Flotsam and Jetsam

I have no pretty pictures left. Just some random musings that feel worthy of noting before I close the public chapter of this journey. I am certain I will continue to process it and be shaped by it for the rest of my life. I’ve already started making onigiri!  But I do not foresee returning to this blog after this entry. 

I am struck by Japan’s contradictions. (It is always easier to perceive contradictions as an outsider. Attempting to learn the rules in order to fit in, illogic and inconsistency are hard to ignore):

Generally, Japanese public society has many standard practices that keep things orderly and ensure that you do as little harm / disruption to others as possible. You line up single file for public transportation, stay silent on the bus… And yet, the sidewalks in Japan were total chaos with people walking and biking everywhere in all directions with no clear sense of when and how to pass. 

The sidewalks in Japan contain Tenji blocks - a yellow grooved path - in order to assist vision impaired walkers. I love this! It’s a built in component to allow people full access. Except to my beginner body, they seem largely unusable in practice. The grooves would make cane usage very difficult (though perhaps not with the tapping method) and without a cane there is no way you would be visibly blind enough that all of the cyclists and other pedestrians would stay out of your way - people cross these blocks quickly and erratically. That said, reading up on them a bit, perhaps if I had more experience with them I would have found them more useable. Would love to hear from any blind / low-vision folks who have traveled in Japan as to what your experience with Tenji blocks has been.

Environmental concerns are complex. People are dedicated to sorting trash and recycling and compost. But it is incredibly difficult to find trash cans in public places. And seemingly everything comes wrapped in plastic: washcloths, candies, other individually sized items. No one carries a reusable water bottle, opting instead for plastic bottles purchased in vending machines - though I noticed the Japanese generally drunk far fewer fluids than I am accustomed to. 

While Japan is incredibly quiet - I heard maybe two sirens in any given day in Tokyo and of course there are the previously noted library quiet expectations on public transportation - there is also a lot of distracting sound - music underscored every class session I attended in the library at Technos, (I’m told that) karaoke is full of people yelling, our gym days were constant sound. 

The cleanliness and safety of Japan cannot be overstated. I swear you could eat off of the bathroom floors. Workers were hand cleaning the subway stations while we were in them. Public bathrooms sparkled and occasionally sported flower arrangements.

I’d be really curious to return and spend more time outside of Japan and on my own. 

June 22-24: The end of the road

For a variety of reasons, I don’t have much to share about these last few days at Technos.

• It’s been over two weeks and my memory is hazy.

• One of these days was filled with an assortment of bizarre athletic competitions, which wound up being much more fun than I expected but that didn’t really provide me with meaningful insights - other than that over-the-top group games are hella fun. I’ll put some videos here so you can see for yourself.

Two teams roll human sized balls into a triangle of traffic cones while spectators cheer loudly.

Dozens of people run to a table in the middle of a gymnasium, grab a sheet of paper, begin running around the room showing it to folks.

A large group of people roll a human-sized ball across a gymnasium floor then run with it overhead and throw it behind a table while other people watch.

Our last day on campus with its farewell ceremony was bittersweet but the stress of trying to get thank you gifts to the right people distracted a fair bit from my ability to be in the present…so to speak. I took a walk to a nearby park before heading to campus and wish that I had worked up the confidence to explore some of the neighborhood parks earlier in the trip. While I had walked to Technos every day other than the first and last, I didn’t go explore elsewhere because my disastrous first attempt to find food the night we arrived had made me nervous about getting lost. I should have remembered that for me navigating by day and by night are barely related activities. Anyway, the park was small but really peaceful, with a shrine, some well groomed grounds, a small amphitheatre, and cool musician and cat statues.

We left Technos for a decently long haul out to the hotel by Narita airport and from that point on it largely felt like the day leading up to a marathon - a lot of hustle to then anxiously sit and wait for many many hours. Still I had a lovely final dinner with the faculty who were leaving from Narita (a few folks were headed out from a different airport) and a lovely walk from the hotel while killing time the following morning since my flight didn’t leave until 5 p.m.

My trip home was a super unfun 34 hours in an airport or plane (canceled flight from Newark and spending the night in the airport was the icing on the cake) but no one needs to hear about that. I’m just grateful I had good luck until getting back home. Those who know me well know that is not something I’ve ever been able to take for granted. I’m also grateful I’d picked up a few convenience store onigiri for the ride home. It was a long time without eating or sleeping.

I have a variety of odds and ends of reflections that didn’t fit into this blog, but I’ll share those in a final post.

June 21: Time Flies

We were back full-time at Technos following the trip to Green Village, attending classes and having a short discussion with members of the Technos faculty about ideas for furthering collaborations between Technos and the sister colleges. As usual, I appreciated the chance to hear from the Technos faculty and wished we had more time for this conversation. It was a bit of a challenge as I can imagine individual collaborations that I would be interested in but as a member of a very specific department it was difficult to speak with any confidence about projects that HWS might want to explore - especially knowing that anything would require additional labor for folks already stretched to the limit. 

Anyway, I really enjoyed the classes I attended this day. In the morning, I was placed in a visual arts group where we made pinhole cameras, took a few photos, and tried developing them. Although I didn’t do much more than observe this class (due to being completely blinded in the classroom when it was transformed into a darkroom and wanting the students to have the meaningful experience), I really enjoyed the chance to relive one of my favorite high school classes. My parents took a sabbatical to Delaware when I was a first-year in HS, and that meant I attended a school that was at least 3 times the size of the small public school in which I grew up. They had classes like ceramics and photography, and I took full advantage of both, though as the year progressed I spent more and more of my ceramics time in the darkroom. I loved walking through that rotating door into the red darkness with its smell of chemicals and going through the ritual of processing the film I had taken. While I appreciate the ability to take a billion photos and edit on the camera itself that contemporary digital technology allows, it does sacrifice the theatricality and excitement of older techniques: carefully evaluating the worth of a subject before deciding to expend limited resources on capturing it; transposing the image in life to an imagined image in print before taking a photograph; waiting breathlessly to discover if the image in print lived up to expectations as it emerged slowly during the chemical process; the intense emotional response based upon the end result. 

