exhausted.
The next morning I made my host parents eggplant Parmesan as I thought it might be something they hadn't had before, something easy enough to recreate if they wanted, and something that might interest them. I had also already bought the eggplant so changing at this point was impossible, which I was actually considering after the realization that tempura is quite similar to eggplant Parmesan ha.
It was good though, and my host father said he actually preferred it to eggplant tempura. They then took me to a sushi place which has an awesome system the same I believe I already wrote of, and then returned me to the Kenshukan. It was an incredibly long feeling weekend as we did so much. I greatly adore these people and dare I say it their annoying dogs. They even invited me back for a potsticker party. Lovely people.
Don't ever give up your ability to be amazed by the purity and kindness of strangers.
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