This month has flown by, punctuated by classes, the start of track competitions, zemi presentations, kind old bee keepers, and my absolute adoration for the green that is steadily returning. I am glad to say that, now at last the sakura are beginning to bloom in Sapporo. This will be the third round of sakura for me! I feel that I have been chasing the seasons across Japan. I can also report that I heard the first rustle of spring leaves this week while walking to class. This is an important occasion for me every year. When leaves first unfurl, they are too small to rustle in the wind. You can never be certain when your ears will finally catch that soft, long-awaited sound. I always stop in my tracks when I hear it, nod my head, and smile. Spring has arrived. And with it, light measurements soon to follow!
Therefore, needless to say, the past month has been filled with many great things. The biggest frustration during this time, unfortunately, is that I managed to injure myself. After returning to Sapporo with high hopes of running in the timidly warming weather and clear sidewalks, my achilles tendon suddenly began to hurt badly enough that I was hard-pressed to climb stairs for a time. It became inflamed and painful. There are not many things that will make me stop running, but this made me stop. For three weeks (longer if I counted accurately) , I have been unable to run and this has been miserable. For me, running is the same as freedom. I ran without fail or fall throughout the icy winter, and I can proudly say that I know most of the Sapporo area from here to the ocean thanks to long runs. Running has introduced me more profoundly to the city; it has brought me to many hidden places I would not have found otherwise, led me to explore, become more confident in once unfamiliar surroundings and myself, to meet a host of wonderful friends on the track team, and has connected me more closely to the land here. My footsteps have tread far over the earth here, leaving their mark on the ground and the earth its mark on me. It is as natural to me as food and drink. Most of the time, it is my method of transportation. I went to a doctor thanks to Becca's kind assistance. But, as I should have guessed, his only recommendation was an unhelpful one: more rest. It does not help that Japan's track competitions started up in perfect timing with the start of my injury. I have been looking forward to the chance to participate in a Japanese track and field competition. I have observed so many cultural subtleties through my participation in the track club, I knew it would be a once in a lifetime opportunity to compete as well. The coach even managed to register me officially, so that I can compete. I feel that it would also form a tighter bond between me and the other runners. It was the final step towards me becoming 100% accepted, even though everyone has welcomed me so kindly. Alas, I have been stuck in the stands. At practices, where I looked forward to training, chatting, and interacting with the members I now feel isolated as I sit and do abs or stretch on my own, unable to run, cheering for the other members as they run the workouts. Nevertheless, I am very grateful to have had the chance at least to observe competitions. My absolute favorite nuance is that, after crossing the finish line, each runner turns and bows before exiting. At practices as well, each runner turns and bows to the track as they leave. I think that this is an important sentiment, and stands out to me every time I witness it. It shows respect to the other members, to the other competitors, to the officials, and to the track itself.
Classes began gradually for me. Last semester, I felt busy with Japanese language classes and international student science courses. I felt that I was always preparing for a kanji or grammar exam. Due to the Hokudai International Student Center's language programs infinite wisdom, however, the corresponding levels of kanji/vocabulary and grammar were scheduled for the same time slot. I'm not entirely certain of why they would make such a decision. Many of my classmates noticed the scheduling issue at the start of vacation and informed the department. But no change was made, nor any indication of willingness to change—their only advice was that you must choose one or the other. Now, if I were an educational department, it would be my goal to provide an education. So I remain perplexed. That means that myself and everyone else in my level was forced to decide which class to take and which to give up. I ended up choosing kanji/vocabulary, because the teacher tends to provide grammatical explanations along with the vocabulary so it seemed the best of the worst. So far, this decision seems to have been the correct one but I can only wonder if the department is aware that now their class sizes have been halved. Or perhaps that was their goal. Science courses have also begun slowly for me. I currently have Agriculture in Hokkaido, Forest Resources, and my Forest Sciences lab seminar. I am considering joining an environmental studies course, but my experience last semester was that most of these courses contained review. Or they were very simplified, in part because many of the professors attempt to present in English even when the result is mostly confusion. So I am in fact rather satisfied with the smaller course load, and more time that can be devoted to field measurements, reviewing papers, and piecing together a research paper. Professor Koike has hinted that he would like me to synthesize the results into a paper by the end, and indicated that now that I will be in Japan until September, this will give me the perfect amount of time to conclude the experiment neatly. I am hoping this will come to fruition!
