Impressions

My time abroad has taught me a lot about first impressions. My initial opinion of fellow students, which has already done a complete 180, immediately comes to mind as a good example.

I don’t think it’s a trait particular to the country (my first impressions of many of my best friends at Duke weren’t that great either). Regardless, the short length of my stay here in Japan has forced me to reflect on the beginning a bit sooner than expected, as the end slowly and surely creeps closer.

The boy I thought was a total jerk in the beginning I now like a little too much. The girl I thought I was going to be best friends with is now just a mere acquaintance. The boy I thought was cool turned out to be a loser. The girl I wanted to slap across the face the first time I met is now my best friend in the program.

The country itself has also been a bit of a surprise. My first impression of Japan was absolute rapture­­—after my first month here, I wanted to grab on to a tree, cling on and never go back to America. And if I absolutely had to leave, I wanted to throw the country in my suitcase and take it with me.

Now, though, after almost three months, I am starting to see that a negative side does exist.

Japan likes its homogeneity. People here pride themselves in being Japanese, and in being absolutely and totally “unique.” They are not particularly fond of foreigners, a fact that doesn’t take too much effort to figure out—just look at Japan’s laws and social practices.

Most landlords will not rent rooms to foreigners because they think foreigners will be unable to keep up a proper apartment. Job ads will clearly state that they do not want to hire foreigners because of the “language barrier.” Police also have the power to stop foreigners on the street simply because they “look foreign,” and demand their alien registration card or passport. If found without either, the “foreigner” faces arrest.

Those kinds of discrimination and various other forms are very easily experienced if you stick with the right people, those “Westerners” that look foreign.

One time at a club, a Caucasian male friend asked an employee where the bathroom was. Although he had asked the question in perfect Japanese, the woman simply squeaked at him, and rushed off to find another employee who could “speak” English.

In another incident, I went shopping with a very blonde and blue-eyed girlfriend. While using the dressing room, my friend went first and spoke to the salesperson in almost fully fluent Japanese. The woman, however, did not respond to her and attempted to communicate with my friend in a mix of broken English and hand signals. When it was my turn, although the salesperson had seen me blatantly conversing with my friend in English and probably knew that I was not Japanese, she spoke with and treated me like any other “native” customer.

Although my Asian appearance has removed me from personally experiencing the more damaging side of anything like those two incidents, I have to admit that seeing these things happen to my friends and hearing about them is saddening. After all, I do not want to leave with my last impression of Japan as discriminative.

On the flip side, I’ve actually found it useful to be with a Westerner-friend at all times while I am out in Japan, because it allows us to play the “foreigner card.” Basically, we are allowed to do stupid things in public and Japanese people will not care because to them, “it’s what foreigners do.” These indiscretions include and are not limited to eating on any form of public transportation (actually prohibited), being loud and obnoxious in public and pretending to hump deer for a good photo-op (not me, I swear).

It’s the ridiculous experiences that I’ve shared with fellow students (not just Americans, but those from Australia, Thailand, Indonesia, France, England, etc) that will be worth remembering about Japan. Although I hate endings, my time in Japan is almost up. And when collecting my scattered memories of the country, it’s those friendships created from absurd situations that will matter the most in the end. 

 Someone once told me that I had my whole life to go to Japan, but only four years to be at Duke. I didn’t take the advice. I definitely don’t consider my one semester here a waste. In fact, leaving Duke and realizing that another other worlds exists beyond the borders of West and East Campus was in the end so necessary that I now consider it an essential part of my so-called “Duke experience.” How’s that for a final impression.

Lisa Du is a Trinity junior. This is her final column of the semester.