There's an interesting dichotomy

I've now been in Japan for 12 days, and have enjoyed nearly every minute of my time here. Here is a list of the grievances that have contributed to the minutes of disdain. Paper doors offer neither sound nor light protection at 2am when you're trying to sleep, but your friends have yet to succumb to the wee hours of the night; a large pizza costs 35 dollars; there are no clothes dryers; the American style "meet whoever the hell you want to meet" bars are few and far between; the spiders here are either able to jump from the wall to your face with skill, or are armor plated; you eventually get tired of asking the person next to you "what the hell is this?" or "how the hell do I eat this?"

Here's a list of the things that have kept me happy 94% of the time: food (with the exception of fruit) is damn cheap here, people are incredibly nice (to the point that the idea "I wonder if they're planning something" can't help but be thought), the city I'm presently living in (Nagasaki) is considered to have the 5th most beautiful night time skyline in the world, onsen (Japanese hot spring), children yelling "HERRO!!!" in essentially any and every social setting, getting eye-fu#?#ed pretty much everywhere I go, the friends I've made who have decided to continue to accept my despite the occasional alcohol-induced jack-assery, and the fact that it will more than likely not drop below 40 degrees during my time here.

The above list(s) is/are nowhere near comprehensive. I will probably read back and decide on three or four items, right away, that need to get added. I won't do that, because this blog post would turn into a seven page list of things I love/hate about Japan. Let's just leave it at, the good far outweighs the bad. Even the bad that comes from missing home.


I journeyed deeper into Nagasaki today as I had a "hankerin" for a donut or seven. While I was there, I was confronted with a sudden need to loan Starbucks 400 of my yen in exchange for one of their white mochas. While I was paying, I noticed something. Up until the age of about 12 or 13, people in Japan will be more than happy to talk to you on the bus, or yell at you from across a crowded line of urinals. Then, over the course of two or three years, these kids learn to shut the hell up and avoid eye contact. Simply stated, the kids say what they mean, when they want to say it. Adults often appear as the inverse. I wonder why such a thing as telling the truth is taught to be buried?

I'd initially thought this drastically different from the United States, but I suppose it isn't, really. While there is far more verbalization in the united states in the public forums, I believe this is no different than the silence that manifests in Japan.

In America, instead of quietly avoiding eye contact and staring forward on the bus, we instead need to look fervently at our phones as though we've missed some sort of launch codes or a notification that happy hour is starting at 2:00 instead of 5:00 today. Instead of ignoring that awkward person who eats glue, we act as though we are elated to see them. In the end, the goal of the American public noise is to feign and hide what we truly mean. Our respective truths (Japanese people's, and American people's) come out behind closed doors among friends...often through the lens of the empty bottom of a pint glass.

"Americans are loud and obnoxious." "Japanese are quiet and shy." Perhaps these stereotypes are true about the public representation of these cultures, but when in a comfortable place, I believe that these cultures present themselves in the same way. In truth, among friends, our cultures are quite similar. They just lie differently.