After finishing the first lab seminar back, the graduate students and professors were trying to decide on the presenter for the following week. One of the graduate students so graciously suggested that I present my poster on earthworm and buckthorn interactions from the Japan Forest Society. I had been nervous that someone would remember! But nervousness aside, I was also glad for the vote of confidence and the chance to share my old project—as well as talk about Minnesota's forests! I prepared a power point version, with English and Japanese so that the Japanese students and international students could all understand. Doing my best to brush up my Japanese ecology vocabulary, on April 26 I headed to the seminar room. I felt, as I always do before a presentation, as though I were balancing a basin of precious knowledge atop my head—any misstep and it would spill over. But it went perfectly, and I really enjoyed it. I am learning more and more that, shy as I may be, I do like to present. Although I am sure I made many grammatical errors, I completed the entire 45 minute presentation entirely in Japanese doing my best to speak smoothly and naturally. I think that Professor Koike was proud. Afterward, in fact, he asked me if I would be interested in submitting it to a Japanese science journal for publication. I was so surprised! The research itself is very simple and from my work at St. Olaf. However, he pointed out that I had already translated so much of it, and that many Japanese researchers would be interested in reading. I had thought I was at last done with that old project, but it seems I will have one more round with it. I prepared a four page manuscript in Japanese, adding on to what I had done already. I sent it to Professor Koike simply to ask if the format was acceptable, and yet again he helped me to edit the entire manuscript from start to finish. I was so shocked to open up the file he sent back to me (the same day!) with grammatical suggestions and advice for revisions. I cannot emphasize enough how supportive Professor Koike has been for me. He is an extremely busy professor, and yet he goes far out of his way to help me and his other students. He even makes a point of buying specific chocolates, since one of his students works for the company and he wishes to continue supporting him. Based on these revisions, I edited the manuscript again and with any luck, in the next weeks Professor Koike will be submitting it for me. If all goes well, it will be published!
The next week was Golden Week. In retrospect, I wish I had planned a short trip since there was little activity in the lab and many others had done just that. But I found the schedule to be confusing, not to mention that I still had Japanese class. So I was never quite certain when classes would be canceled or not—my method was to show up to the room, half of the time for a class, and half of the time for an empty room. But the time was well-spent in other regards, preparing the aforementioned manuscript, and doing a some more digging on Japan and environmentalism. A somewhat rare character among Japanese farmers at the time, I learned about Mr. Masanobu Fukoka, author of the One-Straw Revolution. I had heard the title before, but never read it. Published in the late 70s, Fukuoka describes a process of no till, no flooding, no pesticide farming that he developed over a period of 30 years at his farm in Shikoku. The book is little known inside Japan—despite growing yields that matched or beat his neighbors, his methods were frowned upon for their disorderly appearance compared to tidy rows of rice—but inspirational to many small farmers and environmentalists elsewhere. I poured through the book in a single day. It is especially curious to me because Fukuoka intertwines philosophy, science (trained as a plant pathologist himself, he finds sciences to be overly glorified), and practical farming. There are many aspects of Japanese culture contained in his farming, although so much of agriculture in Japan—especially in Hokkaido—has regrettably been influenced by American models. In addition to the environmental questions I have continued to pursue, and with growing success as my sources and thoughts coalesce, I remain curious about environmental questions concerning Ainu culture and language. I strongly believe that land, language, and culture are reflections of one another, and as such have made it an important goal to learn more about these possible connections not just within Japanese culture, but necessarily within Ainu culture as well. I hold this to be just as important and valuable as my ecological or scientific research. All spheres of learning are interlaced, and communicate with one another. Culture has much to say about our current global environmental situation, and I want desperately to become more involved in Ainu land and social justice events. Perhaps my main reason for pursuing forest sciences, love of plants aside, is my goal to combine scientific research and credibility with legal action, in particular in the area of resource, land, environmentalism and social justice—especially land reclamation and use. In my home state of Minnesota, there continue to be injustices against the Dakota and Anishinaabe (Ojibwe) nations, whose land is polluted illegally by mining, pipelines, and extractive corporations. Environmental and social justice issues are shadows cast by the same source. Therefore, it remains disappointing for me not to have found a way to participate in any social or environmental justice related possibilities within Ainu communities. I have contacted a professor recently, whose research specialty happens to be connections between language, ecology—with a focus on Ainu language--, but have not yet received a response.
