Anonymity - a classic post

Earlier today I was asked, "What is my greatest dream?"  And I almost posted on that, because a question like this really connects with the essence of who I am.  There's so much I want to share, to write, to express about this dream - how it is important to me and all of its various facets.

But then I realized that that would become a book!  Because my dream isn't a simple accomplishment, it's to achieve the type of life where I can revel in being me.  It's complex, because there are so many aspects that come together to form this existence, my dream, that is.

But in a nutshell, one big piece of my dream is returning to Japan - ideally to Motoyama, the small town tucked away in the mountains of Shikoku that so felt like home to me that I knew I belonged there from the very beginning.  And then I found this old post from my Motoyama blog, and I think today is the perfect time to share it with you. 

I remember well the emotions I was feeling as I wrote that post.  I was sitting alone in a hotel room, feeling like so many of my worlds were colliding.  I was back in Tokyo, crowded with memories as it was the first place I ever lived in Japan.  I was away from my adopted home of Motoyama, feeling lonely and invisible.  And the very next day my American Mom together with a good family friend from London were due to arrive.  Past & Present.  East & West.  I was feeling pulled in many directions.  And here is the result.

Saturday, November 26, 2005

Anonymity

I spent all day today walking around town, and nobody even spared me a second glance. Not a single person stopped me to chat. There were no cries of "Margie-sensei" from passing school children. From first light this morning to late night tonight, I existed in a state of uncommon anonymity. I am in Tokyo.

Tokyo is another world from Motoyama. Here gaijin (foreigners) are a dime a dozen. Streets are packed with cars and pedestrians, and like any metropolis people are caught up in their own thoughts, hurrying to and fro, with no time to pause and chat with a neighborhood newcomer...were one to even be recognized as such here.

Yesterday as I walked the 3 blocks from my apartment to City Hall with my knapsack on my back (I'm here in Tokyo for a week), I caused all sorts of second looks, and one gal even came out and accompanied me, asking was I leaving? Would I be coming back? And to be sure to be careful and to take care of myself in Tokyo as she saw me off at the office door. And when Yumiko-san from work ran me to the airport, she didn't merely drop me off, she parked, came inside, walked me through all the various points and waited until it was time for me to depart. I'm sure many of you are familiar with the catch phrase "It takes a village to raise a child"? Well, Motoyama is the village and I am the child.

I'm certain I've mentioned before that together with Karen and Michael (from Scotland, the chef at Shikisaikan), I comprise one-third of the caucasian population of Motoyama. Thus by sheer circumstance I live a highly visible life. Karen's been in this position for three years, and she can attest to the fact that no matter how much one benefits from the attention (random invitations, regular gifts of garden fruits and veggies, excellent for one's self-esteem), there are times it wears on one. When you hide away in your apartment with the curtains closed, just so that if you happen to randomly sneeze, five people won't comment on it over the course of the next week and worry that you have caught a cold.

Comparing Tokyo to Motoyama is like comparing sea cucumbers with garden-variety cucumbers. In the case of the cucumbers their similarities pretty much start and end at the same point - with their name. Tokyo and Motoyama may both be Japanese, but other than that common label they exist in two entirely separate worlds. Motoyama is quaint, it is a Japanese Brigadoon.

(For those of you potentially unfamiliar with the musical Brigadoon, here is a very brief summary excerpted from http://www.durham.net/~neilmac/brigdoon.htm:

In Lerner's play, the Scottish village of Brigadoon became enchanted centuries ago. The community remained unchanging and invisible to the outside world except for one, special day every hundred years, when it could be seen and visited by outsiders. Visitors might be allowed to stay, but if anyone ever left Brigadoon, the miracle would be broken -- and that would be the end of them all.)

In Motoyama traditions are still part of daily life, they are not just performed as cultural exhibitions. Time moves slowly at a relaxed pace. And things are done the way they have been for generations. Persimmons hang drying from the rafters of houses, obaasans (grannies) stand out in the street chatting, and foreign influences are few and far between.

In Tokyo, tradition takes a distant second to modern innovation. Everyone is in a hurry, oblivious to those around them. And shops, restaurants and movie theaters all reflect a myriad of cultures, the globe in miniature. Not only does a single foreigner fail to draw a second glance, so did the middle-aged man I saw dressed in a fashionable skirt, blouse and stockings paired with high heels and a chic purse - not to mention carefully coiffed hair - standing across the tracks from me at the subway station. Tokyo-ites really have already seen it all.

It only took an hour on the plane from Kochi to reach Tokyo, but I really feel like I have entered a parallel universe, an alternate scenario of Japan, if you will. You know, how sometimes sci-fi writers will explore what a place might be like if history had taken a different course?

But all that said, I am having a great time. Albeit a very different experience than I do at home in Motoyama. Tokyo is full of "Hisashiburi" ("it's been a long time") and "Natsukashii" (nostalgic) moments for me. It was the first place I ever lived in Japan, back in 1989. It is somewhere I have visited regularly over the past 16 years. I have watch it grow, change and evolve. It has really become an international city like never before. And as I walked and rode around the city today - having breakfast, lunch and dinner with various friends, not to mention visiting an art museum, window-shopping and sightseeing, I am constantly confronted with deja-vu moments when I realize I have been here before or done this previously.

Standing in Shibuya station, looking out over the main intersection from a second-floor walkway, I realized that I had stood at the same point taking in the same view numerous times over the years. Billboards have gradually been replaced by high tech video imaging - static ads are now live videos that appear to play over the windows of the surrouding skyscrapers. And the main cafe directly across from the station is a giant Starbucks. No longer just a small coffee shop tucked in the Pike Place Market, is it? All this change, viewed in increments over time, makes me wonder how I have changed over the years as well. What if I had a series of snapshots taken over the years, of me standing at that window. First the wide-eyed 16-year-old experiencing a major metropolis for the first time, later a college student, then a newlywed...and eventually a 33-year-old women in mid-career. Hmmm, put that up alongside parallel shots of this Shibuya crossroads and it would make for an interesting juxtaposition. Such a shame that I couldn't think of this back then...or know that I would be back so often. No way to backtrack now.

I have one more day tomorrow to revisit and explore this fascinating city that has woven its way into the fabric of my life. Then Monday morning it's off to Chiba (the neighboring prefecture - basically known for being where Narita airport is located) for a 3-day conference, ie 3 days stuck inside a hotel meeting room. And then back to Motoyama, with its clean air and incredibly crisp, cool mountain water that I am already missing. But I have enjoyed this interlude. And I know I will come again.

posted by Margie @ 10:12 PM