My Host Family

Many people who study abroad, especially high school students, usually do so while staying with a host family. I've always been a little jealous of these people. It sounds so cool to go home every day to a family who is delighted to have you and your foreign-ness there. Plus you have people who are actively invested in your study abroad experience, as opposed to being entirely responsible for your own experience. As you know, I stayed in the dorms during my study abroad. Of course, I had my roommate, Mai, there to hang out with every night, but, being a student herself, she never felt really responsible for the experience I was having.

However, just because I stayed in the dorm does not mean I lacked a host family. In fact, AIU had a host-family system set up, where you signed up and they matched you with a family who had also signed up. I immediately put my name on the list, noting that I didn't mind if they only spoke Japanese. (My Japanese is pretty good.) This program was on a first come first serve basis, but I think because the earthquake had reduced the number of exchange students severely, everyone who signed up got matched up. Justin, being shy, did not sign up, but luckily my host family adopted him with open arms.

The experience of having a host family varied between students. I had one friend who did a lot of fun things with her host family, but she said it was awkward because she spoke no Japanese, and they spoke no English. Sadly, a few people were never even contacted by their host families. Fortunately, I could not have imagined a better host family for me and Justin.

Our host family consisted of an 8 year old girl, Miu, and her parents, whom we called “Miu-Mama” and “Miu-Papa.” On our first visit, merely a preliminary interview-style meeting, they eagerly asked us where we wanted to go and what we wanted to do. They spoke no English, and although my Japanese skills were meager at first, they were patient and easy to talk to, and over our subsequent visits my language abilities increased substantially. Justin and I first just wanted to get to know them, and so we proposed a meal together. It was determined that we should eat the local Akita specialty, a dish called kiritanpo, at their house.

Kiritanpo are rice dumplings made by pounding cooked rice until lightly mashed, and then molding it around a wooden skewer and cooking it over an open flame or grill. These can be served on their own, or are commonly added to a stew along with vegetables like cabbage and carrots, as well as chicken. This country meal is very popular and famous in Akita, and you can find prepackaged kiritanpo to send to your relatives at nearly every tourist attraction in the prefecture. Despite the fact that it was already quite warm in Japan, Miu-Mama happily agreed to make the dish. At my request, she even cut off the chicken skin that seems to plague all supermarket chicken in Japan.

(An assembled kiritanpo hot pot. The white tubes in the middle are the kiritanpo. This is a public use photo.)

On the day of our first real visit, our host family picked us up in the tiny parking lot at AIU. There they met my roommate, and I secretly relished in watching their very Japanese introductions, with all the bowing and the “hajimemashite” (nice to meet you) phrasing that I practiced for hours in first-semester Japanese class. Justin and I got into the backseat of the car with Miu, to discover they had brought along their adorable miniature poodle named Mocha (for his coffee coloring). To my delight, he instantly curled up on my lap.

Our host-family’s house was gorgeously clean and simply decorated. It was quite big for a Japanese house, but that was to be expected in a country-town like Akita. Miu showed us her room with childish enthusiasm, and then Miu-Mama brought out a plate with cheese and crackers, as well as a platter of expensive cookies. (Japanese people often buy pricey cookies and hors d’oeuvres for the sole purpose of hosting guests). Then, while the kiritanpo cooked, we played Wii bowling and Justin showed Miu a rhythm game on her Nintendo DS called Ouendan (which is very fun and highly recommended). Miu instantly became a wiz at it, and could barely tear herself away to eat.

Joining us to eat was a family friend who quickly became another member of our host family, the beautiful Nepalese Rashmin and her adorable, 2 year old, half-Japanese daughter, Koena. Rashmin was a welcome addition, not only because she was friendly, but also because she spoke English and could help me with phrases I didn’t know how to say in Japanese. Together, we sat down and chatted over our kiritanpo, which was warm and delicious. I loved the texture of the rice dumplings soaked in broth. Miu-Mama and Miu-Papa told us about their jobs, and Miu told us about school. Justin and I talked about AIU, traveling after the earthquake, and the United States. We all cooed over Koena, especially whenever she tried to do the hand-sign for peace, a beloved gesture in Japan and absolutely necessary in any photos. Koena knew to do it whenever a photo was taken, but she could only hold up her thump and first finger. Her utter confidence in the gesture made us giggle every time. The whole scene was simultaneously ordinary and exhilarating. I felt like I lived there, and the day seemed much too short when we finally were driven home, with promises to meet up again soon.

(Me, Justin, Miu, and little Koena. You can see her here trying to make a peace sign. <3 )

In various subsequent posts, you’ll read about more meet-ups I had with my host family. Each visit is a cherished memory, and I feel uncommon warmth whenever I think of them. I hope to stay in touch with them, though I have been quite terrible at it so far. Life gets in the way, but I really want to maintain our friendship. I know that they added richness and delight to my trip abroad, and I hope that Justin and I returned some of it. Japan can seem a very unwelcoming place to foreigners, especially in the countryside where many people have never seen a non-Asian face. However, Miu and her parents proved that there are some who will welcome new people and new cultures with smiles, and believe the exchange to be an act of both giving and receiving. I think that eager openness is at the heart of traveling, and what I think AIU strives to embody and promote. 

(All of us around the delicious kiritanpo. Miu-Mama is holding Koena.)