After Golden Week, I experienced one of the happiest days I have had in a very long time. Since October, I have been trying to find a time to meet with a small, local honey production group. They keep bee hives on the top of a building in downtown Sapporo. Becca and I met them at their little stand during the autumn festival long ago, and the older lady at the booth was overjoyed to take our pictures and hear that we were interested in volunteering. At that time, the honey season was winding down. Various times, I had emailed the group to meet with them, but I always ended up busy and there was little group activity during the winter besides. With spring on its way, I was determined to meet with them. The older lady, Takushima-san, had in fact come spontaneously to the agriculture building at Hokudai during the fall to try to find me one day, so adamant was she to meet with me. Alas, I had not been in the lab that day. Not to be defeated so easily, she revealed that she searched through the building holding the picture of me and Becca posed with a jar of honey. Showing this picture, she asked Japanese students who crossed her path if they had seen me (assuming that as a foreigner, they would easily recognize me!). She is quite the character. After emailing the group and fortunately receiving a happy response to meet with me, they told me the address and I went in search of the building. The building itself is old and dusty from the outside, and filled with a mismatch of shops inside. I become very nervous doing such things on my own, and often wish to turn back, but I do not let myself give in. I had trouble locating the building, and had just stepped outside the building itself, when I heard someone call “Jamie-chan!” I looked up, and it was Takushima-san trotting towards me cheerfully. She told me she remembered me perfectly, because she often carried the photograph with her since she was so excited for me to volunteer. I have never been so seamlessly adopted by someone before. It was as though she had known me for years, that we were long friends—she happily brought me inside, introduced me to the three other volunteers who had come to meet me, and chatted with me about her children, her job, and listened curiously about what I had to say. I was especially proud because I managed the whole time in Japanese. Although the bees are still vacationing in Kyushu until the weather warms, Takushima-san said that there will definitely be many opportunities for me to volunteer. After the meeting, Takushima-san and the two other middle-aged ladies invited me to lunch, paid for my lunch, secretly gave me a honeycomb, and filled a bag with snacks for me to take with me. She proudly exclaimed to the others, “tsukamaeta!”, that she had caught me and meaning that I would surely return. The rest of the day, I wore a huge smile. In fact, as I fell asleep that night, it was with a bright grin and a warm heart. Takushima-san is the first person in Japan to call me “Jamie-chan.” I have often hoped that my track teammates or other friends would now and again use the epithet, as insignificant as it may seem. But no one had until that day. I had not realized just what this meant to me: it meant someone had accepted me, that they valued me and saw me as someone with whom formalities could be set aside. Takushima-san let her true personality shine through, charming and bubbly and very much a Japanese obaa-san. In fact, all three of the ladies treated me so kindly. I can be very timid and shy when I become intimidated, but I felt instantly comfortable among them. I had been happy enough at the prospect of volunteering with honey bees, but the potential of such a joyful friendship left me feeling immensely fortunate. I look forward to meeting with them again!
