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Module 7.1

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In the Homestay Gallery you will meet fourteen homestay guests whose diary entries report their homestay experiences. All the Gallery cases have something in common: each guest changed his or her position vis-a-vis the host family between the time they entered and left the homestay. These changes were not problem-free, and often involved the very difficulties that torpedoed Peter’s homestay with the Sasakis in Part 1. The major difference between the failure depicted in the Peter/Saski homestay and the successful transitions in these cases was the guests and hosts’ responses to the problems they encountered. In the Gallery cases the problems actually created the momentum that propelled the guests away from their entry points.

The next three modules (8-10) focus in more tightly on the Gallery cases to pinpoint the hazards that were commonly faced, and to let you see how they were negotiated. Each of the modules is organized around a cultural hazard that had to be negotiated in every homestay. Each examines the various ways in which different guests (and their hosts) managed to negotiate this barrier, as well as the changes in the guest/host relationship that this produced. These three modules will help you grasp how you can use the cultural hazards you will encounter as opportunities to propel you forward, rather than obstacles that keep you mired at your entry point.

The final module brings to life everything in Part 3 that is discussed above by showing you how a specific cultural child— Molly—whom you met in the Gallery above, manages to navigate all the hazards depicted in Modules 8-10. This animated segment shows you a dynamic process, whereby each hazard Molly overcomes then propels her forward (to encounter—you guessed it—yet another hazard!). You will see how these movements form a sequence of steps which take Molly from entry point ‘I’ to ‘uchi‘. This also spells out the process by which Molly grows to cultural adulthood. Because the learning process is cumulative it is necessary to start at Module 8.1 and move through the sections in order.

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© 2021 OSU National East Asian Languages Resource Center

Janine (female, US)

1. Visible in the Neighborhood Bath (9.1)

When I was a graduate student in Japan, I lived for awhile in an apartment in Tokyo. It was in a neighborhood with many small shopkeepers and their families. Central to the neighborhood was the public bath (sento). Although these baths have now been largely replaced by baths in the home in Japan, at this time many people, especially the neighborhood shopkeepers, went to the bath and bathing was quite a social occasion. In the evenings, as dusk fell, you could hear the clacking of geta (wooden sandals) along the streets as people walked, bath bowls in hand.

I too went to the bath. But in spite of the lively chattering of the neighborhood women soaping and scrubbing each others’ backs, drenching each other in water, and then soaking together in the hot water, I was treated as if I didn’t exist. No one talked to me, and I had no part of the soaping and scrubbing exchanges among the women in the bath. I seemed totally invisible. This went on for about a month.

One night I went to the bath to find a sign saying that on this day the bath was closed. I walked to another neighborhood close by where I had noticed another bath. This one was open and as I walked into the steamy area of the bathing pool, I noticed a group of women huddled together on the far side of the pool. Suddenly I saw them beckon to me, and call out “We’re over here! Come over here!”

I recognized them from the other bath. They were the same women who had been chattering and scrubbing in my neighborhood bath, and who had never acknowledged my existence. Now they were chattering to me as if they had always known me. They now included me in the back-scrubbing, dousing, and soaking, as if they had always done so. And when we went back to our neighborhood bath the next night, I found that my identity had been established. From that time on I was a “known” member of the bath.

2. Hosting the Romanians (9.1)

Hitting an Impasse
On my first visit to Japan I had a year-long homestay with the Shinoda family in a village in Nagano Prefecture. During that year my host sister, Katsuko, became my close friend and confidant, both because we shared many experiences, and she was my same age. When I came back several years later for a second extended stay, Katsuko had just gotten married and was now living in a town not far away. I couldn’t wait to see her, and looked forward to catching up on what had happened while I was away, and finding out how she was doing in her new life.

I went to visit her as soon as I could. But when I entered her new house, instead of being able to chat with Katsuko in the kotatsu (the heated table which warmed our legs) in our usual way, I was ushered into the formal parlor (the equivalent of Parlor 4 in Module 5.2). My next shock was that I couldn’t even talk to Katsuko. Instead it was the old grandfather who was ushered into the parlor to be with me, while Katsuko came in to wait on me and the grandfather, bringing us drinks and food. I was totally taken aback over this turn of events.

In Katsuko’s new house I had once again become an outsider, and was now bumping up against the same formalities I had originally gone through in her natal house. Even though I had already gone through the trajectory and gotten to know Katsuko well in her natal house, it looked like I was now starting all over again at square one, as if I didn’t know her at all. Furthermore, in my present soto situation, in coming to see Katsuko, instead of creating what I had thought would be an enjoyable occasion for her, I was only creating more work for her. She was now heavily pregnant and I felt badly that she had to wait on me. I left as soon as I could, wondering how I was ever going to manage the transition to the kitchen (uchi), which was the center of her activities in her new house, and doubting if I would ever be able to communicate with Katsuko again in the way we had before.

My Impasse Dissolves
Two weeks after this visit I received a phone call from Katsuko’s mother-in-law who asked if she could come over and visit me in my homestay house. Katsuko’s husband’s younger brother, Yuji, would come as well. They had a favor to ask. After they arrived, it didn’t take long for them to get to their point. Yuji was a member of a youth exchange group which was scheduled to host a group of Romanians very soon. Two of the Romanians were scheduled for a homestay at Katsuko’s house. Katsuko’s family wondered if I would come and assist them in hosting the Romanians.

I readily agreed, although I tried to make sure they understood that I didn’t know whether we would be able to communicate, since I knew no Romanian. When I arrived at Katsuko’s house this time it was buzzing with preparations for the Romanians, who soon arrived. I watched them being ushered into the same parlor I had been led into two weeks before. However, I now found myself in the kitchen, helping to carry plates of sashimi and other Japanese delicacies from there to the guest parlor. Helping Katsuko’s family in hosting the Romanians meant that I was working in common with them, and we laughed and joked while we worked.

My assistance to Katsuko’s new family meant a swift transition from the formal to the informal areas of the house, and the social life of its members. Instead of receiving deference as a guest, I was now helping the hosts to give deference to their other guests. In juxtaposition to the Romanians, who were even more distant than I was, I had been unceremoniously pulled into the “inside”, turned into a host, and given access to the kitchen.

Moreover, when the guests left, I never went back to the parlor and the conversations with the grandfather. Instead, as I now had access to Katsuko’s household area, she and I were able to catch up on what was going on when I accompanied her as she carried on her household activities. I ended up spending many days at her house and getting to know her new family well. The Romanian visitors turned out to be the vehicle which gave me access to the “inside” of a household that I had wondered how I was ever going to enter.

3. I Want to Stay Longer, but There's a Hurdle (9.2)

My first homestay with the Shinoda family was originally set up for just three weeks. However, I enjoyed it so much that I asked if I could come back, and returned for another 10-day visit at harvest time. The family then invited me to return for New Years, and at this point I decided I really wanted to stay with the family for a longer period. I liked the family a lot and I felt I was learning a tremendous amount. The family were wonderful language teachers, and my Japanese was improving enormously. And besides all this, I was learning a lot about the village the family lived in. At New Years I asked if I could stay through the winter.

The family told me they would have a hard time managing this. The problem was that the youngest son, Nobu, was taking his high school examinations in March, and he wasn’t a particularly strong student. If he failed the exam, there was no alternative in this rural area, and he wouldn’t be able to attend high school. The exams had become a matter of concern for the entire household; all the family members seemed to worry endlessly about whether Nobu would pass his exams. Each confided to me his or her deep suspicions that Nobu wasn’t actually studying effectively, or possibly that he wasn’t studying at all.

One night my host sister, Katsuko, and I thought up a plan for my staying on in the family, which would cause the minimum amount of intrusion to the family. I would stay in Katsuko’s room, would study there (rather than at the main family kotatsu), and socialize with the family only during the evening. The okaasan agreed to this plan, but said she had to talk it over with the others (which I knew must mean the otoosan).

The next day we were all sitting around the kotatsu, feeling tired at the end of the day. The okaasan was lying beside the kotatsu sleeping; the rest of us were watching TV. The otoosan was out. Suddenly we heard a shout from the gate: “Oi! I’ve brought guests! Ooi! I’ve brought guests home!” The house had no phone, so the otoosan‘s shout was the first warning we had about the guests. Muttering about being tired, the okaasan got up and trudged toward the kitchen to prepare some food.

The otoosan invited the guests around to the best parlor, and motioned for me to join them. “They want to meet you.” Sympathizing with the okaasan I grumbled, “Why does the otoosan always bring guests home? It’s like a zoo here; we’re all on display.” Katsuko and my homestay brothers, Tadao and Nobu, all picked up the on the idea, and began to complain about how we were all treated like elephants, stared at continually by the otoosan‘s guests.

The otoosan kept coming back into the kotatsu room to invite me to meet the guests. I resisted at first, helping Katsuko and the okaasan in the kitchen. But finally Katsuko told me I should go, so I reluctantly obliged. I found the guests extremely interesting and easy to talk to, and soon was immersed in the conversation. Too soon the sound of a car horn intruded and the guests rose to leave. “It’s too soon!” I complained. “Why can’t they stay a little longer? They were really interesting to talk to.”

Obviously pleased, the otoosan assured me that we would meet again, as they ran to catch their taxi. Just then Nobu came in from the kotatsu room. “It’s just like a zoo in here, and we’re all like elephants on display!”

The otoosan silenced everyone emphatically. “No, that isn’t the way it is here at all.” He commanded us all to sit down in the parlor kotatsu where the guests had been, and proceeded to lecture us loudly on his intentions, which we he said we had all seriously misunderstood.

“You see,” he explained, “all those people were from the city office, and they were the people who read Janine’s application from her Japanese teacher in Kyoto last summer.” (The otoosan worked in the city office and these were his colleagues.) “Together we tried to figure out which house she should stay in.” Since the otoosan had had a good quantity of sake his voice was much more impassioned than usual, and was accompanied by theatrical innuendos and gestures. I felt as if I had narrowly averted disaster by obeying the otoosan and going in to meet the guests.

The okaasan took this opportunity to bring up the question of my staying longer. “Janine wants to stay,” she explained, “because it’s much better for her to study here than in Kyoto. She’ll spend most of her time studying, so her being here won’t interfere with the rest of the household.”

“That’s fine,” began the otoosan. “But we all have to remember that Nobu’s examinations are important.” (Nobu was not at the kotatsu at this point, having once more retreated into his study room.) “We all know that his emotional attitude is all here and there and everyplace. While he appears to be in that room studying—he gave a dramatic flourish—we don’t know what he’s doing. He probably isn’t doing ANYTHING.”

“That makes us very worried about Nobu,” he continued. “And Janine, since she’s here and we have to take care of her in the same way as our own children, we now have two to worry about, and two is very much, it’s too much.”

By this time the otoosan, carried away by his own speech, was endlessly repeating his concerns about the household taking care of me and how much parental worry that involved. The okaasan and Katsuko, who were sitting with me in the kotatsu, laid down their heads on top of the kotatsu in exhaustion and moaned: “Wakatta…WAKATTA.” (We understand…we underSTAND).

I realized that I would have to give up my place at the center of the family to Nobu if I stayed. That meant I would have to do things more the way the family did them. I would have to accommodate myself to them. I was glad of the chance to stay longer with the family. But all this time I thought I had been accommodating myself to them. Now I could see that I hadn’t done so at all. I had barely managed to comply with the otoosan‘s wishes by talking to the guests; this episode was an example of how things worked in the family. The otoosan‘s word was final in everything, but he exerted little overt authority, except on rare occasions like this. Even at such moments he reiterated his responsibility to us, and the need for our cooperation; we had to carry out our part of the bargain. Nobu’s exams were included in this general scheme—he was supposed to study as his part in making the household run smoothly.

