Thanksgiving

Yesterday was the fourth Thursday in November, and in America, that would be Thanksgiving Day. Because of my study abroad here in Japan, my Thanksgiving has been perhaps the most surreal, and not-Thanksgiving Thanksgiving ever.

First of all, it didnt even feel like a holiday at all. The Japanese day for giving thanks was on Tuesday, and while we had the day off from school, there was no celebration in sight. On the calendar day of Thanksgiving, I had school, and also no special food, no nothing. Even on facebook, you wouldnt have known the date by the status posts, because in America (or at least Hawaii), it was still Wednesday, November 24th. Today, when I signed onto facebook and saw all the "Happy Thanksgiving!" or (most enviable) "Home sweet Hilo!" statuses, I was like, No, that was yesterday. The only upside is that school was out today as well, to let the high schoolers take their entrance examinations.

But the most jarring was the fact that I was missing out on the whole holiday experience. Turkey and stuffing is hard to come by here in Japan; in fact, I heard from another HUSA that it's about 90 USD to buy a turkey in Korea (they substituted in a chicken). I remember what stuffing tastes like, and I havent had it in so long, Thanksgiving notwithstanding. And more importantly, I'm missing my family. I havent seen or spoken (verbally) with anyone who was related to me for about two and a half months, and I probably wont have a chance until next August. My family isnt as big as some people's, and I really enjoy having everyone together. This is the first Thanksgiving I havent seen any of them.

So how did I celebrate Thanksgiving in Japan? Another American and I went with a British and Finnish to a Japanese restuarant, and later went to an arcade. Really traditional, right? I dont even know where the other Americans went. And it's not even like we could make our own Thanksgiving type things. Only dorm residents are allowed in the building, so we couldnt have a party together. And like I said, it's so hard to track down the necessary ingredients here, so there really was no sense in even trying.

Dont get me wrong, I'm thankful for my parents for sending me here, and I'm thankful for all the friends and memories I've made up here. But I'm not going to lie, it's so hard not to be with my family. Isnt that what holidays are all about? I guess, then, I'm thankful that last year, I took a bunch of pictures to show my Japanese penpal about American Thanksgivings, so I have something to look at.


Oh JESUS it looks so good.

On the one hand, I'm not depressed and crying on my bed, missing my family. But on the other hand, something is missing from this vital time, and I cant replace it. Haha, Christmas is going to be FUN. (Memo to self: Be sure to plan something Christmas-y with the other Americans. Include tons of happiness and cheer [AT ANY COST])

Identity Crisis?

Japanese people from Hawaii should probably not study in Japan by themselves. At least, this Japanese from Hawaii is regretting that he didn't go to Tokyo with a bunch of other UHM kids, or the previous years when his friends went to Japan. They had told me that we would be treated differently because we look Japanese, but don't speak Japanese, but I didn't know it would be so hard. To be quite honest, I can't stand it.

Obviously, I am not 日本人 or Japan Japanese. I was born and raised as an American, I speak English, I am prone to ignoring other viewpoints. I talk loudly, unlike my soft-spoken relatives, and act much more flamboyantly than they. And yet, I'm not fully American. I have straight black hair, with slanted eyes, and a yellowish complexion. I eat rice whenever I can, and have heard Japanese in some form all my life.

But where does this leave me? Sometimes I'm part of one group, and sometimes I'm part of the other. When we eat, I'm usually on the Japanese side. I have yet to run into anything I've never seen before, or something I wouldn't touch with a ten foot pole. When one of the white people says "There's shoyu in that? I'll pass", or "Yuck, there's SEAWEED in here!", I am confused as to why they are offensive. A few of them refuse to drink tea, which baffles me because we haven't had any strong teas; in fact, at one restaurant, the tea was so weak I thought it was water. However, I'm on the American side whenever I have to talk to Japanese people. My vocabulary is incredibly weak, and if not for someone's electric dictionary, I wouldn't be able to carry on a conversation. Although a few times, the words I don't know are big words, there are simple ones that I can't comprehend. It's so embarrassing to be the only one confused in a class of freshmen. These kids, straight out of high school, are speaking more eloquently than I, a third year college student!

And then there's the third place where I belong: that mythical land Hawaii. The old Japanese used to call Hawaii 天国 (てんごく), or "Paradise". To many, it still is Paradise; it's a floating island in the middle of the sea, unreachable except to a few lucky people. It is composed of white, sandy beaches, and a multitude of palm trees. There are only Hawaiians in Hawaii; no one else lives there except them. I imagine that this complaint is familiar to those who study on the mainland, but I haven't had to deal with it ever. We've come into the habit of calling people by their country of origin; the girl from Austria is "The Austrian", or we refer to "the Koreans". Logically then, I should be called one of the Americans, or something, right? Nope. I am always referred to as "the one from Hawaii", or (if I haven't already told them not to) "the Hawaiian". Some people are always surprised to hear that I'm from Hawaii, but not a Hawaiian. That I speak English, and only a few words (no sentences) of Hawaiian. What really hurt was when one of my professors quite deliberately ignored me in class. In the first class, when he called roll, he tried to greet everyone in their native language, or asked them how to do so in their home country. When he got to me, he just noted down my name and continued on with the lesson. The next week, we were discussing major cities in our country. The Chinese were asked, as were the Koreans, the Finn, the Austrian, and the Indonesian. When it came to the Americans, his attention was obviously centered on the white Americans. Even when he asked about the different states, he did not ask about Hawaii. He ended the discussion and moved on.

I suppose part of it is because I've never left Hawaii, so I've never had to deal with being the only one from Hawaii. And I knew that going into the program, that it's quite unusual to be from Hawaii. Don't get me wrong, I'm proud of who I am, and where I'm from. And yet...I will not deny that I find it difficult to not be considered either an American or Japanese. While I am thankful that one of the other HUSAs is willing to listen to me bitch and complain, I wish I did have other Hawaii people to talk to. It would be easier to be part of the Hawaii "group", and spread out the stereotype. It's difficult when you're the only one.

I can only grow from this adversity. In my application for this program, I wrote about how I wanted to tell more people about the history of the Japanese in Hawaii. By challenging and attacking people's preconceived ideas about Hawaii, perhaps I can fulfill that goal. And I am learning about how true that oft said statement is: "Lucky you live Hawaii!"