There was more excitement to come. Soon thereafter, I received a phone call from a number I did not recognize. It was a woman calling from the Japan Forestry Society, and informed me that I had won the international student award category for my poster presentation. Of course, I did not understand this at first since everything was in Japanese and took me by surprise. In fact, I was only partly certain that it was an award and not a fee at first. After making her repeat herself so many times, I'm sure she was ready to make it a fee! The next day, Professor Koike had invited me and two labmates on a short trip with him to retrieve a handful of larch seedlings from the Bibai experimental forest. He rented a car, and we made the hour-long trip through the countryside, watching the snowy mountains on the horizon. I was glad for the chance to see another experimental forest, and when we arrived we were given a tour of the grounds and explanation of some of the experiments. In true Japanese fashion, a researcher in business clothes came running out to the field to greet Professor Koike, bow, hand him his business card, and then we all took pictures in a line in front of the trees and plowed dirt rows. It was also an interesting opportunity for me to overhear Professor Koike and the other senior researchers speaking in very casual Japanese together—just like the young Japanese classmates of mine. On the way back to Sapporo, Professor Koike bought us all icecream cones and ageimo at a vegetable market. Then, though I was unable to travel during golden week, this weekend I was able to make a short trip to Tokyo. I accomplished two important items on my list in one day. Together with Veronica, I saw the Alphonse Mucha art exhibit in Roppongi and Kabuki in the evening. It was an fun-packed day. The exhibit was absolutely swarming with people, but the art was just as inspiring as I had always imagined it would be in person. And kabuki was incredible. I have been determined all these months to see kabuki while in Japan, and I feared the chance would slip by. I had never seen any form of Japanese theater in person before, and thus had long dreamed of witnessing something as iconic as kabuki. Not only is it cultural, it is stunning. I am so grateful that I was able to go. I loved the acts, was pleased that I could understand some of the Japanese and some of the puns even without the aid of the headphones, not to mention many of the cultural references, and I enjoyed swimming amidst the sea of kimono-clad old ladies. I took the train with Veronica back to Tsukuba, and the next day I was able to see the beautiful bike paths, greenery, Tsukuba University campus, and a delightful vegetarian lunch before heading back to the Narita airport. Though short, it was by far one of my best trips in Japan, due not just to great art but great company as well. The trees and scenery in Tsukuba were breathtaking to me, and peddling along with Veronica on mama-chari through the sunny weather and lush leaves, I could not have been happier. In fact, the tree-lined streets of Tsukuba reminded me fondly of my home in Minneapolis, painted with the brushstrokes of Japan. The bus trip back to Narita passed through newly planted rice fields and dense backyard gardens. Upon arriving back in Sapporo, Professor Koike emailed me to say that the light sensor equipment had arrived and that soon we could begin to take photosynthesis and light readings. I look forward to this, and today I visited the seedlings we planted in the fall to say good morning from their long sleep. The buds will soon unfurl.
Overall, injuries aside, there have been many fortunate experiences for me this month. It took a great deal for me to move past my decision regarding Yale but I have largely recovered my spirits, and discovered many friendships for which I am so grateful. I have been fortunate to have so many opportunities to present and become more comfortable with research and formalizing such research in Japanese. The exuberance of green and growing plants makes even gray and rainy days more cheerful, and reminded me of how curious I remain about plants, and the remarkable systems of this earth.
Lastly, a peculiar transformation has occurred for me over the months. When I first arrived in Japan, everything was new. Gradually, I adjusted and became comfortable. Yet that comfort and familiarity did not equate something which I associated with myself—that is, I did not notice these cultural subtleties, indeed the landscape of Japan itself, becoming a part of myself even as I observed and interacted. Such experiences had found happy abode in my mind, but had not seeped into my heart. Now, while there is much more for me to learn, aspects of Japan that take decades or a lifetime to truly know, and of course day-to-day frustrations, Japan has become a second home to me. I look upon the land here not just with interest, but with a growing love that strengthens my resolve to protect this earth. Indeed, I no longer merely look upon, but instead feel a part of Japan. The experience of Fulbright has given me that opportunity, and it is a grace I will never forget.