A person stands in front of a projected chart showing “Japan is one of the ‘super-aging’ society [sic] and faces rapid decline of population, especially at the regional areas.” The chart demonstrates a peak population in 2008 of 128.1 million with an ederly ration of 22.1 % to projections for 2030 (119.1 million and 31.2% elderly), 2050 (101.9 million and 37.7% elderly), 2100 (59.7 million and 38.3% elderly)

In the afternoon I attended a class on tourism in the Nagano prefecture. One of the issues that multiple events in Japan that the class dealt with is the current population concerns for the Japanese. Japan is in the midst of a massive population decline due to low birth rates and migration from rural agricultural areas to cities. Given that Technos has programs related to tourism, multiple classes I attended discussed the need to develop strategies for encouraging tourism and the relocation of Japanese youth to rural communities. I received mixed messages as to whether or not Japan was interested in developing strategies to encourage non-Japanese people to immigrate to the country. Anyway, the class this afternoon was devoted to thinking about marketing strategies to recruit tourists and Japanese young people to the Nagano region of Japan, especially Saku city. As a lover of dessert, the highlight of the class for me was getting to try two desserts from Saku - both were delicious. 

I’ve neglected to mention earlier in this blog how much I was surprised by the amazing desserts that I had in Japan. As someone who rather loves their sweeties, as my father would call them, especially all things chocolate, I was expecting to be disappointed by Japanese desserts. I couldn’t have been more wrong. The various bean paste pastries I had brought all of the contentment and soul-warmth of what I am used to but with little of the overwhelming sweetness. Instead, they delighted with multiple flavors and textures. 

Two fluffy lemon ricotta cheese pancakes. One has a scoop of lemon sorbet on top. Whipped cream in a mound behind with a slice of lemon. A cup of lemon glaze on front. A glass of wine and jar of syrup on the table behind.

This was the last free night we had before leaving, and a number of us decided to take advantage of it to go do some last minute gift shopping. I was admittedly a little nervous about this because I was heading out on my own to try and find some local fabric at a store recommended to me by Matt. I joined a group on the bus from campus to the stop Eric, Marynel and I had taken to check out the mega Don Quixote the night before. (That was…intense…to say the least but worth it for some laughs and a trip for amazing ramen afterwards..) From there, I diverged, navigating at least one subway line that was new to me on the way back from the store. I was grateful for Matt’s patience while I struggled to find the shop he recommended - it was in a mall and I discovered that malls in Tokyo feel very different to me than those in the states. So I required a fair amount of clarification. But I finally found it and it was well worth the meandering! Once back in Fuchu I had hoped to meet up with some folks for sushi but was again struggling to navigate my way around - once night hit everything became a struggle for me. While wandering around trying to find them I stumbled upon a restaurant serving pancakes and decided that lemon pancakes and a glass of wine in the quiet were just what I needed. I wasn’t disappointed.

Oh, and while I’m talking about food - this morning Marynel and I decided to try natto together. I didn’t love it but I didn’t find it as repulsive as some folks had led me to believe. The texture is a bit slimy, but less so than the very good okra / edamame salad that was a favorite (along with the eggplant and mushrooms) on the breakfast buffet. The soybeans are incredibly bitter, which wasn’t so bad initially but left a rather unpleasant aftertaste. Speaking of unpleasant aftertastes - I lost a game of hot potato (I can’t recall what the Japanese called this) during closing party adventures and the punishment was drinking an incredibly bitter tea. The folks who lost ahead of me had me very concerned about its taste. Honestly, I didn’t mind the taste going down - I find tea generally too bitter for my tastes and this wasn’t worse to me. BUT the aftereffects, holy moly, that bitterness lingered on the lips forever! Any time I had to lick my lips…shudder.

June 20: Other People’s Limitations

Hands grab at my arms

I resist like a three-year old

Cannot shake the grip

On our way back from Green Village, we stopped at Matsumoto Castle. The grounds are gorgeous and I was excited to go inside. I was warned by those who have been to the castle before that the stairs are challenging and steep and that the lighting was dim. I planned to take my time. 

As I left the bus, the Technos student leader of the trip told me they wanted to go with me. After a group photo, we headed towards the castle. As is Japanese custom, we took our shoes off at the door and then put them in plastic bags to carry with us. Takeshi gathered my shoes along with theirs and we climbed some stairs into the space. Heading up to the front door, I was suddenly swarmed by faculty checking on me. While I very much appreciated that people recognize that spaces like Matsimoto’s Castle are a challenge for me, it was immediately overwhelming. I asked for a moment to adjust to the dim lighting after leaving the sunny day. 

From this point forward, one of the faculty would not give me room. She is one of the kindest people I encountered and from another Asian culture that emphasizes sharing and care for others. I deeply appreciate it. She  brought a myriad of special sweets to share with faculty during our retreat, always shares what she has, and has been adamant about taking care of me throughout the trip (doing things like setting up my sleeping futon and other items when we first arrived at American House - actions that I both appreciated and found frustrating as they kept me from feeling like I was pulling my weight on things that I totally was capable of doing). 

The three of us headed up the first set of stairs, which were incredibly tall, but had great railings and I felt quite confident navigating. I also felt claustrophobic with two people’s arms around me trying to help me navigate the stairs. When we reached the first floor, the colleague immediately tried to guide me back downstairs. I said that I wanted to continue up. We moved along in this tightly intertwined group for another floor. Again I was asked to go back down, somewhat pulled towards the exit. I am pretty sure I yanked away, saying that I wanted to continue up and felt just fine. Then the calls of “slowly! Slowly!” And “careful” began, This did not bring out the best of me as I moved quickly (but within myself) up the stairs. Another floor of being hustled past exhibits and moved around. We came to the next set of stairs and I was physically moved past them to the stairs heading down, where I was strongly encouraged to scoot down on my ass. Nothing wrong with this method. Many people were using it. But I found heading down backwards was totally stable and it is a method I employ constantly on the somewhat precarious stairs between the main stage and the balcony in the theatre. I know what I am doing.

My immediate - and lingering - response to this experience is anger. It made me want to push people away from me in response to the assumptions that were being made about my capabilities and comfort. I was denied agency in how I navigated my world. While I recognize that I struggled mightily in the presence of my colleagues when walking back to the American House in the darkness of night - even with a good lantern - the Castle was different circumstances. If I had been asked what would be helpful, I could have told people that what I needed was advance warning when I was walking towards a beam or about to hit stairs or when we were close to random raised footing. I would have welcomed this assistance. But I wasn’t asked, which made me feel completely DISabled in the circumstances. 

Please. Don’t do this shit to disabled people. Don’t make assumptions about what our capabilities are. I promise you that we know them better than you - we live in our bodies all the time and understand how they respond in varied circumstances. When I was venting about this experience to a colleague who wasn’t with me during my walk through the castle, they said they were sorry that was my experience but that they would have been very concerned for me heading up the final flight of stairs, again implying that I should not have been allowed up. I should have been allowed to make that decision for myself, the same as every single other person in the space - many of whom have their own issues that would impact their ability to navigate the circumstances but who are perceived as abled…and therefore allowed to determine their own way of navigating the world.

