Japan: Little Things I’ll Miss and Big Things I’ll Keep

This is the last posting I will write from Japan.  As I walked around Tokyo today , I noticed a department store display for Valentine’s Day, one of the first holidays I experienced in Nagasaki almost a year ago.  The seasons have come full circle.  As I think back on this year, I wanted to share some of the little things I discovered in Japan that I won’t find in the US, and some of the bigger things – the memories – I will keep with me. 

The Little Things I’ll Miss

Yuzu, to be grated over tofu

Yuba

The foods that are uniquely Japanese:  yuzu, a wonderful orange/lemon citrus available in winter.  It’s used to season fish, make a soothing yuzu honey tea, and a luscious liqueur.  There’s yuba, the smooth skim of heated soymilk, a Kyoto specialty.  There are other foods, too:  the small Kyushu oranges you eat whole: the little barnacle-like shellfish we ate in Shikoku fresh from the sea, the acorn squash shaped pumpkin, and the subtle taste of grated mountain potato over rice with a bit of soy.

Onsens.  Actually, onsens and ofurus, the Japanese baths, are a big thing I’ll miss.  There is nothing like coming home after work or touring all day to wash the dust of the day off your body then soak in a tub of clean, hot water for as long as you want.  And chatting with another in a hot spring or pool, especially outdoors, is just wonderful.  There is nothing like it in the US – washing yourself in a tub and then sitting in the cooling (and dirty) water doesn't come close. 

Vending machines that are ubiquitous, where you can buy water, tea, and other mostly noncarbonated drinks.  What’s really great is that there are more hot drinks in the winter and cold in the summer.  The machine pictured here even is decorated to blend in with the scenery.

Convenience stores, also ubiquitous: the Lawsons, Family Marts, 7 Elevens, Circle Ks, and Sunkus (“Thanks”) that provide much of what you need daily, including snacks and freshly made sandwiches, salads, and other foods that are actually healthy.

People queuing patiently for a coming train, subway or bus.  No one pushes, people move at a steady pace, everyone gets on, and the train runs on time. 

The tweeting sound signaling it’s OK to cross the street. It may not be the most musical of tunes, but it’s a friendly reminder and good for those with poor eyesight.  The best is that the tune is different depending on which direction you can cross.

Electricity conservation.  The Japanese are traditionally frugal, but certainly more since the 2011 disaster.  Houses are heated by room, and generally the halls and bathrooms are not.  People turn on the heat or air conditioning when they enter a room, and turn if off when they leave.  They grow plants outside office windows to provide shade in the summer.  The result:  electricity usage was down 10-15% in 2012 compared to 2010, the year before the earthquake.

The Big Things I’ll Keep With Me

The land:  the mountains, the sea, the rice fields.  I will always remember Kyoto’s layers of mountains rolling back into the sunset and the presence of water everywhere – the sea, the river running through town, the canals and rivulets feeding the fields.  The rice fields were an indication of how close Japan is to the land and growing things:  the fields were next to houses or within half an hour at most of any town, except perhaps for Tokyo and Osaka.

The rhythm of the seasons:  Japanese honor, celebrate, and delight in the seasons and the birth and death, growth and decay that each signifies.  It’s not just the delight you experience with the cherry blossoms, or the rich beauty of the maples in autumn.  Placemats, flowers, dishes, the hanging banners in front of shops, and more change with the seasons.

The Japanese aesthetic.  Whether pottery, calligraphy, cooking, or virtually any activity, each is an art.  It is a conversation, a dance that combines the energy of the artist with the essence of the material.  Every aspect is important in itself and each step is done with care, focused attention and skill.  The result is simple, elegant, balanced yet not symmetrical, beautiful to look at, taste, or experience.

The friends I've made.  Many of the people I met here are friends of friends of mine back home.  They were wonderful, welcoming people, eager to show me their part of Japan:  Shigeko showed me her weaving and invited me to join her poetry group to see the cherry blossoms.  Yuko and I went to sumo together and she invited me to stay with her over Christmas.   

Others whom I met on my own were wonderfully kind and helpful:  the innkeeper who took me to meet some of the potters in Arita on Kyushu, my Japanese teacher in Tokyo who invited me to spend a weekend with her family, or the young woman at the ryokan who introduced me to her ikebana teacher and her family.  Even the woman who sat next to me at a Noh performance, chatting away as if I understood everything she said, was interesting and enjoyable.  They made my stay very special.

The sense of wonder and discovery.  Someone once said  you can’t discover new lands until you lose sight of the shore.  For me this year, that has been literally true.   This journey has excited my curiosity and opened my eyes to new discoveries daily.  It has expanded my vision and helped me understand and respect different points of view and ways of living.  That sense of wonder and joy in discovery will stay with me wherever I go, whomever I meet.