Therefore, needless to say, the past month has been filled with many great things. The biggest frustration during this time, unfortunately, is that I managed to injure myself. After returning to Sapporo with high hopes of running in the timidly warming weather and clear sidewalks, my achilles tendon suddenly began to hurt badly enough that I was hard-pressed to climb stairs for a time. It became inflamed and painful. There are not many things that will make me stop running, but this made me stop. For three weeks (longer if I counted accurately) , I have been unable to run and this has been miserable. For me, running is the same as freedom. I ran without fail or fall throughout the icy winter, and I can proudly say that I know most of the Sapporo area from here to the ocean thanks to long runs. Running has introduced me more profoundly to the city; it has brought me to many hidden places I would not have found otherwise, led me to explore, become more confident in once unfamiliar surroundings and myself, to meet a host of wonderful friends on the track team, and has connected me more closely to the land here. My footsteps have tread far over the earth here, leaving their mark on the ground and the earth its mark on me. It is as natural to me as food and drink. Most of the time, it is my method of transportation. I went to a doctor thanks to Becca's kind assistance. But, as I should have guessed, his only recommendation was an unhelpful one: more rest. It does not help that Japan's track competitions started up in perfect timing with the start of my injury. I have been looking forward to the chance to participate in a Japanese track and field competition. I have observed so many cultural subtleties through my participation in the track club, I knew it would be a once in a lifetime opportunity to compete as well. The coach even managed to register me officially, so that I can compete. I feel that it would also form a tighter bond between me and the other runners. It was the final step towards me becoming 100% accepted, even though everyone has welcomed me so kindly. Alas, I have been stuck in the stands. At practices, where I looked forward to training, chatting, and interacting with the members I now feel isolated as I sit and do abs or stretch on my own, unable to run, cheering for the other members as they run the workouts. Nevertheless, I am very grateful to have had the chance at least to observe competitions. My absolute favorite nuance is that, after crossing the finish line, each runner turns and bows before exiting. At practices as well, each runner turns and bows to the track as they leave. I think that this is an important sentiment, and stands out to me every time I witness it. It shows respect to the other members, to the other competitors, to the officials, and to the track itself.
Classes began gradually for me. Last semester, I felt busy with Japanese language classes and international student science courses. I felt that I was always preparing for a kanji or grammar exam. Due to the Hokudai International Student Center's language programs infinite wisdom, however, the corresponding levels of kanji/vocabulary and grammar were scheduled for the same time slot. I'm not entirely certain of why they would make such a decision. Many of my classmates noticed the scheduling issue at the start of vacation and informed the department. But no change was made, nor any indication of willingness to change—their only advice was that you must choose one or the other. Now, if I were an educational department, it would be my goal to provide an education. So I remain perplexed. That means that myself and everyone else in my level was forced to decide which class to take and which to give up. I ended up choosing kanji/vocabulary, because the teacher tends to provide grammatical explanations along with the vocabulary so it seemed the best of the worst. So far, this decision seems to have been the correct one but I can only wonder if the department is aware that now their class sizes have been halved. Or perhaps that was their goal. Science courses have also begun slowly for me. I currently have Agriculture in Hokkaido, Forest Resources, and my Forest Sciences lab seminar. I am considering joining an environmental studies course, but my experience last semester was that most of these courses contained review. Or they were very simplified, in part because many of the professors attempt to present in English even when the result is mostly confusion. So I am in fact rather satisfied with the smaller course load, and more time that can be devoted to field measurements, reviewing papers, and piecing together a research paper. Professor Koike has hinted that he would like me to synthesize the results into a paper by the end, and indicated that now that I will be in Japan until September, this will give me the perfect amount of time to conclude the experiment neatly. I am hoping this will come to fruition!