Please, if you do want to help, ask disabled what would be helpful. (Though be prepared to be told to bugger off without taking it personally.) Don’t assume that what is useful in one moment is automatically helpful in the next - this is a mistake I made / make far too often. Disability is fluid. Bodies are always in flux - I’m sure all of us recognize that some days we wake up achy and have to limit our activity. Some days we feel ready to conquer the world. This is what it means to be human.

That said, I am working to recognize the pleasures from what happened. Because I was not allowed as much time in the castle as I would have preferred, I spent time talking to Takeshi about their studies, learning about training to be a makeup artist in Japan, what they like to eat, favorite plants, and other odds and ends. They asked me some questions about my eyesight and then asked if it was rude. I said that it depended on the person - that some people would undoubtedly find it rude but that I would prefer that folks not make assumptions. 

I also am trying to focus on the caring demonstrated to me by colleagues. I appreciate that they do not simply rush off to have their own experiences, but rather are willing to modify the way they walk through the world to allow me to engage with it as well. I wish more people were willing to do this. 

Lunch led to a different kind of chafing of cultures. We had the most wonderful tour of the Ishii Miso Brewery in Masimoto, a brewery founded in 1868, still owned by the same family and producing miso in the traditional way. The space was gorgeous and we learned quite a bit about the process by which their miso is made. They ferment miso for 3 years in cedar barrels that hold 4.5 tons of miso, which gets moved into a total of 4 barrels over the course of 3 years. They have barrels that are over 100 years old (apparently they last as long as 200 years). 

Following our tour, we went up to the restaurant to have lunch. As always, the Technos staff and the restaurant staff worked very hard to meet a wide range of dietary restrictions. I was seated at a table with the one vegan on campus. When it was time for lunch, restaurant staff explained what we were about to eat. They noted that their miso sauce should be put on a dish before us. Our plates had a variety of mushrooms, squash, broccoli, squash, maybe some other things. There was no miso sauce. A few of the students asked what was in the miso sauce and the answer was that it was the three things we had learned they used, none of which would be in conflict with our diet. We asked if we could get some. The Ishii staff noted that the fermentation created a slightly alcoholic product, which then made apparent why the majority of students with dietary restrictions that have to do with religious faith couldn’t have it. Myself and the vegan student, however, noted that we could drink and asked to have some miso paste. I tried so hard all trip to simply eat whatever was given to me, appreciative of the labor people put into creating dining experiences that best matched my needs - even when some of these decisions were odd. I was not, however, good about letting go of the miso paste given that we were at a miso factory and I would never have this opportunity again. 

Our ongoing attempts to get sauce flustered everyone and led to repeated rounds with kitchen staff, me, and Tecnos students. At one point when I asked if I could please get some miso, the Technos student working with us broke down and said they would have to get permission from Matt as head of the program because as a student they cannot be responsible for making a decision.

This level of deference is difficult for me to understand. From my perspective, if someone decides they want to do something that they previously have said they don’t want to do (a generous reading of what was going on here), you let them do it - assuming the resources are still available. Their actions should be theirs to take. It doesn’t feel like something that should require approval from a third party…and yet we could not move forwards without it. In this way, rigid forms of deference seem to stymie individual confidence. While I admire the trust Japanese students appear to give to their faculty - and each other - it also feels like a barrier to personal growth and learning how to think things through for yourself. In the end, the other student requesting miso sauce said they didn’t want to cause any additional stress, simply asked that I get miso sauce (which I did), and we all moved on.

Reflecting back on this day now that I am home, perhaps one of the things I wish I could best share with others is the way theatre has taught me to constantly reevaluate my given circumstances and to base my decisions on what is going on in the moment. I believe that theatre has taught me to embrace fluidity, flexibility, and thinking carefully about intended outcomes as a means of shaping decision making. The ability to recognize that human action and interaction must be flexible and responsive is probably the number one reason I believe that all people would be well-served to study theatre. 

Side note - Ishii Miso makes miso ice cream. It is divine. Tastes a bit like salty caramel, but with fermentation.

June 19: Changing Rhythms

I am

rhythmic, pulsing

melting into onsen

bursting into lungs run up hill

refresh

A road through the woods. Video included for the sounds of various birds.

Green Village is a glorious break from the bustle of Tokyo - a resort built by the Tanaka family around some natural hot springs. While we were the only group there during our stay, the resort is often open to the public. The air thrums with birdsong and bullfrog chants. It is lush and green and smells of nature. 

Our one full day on site started with group calisthenics at 7:30 a.m., followed by breakfast. I really wanted to take advantage of being away from the city to go for a run, so I woke up early and headed out for an hour. I chose to stay on a straight path in the hopes that I would not get lost. Any time I came to a fork in the road or a turn that I thought might seem straight in a different direction on the way back, I took a photo and paid careful attention to where I went. It only took me a couple of decades but I may finally have learned my lessons about my navigational skills in new locations. 

The run was just what I needed. It was a challenge given some rough(ish) footing, decent altitude (2500 ft), and hills (ascended 550 feet over the course of 4 miles). But it felt so good to be out there. I love exploring a new place through running and have been frustrated by my inability to do so in Tokyo. I’m learning there, too - recognizing that city running is not a good fit for me and that I cannot endanger either my own ability to engage with all that Japan has to offer or the well-being of the others involved with the program. So, I’ve been good and swapped running for doing a lot of walking. It is not the same thing.

It was, therefore, sheer delight to head out among the trees and be surrounded by new birdsong. The route took me out to a larger road with houses and rice paddies with a good view of town nestled among the mountains. As I headed back towards campus, the hills started echoing with the ethereal sound of women singing. A house near the rice paddies was blaring Japanese folk music and it was bouncing all around me. I wouldn’t have been surprised if I was suddenly captured by a group of sirens. It was magical. Just listen to this short recording to hear for yourself. 

I made it back to Green Village in time to join for calisthenics and breakfast and then the first few sessions of the day making teru teru bozu (dolls to ward off rain), decorating badminton paddles, and making chopstick guns. I had a blast immersing myself in all of these craft-oriented activities and enjoyed the conversation that was released in the process. It reminded me of the joy I have found gathering with friends in recent years to do watercolors or other craft activities. 

The afternoon schedule, on the other hand, was filled with activities I dreaded: most especially badminton and dodgeball. Whereas I loved all sports activities as a child, I have discovered with worsening eyesight that I no longer have any ability to engage positively in sports that require interacting with flying objects, at least not when people are feeling competitive or pressured to succeed. Because Matt had told us that it would be ok if faculty took some time for ourselves while we were at Green Village, I opted to return to the American House to soak in the onsen and then do a little work. I deeply appreciated the chance to be intentional in my approach to the onsen and spent time meditating on how fortunate I was to be able to attend Technos and on filling myself with love, acceptance, and gratitude. This is a practice I know I need to work into my life more consistently and I appreciated the chance to practice it in such peaceful surroundings. I also deeply needed the time to myself - this was the day that I experienced a personal meltdown and felt a bit at my breaking point in terms of feeling the fatigue of being so far from home - metaphorical and physical.

