My Japanese Husband (Still) Thinks I'm Crazy
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This sounds weird, but when I tell the person who came up to me (in Japanese) that I am Russian and don't speak a word of English... nearly every single time they just leave.
They have no interest in me as a person unless I can speak English to them.
Every once in a while, the person will stick around and chat with me in Japanese. They tell me their life story; I share mine. After a couple minutes, I will switch to English and let them practice on me, if they still want to. I know this sounds weird to someone who hasn't lived in Japan, but this is the only method I've found to deter people who are only looking for a "free English lesson" so that I can save my time for the people who actually care.
As weird as it sounds, most of my friends in Tokyo either don't speak a word of English or are practically fluent and have never asked me to "practice" with them.
The 16 most common questions people ask me in Japan
I remember it vividly. I was meeting up with a new friend for lunch, and she took me to her favorite "American style" cafe. They had a couple oddities on the menu (hamburgers with half-raw eggs, egg salad burgers, plain jelly sandwiches – without any peanut butter), but the smell had me salivating the minute I walked through those automatic doors.
"What do you want to eat?" she asked.
I glanced at the menu and was drawn toward the chili dogs. Some college students turn to pasta and PB&Js when they need to eat on the run. I always made chili dogs. Stick some frozen dogs in boiling water, heat a can of Hormel Chili (with beans, of course) over the stove, and voilà! Delicious chili dogs in less than 10 minutes, including clean-up time.
Living in Japan, though, I hadn't had a chili dog in nearly six months.
"Hot dog with chili," I proudly stated.
She paused. "...Not a hamburger?"
"I feel like having a chili dog today," I replied simply. "It's been ages since I've had one."
We ordered, paid, and waited for our food. As soon as we sat down, she turned to me and said, "But I thought Americans love hamburgers!"
"We do...? I mean, most people love hamburgers, I guess."
She thought about that for a second before asking the million dollar question. And by "million dollar question," I mean that if I were paid a dollar for every time someone asked me to generalize my entire race, religion, or nationality into a blanket statement, I would have a million dollars (give or take a couple hundred thousand).
"So... Texans like hot dogs more than hamburgers?" she asked.
"I think it depends on the person."
"But you like hot dogs more than hamburgers, right?"
"Not always. I mean, I had a hamburger last week. I've just been craving a good chili dog for a while now."
And believe it or not, it actually was a rather good chili dog. The chili didn't have any meat (sadly), and the hot dog was incredibly long and thin, like a regular Japanese hot dog. Basically, it was the most healthy and least sketchy chili dog I've ever eaten.
That's not the point of this story, though. The point of this story is to illustrate something I've encountered for my last couple years in Japan: blanket statements.
Blanket statements are tricky.
On the one hand, it's easy to hide behind them and say "all Japanese people are fashionable" or "all Americans love to eat greasy food" or "all Texans like hot dogs more than hamburgers." Throwing blanket statements over entire groups of people makes it easier to classify them.
On the other hand, people are people. And entire groups of people are made up of individuals with unique interests, likes, and dislikes. Anthropology is a messy subject because it's nearly impossible to make a blanket statement that applies to more than 90% of the population. When you try, you end up losing the chance to interact with people on a real, personal level. They become just another statistic.
As much as I love chatting with strangers in Japan, the first couple minutes of many "conversations" tend to follow a particular pattern. And yes, I intentionally put "conversations" in quotes because sometimes talking with a stranger seems more like a scripted Q&A than an actual, free-flowing dialogue. They bounce these questions off of me in an attempt to figure out which box I fit in. Am I a "normal" foreigner, or am I a "special" foreigner who can use chopsticks, eat raw fish, and speak Japanese?
I’m sure everyone’s experience is different, but the most common questions I get as a young, white female in Tokyo are:
Where are you from?
Do you speak Japanese?
How long have you been studying Japanese? At school? On
your own?
Do you have a boyfriend/girlfriend?
What are you doing in Japan? / Why are you in Japan?
How long have you been in Japan?
Where do you live?
What is your country/state famous for?
Why are you interested in Japan?
What is your favorite Japanese food?
Can you eat sushi/raw fish?
Do you like natto (fermented soy beans)?
Can you eat using chopsticks?
Does [insert stereotype about your country/state/city]
happen in [insert country/state/city]? (example:
“Does everyone in Texas own a gun?”)
Do [insert nationality/religion/ethnicity/etc.] like [insert
generalization/vague thing]? (example: “Do
Americans like ninjas?”)
How does your family feel about you living in Japan? Is your
mom sad?