4. Okaasan Speaks Out: Sweet Revenge (9.4)

During my second extended homestay with the Shinodas in the mountain village, I found it necessary to get a car for transportation, and at this point the otoosan finally decided to get his driver’s license, too. He was now 55, and had always driven a motor scooter, but by this time nearly everyone in the area was driving a car. During the period while he was studying for his license virtually no other topic of conversation was heard in the house. All of us sat in the kotatsu, watching in numbing boredom as the otoosan traced and retraced practice routes on a map of his practice course at the driving school, endlessly, day after day, week after week. Clearly things had gotten out of hand.

When the otoosan finally got his license, and with it, a car, I fervently hoped that the subject of driving would cease to be the focus of the entire household. But it was not to be. Shortly after he started driving the otoosan hit a post and knocked the side mirror off his car. Then, while it was in the garage being fixed, unbeknownst to me, he borrowed my car. While driving the same route, he hit another post and knocked the mirror off my car. I was away at the time and when I returned to the house, the otoosan muttered cryptically that he had done something in driving my car and had had to buy another mirror for it. And he repeatedly pointed out that this had cost 1500 yen (about $5.00 at that time).

For the okaasan this was simply too much, and speaking privately to me in the kitchen, she commented on the otoosan’s behavior: “I can’t believe how puffed up and angry he is, even though he did this whole thing himself. To absolutely never admit that he’s the one who’s wrong and never to apologize even in the tiniest way—this is very strange behavior! It was clear that she opposed the otoosan on this issue, but it was also clear that she could not express her opposition directly to the otoosan —at least not in the way she had to me. (See Module 6.1)

Two weeks later the yooshi (adopted husband) from next door came over in the evening to escape from a difficult domestic situation, namely, his wife. He was a frequent visitor, and he and the otoosan would often use the occasion to drink sake together. This time the yooshi—named Ishihara—was, as usual, complaining about his wife’s nagging, and the otoosan was going on, as usual, about his driving lessons. Someone mentioned that I had a driver’s license, and the otoosan responded that this was only an international driver’s license and that I was really a bad driver “Heta na unten desu yo.”

Then the okaasan entered the conversation. Only now she was airing her complaints with the otoosan in an absolutely direct manner, just as she had spoken to me in the kitchen, and the list was even longer now than it had been two weeks ago. She began by stating that the otoosan was very egocentered I (wagamama) and thought only about himself: “Jibun no koto kiri kangaeru hito.” At this point I could not resist adding that it was strange how he smashed up my mirror and then called me a bad driver. “It certainly is,” the okaasan agreed.

The okaasan proceeded on in great detail. No matter what happened, she said, the otoosan would absolutely never admit he was in the wrong—and that is the problem! She thought he should certainly have apologized when he drove my car into a post, but instead he got uppity and became angry at what he himself had done.

I realized that the forthright manner of the okaasan’s complaints about the otoosan was in part because she could present them as if she were “telling it to the yooshi ” from next door. In front of a soto person, the otoosan could not respond to the okaasan in the same manner she spoke about him (that is, critically), for it was no longer the same kind of communication situation. Before the arrival of the yooshi the okaasan had had to indulge the otoosan; now they were both uchi, indulging a soto guest. And to make the guest, who is escaping a difficult domestic situation, feel more comfortable, the okaasan was giving him an earful about the difficult domestic situation in her own household. The otoosan now had to maintain a joking good humor, in sympathy with his wife’s efforts—for he was indulging the guest now too. But the okaasan had made her point. And her strategy was surprisingly effective; it brought an abrupt end to the otoosan’s discussions of his driving, and complaints about the accident.

5. Almost Kicked Out over a Broken Stove (10.1)

My first yearlong homestay with the Shinodas was a tremendous experience (during which I survived many hurdles). This made it all the more disconcerting when I returned to the same family for a second homestay, and ran into major walls that I hadn’t anticipated. I knew I was no longer being treated like a guest and that I must be making mistakes of which I was unaware. But it seemed like everything I did created some problem, and the family seemed increasingly displeased with me. This culminated in their telling me that I had to leave at the beginning of the summer, although I had requested to stay until the fall.

Although the okaasan‘s explanation for the decision made perfect sense, I didn’t think she was giving me the real reason why I needed to leave, and I didn’t want to go when things were under such a cloud. When I went to my language tutorial with a professor in Tokyo, he told me: “When it’s obvious that someone doesn’t know the language, people treat them like a small child and don’t hold them responsible for the implications of what they say.” I knew this and had tried to become an adult in the society specifically to avoid this treatment.

He then assessed my problem with my host family: “You are accepted as being responsible for what you say, but you may not always know the implications of what you are saying.” I thanked him for his advice, although I had no idea how to get out of the predicament I was in, which seemed like a huge wall whose location was invisible to me.

When I returned to the family, I noticed that the kerosene stove in my room wasn’t working properly. Since it was mid-winter and the house had no insulation, the stove was crucial. I didn’t want to compound my problems with the host family, but I had to tell them that my stove was broken and needed fixing. Wishing to be very diplomatic I pondered the problem of how to phrase the statement, and decided it would be best to use the passive verb form. That way I wouldn’t implicate anyone. I wanted to make as neutral a statement as possible. I went into the room where everyone was sitting in the kotatsu and uttered my carefully-rehearsed phrase. I could detect no reaction, and at last the otoosan got up and said he would have a look at it. He brought the stove from my room back to the kotatsu room so that he could fix it, and I went to sleep relieved that my plan had worked so well.

In the morning I happened to pass by the stove with the okaasan, and as I mentioned the word “stove” I thought I detected a slight reaction. She said nothing, and I wondered if I had imagined it. “Is there something wrong about the stove?” I asked. I was unprepared for the outburst that followed. She indicated that she had been debating all morning whether to tell me, that she usually doesn’t speak directly about things like this, but she knew my customs were different. I said I would be very grateful if she would tell me.

As she continued it gradually became clear to me that I had somehow communicated the opposite of what I had wanted to communicate. The family was upset because they felt I had accused them of providing me with a faulty stove, and because I was angry at them.

At this point I started to laugh. “Okaasan,” I said. “Can you believe that I wasn’t angry with you?” She continued with what she was telling me, but I repeated my statement that I wasn’t blaming the family at all. The okaasan stopped.

I continued: “I was annoyed at the stove, and I know that’s wrong. But to me the stove is just a stove. It’s separate from people. I got annoyed because it was cold and the stove wouldn’t work, but I wasn’t annoyed at you at all.” The okaasan continued to look at me in a dumbfounded way. She was trying to grasp what I was saying. “You mean you weren’t blaming us? You thought the stove had nothing to do with us?”

“I know you’ve been very careful about providing me with everything. To me the problem was wholly with the stove. It was not with you at all. There was no connection between you and the stove. It was broken and was letting off fumes, that’s all.”

I could see that the okaasan was struggling to understand. Then I could see it dawning on her. She had grasped the fact that I wasn’t 100 percent in their system; I was caught up in another system.

With this moment of insight the whole problem melted away, as if it had never existed. At the same time I was aware of a powerful feeling of unity. It was as if something had torn away the outer covering, which was all that was different between the Shinodas and me. All our differences of language, food, customs, had been dissolved and we were left with the realization that we were alike. I realized how close that “alikeness” was. I felt consumed by this feeling, and I knew the okaasan was experiencing it too, by the change in her attitude.

When the feeling was over, I felt drained. The whole relationship between the okaasan and me had changed. We were not on different sides of some barrier trying to reach each other but on the same side again. The okaasan obviously managed to communicate the experience to everyone else in the family, because all our relationships changed almost immediately without a word being spoken about the incident. As I was riding into town on the bus with the okaasan the next day she explained to me what I should say to persuade the otoosan to change his mind about my staying over the summer.

During my next language tutorial I related the stove incident to my professor and asked him to explain to me what had gone wrong. His reply went right to the point: “I think that you actually said the opposite of what you wanted to say to the Shinodas. By putting the phrase in the passive form, you accused them of giving you a broken stove, and expressed dissatisfaction with their relationship with you.”

“But I thought the passive form meant that there wasn’t any relationship; that I could say the stove was broken without implicating the Shinodas.”

“The point is that there are no objects in the Shinodas’ world that are unrelated to people,” he explained. “Everything in the Japanese language expresses relationships to people or things, either directly or indirectly. Since you named no agent who was responsible for the problem, and since the stove was the Shinodas’, by default you made them responsible for the problem.”

“How should I have phrased the sentence?” I asked.

“In a delicate situation like this one, you should have made the responsibility obvious. For example, if you said something like: ‘I’m sorry I broke the stove,’ the Shinodas, who knew better, would have taken responsibility for it.”

This incident transformed my relationship with the Shinodas. Not only did I end up staying through the summer with the family, but the family really became like my own family, and the siblings were like my own brothers and sister. Several years after that, I ended up taking a job in Japan, and once again resumed the ties with the Shinodas. Only now, instead of one family, I now had ties with the families of all 5 siblings, not to mention many of their ties as well. So over the years, what started out as a visit of one person to one family ended up with two large networks of interconnected family ties moving between two countries, with no end in sight.

6. My Return Visit: First Stop, the Graveyard (10.2)

During my first year-long visit in the Shinoda household I had often visited the graveyard where the family tombstones were. Katsuko and I had walked there almost daily when I first came to the village. I had also visited the graves during anniversary rituals, when the relatives came and lit incense, poured tea over the gravestone, and placed fresh flowers before the graves. I watched all of this activity and carefully took note of it, but the graveyard to me was a peaceful place at the foot of the mountain where it was nice to take an evening walk.

The year after I first visited the family the okaasan wrote me that the grandfather of the household had died. I had never met him because he was already very old and in a nursing home when I stayed in the household. Not long after that she wrote me again that an elderly relative who lived close by and often came over to the house had also died. The okaasan suggested that I could burn incense at both these graves the next time I came back to the village.

I was now planning a return trip, and wrote the family, telling them that I was looking forward to seeing the new grandchildren, since both Katsuko and Emiko (the Shinoda’s first son’s wife) had both had their first babies. But while I was thinking only of the new babies, the okaasan wrote me back, not about the new arrivals, but insisting once again that I would now be able to visit the graves and burn incense for the relatives I had known who had died.

When I did return to the village the graveyard was one of the first places the family took me, and we went immediately over to the new gravesites of those relatives who had recently died. This time when the family lit incense and placed it before the graves, they handed me the incense and I took some to light too. While before, I had looked upon these same activities as something mildly exotic, this time it seemed quite natural for me to offer the incense, and to pray at the grave when my turn came, because I had known the deceased person too. The okaasan had promised that she would tell me about the grandfather’s funeral when I came back to the household, and, true to her word, she filled me in on the ritual in exact detail.

The okaasan’s repeated inclusion of the ancestors in a social horizon which for me was inhabited solely by the living, eventually made an impact. I now had to enlarge the family to include the ancestors. In the process I began to see that the ancestors were not simply a fringe at the edge of the world of the living, the point where people “exited” the world. Instead, it seemed to be the other way around; the ancestors were crucial to the well-being of the world of the living, and especially crucial to the family.

Although my initial tendency was to overlook the ancestors, I now see that they were just as much a part of the household as the new grandchildren, and in some ways more so (since the children were new and immature social beings, while the ancestors mentioned above had lived their lifetimes in the family). The ancestors were constantly talked to, they were fed, they received the best gifts given to the household, which were first placed before them and after that opened by the family members. And in the first year after they died, people repeatedly said that they required more “care” than a living person. They had a “presence” in the family that was subtle, but nonetheless important. They seemed to connect the past with the present; and the world of the living with those who had left that world.