I was also grateful to have missed the sports activities after hearing more about them. Badminton would’ve made me feel like I was letting my partner down and based on my experience trying a similar game earlier in the week, we would not have been able to get any sustained momentum at all which is no fun. I don’t need to win or be great, but I do need to be able to vaguely play. The description of the evolution from Japanese-style dodgeball (cooperative in nature) to American-style (winning at all costs) was nothing I wanted to be part of. I found a later discussion with Jina (one of the Technos faculty originally from NYC) about the differences in the way Japanese and Americans approach playing games or other group work really meaningful. She noted that the Japanese consider something a collaborative success if everyone participates in the same way regardless of whether or not they win whereas Americans consider something a collaborative success if they engage solely the strengths of each individual to win.

Our day at Green Village concluded with a barbecue and fireworks. As usual, I was seated at a table of nearly entirely students given our dietary restrictions. It was always an interesting place to be - those students had bonded deeply and I often spent the majority of the meal observing how they interacted. It was also a unique pairing because most of the dietary restrictions were a result of Islamic faith (no pork) and not my restrictions on meat / living things more generally (though one student in the group was vegan). At times, this pairing chafed all of us, I think, because we longed for things we could eat but were left off in order to fulfill other members’s restrictions. The students got very upset at a lunch for not getting any meat whatsoever, whereas I about lost my mind over not getting miso paste due to it fermenting to have a little alcoholic content. Mostly, I think, we recognized the generosity of our hosts in doing all they could to accommodate. 

The barbecue was lovely - a great chance for folks to talk and laugh together and at least at my station, a great opportunity to witness this group of students sharing the work of preparing the meal and ensuring everyone was cared for. The food was also outstanding - some really terrific noodles with vegetables and my favorite grilled onigiri. The students finished it off by dancing away in the lawn before we all went and lit sparklers in the night sky.

Large bath in a stone covered room

Badminton Paddle with Mt. Fuji

A badminton paddle decorated with an image of Mt. Fuji and a large sun.

Chopstick Gun

Fingers hold a gun made from chopstick pieces rubber banded together

Barbecue

A large grill with various meat and onigiri and people standing around.

Rice Paddies in Mountains

Rice paddies in mountainous landscape

Main Building of Green Village

A wide dark wooden building with lanterns hanging in front

Wet Rice Paddy

Rice growing in water

June 18: Reflections on Shame

Box of chocolates with a tall dark brown figure with eyes and a red tongue sticking out, shedding lighter brown thick skin with eye and tongue holes that has fallen over to make an upside down J shape.

Familiar rhythm

I am

sickened by shame

flush of hot tears brimming

slap unspoken expectations 

foreign

Shame is a bad motivational tool. Or perhaps it is a good motivational tool but a bad tool for building healthy people. Over the past week, I have watched multiple Japanese students become nearly incapable of functioning due to what appears to be shame. Of course, this could be my foreign interpretation shaped by US discourse promulgating the idea that the Japanese feel shame intensely over small things. 

In the students I have witnessed, they have broken into tears after what I understand from the outside to be small infractions. On the first occasion, one of the Technos students called me by my full name when they were splitting us into groups. Although I would prefer to be called H, I still use my full name professionally and do not consider it a deadname. The student corrected herself and apologized immediately in front of the full group. I thought no more of it. Later that day when we were in a session together, she came over and burst into tears and apologized nearly a dozen more times. I tried to tell her that she was doing better than me - as I am still struggling to learn names and simple phrases in Japanese. But this was not enough to allay her distress. 

I have also repeatedly felt my own shame during this trip - often in small ways, such as when I continue to mispronounce the simplest greetings despite constant referral to my cheat sheet. And I have shared the Technos student’s shame of forgetting the names of my hosts - people who have worked so hard to create a meaningful event for us and who deserve my full recognition. Shame when I walk too far into the center of the sidewalk and cause a cyclist to have to slow or get off their bike. Shame at not knowing the proper greeting or how to eat food that is generously placed before me. Shame for the fact that my disability makes it hard for me to follow the few standards or norms I have been able to learn during my stay in Japan. Shame at wandering into a bathroom for men. Shame that I disrupt norms that I think are bullshit in the first place. 

This is not a new feeling. And it is not limited to my experience in Japan. And I’m pretty sure that what I’m about to type is not an especially new observation for me but it is top of mind hot on the heels of a lunch in which I was served a variety of things that I am unsure of the “correct” way to eat them and after which I wandered into the wrong bathroom.

An attempt to avoid shame can certainly motivate someone to learn, as is clear from a conversation I had with a Technos student leader who reports needing to study more English because they don’t want to get the grammar wrong since their teacher has reinforced how important and challenging English grammar is.

Yet when I sit with my own fear of shame,I recognize it to be a largely limiting emotion. It arises when i am most conscious of the way I do not fit in with others - be it because I don’t know the customs of a community in which I am moving or because I am forced to navigate customs of a community to which I should belong. 

Tonight I will head to an onsen. While the people I am around are largely talking with tremendous excitement about the experience, my feelings of excitement for the release from physical stress are mixed with trepidation. I know we will be split by gender. I considered opting out altogether but I want the experience of luxuriating in hot springs, too. So I will go with the women. This is for the comfort of all around me…and in some ways for me. I have been socialized to gender segregate in women’s spaces and so they feel most comfortable to me. Raised in a different world in which we weren’t so obsessed with policing gender and bodies, perhaps I would feel differently. Perhaps others would, too.

In this way, shame is a powerful motivator for people to disengage, to self-isolate, to withdraw…a means of policing people and removing those we don’t want to deal with in a way that places the blame on them and not on us.

H, wearing a backpack, walks on a pine-needle blanketed path next to a series of stones through splndly pine trees and green shrubbery

Before the onsen, as we drove out to the resort operated by the Tanaka Foundation where we are generously being hosted for the next few days, we stopped for an hour at Mt. Fuji, which was an exquisite experience. I wish I’d had more time to lose myself in the quiet of the natural world. We were given an hour and I headed as quickly as I could to a trail heading up along with another colleague who was interested in going on a walk. We didn’t make it far, but that wasn’t the point. The point was to walk on the volcanic rock, to smell the pine, to listen to the birds and frogs with their evocative and rhythmic songs, and to catch the occasional glimpse of that powerful slumbering volcanic mountain. As I walked, I couldn’t help wondering how much longer the mountain will sleep. It’s been 300 years and the world is heating up. 

