Wednesday, November 9^th

Wednesday was full of firsts for me, which seems odd considering I have been in Japan almost two whole months.

I was amped to begin my official Japanese language classes, almost a month after regular classes resumed for the second semester at Osaka University. I had planned on playing undergrad for the semester, but when the college’s language program found out I was indeed a kenkusei (researcher), they gasped in astonishment and immediately directed toward me to the classes specifically for researchers.

So after getting all the paperwork filed and paying the tuition fee, Wednesday was my first official class. Once again the nervousness of my back-to-school days resumed as I marched amidst the changing leaves on the grandiose Suita campus of Osaka University. Realizing that I had misread my schedule and was two hours early, I took the opportunity for a nice mid-afternoon jaunt and a chance to do a little research for my project.

I headed to JICA, the Japan International Cooperation Agency. This is a Ministry of Foreign Affairs funded agency that operates in multiple countries abroad with the goal to empower local non-profits and NGOs with volunteers and assistance in developing countries. I was hoping to research the way in which JICA interacts with NPOs and NGOs and was expecting the quaint non-profit atmosphere of mildly eroding facades and overworked volunteers that one usually greets when walking foot on grassroots organizations.

Instead, an imposing granite building faced me as I turned the corner onto JICA’s headquarters. With I.M. Pei-inspired architecture, strict guards, and a modernist vapid lobby that could have housed my apartment hundreds of times over I wondered if I had walked into the wrong building. I kindly walked up to the receptionist, handed out my meishi and explained in Japanese that I was a researcher who was hoping to learn more about the organization. After receiving my day-glow yellow “visitor” tag, I sat nervously awaiting whatever awaited me behind the steel elevator doors.

Out came a young gentleman in his early thirties abounding with exuberance to have someone interested in JICA and, in my opinion, to be away from his desk for an hour or two. He immediately welcomed me to JICA’s library and we discussed the many things that JICA accomplishes. From South Africa to Cambodia, this organization uses Japanese government funds to distribute trained volunteers to local organizations for a variety of goals, such as creating sustainable farms to building schools. It was all so fascinating, particularly the way that this government organization had mobilized the use of NGOs and NPOs in an incredibly organized and successful fashion. JICA was my Mecca, as far as my project was concerned because it gave me an outline of how successful non-governmental organizations work with governments to achieve their goals.

As we were leaving, my new-found JICA friend explained to me that the Osaka office was actually a 7-story dormitory for international volunteers and then invited me to the nightly dinners at 6 p.m. to interview trainees and alumni of the program that come to share their experiences. He was excited that this could be a part of my research and I wanted to leap with joy at someone, particularly a government official, opening up the doors for me and my project. It really doesn’t get better than this!

So with a smile as big as Tom Cruise’s idiotic guffaws on Oprah (I had to throw in a cultural reference, its been ages since I’ve dumbed myself down by reading People) I skipped to my first language class in Japan, anxiously anticipating what awaited me.

As I walked in the room I immediately knew I was out of my league as the other students were troping through lively conversations in Japanese at garishly high speeds. My automatic response to any Japanese conversation I don’t understand is to simply nod my head and say “hai” in order to somewhat belie my nescience and avoid betraying that I’m a Japanese novice.

I knew, however, that intermediate Japanese was not the place to do this. As our professor, an exuberant young woman who believed that immersion was the key to all language barriers demanded that we get in groups and introduce ourselves with the all-too-familiar jikoshokai, or self-introduction.

As luck would have it though, I sat next to two wonderful Korean engineering P.h.D. candidates, Park and Ryu, who teased me over my love for karaoke and became instantly enamored when they learned that I was a Fulbright fellow. Since flattery always makes me squeamish I retorted with my typical comeback of, “well I actually had to pay the commission to let me be a fellow, otherwise I think I’d be flipping burgers back in the Midwest.” So immediately the three of us had a rapport and we clung to each other like Japanese school children on the subway, with my Korean friends translating the advanced Japanese for me in a filial manner. To be honest, it was just so adorable I grinned from ear to ear.

As we exchanged tables and discussed recent trends and topics in Japanese culture, I met another Korean woman and a beautiful Sri Lankan princess. When these young women heard from Park and Ryu that I like to sing, their inquisitive natures peppered me with questions about Japanese songs that I like and where do I sing? So with my rough Japanese, I told them that in America, our walls are much better insulated so I actually belt it out in my bedroom, dorm room, and often as I’m wailing down the interstate. This amazed them, particularly that singing in the shower is so prevalent. But I mean really, don’t we all sound great in a tile shower belting out, “Respect” or “Natural Woman?”

I was delighted at the day’s successes, even when I had to fend off winks from an extremely forward American researcher in the class who thought that just because I was a foreigner, I was going to be swept away at his “sly” winks every 30 seconds. Not so fast Bob. I’m a lady.

As I walked off into the sunset with my new Korean friends, we all laughed about our new Japanese language class and anticipated getting together again. I was reading in my “Life in Japan” book that Osakans are some of the funniest and easiest people to get along with in the world. Generalizations aside, I believe that this quality transcends to the foreigners who choose to spend their years here, and I’m so grateful that I can be one of them!