After finishing the first lab seminar back, the graduate students and professors were trying to decide on the presenter for the following week. One of the graduate students so graciously suggested that I present my poster on earthworm and buckthorn interactions from the Japan Forest Society. I had been nervous that someone would remember! But nervousness aside, I was also glad for the vote of confidence and the chance to share my old project—as well as talk about Minnesota's forests! I prepared a power point version, with English and Japanese so that the Japanese students and international students could all understand. Doing my best to brush up my Japanese ecology vocabulary, on April 26 I headed to the seminar room. I felt, as I always do before a presentation, as though I were balancing a basin of precious knowledge atop my head—any misstep and it would spill over. But it went perfectly, and I really enjoyed it. I am learning more and more that, shy as I may be, I do like to present. Although I am sure I made many grammatical errors, I completed the entire 45 minute presentation entirely in Japanese doing my best to speak smoothly and naturally. I think that Professor Koike was proud. Afterward, in fact, he asked me if I would be interested in submitting it to a Japanese science journal for publication. I was so surprised! The research itself is very simple and from my work at St. Olaf. However, he pointed out that I had already translated so much of it, and that many Japanese researchers would be interested in reading. I had thought I was at last done with that old project, but it seems I will have one more round with it. I prepared a four page manuscript in Japanese, adding on to what I had done already. I sent it to Professor Koike simply to ask if the format was acceptable, and yet again he helped me to edit the entire manuscript from start to finish. I was so shocked to open up the file he sent back to me (the same day!) with grammatical suggestions and advice for revisions. I cannot emphasize enough how supportive Professor Koike has been for me. He is an extremely busy professor, and yet he goes far out of his way to help me and his other students. He even makes a point of buying specific chocolates, since one of his students works for the company and he wishes to continue supporting him. Based on these revisions, I edited the manuscript again and with any luck, in the next weeks Professor Koike will be submitting it for me. If all goes well, it will be published!
The next week was Golden Week. In retrospect, I wish I had planned a short trip since there was little activity in the lab and many others had done just that. But I found the schedule to be confusing, not to mention that I still had Japanese class. So I was never quite certain when classes would be canceled or not—my method was to show up to the room, half of the time for a class, and half of the time for an empty room. But the time was well-spent in other regards, preparing the aforementioned manuscript, and doing a some more digging on Japan and environmentalism. A somewhat rare character among Japanese farmers at the time, I learned about Mr. Masanobu Fukoka, author of the One-Straw Revolution. I had heard the title before, but never read it. Published in the late 70s, Fukuoka describes a process of no till, no flooding, no pesticide farming that he developed over a period of 30 years at his farm in Shikoku. The book is little known inside Japan—despite growing yields that matched or beat his neighbors, his methods were frowned upon for their disorderly appearance compared to tidy rows of rice—but inspirational to many small farmers and environmentalists elsewhere. I poured through the book in a single day. It is especially curious to me because Fukuoka intertwines philosophy, science (trained as a plant pathologist himself, he finds sciences to be overly glorified), and practical farming. There are many aspects of Japanese culture contained in his farming, although so much of agriculture in Japan—especially in Hokkaido—has regrettably been influenced by American models. In addition to the environmental questions I have continued to pursue, and with growing success as my sources and thoughts coalesce, I remain curious about environmental questions concerning Ainu culture and language. I strongly believe that land, language, and culture are reflections of one another, and as such have made it an important goal to learn more about these possible connections not just within Japanese culture, but necessarily within Ainu culture as well. I hold this to be just as important and valuable as my ecological or scientific research. All spheres of learning are interlaced, and communicate with one another. Culture has much to say about our current global environmental situation, and I want desperately to become more involved in Ainu land and social justice events. Perhaps my main reason for pursuing forest sciences, love of plants aside, is my goal to combine scientific research and credibility with legal action, in particular in the area of resource, land, environmentalism and social justice—especially land reclamation and use. In my home state of Minnesota, there continue to be injustices against the Dakota and Anishinaabe (Ojibwe) nations, whose land is polluted illegally by mining, pipelines, and extractive corporations. Environmental and social justice issues are shadows cast by the same source. Therefore, it remains disappointing for me not to have found a way to participate in any social or environmental justice related possibilities within Ainu communities. I have contacted a professor recently, whose research specialty happens to be connections between language, ecology—with a focus on Ainu language--, but have not yet received a response.