Other experiences / reflections:

• Eating a tiny little fish whole (not a favorite)

• Eating a kind of long wide noodle (looked like a very long egg noodle) made in the village we stopped in for lunch. Unfortunately, I did not write the name down. It was really delightful, though a bit hard to handle in the transfer from large to small bowls!

• Learning the reasons behind not leaving chopsticks inserted straight up in rice between bites (part of a funeral rite), not passing food directly from chopsticks to chopsticks (this is how people pass bones during funeral rites), and how to properly wear a yukata (right side closed underneath the left side - to do it the opposite way is to be wearing your funeral garment) though I was incapable of mastering tying the obi as instructed. 

• Relaxing in a private onsen! Turns out the American House in which the faculty in the program are being housed during the retreat has two private one-person onsens. The ability to go soak by myself without all of the aforementioned anxiety was welcome, though there was a bit of anxiety preceding it. Our accommodations were split by gender since the house is built to have two entirely split sleeping quarters and shared rooms. I had been asked before Technos began if I was comfortable sharing a room with one of the women on the trip, and I said yes. I didn’t realize that the facilities would also be split by gender, or that when we were given a tour of the space, we would be told that one of the single-person bathrooms was for men and one for women, even though the doors locked and the facilities (both baths and toilets) were solo experiences. I do not understand the obsession - in the US as well as in Japan - with gendering bathrooms that can only be used by one person at a time. I will confess that this practice really pisses me off because it is seemingly has no purpose beyond policing people. I was grateful to discover that the other faculty in the program had no hang ups about making the facilities located in our shared spaces open to whomever needed them. I wound up using the smaller of the two private onsens and felt like I might melt into a puddle after soaking for 10-15 minutes. 

• Sleeping traditional Japanese style: tatami mat, futon, duvet in a small shared room with two other faculty. I loved sleeping this way - I’m a big fan of firm beds and found this sleeping arrangement super comfortable.

A volcanic rock trail with stone path amidst green shrubbery.. I recommend listening with sound on to hear some of the sounds of Fuji.

June 17: OMG Kabuki Theatre

my hanamichi envy

precisely evocative

wink, nod, flounce, fight, pose

---

The National Theatre of Japan’s Kabuki for Beginners performance was sheer rapture. Yes. I dozed off during. I didn’t get as much sleep as I had hoped the night before and the rhythmic music and speech got the better of me. But that in no way dampened my experience.

I’ve wanted to attend traditional Japanese theatre since first learning about it in grad school. I would have loved to have caught bunraku and Noh, too, but the only theatre currently performing is kabuki. As a theatre artist with a strong antipathy towards most realism and a love for theatre that openly embraces (and makes no attempts to hide) the tricks of the trade, I hoped that I would fall in love with Kabuki in person. While I have enjoyed the snippets I have seen recorded, they felt lacking in heart - a precise recreation of character movement but without deep connection.

In person, it was magical.

We got tickets in the front row of the first balcony. This allowed a good view of the whole stage, which is incredibly wide. It has to be, in order to hold the largely painted scenery, dozen or so musicians placed on both side of the stage, and huge elaborate costumes / characters. 

The performance was preceded by an approximately 30-minute educational program for those new to kabuki. This segment was largely performed by two of the company’s actors, with increasing participation from the musicians and other performers. 

The National Theatre offers an audio program in English that we rented for the performance. This small device allowed the user to listen to a loosely ranslated / described version of the performance - falling somewhere between audio description and more traditional narration. I was happy to discover that I retained most of the knowledge of kabuki theatre and that I was largely aware of the traditions. I was also delighted to discover that this educational programming was charming, joyous, and deeply interactive with the audience - especially with the school tour that filled much of the first floor. The performers were charismatic, playfully demonstrating techniques like mie and the use of the hanamichi to get closer to the audience. At one point they even asked us to practice a mie gesture in order to demonstrate how much it adds to the interpretation of a moment. There were also goofy quizzes and battles. 

And then the magic began.

I wish I could share video with you. But I obviously didn’t take any and it wouldn’t do it justice anyway. You, like me, would likely think it was beautiful but lacking in heart. You would be so very wrong.

I can’t really find the words to do it justice. 

I can say it made me breathless with joy. The love the actors clearly demonstrated towards their characters and towards performing them inspired me in the best possible way. The theatricality of an 8-headed serpant being played by 8 actors tied together by costume but not in a literal way reinforced my belief that often the best choice is to evoke - to allow the audience to do the work of meaning making while also giving them beautiful performance components upon which to rely.

The play was an adaptation of a legendary Kabuki play [need to double check the title and author on the playbill when I am reunited with my things because my brain is foggy]. Though it had a fight with an 8-headed serpent, I was struck by how little the production followed Aristotelian concepts of plot structure and dynamics. The battle was powerful but it did not end the play. For those of us with limited experience with kabuki, it was honestly difficult to tell when it ended at all. Or at least, that was the case for me.

It’s fitting, then, that I am struggling to close this post. So I’ll return to the beginning. The first action of the educational component comprised of the gorgeous revolving wooden stage coming together in a gorgeous bit of scene choreography. This scenic flourish happened in full view of the audience and both demonstrated the way in which characters are revealed onstage or whisked to new places, while also providing a satisfying bit of spectacle. 

Oh and somewhere during a transition, there was a long segment of Florence and the Machine. Not going to lie. That one surprised me.

Other notable experiences for the day:

• Touring Sensoji Temple, the oldest temple in Tokyo. It was packed full of people and a bit overwhelming, especially on a sunny 90-degree day so I can’t say we spent a lot of time there. It was fascinating to see all the people crammed into the space, shopping and visiting the shrine, and all of the various food vendor smells were a powerful change from what I’m accustomed to. We stopped at a vendor who made bread stuffed with curry sauce and cheese as well as mango yogurt drinks and I have to say it was delightful.

• Doing a little shopping in a couple of artisan shops in Azakusa - a great change of pace from the masses of people at Sensoji and some truly beautiful pottery. I wish I could bring it all home. 

• Navigating my way back to the hotel totally on my own. I have been relatively terrified of navigating Tokyo. There are metro stations that are packed full of people, I don’t understand written or spoken Japanese, and my eyesight makes crowded travel hubs super challenging. I felt incredibly accomplished after making it from Asakusa Station back to Fuchu Station through two train changes and a whole lot of crowds. I’m also finally getting more accustomed to navigating on the left sides of things.

Crowds stream on their way to and from Sensoji Temple which stands in the background under blue skies

Crowds stream on their way to Sensoji Temple, which is in the background under blue skies

Baseball players in an indoor stadium packed with fans. The infield is grass other than around the bases. (Listen with sound on to catch the crowd chanting.)