7. Unplanned Parenthood: They're Coming to Visit Me! (10.3)

During my first year-long visit in the Shinoda household I had often visited the graveyard where the family tombstones were. Katsuko and I had walked there almost daily when I first came to the village. I had also visited the graves during anniversary rituals, when the relatives came and lit incense, poured tea over the gravestone, and placed fresh flowers before the graves. I watched all of this activity and carefully took note of it, but the graveyard to me was a peaceful place at the foot of the mountain where it was nice to take an evening walk.

The year after I first visited the family the okaasan wrote me that the grandfather of the household had died. I had never met him because he was already very old and in a nursing home when I stayed in the household. Not long after that she wrote me again that an elderly relative who lived close by and often came over to the house had also died. The okaasan suggested that I could burn incense at both these graves the next time I came back to the village.

I was now planning a return trip, and wrote the family, telling them that I was looking forward to seeing the new grandchildren, since both Katsuko and Emiko (the Shinoda’s first son’s wife) had both had their first babies. But while I was thinking only of the new babies, the okaasan wrote me back, not about the new arrivals, but insisting once again that I would now be able to visit the graves and burn incense for the relatives I had known who had died.

When I did return to the village the graveyard was one of the first places the family took me, and we went immediately over to the new gravesites of those relatives who had recently died. This time when the family lit incense and placed it before the graves, they handed me the incense and I took some to light too. While before, I had looked upon these same activities as something mildly exotic, this time it seemed quite natural for me to offer the incense, and to pray at the grave when my turn came, because I had known the deceased person too. The okaasan had promised that she would tell me about the grandfather’s funeral when I came back to the household, and, true to her word, she filled me in on the ritual in exact detail.

The okaasan’s repeated inclusion of the ancestors in a social horizon which for me was inhabited solely by the living, eventually made an impact. I now had to enlarge the family to include the ancestors. In the process I began to see that the ancestors were not simply a fringe at the edge of the world of the living, the point where people “exited” the world. Instead, it seemed to be the other way around; the ancestors were crucial to the well-being of the world of the living, and especially crucial to the family.

Although my initial tendency was to overlook the ancestors, I now see that they were just as much a part of the household as the new grandchildren, and in some ways more so (since the children were new and immature social beings, while the ancestors mentioned above had lived their lifetimes in the family). The ancestors were constantly talked to, they were fed, they received the best gifts given to the household, which were first placed before them and after that opened by the family members. And in the first year after they died, people repeatedly said that they required more “care” than a living person. They had a “presence” in the family that was subtle, but nonetheless important. They seemed to connect the past with the present; and the world of the living with those who had left that world.

Bruce (male, US)

1. I Messed Up with My Friends. . . but I'm Gonna Do Better (9.3)

My new-found friends
During this study-abroad semester in Japan I’ve been much more concerned about making friends with the students at my Japanese university than with my homestay (which, frankly, has been a drag). In my program classes they’ve been teaching us about things like tatemae/honne and uchi/soto. And I think that’s fine for dealing with your homestay family. But that doesn’t really have to do with me and my friends. They’ve studied abroad; they’re really cool, and they’re a lot like my friends at home.

First, I’ll explain how I met my friends. I really wanted new friends, because I was getting sick of speaking English, and hanging out with the other kids in my study-abroad program. It all started when I was walking to the station with Doug. He saw a Japanese kid that he knew from the US branch of our campus, so he decided to yell out to him. I didn’t get to talk that much because it was Doug whom he was talking to.

Well one day at lunch Shinsuke, that’s his name, came up to me and started talking to me. It turns out that he met my good friend Tom who goes to Keio at a party and Tom mentioned my name to him. So we sat around talking for awhile; about 10 minutes, and then had to go to class. I then realized that this guy was pretty cool. He reminds me of some of my friends back home. So I decided to find him at lunch and sit and eat with him and every day I did. Then one day as we were talking he said that his other friends, from the 1 st campus are coming over to the 2nd campus for some seminar and he wondered if I wanted to meet them. Well I met them and at first I thought that they had an attitude problem, so I didn’t really like them.

Hanging Out with My Friends
Anyway weeks went by and once again I saw Shinsuke sitting with those friends. I had free time so I sat down and 2 hours went by as we (the guys I didn’t really like at first) laughed and talked. It was great. They then told me that every Monday the gang meets at one guy’s house (Kazu) and they just sit and drink and party with everybody so they asked me if I’d like to come. I was thrilled and of course I went. We stayed up til 4:30 speaking in just Japanese. They are all really cool and I feel that they are similar to my American friends. They all went to the American campus for a year so at the beginning they would speak English until I asked them to speak only in Japanese. They are all really good at helping me learn because they tell me when I use the wrong words and help me to use the right ones. They are very patient with me.

On Fri. and Sun. I spent the day with Shinsuke. We hung out in Shinjuku and went window shopping. I had an English interview and he helped me find where it was. Monday came around but Shinsuke was too tired from Sunday so he didn’t go to school. He is usually the o ne I go with to Kazu’s house but since I feel like I now know them better I went this time by myself. Only 6 people showed up this time. Kazu’s birthday is on Friday so we all chipped in and got him really drunk. It was funny, any time he would mess up in saying something, we all would sing Happy BARthday so he would finish the rest of his drink. Well, he passed out pretty early, 8:30 or so, I left around 9:00.

Tuesday came and Shinsuke was going to help me go look for an apartment. Well, the apartment guy was on his day off so we couldn’t go. We decided to go to Kazu’s place and hang out. There were 4 other people so we sat around chatted and then went to dinner. I really needed help getting an apartment because I want to get out of my homestay. So I asked Shinsuke if he could help me tomorrow. He couldn’t, but Yuki was quick to help out. We decided to meet tomorrow at 12:15 to go to search.

The next day Yuki and I went to the Rental Place. He helped me converse better with the worker there and explained everything I needed to know. We then went back and checked out the place I decided to rent. It’s great. I can’t wait to move in.

I mess up. . . but I’m gonna do better
Last Saturday I went out with Jun. We met at 2:00 to go shopping for a TV for my new apartment. A thing I didn’t realize is he had plans already but since I asked him if he wanted to do something he dropped his plans and went with me. I had no clue that he already had plans and On that day I had no idea I messed up. But later when I was moving into my apartment I had a real heart to heart talk with Shinsuke. He told me that Jun cancelled his date to go out with me. When I found out… I felt really bad.

Anyway when Jun and I met at 2:00 we went to see a movie. Then we went to visit another friend who was working at his part time job. It was pretty funny because we were the first people in his restaurant. He was very surprised to see us. Anyway we sat there for about 2 hours, then decided to go buy my TV. Well let me tell you flat out I messed up again really bad. What I didn’t realize was that we were supposed to go to Kazuo’s house at 12:15 that night. Well, I was really tired, so at 9:00 I decided to stay at home. That was the mistake. I should have gone through with the plan as a Japanese person would. Well the thing that bothers me was why didn’t Jun tell me he had plans? I don’t want to be someone special. Treat me like a friend. If you don’t want or can’t go then say so. That’s what I told Shinsuke in the car and he will pass it to the other guys. Shinsuke and I really get along. He really understands what’s going on and is helping out as a good friend.

Wednesday I moved! Yes, I’m so happy I’m out of my homestay house! The homestay was going downhill. I think I’m going to do much better with my new friends.

Kaarina (female, Finland)

1. They're Making Me Uncomfortable (8.1)

I did a 14 day homestay at my Japanese friend’s home in Kamakura during autumn break [Kaarina was an exchange student at an international university, where she met the friend who invited her on a homestay at his house.] Before going there I was a bit worried, but I thought it shouldn’t be a problem to adapt to his family for a couple of weeks, and become a part of it since I had already experienced two long homestays in New Zealand before this one. However, when I was lying on my futon on the first night of my stay I was quite confused and wondered how I could manage the next fourteen days without disturbing the relationship with my friend and his family.

We arrived in Kamakura in the early evening and the okaasan, (mother of the household) came to pick Hiyoshi and me up from the station. Her husband had not yet returned from work so we had some time to relax and organize things before dinner. Okaasan showed me where I could leave my luggage and apologized many times about the tatami room I would be using as a bedroom because it was part of the living room during the day. Even though we had discussed this on the phone she seemed to be extremely concerned about the inconvenience it could cause me since there was no private room for me.

Since it was autumn she also asked many times if I was cold and gave me a yukata (cotton kimono) to wear during my stay. There was also a gown hanging in the corner of the tatami room and she asked me to try it on to see if it would be my size. Needless to say it was a little too tight and okaasan suggested that she go upstairs to look for something else instead. It was only after I had told her several times that both the room and the gown were perfect that she finally believed me.

Since it was evening she started to attend to the meal even though it was obvious that she had prepared most of the food beforehand. While she was carrying the food to the table Hiyoshi explained what was what and I have to say, I was worried. Nearly everything that was brought in was described as special food that is only eaten on special occasions. Further, when the otoosan (father) arrived around 7:00 he brought a kind of crayfish that was welcomed with pleasure by okaasan and Hiyoshi. I was also told that this was an expensive food that is unusual to eat on an everyday basis.

After I was welcomed very warmly to the house by otoosan we started our dinner. It was pleasant, but okaasan was constantly running between kitchen and table. Through the long dinner I wanted to help her but somehow I felt that I could not do it without causing an awkward situation for the Nakata family.

After the meal I remained seated at the table with otoosan and Hiyoshi while okaasan cleaned the table and washed the dishes. Then she came back, asked if I was hungry and told me she would peel some fruits before I even had a chance to refuse. I was full but since I did not know how to refuse politely I thought it better to eat what was offered.

The next thing I noticed was that okaasan had closed the sliding doors that separated the tatami room and living room and I realized she was making my bed. Again, I wanted to help (or to be honest, make it by myself) but I sensed there was no possibility of opening those doors without stepping out of my role as a guest that night. Therefore, when I was told the bath was ready I did not hesitate to go first since I knew that the order of taking baths expresses respect and I felt I could not refuse that courtesy either.

2. Cocooned (and Rudely Awakening the Family) (8.2)

I ended up laying on my futon that night wondering what to do and how to change my position from being a total outsider to more like a family member. Because of the very friendly but polite treatment I had received I realized I would have to discuss my position since as Japanese hosts the Nakata family seemed not to be able to treat me any other way unless I would “give permission” for it.

In my opinion, the very strong sense of separation I felt on the first night with the Nakata family illustrated how social distance was operating in Japanese social relationships. I sensed there was an invisible wall between me and the people I was visiting, which left no social space for me to take part in tasks like setting the table or washing the dishes with the family members to overcome the wall. Since I felt quite awkward about my position as a guest when the purpose of my visit was to do a homestay, I discussed the situation with okaasan the next morning and asked her not to treat me as a visitor. Hiyoshi also supported me by telling about his experiences while in England in order to assure her that it was perfectly suitable to treat me less formally.

Later during the day we cleaned the house together and I helped her to do the dishes after lunch. My help was also welcomed while preparing dinner and I felt relieved since I started to feel more comfortable and not so separated from the family like the night before. I also noticed that they had added –chan to my name instead of the –san they had previously used.

In spite of all that, I was again asked to go first to take a bath like the night before. However, now I felt that I could refuse the honor and ask the parents to go first without hurting their feelings. Otoosan accepted and went before me, which he always did after that. But it took nearly a week before okaasan finally went once before me, and this was only after several apologies.

After the first week okaasan did not hesitate to ask me to help and I found myself in the kitchen more and more often before lunch and dinner. We also did shopping together and since we were both interested in cooking I spent some afternoons teaching her how to make Finnish bread, buns and casseroles. Furthermore, I soon noticed that otoosan had started to use plain language when talking to me, but okaasan hardly ever did so.

Also, as I already mentioned, it was not even open to question that otoosan would take the bath first, whereas nearly every night I had to negotiate with okaasan in order to get her to go before me. Once, when doing so, otoosan came smiling, and saying “Papa first” even though I had fully expected that he would go before me. To be honest, it was one of those moments when I felt I had been told very clearly my place in their social hierarchy.