It’s fun answering these questions every once in a while – especially when I feel like I’m doing my part to change stereotypes of both Americans and Texans in one swoop. It's also nice because these rapid-fire Q&A sessions have all but eliminated the anxiety I used to feel about meeting new people.
By the time we eventually make it into uncharted territory, we will already know quite a bit of each other's interests, likes, and dislikes. It's smooth sailing from then on out.
I have no idea if any of these answers actually stick, though. I have definitely been asked these questions multiple times by the same person (who, I guess, forgot about it).
Spotlight: Halloween in Tokyo
Up until a few years ago, Japan didn’t celebrate Halloween. It makes sense when you think about it. The U.S. got the tradition from Mexico whereas Japan didn't have that influence. And, despite the fact that I've lived abroad for almost five years now (Ghana and Japan), it still comes as a surprise when other countries don't celebrate the holidays I grew up loving.
Ryosuke is from a rural part of Japan that barely celebrates Christmas. He assumed because Tokyo is such a modern city with an engaged foreign population, it celebrated all the popular Western holidays.
I was tricked into thinking Tokyo celebrated Halloween because of all the decorations around town and the sheer number of my Japanese friends who posted a“trial run” of their costumes on Facebook. It seemed like every bakery and karaoke parlor in Tokyo was competing in a 'Who can Display the Weirdest Halloween Decorations' contest. It wasn't such a stretch, thinking that Tokyo celebrated foreign holidays.
Two years earlier, we happened to be in Tokyo on St. Patrick's Day. The celebrations in Harajuku and Shibuya were green, covered in beer, and obnoxiously wonderful. The highlight of the day was when a very drunk European man mistook us for Taylor Swift and "that one dude from Twilight" (Taylor Lautner) and told us that he was so glad we were back together again because we were totally his favorite couple.
Actually, celebrating Halloween in Japan reminded me of St. Patrick's Day. Tokyoites dress to the nines in elaborate costumes and walk around downtown in Shibuya, drinking and meeting new people. There is no trick-or-treating.
This year, I dressed up like a witch and Ryosuke wore tight brown spandex and his poop hat. It wasn’t at all what I was expecting, but somehow it fit.
I don't know about the smaller towns in Japan, but Halloween in Tokyo is a holiday devoted to drunk young adults.
Spotlight: Unexpected Things you Shouldn't Do in Japan
Stick your chopsticks straight up in a bowl of food. Why not? It reminds Japanese people of funerals, where a bowl of rice is left with two chopsticks standing vertically in the center. If you jab your chopsticks in rice as a placeholder while you reach for a glass of water, it brings bad luck.
Pass food from one pair of chopsticks to another. Why not? This is another Japanese funeral rite. Bodies in Japan are almost always cremated. Afterwards, the family goes around and passes the bones from chopstick to chopstick. Ryosuke remembers doing this at his grandfather's funeral when he was in elementary school.
Wear slippers on the tatami mat. Why not? Apparently slippers can damage the fragile tatami mats. However, our house (like most other Japanese houses) does not have central heating, so when I'm cold in the winter, I refuse to take off my slippers when I'm in our tatami mat room.
Leave a tip. Why not? It's a cultural thing. Some people think it relates to honor; others believe it's a slap in the face to the server, implying they don't make enough money at their job.
Drain the bathtub. Why not? In Japan, families share the bath water. This sounds gross, but it isn’t that bad. Bathing areas have a small shower next to the bathtub and you must shower before you can get into the bath. People soak in the hot bath to relax not to clean themselves, so even though six members of the family might soak in the same bath every night, the water stays relatively clean.
Eat while walking. Why not? Honestly, I do not know. Japanese people are split on this issues; the older generation scolds me when I do this (apparently it is rude) while the younger generation does not care. I try to avoid eating while walking, but every once in a while I will chow down on an onigiri (rice ball) when I'm dashing between meetings.
Christmas in Japan
My husband and I met while we were lowly undergrad students. He had elected to spend a year studying abroad in America, right down the hall from me.
As winter break rolled around, I asked him if he wanted to spend a couple weeks with my family in Texas for Christmas. He said yes and we bought him a plane ticket that afternoon. It was his first “real American Christmas,” but it ended up being a bit of a let-down because we didn't eat any "Christmas Chicken."
It turns out that in 1974 the Japanese branch of KFC ran a campaign to promote “Christmas Chicken.” The idea spread like wildfire and, 40 years later, people are still lining up to score a bucket of Kentucky Fried Chicken.