June 16 part 2: Take Me Out to the Ballgame

When I heard that people often went to baseball games when in Tokyo, I thought that sounded fun. After talking to Kelly Walker about it, it became one of two things I wanted to try to experience while in Japan. (Generally, my attitude to the trip was to see what other folks were interested in and tag along - I knew that any experience was going to be an exciting opportunity and as someone who struggles to navigate, I mostly wanted to be able to do things with others. This plan served me incredibly well - we had a few people on the trip who had come with very full itineraries, which meant there was always something for me to do if I wanted.)  A baseball game seemed like a great place to compare and contrast cultures and also a great bit of fun. Given that our sightseeing left us at Tokyo Station (we stay in Fuchu, which is a pretty good haul from there), we had the night off, the Yomiuri Giants were playing the Rakuten Eagles in the Tokyo Dome, and I was far too mentally drained to do anything that would require thinking, I joined up with a few other people to head to the game once it was clear that my student was recovering ok. 

We were able to get tickets down the left field side, quite a ways up but definitely not at the top of the stadium, and after going to the gift shops to look for a few things we headed inside to our seats just in time for the first pitch. The environment was wild: flashing displays that ran the majority of the centerfield wall, young women wearing beer kegs from which they dispensed beer, and then there were the crowds. The fans know a different cheer for every single player and they sing / chant them the entire time the batter is at the plate. All game long. Nearly all athletes will tell you that having fans makes a difference. These fans truly live up to the billing of the 10th player on the field - they are an integral part of the game. 

On top of that, it was an incredibly exciting game. The Giants looked like they were going to dominate in the first inning, going up 3-0 in the first. I do not recall when the Eagles scored 3, but I believe it was sometime around the 5th inning. In the 7th, the Eagles pulled ahead 5-3, which remained the score heading into the bottom of the 9th. With runners at 1st and 3rd (if I recall correctly), a batter hit a beautiful home run to end the game. The crowd went wild. There was much high diving all around. Then they rolled out a backdrop and some lighting instruments and a mass of reporters circled around some of the players for the post game interview session. Though we didn’t understand the Japanese, we stayed to catch the full spectacle of the evening. 

It’s been a long time since I’ve been to a major league game in the US, but I was so impressed by this game. The ballpark was a lovely place to watch a game. It’s pretty large. It was packed, and the fans for both teams were vocal and engaged. There were traditions, but nothing as messy as something like a beer snake. In fact, fans uniformly carried their trash out and sorted it carefully into bins for recycling, burning, landfill. While there were some inning change games, definitely nothing as personal as a kiss cam. Lots of energy. I’m really curious to know why all of the signage that lit up to excite the crowds was written in English with no Japanese translation. At times the English was broken, but it was never Japanese. The stats and other bits of information, on the other hand, were in Japanese. All announcing was in Japanese. I have some theories, but I’d love to learn from someone who knows…

June 16 part 1: Lessons in Planning

The schedule read “Tokyo Sightseeing” and then an afternoon / evening off. We donned our pink t-shirts and met in the lobby to head off in small groups. We were not told anything other than the start time and to wear our t-shirts. It was already hot when we gathered at 8:15 and many of the students rolled out of bed and skipped breakfast.

We spent two hours navigating the train system with a lot of being asked to step to the side and wait. So much waiting…with no clear sense of what we were waiting for. Finally, we made our way out of the metro and onto the grounds of the Imperial Palace where we gathered with the rest of the pink shirts at one of the gates. By this time, many of the members of the group were already struggling. After a brief presentation about the Palace, we started walking the grounds. As the day got hotter and people became increasingly dehydrated and underfueled, things got ugly. 

We walked through the grounds for some time - getting increasingly spread out based upon the way folks were feeling. While it is possible that the Technos student leaders knew where everyone was, it seemed that it would have been very possible for someone to get left behind. There was limited seeming awareness that people might need attention or care and no adjustments were made along the way in response to the heat. After maybe an hour of walking the grounds, we were led to a building with a lovely rooftop view of the Imperial Palace grounds and city of Tokyo behind. I was rather on my own at that moment, though following behind a few other International Week pink shirts. I followed them up the stairs and then into a convenience store and picked up a water. I had no idea what was going on or where I was supposed to be, nor any idea how to reconnect with my group. At some point, a Technos student came in and told those of us in the store we needed to follow them and we headed to an elevator to the roof. 

Moments after arriving and taking a photo with a colleague, a student ran over to ask me if I knew that one of my students was sick in the bathroom. I sent my student some texts, told a colleague where I was going, and headed downstairs to stand outside of the bathroom to find out how he was. The next hour or so was spent sending in male faculty members to try and check on him because I was not able to go into the bathroom myself. After many consultations among ourselves, the student, and some of the Technos leadership, we decided that the best option was to send him back on the train to the hotel to rest. 

I had to send a male colleague with him…because our gendered bathroom world meant that I was of limited use if he were to get sick again. This felt rather like failure. 

After that, myself and another colleague were found by two Technos students and led back to the other colleague’s group. After more photos in front of Tokyo Station (when many folks looked like they were ready to pass out from a combo of not eating, having fluids, heat, and a long walk that seemed without clear direction), the International Week guests finally told the students that we were going to go our separate ways and get some lunch on our own.  (This decision was at odds with the desire to support the work of the Japanese students who had planned that each group would have a meal at a ramen place together - but the restaurant we slowly found our way to had a very long wait. The decision was not easy to make, but I believe it was the right one.)

I went into this day telling myself to be as patient as possible - one of the main purposes of the International Week program is to train Technos students to be leaders. As a program that has been on hiatus for 4 years during the pandemic, they are basically at a reset point - there is essentially no institutional memory of how this program functions beyond the amazing leadership of Matt Rollo, the longstanding director of the program. But when plans were not adapted to take the circumstances of the day and the people involved into account and people’s health was on the line, I became incredibly frustrated. So I spent some time thinking about the lessons I want to take away from this experience:

1. Group planning is hard and requires both laying out a plan and then adjusting as things come up. 

2. Most people - especially those from marginalized groups - are inclined to go along to get along and will do their best to meet expectations, even when those expectations are bad for their well-being. It is up to those of us leading activities / programs to ensure that we pay careful attention to those in our trust and that we check in with them as to how they are doing. No matter how much we want to get through our programming, we may need to adjust if our plans were too ambitions.

3. Not everyone is able to keep up. We need to make sure we aren’t leaving folks behind and have plans for how to keep people safe and engaged.

4. Always try to imagine yourself from the perspective of someone who is outside of the group to which you belong. What would you want to know in order to reduce anxiety heading into an event? (for ex. The names of the trains you will be taking, where you are going, who to call in event of an emergency, etc.)