During the two weeks of my stay plenty of food, cakes, and biscuits were offered, to the extent that I was really surprised since I had heard that Japanese cuisine was very healthy. However, the amount of food gradually decreased toward the end of my stay and when I visited the Nakatas at Christmas there was a clear difference in the amount of food offered.

3. Why Are They Giving My Gifts? (9.3)

Michie san was a good friend and neighbor of the okaasan, whom I met for the first time while picking up goods that okaasan had ordered through a home delivery company (coopu). Okaasan was eager to introduce me to her and thus invited Michie san to visit us in the afternoon. When she came she gave me a silk scarf and also lent me a book of modern tanka poems and before leaving invited us to visit her. A couple of days later, okaasan and I visited her, and according to the custom of exchanging gifts I gave a small piece of Finnish jewelry to her.

A few days later I baked some Finnish biscuits and cinnamon buns and okaasan was extremely eager to give some of them to Michie san. She wrapped them very nicely and asked me to take them over to her place. This happened twice when I was baking something during my stay. At that time I thought she asked me to take more baking to Michie san because my gift to Michie san was probably not valuable enough.

Christina (female, US)

1. Okaasan: Slave or Superwoman? (8.3)

My entry into the family
Upon initial entry into my family’s house, I was surprised that the house was bigger than I expected. My father said that we’d speak Japanese, so I tried my best. Even though I’m Japanese American I’m third generation (sansei), so I’m studying Japanese at school. My family gave me a nice room with an air conditioner and heater and a western bed. They were considerate towards my “western needs,” especially privacy. They gave me my sister’s room (but I didn’t know at the time), and my sister Mari put an American CD player in the room for me. I decided to make an effort to get to know them, coming out when some of my packing was done. I couldn’t fit all of my clothes in the closet, and my okaasan was very concerned with this. A few days later extra space was made in the closet. The nicest and most welcoming thing was a letter, written in English, which explained why they wanted to be a host family.

When I first arrived, I felt like everything was so small. I have now adjusted to the size of things (except the kitchen), but I am learning. I feel so ignorant, and the longer I am here, the worse it gets. I am suffering from culture shock, but I think it will get better soon. I am just settling in so I am eager to relax. I really enjoy my family right now. And I am glad that they are starting to let me do some things. I have made dinner, done my laundry, etc. I hate not doing my own dishes and things like that, so I figured out when okaasan will let me do the dishes. I guess things are O.K., but I know that they still do a lot for me, and sometimes I feel guilty. I think I am eager to do things by myself, but at my homestay, they are very structured. I can see their disapproval when Mari comes home late or doesn’t eat breakfast, so I try to do what I think they want me to. I don’t exactly know so I try to imitate their actions.

My okaasan is a hard worker, and is always doing everything for my family. She wakes everyone up, makes breakfast, cleans up a little, goes to work (3 days a week), goes shopping, does the laundry, makes dinner, cleans the house, serves my otoosan drinks and snacks, and picks up my sister at the station at night. She is very sensitive to my needs, and helps me by speaking Japanese to me (my other host family members speak English to me sometimes).

My otoosan is basically the decision maker. He is retired, and spends time in his “room”, which is a study room full of books. He reads Sidney Sheldon novels there and listens to Gershwin and Beethoven. He likes western food, and has spent a lot of time in America. It is difficult for me to speak Japanese with him, because he keeps speaking English to me. He is the one who corrects me, and explains the differences between western and Japanese rules.

My sister Mari has spent time in Oregon, and speaks English fluently. She has a part time job at the telephone company. She teaches me a lot about little “slang” phrases in Japanese, but she keeps speaking to me in English. She is the reason I am staying at the Mihara house because she enjoyed her American homestay, so she was interested in having a host sister.

A day in the life of Okaasan
My host mom never ceases to amaze me. She wakes up early and goes to sleep late. There is one day in particular which gives an example of how much she does for us. I call it the “marathon day,” because it began at about 5:00 a.m. and lasted until 1:00 a.m. the next day (20 hrs). We had a day off, so my family thought it would be a good idea to go to Nikko and visit my host mom’s brother. She prepared obento (lunches) for our family that morning, with many snacks and drinks for the trip, so she had to wake up early. She went to sleep around 1:00 a.m., so she had very little sleep. Of course, I woke up late and me and my host sister and I had to get ready in about 10 minutes.

We drove for about 2 hours, and my okaasan provided refreshments and many snacks for us since we skipped breakfast. We reached okaasan’s brother’s home, and visited for a short time. We left for Toshogu Shrine and walked a lot there. We then drove for another hour and stopped and walked by a lake. We continued to drive up the mountain, stopping at a large lake for lunch. Okaasan provided a large lunch, and cleared an area for us. After lunch otoosan rented a swan-shaped boat and he, Mari, and I paddled on the lake, while my host mom cleaned up our area and did some shopping. We then did more driving and saw Kegan Falls. By this time I was really tired and getting a little sick. Okaasan gave me some aspirin, and did more shopping. My host sister and I were very tired, so we slept until my otoosan got to okaasan’s brother’s house. Of course, okaasan had to keep otoosan company.

We arrived at the house and okaasan helped with the preparation of the meal. We ate, drank, and sang songs with their laser disc karaoke machine, and okaasan helped clean up. Otoosan fell asleep, and when it was around 11:30 p.m. we said our good-bye’s and thank you’s and were on our way home. Because otoosan was tired, okaasan had to drive home. While we were still back at okaasan’s brother’s house, she called her old friends and said that it was too late to visit.

If I had known she wanted to visit her friends, I would gladly have skipped one of our scenic tours. At home, otoosan told me that she wanted to visit friends, and was disappointed that we didn’t have time. Otoosan gave her his “ok” and she asked me if it was alright, and she went back to spend the next day with her friends. Before she left, she made sure that we had food and snacks, and that everything was convenient for us. I have never seen anyone so happy about a trip to see friends. I guess this was her “day off” from the family, and I don’t think there are very many for her.

Of course, okaasan’s day off means Mari (host sister) and Christina’s turn to cook and clean, but we only have to do this once in awhile. Okaasan always has to do little things around the house like making sure otoosan isn’t hungry, preparing the bath, and (my favorite) making sure otoosan always has the little gold spoon to stir his coffee with, even though there are many utensils out already, and the gold spoon is one arm’s-length away. I feel as if I do a lot around my house in L.A. but okaasan does a lot more than me. I appreciate her so much, because at home, I would have to do many of these things for myself. I still do dishes and laundry, but I am getting really spoiled!

Family Communication Dynamics
As to what I call my host family parents, I cannot call them “mama and papa”. Actually, I don’t really address them by names a lot of the time. If I do, I usually say “okaasan” to my host mother. It is very different from my real home where I call my mom by her first name. I speak to my otoosan the least. Also, there is an unspoken rule in my house: “Otoosan will speak when he wants to, so speak (to him) when spoken to”.

Actually, these are our communication lines for who can initiate a conversation.

The diagram makes clear that no one except the mother can initiate conversations with otoosan. But okaasan does not initiate conversations with otoosan in the same way he does with her. The dotted line indicates that she must be deferential. The other members of the household (Mari and I) can initiate conversations only among ourselves and with okaasan.

 

2. Of Course I'll Attend the Service for Great Uncle Tomo (10.2)

As I was writing my final paper for class I decided to take a short break to read the latest letter from home. It was from my mother, informing me: “The day that you come back from Japan, there is a memorial service for your great uncle Tomo, and I hope you are up to going.” My initial response was “Of course.” I then wondered, would the average American go to the service of a relative they saw maybe once a year after a plane ride of 12 hours? Probably not, but for me there is no question about it. It is the same feeling which compels okaasan to work so hard, or compels Japanese to offer food at the butsudan (Buddhist altar).

This semester I thought I was merely learning about things in Japan that were not present in my American life. But when reading about ideas like uchi/soto, tatemae/honne, etc. I began to realize that this is the way I sometimes think. I wasn’t aware of this at all before, because these are things I learned from my parents, which they learned from theirs; except that when I was growing up, they were unspoken rules without names. My approach to the class was wrong from the start, and it affected my learning. I treated class topics as things completely separate from my life. Until now I never connected up my American (or Japanese-American) life with things in Japan, and I failed to realize that there could be similarities in my Japanese-American family in L.A., with Japanese families in Japan. But I now see how the memorial service for my great uncle Tomo relates my family in L.A. to their ancestors. That’s still important enough to my mother (and to me) that I will attend as a family member, even if I’m jet-lagged, and even though I’m now the third generation from my great uncle.

Devita (female, US)

1. Foreign Daughter-in-Law: Guest or Domestic Servant? (8.3)

I’ve been feeling like I should be doing more to help around the house. After all, at home I’d do more to help, and I know that a daughter-in-law is supposed to do a lot of things to take the load off the mother-in-law. But every time I try to be useful, okaasan always tells me it’s “no problem” and then does everything herself. Like when I tried to help clear the table and wash the dishes—I didn’t know where the dish rack went and I guess she didn’t like the way I stacked the dishes because she redid them as soon as I left the kitchen. I got the distinct impression that she thought it was much easier just to do it herself. My sister-in-law, Keiko, who’s still single, says I shouldn’t worry about it, okaasan‘s always like that.

It’s been over two months since we got married and moved in here, now and I’m beginning too see how Keiko doesn’t do much to help, just lets okaasan wait on her (let alone the guys!). But I don’t feel right doing that. I do pick up our futons and pile them into the closet when we get up, but lots of times when I come back from class they’re hanging outside over the wall to air. The one time I did lug everything out there, it clouded right up and I just managed to get it all back in before it rained.

So I decided to do something for everybody—not just take care of my own stuff. I figured I could do the laundry because even though okaasan does it practically every day, it always starts to pile up again right away. I thought I had watched her do it enough times that I could do it by myself. I knew she would take over if she saw me doing it, so I waited until Saturday when she went out shopping after lunch. It isn’t a big machine and it was harder to figure out than I thought, so it took a lot longer than I expected. They don’t have a dryer so I was out back hanging out the clean things when okaasan got home. I could tell right away she wasn’t happy but she didn’t say anything. She put away the groceries and started dinner and I finished hanging the laundry.

Because it was Saturday, we could all eat dinner together. Keiko came in and asked how come the laundry was still outside even though it was getting dark. All of a sudden okaasan started to cry. I think everyone was as shocked as I was. Otoosan asked what the matter was and she just said “Devita did the laundry in the afternoon.” Otoosan and Keiko looked at me and okaasan cried. I had no idea what I did wrong. Then I couldn’t help it—I started crying too. I said, “I just wanted to help.”

Okaasan finally calmed down enough to tell me that it’s bad, for some reason, for the laundry to be hanging out in the evening. I apologized and told her I didn’t think it would take so long. Then otoosan jumped in and said of course I would be slow because I was new at doing things. He told okaasan that she had to stop treating me like a guest and start treating me like a daughter-in-law: teach me how to do things the right way and stop doing everything herself. Then he turned to me and said “And you just be sure you do things the way she shows you!” The rest of dinner was really quiet.

But this week has been much better. I’m helping around the house and okaasan is teaching me how to do things and letting me help. We get along much better than before and she seems much more relaxed around me.

2. An Unexpected Test: Okaasan Collapses (10.1)

Things have been going smoother since the “blowup” at dinner, but even though I’ve learned a lot about how to be a proper daughter-in-law, I still felt like we were kind of tip-toeing around each other. Plus Okaasan is up early and has the laundry hung out and the yard swept every day before I even wake up. Everybody said not to worry about it, but I still felt like I wasn’t doing my share.