You can pre-order the bucket in advance at KFC. And, for people who don’t like fried chicken, you can also find several varieties of grilled and boiled chicken at any supermarket starting on the 23rd. Furthermore, most supermarkets, post offices, and convenience stores provide extensive Christmas catalogues so you can order a chicken set of your liking and have it shipped directly to your home on Christmas Eve.
Stop any Japanese person on the street and 95% of the time they will tell you that “Christmas Chicken” and “Christmas Cake” are famous traditions. Stop any American person on the street and 95% of the time they will look at you like you’re crazy when you tell them your dream is to eat KFC on Christmas.
Needless to say, Ryosuke was heartbroken when he learned that “Christmas Chicken” isn’t a thing in America. I even had to drive him by a vacant KFC to prove it.
And dining habits aren't the only differences between American and Japanese Christmas. In most Asian countries, Christmas is a "couples holiday." It's like the Valentine's Day of Asia. Couples dine at expensive restaurants, swap gifts, and stroll beneath the winter "illumination" lights. It's incredibly romantic.
And, of course, by "Christmas" I actually mean "Christmas Eve" because Christmas Eve is when Japanese people celebrate the holiday. By the time Christmas Day rolls around, shops have already begun taking down Christmas decorations and putting up New Year's decorations.
Acknowledgments
There are so many people I would like to thank. Isn't that what this section is all about?
First and foremost, I want to thank my wonderful husband, Ryosuke. I'm sure it's not easy being married to me, especially when I disappear mid-sentence so I can go jot down an idea for a comic. Thank you for letting me take over the kitchen table for the last two months as I assembled this book, drink my weight in coffee every week, and call you at odd hours of the day to ask weird questions about Japan. Babe, you're the best.
To my family, for your continual support and encouragement. It's awesome to know y'all are actually reading these books, not just "pretending" to (to make me feel better). You know who you are.
To my friends and colleagues, who have supported and inspired me through every step of self-publishing.
To Emily Lessnau, Tim, and Rebecca Manuel for proofreading the final draft of this book.
To all my original Kickstarter backers. None of this would be possible without you.
To all my fans and followers on my blog, Facebook, and YouTube. Y'all are wonderful. I especially want to thank everyone who pre-ordered this book (and left amazing reviews of my last book on Amazon).
I want to give a special "Thank You" to GaijinPot and Metropolis Magazine. Both are wonderful resources for those interested in Japan. I write articles and draw comics for both publications.
Comics on these pages made their first appearance elsewhere:
Metropolis Magazine
Comics on pages 11, 130, 132, and 139.
http://metropolisjapan.com/author/grace-buchele-mineta/
Gaijinpot
Comics on pages 12, 31, 40, 50, 77, 101, 105, 124, 128, 136, 137, and 146.
http://blog.gaijinpot.com/author/gracebuchele/
Author's Note
I get a lot of comments about Marvin, my imaginary talking rabbit. This is a memoir, after all, so shouldn't I just stick to the facts?
I'm not actually crazy, by the way (at least not really). I understand that Marvin isn't real. I don't actually see or talk to him. He's more or less become a partner in my comics because it makes more sense to have him than to leave him behind.
So what is Marvin? Sometimes Marvin represents an internal conflict while other times he stands in place of someone else. As you might have noticed in these comics, I don't have very many recurring characters. I spend time with people, but I don't blog or draw comics about them. Drawing someone (even with their permission) and then publishing said drawing seems like a gross violation of their privacy.
I wrote a blog post two years ago about why I choose not to use people's names (or any identifying traits) in my writing. Back when I was in college, I found pictures and stories about me on two of my friends' blogs. They were all good things (thankfully) but it still kind of freaked me out. In fact, I only learned about the stories when I was Google searching myself ("Grace Buchele" is not exactly a common name).
Marvin fulfills a lot of roles. He also illustrates the fragile nature of "reality." And he's fricken adorable.
You can also find me on social media:
Blog
http://howibecametexan.com/
Twitter
https://twitter.com/texan_in_tokyo
YouTube
https://www.youtube.com/user/TexaninTokyo
Facebook
https://www.facebook.com/TexaninTokyo
About the Author
Grace Buchele Mineta got into the writing business by accident. Now she lives in Tokyo with her husband, Ryosuke, where she blogs and draws comics about their daily life in Japan.
Though she will forever be a Texan girl at heart, she has lived and travelled all over the globe. When she's not drawing comics or blogging, you can find her cooking with her husband, hiking all over Japan, and watching crappy daytime television.
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