II. Alien?

As of this week it’s official: I am no longer a tourist-in-Japan. And it isn’t just due to the fact that I am now in possession of my alien registration card. Last week, for the first time since I started learning Japanese, I experienced that wonderful moment every language student is yearning for: speaking a foreign language without noticing it. It happened quite suddenly- one of the sensei asked a question, and not until I was halfway through answering it did I realize that I was, in fact, replying in Japanese. Apparently, after four months of intensive study in Leiden the best thing I could do for my Japanese language skills was not to learn more kanji or to drill more verbs, but to come to Japan. Here, kanji are everywhere! In Leiden I sometimes struggled to remember the ON- or KUN-yomi of the kanji, or even worse, their stroke order, but in Tokyo travelling by chikatetsu alone has already imprinted the kanji for ao, kin, za, roku and many more on my mind in a way that studying them in the library never could.

As for enhancing my conversation skills, Tokyo still feels like one big language lab. It is still incredibly cool to notice that the exotic and at times downright strange language I started learning back home is actually being spoken on the streets here. I am beginning to feel at home not just in this city, but also in this language. Still, using Japanese can be infuriating at times: emotions, for example, are very difficult to express. Of course my command of the language is still very limited, but I also find that Japanese is much more indirect than other foreign languages I’ve learned in terms of voicing an opinion, or expressing hopes and fears, likes and dislikes. Practical things like shopping for clothes (Structural Functional Japanese lesson 10), sending post cards home (SFJ lesson 2) and making small talk (SFJ lessons 1 through nan demo ii desu), pose no serious problems though. But finding the right shampoo or make-up remover can be very difficult. It took me a lot of patience, comparing labels, bothering shop assistants and visiting every drug store in a 3-mile radius of the NichiRan Gakkai in order to finally succeed.

However, this sort of practical stuff is also fun, and one of the reasons I wanted to participate in the JPP in the first place: living in Tokyo, rather than just visiting it, is so much more rewarding. The homework can be too much at times and the sleep I’m getting is definitely too little, but sitting in a café in Asakusa, practicing my kanji and watching the passers-by, I cannot imagine anything else I’d rather be doing right now. Especially last weekend, when fellow JPP student Evelien had arranged for all of us to go to a concert/party in a club in hip and happening Kijijoji. Advertised as an Otaku music party it featured bands such as YMCK and Sexy Synthesizer performing electronic dance music based on the blips and beeps of old-fashioned 8-bit computer games. It was great! Not only did I actually like most of the music (I’m quite a lover of eccentric electro-music), but being there and observing our fellow party-goers was great fun as well. The room was filled with (mostly) male gamers, ranging from reasonably hip to terribly geeky. All of them had one thing in common, though: they hardly ever danced. The beats were great, the beer was not too expensive, but they just stood there, packed together on the dance floor, standing transfixed by the animations projected on a large screen at the back of the room. It was a strange experience, but we still had a lot of fun, especially since most of the acts mentioned us “oranda-jin,” thanking us for our presence that night.

Apart from the Otaku party, one of the coolest things this week actually happened today. Five of us got up at around four o’clock this morning, taking the first metro to the Tsukiji fish market. Upon arrival we were welcomed by sushi-chef Suzuki-san, wearing a green jacket to match his signature green hair. Not wasting any time he immediately took us down to the tuna auction hall, where the floors were covered wall to wall with huge tunas, freshly imported from Spain. Apparently these fish can weigh up to 500 kgs, selling for up to 10,000Y per kg. Before the auction started, fish buyers gathered to poke at the tuna with specially shaped hooks whilst shining into the carcasses with their torchlights in order to determine whether the fish were fat enough (yes, the fattest parts are the tastiest). The auction itself went very fast, with several auctioneers yelling out prizes and buyers too fast for us to understand. Suzuki-san then took us to a part of the fish market that is usually off-limits for tourists. There, in the inner heart of the market, was the widest variety of most amazing fish I’ve ever seen. There were fish in all shapes and sizes, ranging from tiny shell fish to bright red octopi with tentacles as thick as my forearm. There was so much to see I never knew where to look or when to pause for a photograph. What struck me was that although we must have been standing in the way all the time, taking pictures, walking slowly, obstructing passageways, we never got one dirty look. Most people smiled, several people offered us tea and coffee, some told us their stories and one of them even let us taste some whale meat. Whilst I do feel slightly ambiguous about Japan’s continued whale hunting activities, I had decided beforehand that I would, at least, try some whale meat if it was offered to me. Well, it was terrific. I don’t think I’ll go looking for a restaurant that sells it, partly out of principle and partly because I don’t think I’ll get in as a foreigner, but I must admit: now I understand what the Japanese are on about.

Having experienced things this cool in an otherwise “quiet week,” I am already looking forward to what next week will offer. One thing is certain: whatever you’re looking for, if you can’t find it in Tokyo, you probably can’t find it anywhere else in the world.