Well, all that changed last weekend. Saturday I woke up earlier than usual because of an ambulance siren, really close. Then it stopped out front. The men came rushing into the house, loaded Okaasan onto a stretcher and took off! Before I could even find out what was wrong, everybody was heading off to the hospital. All I got was a quick “I’ll call you as soon as we know something. Take care of things here.”

So, I started with the laundry and sweeping the yard. I took the garbage to the collection place. I put the futons out to sun, then fixed some food for when they got back. The newspaper man came to collect and I paid him. I talked to a door-to-door insurance saleswoman. A neighbor brought the circulating neighborhood announcement folder. I looked it over, stamped it with our family name, and took it to the next house. Nothing very crucial, I thought.

Just before noon, everyone came home, even Okaasan . She had gotten an I.V. drip treatment for a bout of low blood pressure—nothing serious. So everything turned out OK, but the best part for me is the change in everyone’s attitude. You’d think I had saved the day single-handed by holding down the fort. Okaasan is back to her usual routine. And, they’ve started telling me to do things when they want me to do something. I feel much more relaxed.

3. I am Introduced to the Family Spirits (10.2)

Today we went to visit the family’s grave. We went a few months ago too, but I was very new then and didn’t really know what was going on. It took a while to figure out that the whole family has only one grave with one gravestone and, as family members pass away, their ashes are all put into the same grave. Also, I felt a little strange because they are Buddhists and I’m not, so I felt like maybe I shouldn’t be doing anything. I thought they might not like it because I’m not Buddhist. But today was completely different. I got introduced to the “rest of the family”—the grandparents who passed away, quite a while ago, I think.

Just like last time, they pulled weeds and washed the family gravestone, but now I feel more comfortable with the family, so I helped. When we finished cleaning, okaasan poured a can of beer over the gravestone and started talking. At first I thought she was talking to one of us. She said, “Here we are, back again.” But then she went on, “We brought you some beer. We remember how much you like it,” and I realized she was talking to ojiisan, the grandfather who they had said was a real beer lover. I thought it was interesting that okaasan was talking to someone who was dead, like he was right there and might answer, but then she introduced me as a new family member!

She said she was sorry they hadn’t introduced me the last time, and he and obaasan, the grandmother, must have been wondering who I was, but I was their new daughter-in-law. The thing that really grabbed me was her saying they probably had figured out that I was one of the family because I was there cleaning the grave too. She called me uchi no mono (an “inside” family member). Then otoosan lit a handful of incense sticks and we squatted down in front of the gravestone and prayed. They didn’t seem to mind that I wasn’t a Buddhist. It was more like remembering the grandparents, who they were, and what they were like.

Tonight during dinner everyone talked about ojiisan and obaasan. Now, in a strange way, I feel like I’ve met them too. Today was the first time since I’ve been here that I really felt like they were including me as a family member.

Sophie (female, US)

1. All Tied Up in Knots (8.1)

Okay Soph, here you go—but what if they don’t like me? What if I don’t like them? What if I mess up? What if . . . Oh, no there they are. She looks nice, but they all look nice! Here they come . . . “Sakaki desu,” she said with a seemingly genuine smile. “Yoroshiku onegai shimasu, watashi wa Sophie desu,” I answered with confidence even though inside I was tied up in knots. We exchanged the usual set formal expressions one uses when being introduced, and proceeded to my temporary new home.

Upon arriving at the house we sat in an informal room and had the same conversation I’ve had time and time again since my arrival in Japan: What kind of food do you like? What’s your major? How many people are in your family? In retrospect they already knew all the answers to those questions since they had received my profile before my arrival. However, I believe that they felt my nervousness, no matter how hard I tried to hide it, and those questions were being used as a tool to speak to me using Japanese that they knew I would be comfortable with. They did this by only asking me questions I knew the answers to in Japanese. I received a lot of deference in that way throughout my first month or so in the Sakaki household.

2. Cocooned (and Rudely Awakened) (8.2)

My first night in the Sakaki household, we continued on with our shallow conversation until they knew that I was ready for bed. I happened to have had a long day and became tired very early. As I recognized a look of relief on the okaasan’s face, I surveyed the house carefully and noticed it was in immaculate condition. The okaasan obviously worked very hard on it in preparation for my arrival, so that she was probably exhausted. However, if I didn’t tire until after midnight nobody would have blinked an eyelash, to show me that they wanted to go to sleep. Nobody would dare to show their guests that they are being deferred to.

As a matter of fact, the deference I received in my family was at first startling; the okaasan had a sixth sense for what I wanted and when I wanted it. Then I slowly realized that the okaasan had a sixth sense for what everybody wanted and when they wanted it. At first it seemed to me, as it probably does to most foreigners who don’t know much of Japanese culture, that she had a duplicitous nature. She would say “let’s have dinner now”, but if it appeared that no one else was hungry yet, she would change her mind and say, “oh, let’s wait a little while”. To a dumb foreigner this seems as if the okaasan doesn’t have a mind of her own, or if she does she keeps changing it; almost as if she says yes to things where she really means no. But in reality she does in fact have a mind of her own, and her job is to figure out what is going on in everybody else’s mind. It is, in fact, her job, or position in the family, to play “mind-reader”.

After living with my family for about three months the okaasan came to me and told me that as a member of the household I would have to start adjusting to their life a little bit more by helping out. This statement utterly appalled me, because I thought I was helping out and was functioning as the other members of the family. In this sense I (as someone supposedly astute to the situation I was in) didn’t even realize the extent to which deference was being shown to me. As a soto (outside) person I had been kept in a cocoon. As I had learned, soto people are not let in on the fact that they are being deferred to, nor are they allowed to see the inner workings of the family.

3. Accepting a Ride (and Hitting a BIG Hazard) (9.2)

I had a mishap with my host family over a barbecue I was going to at my university. At first the okaasan in the Ogata family (who was also hosting a homestay student) was going to pick up my host sister and me to take us to the barbecue. However, for various reasons, my okaasan called the Ogata okaasan and refused the offer. After my okaasan left to run errands, my host sister and I received a phone call from the Ogata okaasan asking if we were sure we didn’t want a ride to the barbecue.

I took the phone call. Because I needed time to study and it was raining so that from my interests taking the bus was going to be a hassle, I said okay, and offered my arigato gozaimashita (thank you) for the ride. However, when the okaasan came home and found out that Ogata san was picking us up she was furious.

At first, I did not in the least understand why she was so furious. After all, it was easier for me and my host sister, and Ogata san had to pass our house anyway to get to the barbecue. But from her point of view, by accepting the ride I had sided with the wrong uchi. Instead of joining the collective decision of my family (which was not to accept the ride), I had sided with the other group which put me on the soto side of my family.

As my okaasan put this to me: “Are you a Sakaki or an Ogata? You’re a Sakaki, so why don’t you act like it? As she yelled at me she removed deference in her treatment towards me. I apologized to the best of my ability for making such a terrible mistake (over which I had no clue of course). But in fact, I could see that this incident was a great break-through for me, because in getting mad at me, the okaasan treated me like an uchi person. In fact, things haven’t been the same since.

Theo (male, US)

1. My Bike Riding Backfires (9.2)

In 1996 I took a ten-week language immersion program in Kobe that included an eight-day homestay in a small town two hours away by bus. To be honest I was ambivalent about the homestay. My wife, then fiancée, is Japanese and I had already been to Japan a few times. I felt I already had a fair amount of cultural access, but what I really needed was language training.

For the most part the homestay went okay. Every morning at ten o’clock the group of nine students, each staying with a different family in this small town, gathered at the community center, and from there a driver would bus us to various places. We met a calligrapher; were taken to the home of a potter, where we learned how to throw clay; and even went to a middle school. Once we went to the nursery school (hoikuen) where my okaasan Yoshiko works.

The evenings we spent with our “families”. Mine was pretty interesting. The otoosan worked in the town office, and he would drink sake in the evening with his father, then retire to his study to listen to jazz. In addition to okaasan there were three children, two girls in high school and a boy of eleven.

Looking back I can think of a lot that is worth being embarrassed about, even in that short time, but I’ll just share one short example that sticks out in my mind. The Ueharas lived about four kilometers outside of town, and both parents started work early. Due to the timing of my schedule, that meant either otoosan or okaasan would have to take time off work to drive back, pick me up, and bring me to my scheduled ten o’clock meeting. I thought I’d be less of a burden if I could get around on my own and asked to borrow one of their mountain bikes that, as far as I could tell, no one ever used. Besides, I liked the idea of the ride, with a little time to myself, and a little bit of “freedom”. Of course they insisted that driving me was no trouble, that it was too far for me to go by bike, and what if I got lost? But I was adamant and they gave in.

Then, after three days of commuting on my own, I got sick. It was nothing more than an attack of hay fever, and it turned out that a day off the travels with the other students and having a little time to myself was just what I needed to get back on track. But after that I didn’t go back to using the bike.

Of course, it wasn’t until much later that I gave serious consideration to how that episode had appeared to the family. And how I had made them look to their community. At the very least it was probably embarrassing for them that I was riding four kilometers into town on a bike, rather than them taking proper care of their newly arrived guest by driving him where he was supposed to be. Even worse, after allowing me to run loose on the bike I then became too sick to attend the daily activity. Even though I thought I was “helping them out,” by riding the bike, they obviously felt responsibility for my going to town by myself on the bike. In fact, getting sick was like having all the okaasan‘s worries coming true. She in particular seemed to take responsibility for my allergy attack, and it struck me as curious that no amount of assurances seemed to allay her concerns.

If I had it to do over again, I would have accepted the ride and arranged for some other mountain biking experience, perhaps with their son. At the time I thought such risks as getting lost and becoming ill were my own. Now it seems like there is no such thing—especially since I was a guest in their home.

2. Speaking My Heart in Front of Strangers (9.4)

Since we came to Japan a year and a half ago, my wife Mika’s aunt has increasingly helped us out by looking after Tyler when we’ve been busy. More than once she really saved our butts. We live in Tokyo and she lives in a suburb that is about two hours away by bus and train so we try not to call on her unless it is absolutely necessary, but lately it has been and she has been obliging. Not only is she generous to us with her time, but she has taken to sending Tyler gifts like expensive department store pajamas that usually only grandparents buy. Of course we try to reciprocate, but the relationship has gotten way out of balance.

Aiko’s husband died a few years ago and she has no children. Still, she is very busy teaching embroidery to her many students, and the end of the year is a very busy time for her as the year of the monkey is almost upon us and she is receiving orders for monkey embroideries that people want to give as gifts.

Recently we had a crisis. Aiko had come to look after Tyler one Saturday night when my wife and I both had to work. We both assumed she’d be staying the night, but it turned out she needed to get back home because she had an early obligation the next day. By the time I realized there was a problem, I was in Chiba, too far away to get back quickly. She ended up not leaving until well after ten when my wife got home, which meant having to take a taxi, wait for a train, then another taxi, and not getting home until very late. She was clearly frustrated with us over this but she couldn’t directly express her hurt at being taken for granted, or her frustration at being seriously inconvenienced, at a time when she was very busy as well. Nor had we any means of expressing gratitude for what she had done for us, or apologizing for our lack of coordination. My attempts at expressing thanks seemed even more awkward and inadequate than usual, and the episode seemed to confirm my suspicions that during our year and a half here we had actually grown apart instead of closer.

Then something happened. About that same time a close friend of Aiko’s had given us a box of old noh playscripts that had been in her family, knowing my wife’s interest in the subject. As a thank you Mika sent her tickets to a performance. Seeing an opportunity, I decided to go as well and to invite Aiko. So it was Aiko’s friend, her friend’s 40 year-old unmarried son, Aiko and me. I felt a strong pull to continue to be with them, so I invited them to a restaurant I knew afterwards. Although I really had no idea what to do or say, I somehow found myself talking about Aiko in front of her, as if she weren’t there to her friend and his son, people I had hardly known more than a few hours. I said, “All we do is receive, but we never do anything for her.” I talked about all the things she had done for us over the past year and a half, how much we have appreciated her help, and how little I felt we were able to acknowledge our gratitude to her.