5. Take care of people’s basic needs.

Imperial Palace Gardens and Tokyo from Above

A view of the Imperial Palace tucked between trees and in front of the Tokyo skyline

Imperial Palace Gardens with Tokyo Behind

Three lush trees with fat trunks stand among grass fields. Behind, the Tokyo skyline and blue sky with some clouds.

Main Diplomatic Gates at Imperial Palace

Large metal gates bar entrance to a drive to the Imperial Palace with signs that read “Keep Out.”

Imperial Palace fencing

Elaborate silver colored pikes in front of trees

Moat surrounding Imperial Palace

A large muddy moat surrounds the Imperial Palace. Trees and the Tokyo skyline in the background.

Decorative Fencing

A fence combines branches from a tree with painted glasswork that looks like leaves

Mizaki and H stand on Imperial Palace grounds

Two people wearing pink shirts and one wearing a backpack stand in front of trees.

Sidewalk art

The shadow of a person and of tree leaves mottles a sidewalk panel with red blossoms

June 15: Out of My Comfort Zone

I have been a vegetarian since 1988. In advance of my trip to Japan, I went out for a couple of meals eating Japanese food and adding in a few things I haven’t eaten in over 30 years. I wanted to make sure that I could digest them without issue because I know that tasting Japanese food is a huge part of this trip and because I didn’t want to disrespect or create additional work during the program.

All Technos materials note that participants are expected to try everything and that dietary restrictions cannot necessarily be honored. 

When they asked on an informational form about dietary restrictions before the trip, I noted that I was willing to try pretty much anything but that I have been vegetarian for over 30 years and confess to feeling a bit hesitaxxnt about meat. I did not expect this to influence the food that was prepared for me, but I wanted to explain why I might not always finish everything given to me. 

Out of the kindness of their hearts, the Technos staff have gone out of their way to provide options for me that did not require me to eat meat or fish. At times, I have really felt like I was missing out. So when members of the faculty decided they wanted to go out for sushi and Matt Rollo took us to his favorite conveyor belt sushi place, I decided it was time for me to try at least one order of fish sashimi. I ordered a lightly seared salmon. It was honestly divine - one of those bites of food that lingers with you and makes you want more. Over the course of the evening I had another seared salmon, this one with miso paste, and some shrimp tempura sushi, and then a roll with pickled gourd and wasabi leaves. It was all amazing. 

I cannot imagine I will order fish sashimi once I return to the states - the bit that I tried in advance of the trip was all something that I got through but did not enjoy. But I am really glad that I had the chance to try some of the foods for which Japan is so known.

Other highlights:

• Attending a discussion with Technos faculty about how to inspire students.

• Attending a class about how we can understand similarities and differences between American and Japanese cultures through things like emojis, demons, and ghosts.

• Attending a workshop run by music students in a small black box theatre and seeing arts students from all over jumping up and down with excitement.

International students learn to be flight attendants

Soleil draws a ghost

Black box theatre

June 14 - Intentionality

(This post will be modified and descriptions of photos added when I have some time. I don’t want to get too far away to record initial responses.)

The structured programming on the third day of the program was a scavenger hunt. Technos students broke us into teams of 2 international faculty, 3-4 international students, 3 Technos student guides. We were given a list of ~20 tasks to accomplish throughout Tokyo over the course of 6 hours. The other faculty member in my group was the other theatre person on the trip, Hope College’s Eric Van Tassel.** Based on conversations with other faculty following our scavenger hunts, the approach and experience varied greatly. This is not especially surprising given the differences in personalities, leadership styles, etc.

Our leaders were clearly trying to stay out of our way and let us determine a plan of attack, while providing guidance when we made decisions. They did not lead our exploration. I deeply appreciated this approach as it forced us to engage more deeply with the activities we were asked to do. The people I was paired with were all curious and the non-Technos folks early on came to the decision that we were more interested in experiencing Tokyo along the way than we were in winning the competition. This felt like exactly the right choice to me…but in retrospect I suspect that it was disrespectful to the time that our students spent planning the expedition. I’m sure they selected specific activities and places for us to explore for reasons that were important to them.

This leads to my major reflection for the day - intentionality is best shared when clearly articulated. I know I went through many theatre programs that emphasized just trying things without being told why you are doing. The rationale for this was always that you will figure out the reason afterwards and it empowers students to determine the takeaway for themselves. I appreciate the open exploration of this offer, and the opportunity to make my own meaning from things. But over the years I have come to believe that telling someone why I have structured an experience in the way that I have both forces me to be more careful in how I set up my work and allows for others to more fully invest in the activity as designed. As a participant, knowing why I am being asked to do something doesn’t limit my ability to process the work on my own, it simply aids me in dialectic engagement with what I am doing. Without this guidance it is easier to dismiss the work at hand.

During the course of the scavenger hunt that we completed, we: took a photo of our feet near a mosaic with the word “Tokyo” in it; took photos outside of a 3 different convenience stores; took a video of someone opening a package of onigiri (one of my favorite new foods discovered here!); took a photo of a small shrine we came across on a side street; took a photo of a red mail box; took a photo of someone throwing away trash (it is definitely a challenge to find trash bins here, yet there is little to no littering - everywhere you go, including the metro, people are constantly cleaning); took a group selfie; and explored the Edo-Tokyo Open Air Architectural Museum. We only had time to explore maybe a third of the museum, and even that was by overpowering the Technos student and exploring for longer than we were intended. We did get to walk through a couple of lovely farmhouses from the Edo period. They felt expansive and warm due to the open floor plan and wood floors. (They were also very dark.) On the way out of the museum, we returned to a thrift store we’d walked past before it was open and did a little shopping. I was bummed to only find they had a second floor at the last moment, but happy to discover a vest that fit me perfectly (thanks to Eric for scoping that out, or really for being too big to take it home himself). I’ve been looking for those back in the states to no avail. Although we had not yet completed all of the tasks (I’m guessing we finished around 50% of the hunt), we concluded the day as planned at lunch where I had a lovely curry dish.

Following the conclusion of our scavenger hunt over a group meal, Eric and I went to check out Shinjuku Gyoen National Garden since we had had our interest piqued during our trip to the Tokyo Metropolitan Government Building, where it could be seen as a large expanse of green nestled into the center of the city. The garden did not disappoint and was a lovely break from the rush of the rest of the day.

** I am still struggling to learn the names of the students in the program - especially those from Technos. Outside of our main hosts, we meet many new students and faculty each day and I’m finding it a profound challenge to learn their names. There is much to write about how taxing navigating a new culture, with a language I do not understand and cannot rely on cognates or an alphabet I recognize to make educated guesses, in spaces that are buzzing with sound (in addition to many conversations and translations many of our classroom spaces also play constant background music). I am grateful for the chance to experience what so many go through as they are forced to leave homelands due to climate change, wars, and other displacement. I am also frustrated by my slow learning. But I will keep trying.

