Ain't Mama Happy, Ain't Nobody Happy

She's the last one to go to bed at night and is always the first one up in the morning.  It seems she never sleeps and yet it's easy to catch her snoring in the massage chair after dinner.

I opted for homestay rather than seminar house to force me to be social and actually speak Japanese.  With Okaasan, I definitely succeeded in the former, but the latter remains unfulfilled.

My Okaasan, Tsurue Shimizu, is 59 years old but she hardly acts it.

She dyes her hair (Otousan helps), which is completely white otherwise.  In three and a half months, I've only just realized this--she keeps on top of the growth.

She's frightening behind the wheel of the family's brand-new Mitsubishi; drives too fast down the narrow residential streets in a vehicle that's entirely too big for Japan.

She isn't phased by much at all.  While I've had the pleasure of living in her home, she's broken a toe and dislocated her shoulder--twice.  None of these instances were emergencies, though, she and Otousan piled in the car and drove out to the hospital in Kobe for treatment.

She has two daughters, Maki (34) and Misa (27), and a grandson Konta (3).  She calls them her treasures, and the way her eyes light up when she's surrounded by family proves how true that is.

She's a trouble-maker and isn't afraid to poke fun at her family.  Otousan was sitting a few feet away on the couch when she told me he had a bad brain.  Despite knowing almost no English, he still scowled at her.  Her body language gave her away--she cringed away from him with an open-mouthed smile in my direction.

She knows how and when to laugh at herself and her mistakes.  We were in one of our impromptu English lessons and I was helping her perfect the pronounciation of "murder."  She couldn't stop laughing when I finally explained my concern over her previous utterance sounding more like "mother" than "murder."

I've only known two things to trip her up, and they're things that anyone would stumble over.

I came home one night and there was incense burning by the door.  She was sitting at the table, translator in-hand, waiting for me.  She'd spent the day looking after Konta because his parents had spent the day in the hospital.  Maki had had a miscarriage.  She was slower that night, seemed to act her age and show that wear of life.

The second time was when she found out Konta has autism.  He's still young and doesn't exhibit dramatic symptoms, so she still had the hope that it won't be a debilitating case.



Photo taken by Misa

 People stereotype the Japanese housewife as the cornerstone for the home, but it really is true.  Without Okaasan, the house would be in all sorts of disarray.  That she can be that strong and stay so happy is something I admire and strive to nurture in myself one day.

She does appreciate it when someone else makes dinner for once, though!

These Boots Were Made for Walking [Outside]

Though it's become more common in America to take off one's shoes upon entering a home, it's still something of a foreign concept and an offense isn't particularly troublesome.  One of the largest adjustments coming to Japan for many exchange students is definitely that shoes are worn outside and only outside.  They are kept by the door, not in one's room--never in one's room.

And it's not just at home.  Many schools have shoe lockers where students change into slippers while in the school buildings.  Some businesses share this practice as well.  I'm not sure about shrines, as I haven't experienced it at one, but temples as well, if one aims to enter the buildings themselves.

Kiyomizu temple in Kyoto required visitors to remove their shoes if they wanted to enter the main building.  When I visited Asuka temple in Nara, shoes were left by the door.  Most recently, at Enryakuji on Mt. Hiei, I observed the removing and replacing of shoes, almost as natural as breathing.

And the requirement to remove them doesn't seem to hinder the choice of shoe at all.  Women will show up with lace-up or otherwise complicated closure shoes but such doesn't phase them.  They take a seat and remove them to enter, perhaps for less total time than it might take to remove and replace the shoes.

It's fascinating.  Maybe Americans just don't have the patience or appreciation for taking off their shoes in a clean manner to keep their homes, schools, jobs and places of worship clean.

Universal Tourism

As with most other countries in the world, Japan has a lengthy relationship with religion.  Scattered across and hidden within its boundaries are a wealth of shrines, temples, churches, Happy Science buildings and numerous other places of worship.  Some are unknown and forgotten, others are held as a cornerstone of culture and popularity.

These fundamental locations often become tourist traps, both for foreigners and the Japanese alike.

Ise Shrine is the home of Amaterasu, the Sun Goddess.  It's possibly the most famous (and least photographed) shrine in Japan.  It's rebuilt every 20 years and brings quite the crowd to the otherwise quiet prefecture that houses it.

When I visited Ise's outer shrine, Geku, there wasn't a foreigner to be found (as it's the inner shrine that holds the claim to fame) but the Japanese filled the role of tourist well enough on their own, posing for pictures as close as they could get to the shrine itself.  Younger visitors popped their peace signs while older visitors posed stoically.  Most of the visitors were older and all of them made an offering and prayed at at least one shrine.

In contrast, Todaiji Temple was a bustling metropolis.  The streets and paths were filled with cars, people and deer, packed almost as tightly as if on the last train out of Tokyo.  Taking a photograph devoid of people or deer was nearly impossible.

The deer wanted fed and most people were happy to sink 150 yen into a packet of special deer wafers to make this happen.  The people wanted to see the daibutsu and were happy to sink 500 yen into the ticket to allow them inside the daibutsuden.  There were stations to burn a stick of incense, wishing wells and a crowd of people at each of them, more following suit than actually having knowledge of the rituals.  It didn't seem that any were there to worship, though I imagine a few of them were present, lost in the sea of faces.

Religion in Japan is a tricky thing.  Asking about it is difficult, as no one really seems to want to talk about theirs (unless it's those Happy Science guys at the station).  I must say, though, it's a huge relief after Christian Americans telling me that I'm going to burn in hell just because I happen to be wearing knee-high, buckle-up black platform boots and a dark purple trenchcoat.