I have known Aiko 10 years, and attended two memorial services for her husband with her, but for the first time I saw her cry, . . . I mean, openly sob. She didn’t deny anything I said, the way she usually would. She just said she hopes she can do it again for us before we leave, even next week-end, just please let her know when we need her. By now I was talking through tears as well, and her friend just had this big warm smile. Why I chose that moment in front of those people, I am not sure, but for the first time in a long time I felt I could express my feelings from my heart in a way that was impossible even if I was alone with her. Not that I had not tried to say those things to Aiko in private. . . I had. But it was like my words didn’t mean much, to Aiko or even to myself, until they came out in front of these people I hardly knew.

3. Getting into Gear afterthe Homestay Ends (10.3)

I kept in touch with the Ueharas, initially more out of common courtesy than any long-term plan. They had been very generous to me while I was there, and I could not help thinking that the impression I had left was not the best I might have. As I saw it, it was like they were much better at being hosts than I was at being a guest. So I sent something for each of the family members at Christmas, and occasionally updated them on developments in my life, such as when Mika and I got married, and the birth of my son.

The trouble was that whatever I did they would send back in spades. If we sent gifts at Christmas, what we received in reply was much more precious. Out of the blue okaasan sent cash when she heard we had married, expensive vitamins for Mika when she was pregnant, and volumes of carefully-chosen children’s books for Tyler after he was born. It was like some bizarre competition, and I was woefully ill-equipped to compete. And it wasn’t just my comparative poverty . . . Part of the problem was that while I freely volunteered information about my life, okaasan rarely did, or if she did, I was a bit too dim to pick up on her cues that there was in fact something to report. So I started revealing less about my life, not to be more distant, but out of fear that they would find cause to send something more. I was spiraling downward under the weight of their generosity.

Since then, I have gradually gotten closer to the family, due, I think, to a number of factors, not the least of which is that I no longer have any remote hope of achieving equity in the gifting department. Rather than equity, as our means grow a bit greater, I find myself looking forward to the events in the Ueharas children’s lives that might afford the opportunity to mark the occasion with a gift of some kind. Not to pay them back—that is not even on the map at this moment. Just to do it. Because I’m older than the children are.

Tyler’s emergence on the scene, and the chance to introduce both him and Mika to the Ueharas in person when we traveled as a family to Japan meant a lot. Another time, I was able to deduce that grandfather, ojiisan, was in the hospital, and of course with each subsequent correspondence I could inquire more pointedly about his progress. But to be honest, okaasan has made the bigger adjustments, and is now revealing more. Like when she revealed out of the blue that their house had been nearly destroyed by an earthquake. Why does it take something like that? Tragedies, illnesses . . .

Having a more stable home in the U.S., where we can reasonably invite members of their family to visit, has made a difference too. They haven’t taken us up on our invitations yet, but I think maybe they, their kids or their grandkids just might before too long.

Li Ming (female, US)

1. Trusted with "Inside" Information (9.1)

Everything is ok except for my curfew. My family told me directly that it would be at midnight on week-ends. Originally they told me it was because they are worried and didn’t want me to walk home alone. But through subsequent events I’ve discovered that Haruko just doesn’t like me to go out because she thinks that defeats the purpose of the homestay.

I come home early on weekdays and so far I’ve only come late (around 12:00) 3 times. This is beginning to really bother me since it’s making me feel a bit trapped. Haruko gave me all these examples of other students’ lives at their homes (from my same program) to indirectly tell me that she only wants me to go out about once a month. I’ve tried to tell her that I want to go out with Japanese people and learn the young college students’ culture and the language. But I don’t think that really helped–I really hate the indirectness!

My host father (“Tom”) is a regular salaryman, who comes home about 10:00 on weeknights, and leaves at 6:30 a.m. I spend time during the week with Haruko, who tries to talk to me in Japanese. But because there is no child and Tom always comes home late, it’s quite boring. Also, because they are a young couple, I sometimes feel like I am invading their privacy, and at times feel uncomfortable, especially in the evening when he returns. I wish I had a family with children (which is what I requested).

I don’t have much time on week-ends to spend with both of them because I often have field trips on Saturdays and on Sundays. But even when I don’t go, they go to the gym and work out most of the afternoon leaving me at home by myself. And when Tom is home he speaks mostly English to me. So I’m really not learning much about the culture from him, although Haruko tries to tell me things on weekdays in Japanese.

After writing this I just realized I’m quite unsatisfied with my family! What should I do about the curfew? (which isn’t really a curfew) I’ve talked to many Japanese students and adults about this and everyone thinks that being able to stay out til 12:00 only once or twice a month is ridiculous for a 23 year old. I did tell Haruko that no one has a curfew but she always has a line ready for rebuttal.

I only have about 1 1/2 months left and I really would like to see everything I can and because I’m so busy on the weekdays with school, I just want freedom on week-ends, especially Saturdays. I do have a plan to go out with some Japanese friends and Americans this weekend in Tokyo and I’m still thinking of a way to tell them. I may be late or stay out all night for that matter. And my so-called “mongen” (curfew) is becoming a real obstacle.

Homestay Program Director’s Comments:
The following is a summary from the Homestay Program Director whom Li Ming went to consult with about her problem:

Li Ming came to me feeling unhappy that her family didn’t want her to go out much at all on week-ends, and she was feeling trapped. I asked her to tell me how the homestay was going in general, both on week-days and week-ends, and she gave me an account of the general situation, that she was unsatisfied with her family, especially over her curfew.

Then I called the Uchidas, her host family, and spoke with her host mother. I inquired about the general progress of the homestay, and whether the family felt things were going satisfactorily. The host mother felt that Li Ming conveyed that she was bored in the homestay, and she didn’t seem that interested in learning from them, or talking to them. The director then asked about whether Li Ming had a curfew and whether there were any problems around the curfew. The host mother said there was tension because her husband came home late on weeknights, so the only time they had to spend together as a family was in the evenings on weekends. But those were the very times that Li Ming wanted to go out with her friends. If Li Ming went out every week-end, the family would have no time to spend together with her, so she thought it would negate the purpose of the homestay. That was what was behind the curfew.

Li Ming and the Curfew Problem: Mutual Compromise
As director, I decided to try to work out a compromise. I didn’t think that Li Ming should just “tough it out” (gaman suru) in the situation she is in now until the homestay ends. I discussed with her the host family’s viewpoint about why they wanted her to spend time on weekends with them. I also explained that even leaving the curfew aside, I didn’t think from what both Li Ming and the family told me, that “everything else really was going ok”. In other words, the curfew wasn’t the only problem (and probably wasn’t the main problem) with this homestay. Because the Uchidas weren’t the type of family she had requested, Li Ming felt unhappy with her situation. Because Tom spoke English with her, she considered this to be a loss in learning about Japan. And although Haruko did speak Japanese with her, she was bored being alone with Haruko during the week.

I first suggested that even though Li Ming was disappointed that her family wasn’t what she requested, she didn’t have to let this disappointment define her attitude toward them. If she tried to take advantage of the family that she does have, she might find more there than she has seen so far. For example, I encouraged her to take the opportunity to speak with Tom in English about things she wanted to know about Japan. There would be a payoff in speaking English, since she could get more depth in her conversations than she can at this point in Japanese. Li Ming agreed to try this out.

I then suggested the following compromise to both Li Ming and her family: Li Ming needed to take a more active interest in her family during the rest of her homestay, so I suggested she should spend time with them on some weekend evenings. But she should also try to keep some evenings free to go out with her friends, and to do this, both she and her family needed to try to open up other times on weekend days for doing things together. For example, Li Ming could stay home from a field trip now and then so that she and her family could go places together on Saturdays. Or sometimes the family might take Li Ming to the gym with them on Saturday afternoons.

I thought that if Li Ming really tried to become interested and involved in the Uchida family, and managed to be with them at times other than week-end evenings, this would remove the barriers the family had to her going out with her friends on those evenings. Both Li Ming and the Uchidas agreed to try to follow these suggestions.

2. I Hate my Curfew! (9.2)

When I came to my host family in Sept. my host mother introduced me to her friend Mira, and I began teaching English to her. Mira and I had conversations about all kinds of things, and through this Mira also became my friend. During the middle of the semester, my sister’s first baby was born, and I was to be the godmother. I decided to return to Los Angeles for the baptism, because being a godmother is really important in my family’s culture.

I was only going to be gone for 5 days, but I had so many gifts to bring with me that my luggage got pretty unwieldy. From the train station I could do fine, no problem, because there are carts. But my host family lives quite far from the train station, and I had too much luggage to make it onto the bus. My host mother runs a small store located in front of the house, and I unfortunately packed at the last minute. When I found I had too much stuff for the bus, I didn’t want to bother her while she was working. Instead I just called Mira and asked her if she would do me a big favor and drive me to the train station, since okaasan was working. Mira came by right away with the car.

But when Mira came, my host mother wouldn’t let her drive me to the train station. Instead she closed the store for the time it took and drove me herself to the station. I felt pretty terrible about this, because I was trying not to inconvenience okaasan. But somehow I think I managed to inconvenience everybody. To this day I don’t really understand why Mira couldn’t drive me to the train station.

Molly (female, US)

1. They're Making Me Comfortable (8.1)

As we all walked, single file, into the welcome party reception room, a sudden wave of fear swept over me. “What if I hate my family,” I thought. “I’ll have to live with them for an entire four months of misery!” Each of us, smiling out to the crowd awaiting our arrival, scanned the room to gain some kind of hint as to whom our family might be. Mine was an excited wave from Masako, my 30-year old sister, from whom I had received a postcard a few weeks earlier. I wondered how she knew who I was, and then realized: it must be from my high school senior photograph that my mom sent along with a letter thanking the Saito family for having me stay with them. Next to her was an older woman, whom I assumed was her mother. But where are the father and the brother that I had heard about?

As nice as they both seemed to appear, I felt very upset, and just wanted to go back to Itakura to stay with the village family I had been with the week earlier. Both Masako and her mom spoke to me in very fast Japanese, and even though Masako had written that she spoke fluent English, I didn’t hear a word of it. However, by the time we got out of the crowded atmosphere and back to the house, everything started looking up.

The Saitos’ house really surprised me when I first arrived, mostly because I had been expecting a small, run-down shack kind of home that I had been living in for the previous week. While it wouldn’t be all that big by American standards, it is certainly large enough to house the family, and then some. Also, it’s pretty modern, with a lot of high-tech electronic gadgets, like a bathtub that automatically fills itself to the right level (and the right temperature!) Most of the floors are hardwood, with the exception of the parents’ room and an extra room off the main gathering/TV room, which have tatami mats. So basically, it’s not a traditional Japanese home, or at least not what I had imagined a traditional Japanese home to look like, I guess because the house is less than a year old.

The Saitos had bought me my own slippers, tea cup, bowl, and hashi, (chopsticks) and even had my room and desk set up with brand new supplies. It looked as if they really went out of their way to make me feel comfortable. Then, after the father came home, we had a birthday cake (my birthday had been the day before I arrived) and some kind of festive red rice. Afterwards, we sat around and talked for a few hours, getting to know each other as much as possible with my very broken Japanese.

