When Worlds Collide: My Family in Japan

When I first came to Japan nearly two years ago, I had an overwhelming feeling of starting my life over again. However, over time, aspects of living in Japan which had initially puzzled, frustrated, or shocked me became normal, part of a day to day routine. We are all creatures of habit and routine, and no matter what new situations we find ourselves in, time tends to even it all out and give us perspective. The unusual becomes usual as we find new rhythm in the phases of our lives. Now for a slightly less serious observation. In the sitcom “Seinfeld,” there is an episode where one of the characters, George, doesn’t want his new girlfriend to hang out with his old friend, Elaine. Why? Because it would be a case of “worlds colliding,” the world of his friends and the world of his relationship. A mere two weeks ago, my family—mother, father, and sister—came over to the Land of the Rising Sun. I bring up the “worlds colliding” theory because for me, these were my own two “worlds” colliding. You see, for the last two years, my life as it was back home in America and my life in Japan have been wholly separate. Going home for the holidays, I realized how no one at home had changed, but I had. I had a new perspective and I had seen things they hadn’t. I realized that my life in America and my life in Japan could never really mesh. I was extremely excited for my family to come, but also rather nervous. I felt like their whole experience and whether they enjoyed it or not was hanging on my shoulders. Also, I knew that they saw me as the “expert” of Miyazaki, and frankly, I did not feel I could hold up that title. What if they didn’t like their trip? What if they were disappointed? I felt like living in Japan had become such an important part of my life and I was worried they wouldn’t see Miyazaki as the wonderful place that I did. Their arrival at Miyazaki airport was less than spectacular, as everyone was tired beyond all sense and my sister was annoyed simply at having been cooped up with my parents for too long. However, the very next morning we had an appointment with a really sweet old lady and her friends in my neighborhood. They were to serve us a traditional Japanese breakfast and then dress everyone in kimonos. I watched my still jet lagged parents, who are not adventurous eaters and mainly stick to a beef and potatoes kind of diet, attempt to use their chopsticks to pick up foods that they probably never dreamed of eating at all, let alone first thing in the morning (umeboshi and fish eggs anyone?). We had some interesting breakfast conversations, including me being asked if I would immediately get hitched once I returned home and then a chorus of “eeeeeeehs?” when I emphatically said “no way”…always an awkward conversation to be had in front of your parents. Then I watched as a gaggle of ladies surrounded my mom, dad, and sister with yards of fabric and transformed them from gaijin to, well, gaijin dressed in kimonos. It was a mix of awkwardness, hesitation, and I soon realized, a lot of fun. It could have been one of the many crazy family holiday gatherings of my childhood, too many people crammed in a room and no personal space, laughing, taking pictures, and sharing smiles. The rest of their time in Japan was a mirror of that morning. When I watched my family experience Miyazaki, I felt as though I were watching myself in Japan for the first time…hesitant, unsure and yet fascinated by it all. At times, it was hard for me because I felt like I was the adult and my parents and sister were the children. I was the all knowing translator, even though, despite the protestations of old ladies who chat me up at the onsen, my Japanese is really very terrible. I was the automatic tour guide and navigator to all the places we visited, even if I didn’t know a whole lot about them. My mom had trouble decoding the money and would just call for me for help at the conbini. I would walk over, rolling my eyes, and take the correct change out of her outstretched palm. My dad watched me do a complete demonstration of how to turn on the gas in the shower, nodding in comprehension all the while, and then promptly called me for help when he needed to take one later that day. But some of the things that my parents noticed and commented on opened my eyes again. In a way, we were all seeing Japan for the first time. Whether it was my dad wowing over how polite and generous everyone was, my mom marveling at the cleanliness of the bathrooms, or my sister’s first foray into Shidax with a mix of my closest Japanese and foreigner friends, I got to relive why I love Japan so much all over again, and this time it was even better because I was sharing it with the people I love the most. Many great experiences form my memories of that week— our road trip to Takachiho Gorge and Kumamoto castle which recalled road trips gone by with the voice of John Denver on the radio and the Smoky Mountains out the window (but this time with my own voice acting as my Dad’s GPS and the mountains of Northern Miyazaki), the wonderful party thrown for my parents by the Omiya High School English department where my sister learned just how potent umeshu can be, and, one of my favorites parts of their visit, my family’s visit to Omiya. I got to watch my students squeal in shock and excitement when my family walked into their classrooms and felt a rush of pride for both my students and my family. My parents fielded some pretty interesting questions from the kids (my personal favorite: “What is Sandra like at home?” to which my dad answered, “Well, she has a messy room.”) Two students stayed around to chat to my dad about baseball and hockey, and one girl quickly ran up to my sister, shook her hand, and ran away just as quickly, screaming with happiness. Through it all, I got to show my family just what exactly I’ve been doing for the last two years, and they got to experience firsthand a new culture. So you see, my two “worlds,” America and Japan, did come together. Certainly not seamlessly, but they did all the same. As my family left Miyazaki and we all shed tears, I really felt like the experience had given me a great opportunity—the chance to see Japan in a new light and to share all that I have come to know and love over the last two years with the people who will always be there for me, no matter where I happen to live.