June 13 - An Uneasy Imbalance

(This post will be modified and descriptions of photos added when I have some time. I don’t want to get too far away to record initial responses.)

June 13 was our first full day on campus in classes. We went to two workshops and one lecture on Mt. Fuji / Matsumoto Castle. The workshops were led by Technos Faculty and translated by Technos students. We had been given the opportunity to rank choices and then were placed into workshops by the students. My first workshop was one that none of us remembered as an option - Sports.

In many ways, this experience felt familiar and I could imagine myself creating something similar for a theatre workshop. We started in pairs with someone from the other school playing a game where you spin a fling object towards each other. Let’s just say that with RP this did not go well for either me or my partner. They were incredibly patient and gracious, for which I was grateful. After this activity, we spent a lot of time running under a jump rope while holding hands with people (increasingly large groups). I initially opted out of this experience because folks were jumping rope and I did not want to be tripped by the rope that I could not see. I stood with a small cluster of non-Technos folks who had various - usually health-based - reasons not to feel comfortable participating. After the first round, however, my flying partner came and pulled me into the game. It wound up being safe and fine, but the activity made me very aware of a tension that I often experience in my own work in theatre and education back in the states - how do you build community while simultaneously leaving space for people to navigate in a way that honors who they are as individuals.

I felt this tension strongly throughout the day, recognizing that I was opting out within the confines of a program in which we have been repeatedly reminded that in Japan it is rude to say no, and that we should try to engage in everything as it is presented to us. I do not want to disrespect my incredibly gracious hosts. I also believe in the value of knowing my own limitations in environments in which no space is created for us to collaborate to create ground rules that allow us all to bring our best selves to the table.

This remains an uneasy tension for me. More on that for the next post.

For now, here are some photos from the top of the Tokyo Metropolitan Government Building, where many of us went following the day’s activities to get a sense of the scale of Tokyo. The vastness of the city is overwhelming. If you look closely in some of them, you can see Mt. Fuji in the background.

Kazuki and Hiromi sit at a long table with 4 heart-shaped pieces of onigiri in front of them at dinner. They are surrounded by other members of the Technos program, largely wearing bright pink shirts.

June 12 - It Isn’t Clean

live with intention

focus found in wasabi

quiet on the bus

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Today was everything. And by that I mean every thing.

I’m starting with the lessons / observations that mean the most to me. They may feel obvious or stereotypical in some ways. They feel that way to me as an American who has heard a lot about Japanese culture being committed to the protection of the whole and for whom this was a large draw in participating in the Technos program. And yet, these simple observations hold a world of meaning for me.

As some of you may know, I have always enjoyed processing things through haiku (and other short, syllabically-focused forms of poetry). I appreciate the sensation of encapsulating nuanced experiences in just a few words and sounds. It focuses my responses to what I am experiencing and asks me to learn from what I am doing. To think clearly. Today I learned this clarity practiced in the way my hosts approached the art of dining. “It’s not clean,” Professors Kazuki, Hiromi, and Jun explained when asked about the Japanese practice of applying soy sauce and wasabi neatly and separately to nigiri as opposed to mixing the wasabi into the soy sauce and then dipping the rice portion of the nigiri into the mixture. This moment was a reminder of the power of purpose, presence, and intentionality, lessons I apply every day in the theatre but that are easy to miss in the noise and bustle and rush and worship of productivity at home.

The first day of Technos International week was overwhelming - nearly 14 hours straight of meeting new people, trying to learn a new name and face (and something about the person attached to them) every 5 or 10 minutes, a massive welcoming ceremony fit for opening night at a major sporting event, touring campus, working as hard as I could to learn new words, and doing my best not to fall or get lost on strange ground. It was deafening at times, the cacophony of languages, music, loud rooms, and excitement bringing my brain to a standstill. I longed for the clarity of silence.

In the midst of our second bus ride of the day, while all of the visiting faculty were excitedly talking at full voice, Jina (one of the Technos faculty) reminded us that the bus is usually library silent. I was sitting next to her and she explained that this connects to the Japanese emphasis on ensuring that what they do not disturb others. It brought to mind the African principle of ubuntu: I am because you are. These are the concepts I wish we embraced as Americans and that I try so hard to nourish in my classrooms and creative practices. This is how surrounded by people I often could not understand and in a location where I’d wound up profoundly lost in just a three-block radius the night before, I felt simultaneously at home. A foreigner in an achingly welcome home.

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HWS Contingent in a Classroom

Tucker, Soleil, and I sit among students in a brightly colored classroom.

Four Faculty around a Dinner Table Post Meal

Helen, Nancy, Jason, and Jun sit at a table crowded with the remnants of a good meal.

Festival Game Kingyo-sukui

A box full of brightly colored paper fish to be scooped up on a fan.

Welcoming Ceremony

Technos students wearing pink shirts give speeches that are projected onto a very large screen in the courtyard of a tall cement series of connected buildings. Note the people on all levels of the courtyard.

Technos Law Student and Me Smiling

I had the chance to talk (through Google translate) with an incredible Technos student studying family law. I sadly do not remember their name.

Technos Recording Studio

A very large and relatively older mixing board takes up most of the space in this recording studio. There are chairs and large speakers, and Technos students in pink shirts leading us on our tour.

Technos Theatre Space

Looking from behind the audience with a lighting monitor, intimate audience seating, and a small arena playing space.

Tofu Cutlets

While I have prepared to eat fish and some meat on this trip, the restaurant generously made me a vegetarian feast for the night. This course they prepared tofu cutlets with a tiny bit of cream cheese in the center while others had chicken. It was delicious

June 10-11 Travel to Japan. Learning My Limitations

While initially I took this photograph of the wrapper to the complimentary toothbrush in my hotel room from a perspective that “Get away from the bustle of everyday life, free your mind and body. We are pleased to share the precious moment with guests” was a lot to pin on the act of brushing your teeth, exhaustion made me realize the escape that simply falling into the routine of brushing my teeth offered tremendous relief at the end of a stressful transition.

Travel with low-vision is a challenge. Travel with low-vision in a place where I don’t know the language or the very different alphabet even more so. I was reminded the hard way last night that I cannot blithely assume I’ll be ok without doing better planning. I left the hotel to pick up a wee bit of sushi from the convenience store and told myself I would be fine so long as I just stayed basically across from the hotel. I wasn’t. Led to nearly an hour of walking around and around the same quarter-mile area trying to find the hotel entrance.