After Golden Week, I experienced one of the happiest days I have had in a very long time. Since October, I have been trying to find a time to meet with a small, local honey production group. They keep bee hives on the top of a building in downtown Sapporo. Becca and I met them at their little stand during the autumn festival long ago, and the older lady at the booth was overjoyed to take our pictures and hear that we were interested in volunteering. At that time, the honey season was winding down. Various times, I had emailed the group to meet with them, but I always ended up busy and there was little group activity during the winter besides. With spring on its way, I was determined to meet with them. The older lady, Takushima-san, had in fact come spontaneously to the agriculture building at Hokudai during the fall to try to find me one day, so adamant was she to meet with me. Alas, I had not been in the lab that day. Not to be defeated so easily, she revealed that she searched through the building holding the picture of me and Becca posed with a jar of honey. Showing this picture, she asked Japanese students who crossed her path if they had seen me (assuming that as a foreigner, they would easily recognize me!). She is quite the character. After emailing the group and fortunately receiving a happy response to meet with me, they told me the address and I went in search of the building. The building itself is old and dusty from the outside, and filled with a mismatch of shops inside. I become very nervous doing such things on my own, and often wish to turn back, but I do not let myself give in. I had trouble locating the building, and had just stepped outside the building itself, when I heard someone call “Jamie-chan!” I looked up, and it was Takushima-san trotting towards me cheerfully. She told me she remembered me perfectly, because she often carried the photograph with her since she was so excited for me to volunteer. I have never been so seamlessly adopted by someone before. It was as though she had known me for years, that we were long friends—she happily brought me inside, introduced me to the three other volunteers who had come to meet me, and chatted with me about her children, her job, and listened curiously about what I had to say. I was especially proud because I managed the whole time in Japanese. Although the bees are still vacationing in Kyushu until the weather warms, Takushima-san said that there will definitely be many opportunities for me to volunteer. After the meeting, Takushima-san and the two other middle-aged ladies invited me to lunch, paid for my lunch, secretly gave me a honeycomb, and filled a bag with snacks for me to take with me. She proudly exclaimed to the others, “tsukamaeta!”, that she had caught me and meaning that I would surely return. The rest of the day, I wore a huge smile. In fact, as I fell asleep that night, it was with a bright grin and a warm heart. Takushima-san is the first person in Japan to call me “Jamie-chan.” I have often hoped that my track teammates or other friends would now and again use the epithet, as insignificant as it may seem. But no one had until that day. I had not realized just what this meant to me: it meant someone had accepted me, that they valued me and saw me as someone with whom formalities could be set aside. Takushima-san let her true personality shine through, charming and bubbly and very much a Japanese obaa-san. In fact, all three of the ladies treated me so kindly. I can be very timid and shy when I become intimidated, but I felt instantly comfortable among them. I had been happy enough at the prospect of volunteering with honey bees, but the potential of such a joyful friendship left me feeling immensely fortunate. I look forward to meeting with them again!