At this time I learned that Masako was a teacher of both Japanese and English—I have a feeling my Japanese will really improve because of her. Although she is thirty years old, she still lives at home, and I’m not quite sure exactly what she does all day, simply because she only teaches English two or three nights a week, and Japanese for one or two mornings. While Masako is actually ten years older than I am, she looks as if she could be my younger sister, and sometimes I feel as if she acts like it too. I can’t really explain what I mean, but maybe it will become evident later. The father, Otoosan, works in some kind of international business, and frequently goes on trips to other countries for his company. He has a very gentle face and personality, and reminds me a lot of my grandfather, so I think I took an automatic liking to him. The brother, Kenichi, is a handsome 27-year old who lives alone in Tokyo, although he occasionally comes home for the week-end to visit. At these times he stays in the extra tatami room because I seem to have usurped his room in the house, even though the Saitos only moved here about five months ago. The mother, Okaasan, is 55 years old and very small and dainty. About two nights a week she goes out to “work” and doesn’t come home until the next morning or afternoon. My friends and I joked that she must be a hooker. (Since then I have learned that she is a nurse in a hospital. Oh well, I guess we were wrong!)

2. Becoming "Okaasan" without even Knowing It (8.2)

9/9 Well, here I am at the Ikaho onsen, (hot springs) and the past two days have been a lot of fun. I didn’t really know what to expect, and thought that we would be spending the entire 48 hours bathing together in the hot springs, but that wasn’t the case at all. First we drove up here and visited a shrine, where Masako told me that my Chinese zodiac symbol is the rabbit, although I’m not quite sure what that means. Also, I think I might have given my blessings to a stone statue of a frog, although again, I’m not quite sure.

Afterwards we went to the “Bokujo Green Farms” where I was treated to a recreation of an old west town, complete with Indian teepees, and the always exciting duck races accompanied with banjo music! The weird thing was, at this place that’s totally for kids, the entire family had a great time. I found this completely baffling and unexplainable, so I won’t even try . . .

Well, we sit down at this table in the hotel restaurant, and have about 20 different kinds of sashimi (raw fish) in front of EACH of us, none of which looked like a kind I would want to eat. But, knowing how expensive sashimi is, and how I figured they were trying to give me a big treat, I knew I couldn’t just leave it there, so I plunged right in. Then they brought out a bunch of food to cook over the fire, and everything was going fine until the fish, which was literally still a fish. Not cut open, fresh out of the water, probably, with a skewer through his mouth and little beady eyes looking up at me. It nearly killed me to do it, but I stuck him in the fire and cooked the poor thing. Of course, it didn’t make me feel any better when everyone in the family took their ‘skewer-o-fish’ and started screaming “Molly-san—TASUKETE!” (Help me out!)

(a day later) After about a week and a half living with the Saitos, things are getting to be really comfortable. We joke around a lot (like at dinner last night), which is fun, and even something as seemingly minor as a gentle touch on the arm has come to generate a feeling of warmth amongst us. I think it’s truly amazing how little time it has taken for things here to become so settled . . .

(about 2 weeks later) Okaasan had told me this morning that she would be at the hospital tonight and that Masako would be working, so it would just be me and otoosan. When I got home, I saw that Okaasan had left all the food for dinner out on the stove and kitchen counters. So, when Otoosan came home and went to his room to change, I started setting the table, cooking, etc. I, in effect, became Okaasan. Otoosan grabbed his beer and sake and sat down, while I got everything ready and served him. It felt really weird, though, because it was almost as if I had become Japanese—I was so happy to have the chance to do everything for him that I didn’t even mind that I was starving and hadn’t eaten yet either.

3. Three Days in the Life of Okaasan (8.3)

Well, I thought about doing a day in the life of Okaasan (my host mother), and then realized that she doesn’t really have one typical day. I narrowed down her very full and busy schedule to three types of days: Morning work shift, evening work shift, and day off. These were the results:

Day 1: Morning Work Shift

6:30 amOkaasan wakes up.
 Okaasan cleans up her room and cooks breakfast.
7:00Okaasan eats breakfast with otoosan.
7:20Okaasan gets dressed and leaves for work (psychiatric hospital nurse).

Work
At work Okaasan does many things, most of which include feeding the patients, giving them tea, bathing them, reading them books, helping them write letters, and as okaasan puts it, she just watches them a lot.

5:00 pmOkaasan leaves work.
 Okaasan goes food shopping if necessary.
5:30Okaasan returns home and starts to cook dinner.
7:00Okaasan eats dinner with whoever is home at that time.
 This time might be later if Otoosan (my host father) arrives home later, but typically even when he is not home, she will eat by 7:45 at the latest.
7:45Okaasan watches TV, reads the newspaper, and occasionally talks on the phone with her friends, although each call is never more than 2 minutes, literally.
9:45Okaasan gets in the bath.
11:00 pmTypically, Okaasan will go to bed around 11:00, although if Otoosan has not yet arrived home, she will wait up until he does.

Day 2: Evening Work Shift

6:00 amOkaasan wakes up.
 Okaasan cooks Otoosan’s breakfast.
7:18Otoosan leaves for work (please note that he leaves at 7:18 exactly—
 this seemed to be of great importance to Okaasan).
7:20Okaasan eats breakfast and gets dressed.
8:00Okaasan cleans the house.
 Okaasan does the shopping.
12:00 pmOkaasan eats lunch and sometimes watches TV.
1:45 pmOkaasan leaves for work and does not return until 9:00 the following morning. Usually she will sleep at the hospital, but sometimes is up all night and doesn’t leep until the following evening. Yes, she often looks very tired when she returns, although she swears that she needs no sleep and is fine, apparently, according to Okaasan, because she eats a lot. Also while Okaasan did not include this in her schedule, she also prepares the evening’s dinner and leaves it out on the stove and table for whoever will be there that evening.

Day 3: Day off (Yes, okaasan actually takes a break . . . kind of)

6:30 amOkaasan wakes up.
 Okaasan cooks otoosan’s breakfast.
7:18Otoosan leaves for work (again, at exactly 7:18).
7:20Okaasan eats breakfast.
 Okaasan gets dressed.
8:00Okaasan does the washing. Okaasan works in the garden and yard.
 Okaasan cleans the cars and bicycles.
10:00 amOkaasan leaves for ceramics class.

Ceramics Class
At ceramics class Okaasan does ceramics and talks with her seven friends (again, please note that it was EXACTLY seven friends), all of whom have known each other and done ceramics together for about 15 years. However, the newest of Okaasan’s friends has only done ceramics for three years. I guess she must feel a bit of an outsider. I asked her what they talked about at ceramics class, assuming that since they’ve known each other for so long they must be really close. She said they tell each other if one side of the pot is too high, ask if they should make another flower vase, or discuss if they should flatten out the bottom of the cup, etc. When I asked if they talked about personal things like family, husband, hopes, dreams, desires, etc, she said, no, we are usually pretty busy just doing ceramics. However, about once or twice a year they all go on a trip somewhere to a bath, or to a mountain to see the fall colors, although I’m pretty sure it’s all in some way connected to ceramics. This is one Okaasan who doesn’t mess around!

5:00 pmOkaasan leaves ceramics class.
5:30Okaasan returns home and starts to cook dinner
7:00Okaasan eats dinner with whoever is home at the time.
7:45Okaasan watches TV and reads the newspaper.
 (Usually Masako will do the dishes—I mean, hey, Okaasan can’t do EVERYTHING!)
9:45Okaasan gets in the bath.
11:00 pmOkaasan goes to bed.

Well, you have now had the opportunity of seeing the typical schedule of my Okaasan. Occasionally some role reversal occurs. For example, on Sunday okaasan had a morning work shift and Otoosan did the laundry and cleaned the house. Sometimes Masako will cook dinner if Okaasan has the evening shift, but typically, this is how the story goes.

4. "Dragged" into Uchi (9.1)

On the way home from sweet potato picking the other day, Kirsten and I walked home together, and then she came into the house, at which time I feel like I had my first important breakthrough in the uchi/soto barrier.

We came in and talked with the okaasan for awhile, and when Kirsten left the room, Okaasan asked me if we wanted anything to eat. When she got back, I asked Kirsten if she wanted a nashi (pearlike apple), and then assumed that Okaasan would cut it, since I had never before had the privilege of cutting my own nashi. When she didn’t, I figured, “Hey, this is my chance.” I dashed into the kitchen, cut it up, served it, and that was that—all in all very exciting! For the first time since I’ve been here, I wasn’t the “guest”—I was sort of “dragged” into the uchi, which was really nice. . .

5. Why Can't I Give My Own Gifts? (9.3)

For about a month now a certain neighbor on our street has been coming to the Saito house almost daily, always bearing some type of gift, such as daikon (a large radish). A few weeks ago the woman’s son came over to my house for some English conversation, and the family then invited me to their home for dinner and English conversation, Round 2. Okaasan had expressed to me that she thought the constant gift-flow was a bit odd, and also stated that she had no desire to reciprocate. I asked Okaasan if I should bring anything with me, and she said no, not to worry about it. However, I did not want to go to the Watabe household empty-handed, especially considering all the gifts that she had brought to our family, so I bought a box of cookies to bring along with me. When Okaasan saw this, she quickly picked out one of her original ceramic flower pots, stuck in two flowers from the garden, and gave it to me to take as a gift in place of the cookies.

I asked her why she had done this, and she said that she didn’t want me to have to worry about bringing anything. I told her that I didn’t mind, but she insisted. I asked Masako about the meaning of Okaasan‘s actions, and she told me that Okaasan didn’t feel that I should have to bring something to represent the Saito family.

6. I'm Otoosan's "American Daughter (9.4)

Saturday night Okaasan told me that in November, one of otoosan’s subordinates from the company is getting married, and that she and Otoosan are going to be their formal go-betweens at the wedding ceremony. Sunday afternoon, they would be coming over to the house for lunch. Well, when I woke up on Sunday morning and went downstairs, there was an entire table covered with food that looked a little more “special” than that we normally ate. I walked into the tatami room (which as far as I had known was only used as Okaasan‘s art studio) and saw the table set with really nice dishes. In addition, extra cushy zabuton (cushions) had been set out. When I saw two pairs of really nice slippers out by the stairs, I realized that this was something special.

When the couple came in, they all sat down and basically just talked for eight hours. After about two hours I went upstairs to do some homework. When I came back downstairs a few hours later, Otoosan was completely wasted! His communication inhibitions had clearly gone out the window. When I came in he immediately launched into explaining to the couple the story of how when Okaasan wasn’t home (when she was working at the hospital) I prepared his dinner for him. He went on about what a good human being (ii hito) I was, and then said that I was his “American daughter”, and that he loved me just like he loved his real children. I didn’t know how much of it was the sake , but I was really touched and happy when he said that. I guess after about a month of living with the Saitos, it’s really like a family. I’d like to think that they no longer treat me as a guest, although I’m sure in some respects, that’s not really the case.

7. My Gourmet Breakfast and Its Aftermath (10.1)

About three weeks ago my family told me that they wanted to try a traditional American breakfast.   Would I cook it for them?   Of course, I said, and after debating what to make, ultimately decided on French toast, eggs, bacon, and home fries. The night before the breakfast, my Okaasan went to buy all of the ingredients I had written out for her, and even came back with maple syrup and cinnamon. Well, when it was time to eat, I suddenly got worried. What would happen if they didn’t like it?   Fortunately that was not the case, as I watched Okaasan put pieces of French toast on her plate, then pile eggs, bacon, potatoes and syrup on top, eating it like an open-faced sandwich.

I found this breakfast, and the experience of making norimaki sushi with okaasan a few days later to be two rather important milestones, because since this time I have been able to go into the kitchen and cook things on my own. My family now sees this as normal, and I don’t feel weird about it. In addition, I am now very frequently included in the daily decision-making processes of the family, whether it is what we should have for dinner or where to go on the Hato bus tour of Tokyo. And, I am actually given a choice of whether I want to attend a function or not, quite a change from being dragged around likes a puppy dog on a leash!