Parties under the cherry blossoms

When I went to Japan, spring was just spreading over the island nation. Of course, Japan is probably most famous for its beautiful sakura, or cherry blossoms, that bloom across the country like a pink wave. They begin as early as the end of January in the far south, and finish as late as May in the northern island of Hokkaido. In Akita, the cherry blossoms arrived in late April, just after I got there, as if an earthquake-shattered Japan was donning her best kimono to distract me from the shambles around her. Cherry blossoms bloom quite suddenly, with entire trees bursting into cloud-like fluff seemingly overnight. Just as quickly as they appear, they fade within a couple weeks, gently sprinkling their petals over the ground like tears until they are spent and green leaves has taken their place.  

The Japanese love sakura more than any other flower. It has been depicted in paintings, lauded in poems, and glorified as the national flower. The sakura mark the 100 yen coin. It is a popular girl’s name, Sakura have even been made into sweets. The blooming of the cherry tree is both a happy and melancholic event. As the harbingers of spring, it represents renewal, harmony, growth, and beauty. However, their rapid disappearance carries symbols of death, impermanence, and letting go. This duality is a common theme in the Japanese religion*, especially the Buddhist elements.

One of the positive associations with the sakura is the tradition of hanami, or flower viewing. “Flower viewing” is a literal translation, although there is no real, concise English equivalent that communicates the same concept. Hanami is hanami. It is the tradition of going out with family or friends to sit under the blooming cherry trees to watch and appreciate their beauty. It is a chance to feel a sense of oneness with nature. It is also a party, often including lots of drinking, picnic food, and rowdy behavior.

The hanami has a long history in Japan. Although records of the gatherings are found in Japan’s first historical texts, such as the Nihon Shoki, dating them as far back as the 3^rd century, the tradition is said to have really begun in the Nara Period (710-794), with its full form and sakura-only focus beginning in the Heian Period (794-1185). Like many beloved Japanese traditions, it began as an activity for the wealthy and high class, and eventually found its way into the hearts of the common folk. It is so firmly rooted in the culture that it is enjoyed by nearly everyone in the nation, and news stations even have daily reports in the spring to show exactly where the sakura are beginning to bloom. Schools take their students on hanami outings, families crowd the parks with their children, eating obento (packed lunches) beneath the shade, and friends gather together to drink and enjoy the brief time of the cherry tree in full bloom. The tradition of hanami communicates the same sentiments of the sakura, perhaps even more so. It especially emphasizes the idea of “ichi go, ichi e,” which means “One moment, one encounter.” English speakers may be more familiar with the equivalent of “carpe diem,” “seize the day,” or “live in the moment.” The sakura are a brief beauty, and the hanami is the best way to enjoy them while they last. (http://thinkjapanblog.com/sakura-hanami-flower-viewing.html)

In a culture where many people are disregarding their heritage and old traditions, hanami and the love of sakura is one example of a tradition that continues to remain strong even in the face of constant technological development, busy work schedules, and endless distractions. Even the most overloaded salary man, the busiest housewife, and the most absorbed gaming or texting teen gather together to enjoy an afternoon of hanami. Hanami and sakura are the essence of Japan and the Japanese people.

For someone from dry Colorado, the sheer number of cherry trees and the culture surrounding them was completely astounding. I spent a lot of time trying to take as many pictures and videos of the blooms as I could, always aware of their ephemeral nature. I watched the gradual invasion of green with apprehension, despairing at the scattering dead but still beautiful petals on the ground.

 I delighted at discovering how many different kinds of cherry trees were on the AIU campus. Below, you can see a small sampling I collected. The shapes are so beautiful and distinct, and yet they all carry the same emotional symbolism. Someday, I will do a small, watercolor painting of this shot. According to Japan-Guide.com, there are over 100 kinds of cherry trees in Japan. The different kinds range in the number of petals, their general shape, the way they hang on the tree, their color (white to bright pink, as well as yellow), and the location and length of their blooming period. Some of them are wild, but most of them are cultivated. I think the three below are called imose, soushunzakura, and akebono, from left to right. (Those are only my guesses!) (http://www7b.biglobe.ne.jp/~mainn/sakura/sakura.html)

The scattered trees around campus were beautiful, but there is nothing like seeing dozens of trees clustered together. My trip to a town called Kakunodate was the perfect chance to see that the beauty of sakura grows exponentially with each additional tree.

 Their splendor made the rainy days of early spring as far from dreary as possible. And yet, I did not feel the rumored sadness when the last petal fell. The lush green that had replaced the pink was just as gorgeous. Perhaps I am not familiar enough with their passing, or the intense heat of the Japanese summers, but I felt only invigoration from the blooming of the sakura, and the green summer with its new flowers continued the inspiration. I think I focused on the symbolism of rebirth and somehow missed the melancholy meaning of death. All I know is that the memory of those beautiful pink and white clouds springs to my mind’s eye with ease, the feel of the petals lingers of my fingertips, and the curious floral yet fruity taste of sakura ice cream still dances on my tongue. The sakura may be evanescent, but the delight of my memories is constant.

Below are some of the best pictures of sakura I (or my boyfriend) took while in Japan.

(Me by the pinkest sakura I could find.)

(A pathway near the river at Kakunodate.)

(The white cherry blossoms lining the river. I wish it had been sunnier.)

(A set of three pictures from a particularly scenic rest area on a bus trip. Sakura under a blue sky are so beautiful!)

(Sakura petals on the ground.)

The background of my blog is another picture I took, up close. Can you spot the spider I also managed to photograph?

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*Many people distinguish between Shinto and Buddhism as Japan’s major religions; however they have become so intricately linked over the centuries that they are almost a single, uniquely Japanese religion.