There was more excitement to come. Soon thereafter, I received a phone call from a number I did not recognize. It was a woman calling from the Japan Forestry Society, and informed me that I had won the international student award category for my poster presentation. Of course, I did not understand this at first since everything was in Japanese and took me by surprise. In fact, I was only partly certain that it was an award and not a fee at first. After making her repeat herself so many times, I'm sure she was ready to make it a fee! The next day, Professor Koike had invited me and two labmates on a short trip with him to retrieve a handful of larch seedlings from the Bibai experimental forest. He rented a car, and we made the hour-long trip through the countryside, watching the snowy mountains on the horizon. I was glad for the chance to see another experimental forest, and when we arrived we were given a tour of the grounds and explanation of some of the experiments. In true Japanese fashion, a researcher in business clothes came running out to the field to greet Professor Koike, bow, hand him his business card, and then we all took pictures in a line in front of the trees and plowed dirt rows. It was also an interesting opportunity for me to overhear Professor Koike and the other senior researchers speaking in very casual Japanese together—just like the young Japanese classmates of mine. On the way back to Sapporo, Professor Koike bought us all icecream cones and ageimo at a vegetable market. Then, though I was unable to travel during golden week, this weekend I was able to make a short trip to Tokyo. I accomplished two important items on my list in one day. Together with Veronica, I saw the Alphonse Mucha art exhibit in Roppongi and Kabuki in the evening. It was an fun-packed day. The exhibit was absolutely swarming with people, but the art was just as inspiring as I had always imagined it would be in person. And kabuki was incredible. I have been determined all these months to see kabuki while in Japan, and I feared the chance would slip by. I had never seen any form of Japanese theater in person before, and thus had long dreamed of witnessing something as iconic as kabuki. Not only is it cultural, it is stunning. I am so grateful that I was able to go. I loved the acts, was pleased that I could understand some of the Japanese and some of the puns even without the aid of the headphones, not to mention many of the cultural references, and I enjoyed swimming amidst the sea of kimono-clad old ladies. I took the train with Veronica back to Tsukuba, and the next day I was able to see the beautiful bike paths, greenery, Tsukuba University campus, and a delightful vegetarian lunch before heading back to the Narita airport. Though short, it was by far one of my best trips in Japan, due not just to great art but great company as well. The trees and scenery in Tsukuba were breathtaking to me, and peddling along with Veronica on mama-chari through the sunny weather and lush leaves, I could not have been happier. In fact, the tree-lined streets of Tsukuba reminded me fondly of my home in Minneapolis, painted with the brushstrokes of Japan. The bus trip back to Narita passed through newly planted rice fields and dense backyard gardens. Upon arriving back in Sapporo, Professor Koike emailed me to say that the light sensor equipment had arrived and that soon we could begin to take photosynthesis and light readings. I look forward to this, and today I visited the seedlings we planted in the fall to say good morning from their long sleep. The buds will soon unfurl.
Overall, injuries aside, there have been many fortunate experiences for me this month. It took a great deal for me to move past my decision regarding Yale but I have largely recovered my spirits, and discovered many friendships for which I am so grateful. I have been fortunate to have so many opportunities to present and become more comfortable with research and formalizing such research in Japanese. The exuberance of green and growing plants makes even gray and rainy days more cheerful, and reminded me of how curious I remain about plants, and the remarkable systems of this earth.
Lastly, a peculiar transformation has occurred for me over the months. When I first arrived in Japan, everything was new. Gradually, I adjusted and became comfortable. Yet that comfort and familiarity did not equate something which I associated with myself—that is, I did not notice these cultural subtleties, indeed the landscape of Japan itself, becoming a part of myself even as I observed and interacted. Such experiences had found happy abode in my mind, but had not seeped into my heart. Now, while there is much more for me to learn, aspects of Japan that take decades or a lifetime to truly know, and of course day-to-day frustrations, Japan has become a second home to me. I look upon the land here not just with interest, but with a growing love that strengthens my resolve to protect this earth. Indeed, I no longer merely look upon, but instead feel a part of Japan. The experience of Fulbright has given me that opportunity, and it is a grace I will never forget.
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