The other night Otoosan and I were alone for dinner again, and again I set the table, and served the food. He always eats his rice after everything else, and does the same thing with noodles.   When it’s just the two of us it’s not very formal at all. He usually reads the paper while I watch TV, and when one of us has something to say to the other, we say it. Okaasan never knows if he’ll be coming home for dinner, and usually tells me to eat whenever I feel like it, so sometimes I start before he comes home.

I had already finished eating, put my dishes away, and was watching TV when Otoosan finished eating what I had served him and then said “Mori-san, udon o tabemasu ” (I want some noodles) and stuck out his bowl. At first I was really surprised—it was the first time he had ever asked me to make something for him that the Okaasan hadn’t left out for me to cook or serve.

*   *   *   *   *
(Toward the end of the homestay) Okaasan and I have been getting really close lately. One day when my university didn’t have any classes, I went with her to her ceramics workshop, where she showed me a lot of the pieces that she and her friends will be selling in an upcoming festival. Afterwards we went to a little coffee shop nestled in the wooded mountains by a small waterfall, where she and her friends usually go after class. We had coffee and apple pie and talked a lot about the view, her secret recipe for pilaf rice, why the kids who were having pottery lessons wouldn’t talk to me, even though I was talking to them, and how lonely she’ll be when I leave.

8. I Find Out the Importance of Ancestors (10.2)

Even long after I had begun to accept my share of responsibilities in the Saito household, I was still unaware and unsure of my actual position within the family. I knew how I felt, but what I really wanted to know was how they felt. Masako’s newly-acquired interest in the materials on Japan I had been learning in class presented me with the perfect forum to gain some insight into these answers. I told her that while I understood the meanings of uchi/soto, honne/tatemae, and ura/omote, I occasionally had difficulty distinguishing between when to use the polite form versus the plain form and other such cultural intricacies. In addition, I often wondered if everybody always knows not just who is in their uchi, but exactly whose uchi they belong to as well.   Masako responded by asking if I felt as if I were a part of the Saito uchi. I told her that while I definitely felt more uchi than soto, I was aware that the family members occasionally paid me certain types of deference. Masako agreed, saying that while they did occasionally pay me some deference, the Saito’s definitely considered me “part of the family”, and had accepted me into their uchi.

But I still wondered why a couple in their mid-fifties would want to house a host student from the U.S. They had just moved into this house a few months earlier. Was I taken in merely because they had an extra room? I found this explanation rather doubtful. Masako had just recently returned from the U.S. where she had lived with two homestay families. Was my homestay the Saitos’ way of reciprocating? Possibly. On the other hand, Kenichi, the Saitos’ 27-year old son had just moved out of the house and into a Tokyo apartment. Was I serving as his substitute in the family, providing okaasan with some company on the days when both Masako and I returned home late? Yes, this has got to the answer, I figured.

Less than two weeks before the end of my homestay I decided to stop thinking in circles and find out the real answer. “Okaasan,” I asked. “Am I the first homestay student that you’ve ever had?” Her reply was short and to the point, “Yes, the first . . . and the last” (Hai, hajimete . . . to saigo). All of a sudden my heart began to pound. “Why, don’t you like me?” Okaasan started to laugh. “Of course we do,” she told me. “How could you ask such a thing?”

So I asked her, if I was the first student they had ever hosted, why did they decide to do it this year? She explained that after returning from the U.S. Masako wanted to be able to give an American student the same great experiences she had been given while living in Maryland and Indiana. But the plan backfired, Okaasan told me, when Masako accepted a new job requiring her to work very late three nights a week and usually on Saturdays as well. They felt guilty that Masako was never around to spend time with me, and said, for that reason; they would not take on another student. I explained to okaasan that while I certainly had fun spending time with Masako, I never felt lonely when she wasn’t home, mostly because I really enjoyed my time spent alone with Okaasan and Otoosan. She was very relieved to hear this.

Okaasan then explained that they would not host another student unless, of course, Chatto-san (my younger brother Chad) should ever decide to study abroad in Japan. In that case, they would be more than happy to have him live with them for the year. My interpretation of this statement was that I was, at this moment, viewed as being a member of two uchi, the Saitos and my own family. Because he is part of my family’s uchi my brother would be given the same entrée as I had to the Saito family’s uchi. This meant that even though I was the “only one” who was going to be able to have a homestay with the Saitos, the sibling members of my uchi were also included along with me as part of that “only one”.

As much as I consider myself a part of the Saitos and as much as they consider me a part of the family, it was also obvious to me that I had not yet attained anything like complete uchi hood. I continue to wonder, had I been able to stay longer with the family, how close I could have come tso being “part of” the Saito family. Perhaps over the years, as I continue my relationship with the Saito family, I will have the opportunity to find out.

9. I Am the Saito's First—and Last—Homestay Guest (10.3)

The timing of the class assignment on ancestor ritual was perfect because the Otoosan was planning to visit his family’s graves the week-end after I brought up the topic of ancestors. When I first asked about going to the graves I got different answers from Otoosan and Okaasan. When I asked Okaasan what time we would be leaving the next morning she told me it would just be me and Otoosan—she had to work, and she told me, “I won’t be going this year”. I thought it was a bit strange that she only went once a year, and also that she wouldn’t take off from work for a special occasion.

So the Otoosan and I went alone to the graves (ohaka). On the way there we went to a florist and picked out some really nice flowers. We didn’t talk much through the whole ride and I wasn’t sure if the ritual was supposed to be a somber one, comparable to a funeral in American society. When we got to the graveyard, and found the gravestone, of his father and mother, I helped the Otoosan clean out all the leaves that had fallen, and old flowers he had brought on prior visits. We then washed down the stone with water, put the new flowers in, and lit the candles and incense. Otoosan got down before the gravestone with his beads and prayed for about fifteen seconds—I just watched. Then he gave me another set of beads and told/asked me to pray. I wasn’t sure exactly who to pray to, so I just prayed. When I got back up, Otoosan was kind of laughing and we went on to a temple where priests with shaved heads hummed, chanted, and beat drums. Then we set out on the ride home.

In the car I actually got some useful information from Otoosan that I had been trying to get out of everyone else for the past two weeks. He said that ideally, he would go to the ohaka every month on the day that his mother and father had died. For example, if his Okaasan died on the 26th of May, he would want to go every month on the 26th. However, he said he usually can’t because he is often too busy, although he does try to go at least once a month to make sure that the site is always pretty. He doesn’t really worry about praying to the other ancestors on a regular basis because there are too many of them, but he reserves their prayer for the “special events” like the ancestor festival in August.

My host sister Masako and I were talking about Otoosan’s ancestors on the train ride home from Kabuki the other night, and I asked if Okaasan still prays to her family’s ancestors as well, or only to those in Otoosan’s family. This is when Masako told me the whole story—Okaasan’s father died in World War II when she was only one or two years old. After this her mother got remarried to another man, and left Okaasan, who eventually ended up living with her aunt and cousins. To this day she still has no contact with her real family and doesn’t even know if her mother is alive or not. I could not believe what I was hearing! I was so shocked, and felt so sad for Okaasan, as I looked at her sleeping on the train. Masako said that this is the reason Okaasan is so independent, which I guess actually explains a lot.

I believe Okaasan has intentionally made herself perpetually busy, and surrounds herself with people as often as possible so that she never has to sit alone thinking about her past. I think that one reason Okaasan and I are so close is that I provide her with constant companionship. She looks forward to my coming home every night and is saddened by the fact that the day of my return to America is approaching quickly. While I had always respected everything Okaasan has done for the Sato family, and all she has accomplished in her lifetime, there was always something missing. I always knew how busy she was, but I was never able to understand the motives behind her constant movement. That is, until I was privy to the uchi information that instantly made most of the pieces fit. 

Rosa (female, US)

1. Pushed into Uchi by My Guest(9.3)

It was a little over a month into my homestay when my friend Isabel came to stay for a few days with my host family. They moved me into the formal tatami guest room with Isabel, but they still treated me as being closer to them than Isabel. When okaasan asked me to help lay out the futon and covers for us to sleep on, I felt like they were treating me as part of the family. I also helped in the kitchen, when Isabel was eating with the family. Until that time I had never been in the kitchen much; I was just beginning to be able to enter to get a drink of water by myself. During Isabel’s visit I helped both in bringing food and dishes to the table, and in clearing off the table after dinner.

My host family constantly made little distinctions between Isabel and me. They would explain things to me (like what was going to happen next) and expect me to communicate everything to Isabel. They also gave Isabel the best portions of what they served, slightly better than mine. Isabel was also invited first into the bath, things like that. I noticed these differences, but wasn’t sure what to make of them at the time.

2. How did I Manage to Offend Everybody? (9.3)

When I came to my host family in Sept. my host mother introduced me to her friend Mira, and I began teaching English to her. Mira and I had conversations about all kinds of things, and through this Mira also became my friend. During the middle of the semester, my sister’s first baby was born, and I was to be the godmother. I decided to return to Los Angeles for the baptism, because being a godmother is really important in my family’s culture.

I was only going to be gone for 5 days, but I had so many gifts to bring with me that my luggage got pretty unwieldy. From the train station I could do fine, no problem, because there are carts. But my host family lives quite far from the train station, and I had too much luggage to make it onto the bus. My host mother runs a small store located in front of the house, and I unfortunately packed at the last minute. When I found I had too much stuff for the bus, I didn’t want to bother her while she was working. Instead I just called Mira and asked her if she would do me a big favor and drive me to the train station, since okaasan was working. Mira came by right away with the car.

But when Mira came, my host mother wouldn’t let her drive me to the train station. Instead she closed the store for the time it took and drove me herself to the station. I felt pretty terrible about this, because I was trying not to inconvenience okaasan. But somehow I think I managed to inconvenience everybody. To this day I don’t really understand why Mira couldn’t drive me to the train station.

Stuart (male, US)

1. I "Grew Up" Years in the Space of One Meal (10.1)

My family had never hosted a student before, and they were very concerned and tried hard to make me comfortable. But as time went by I became worried that we would never get past the point where we seemed stuck: of them treating me like a child who had to be watched over carefully. I felt constrained by my curfew, and felt that we couldn’t communicate very well, even though I had had enough experience in Japan and had studied enough Japanese that I thought we should be able to manage somewhat better.

I had already been to Japan two times before this, and had done a homestay with a family in Nagoya that was really great. Inevitably, I guess, I couldn’t help but compare the two families, and my present family didn’t stack up to be nearly as good as that one.

In our class on “The Japanese Family” we began to have assignments that we had to discuss with our homestay families. For one assignment I was supposed to ask my family to explain their genealogy to me, after we had studied about genealogies in class. This ended up provoking some interesting conversations, which went back and forth in discussing and comparing my American family and my host family. This was the beginning of a lot of conversations that began over the class assignments, but then continued into other subjects, and went well beyond the assignments.

There was also a major turning-point with the family, which happened through the councilors (student teaching assistants in the Japanese language classes). The councilors were Japanese students who had studied abroad, and they helped us by trouble-shooting with problems we had. About half-way through the semester I was still frustrated with being treated like a child by my family and finally went to talk to Fumi and Tets (the councilors) about it. They tossed plans back and forth for awhile, and finally came up with something they hoped would change the family’s image of me. In line with this I was supposed to carry out the following: I was to put on a complete dinner, with all the food preparations, including getting the food, cooking, and cleaning up, to be totally done by me. The family would be complete guests at the dinner.

I chose an American dinner, invited the family, and we decided on the date. I also invited the councilors, as my friends. I then planned the menu, did the shopping, and even had my own family send me some recipies. For the dinner I made lasagna, which I served with French bread, string beans, my mom’s special jello salad with fresh fruit, and topped it off with hot fudge sundaes for desert—the works. Throughout the meal the councilors related to me just naturally like they did at school, (and like I was the kind of person for whom it was perfectly ordinary to carry out this kind of meal). I knew that the family liked the meal, but I had no idea if the councilors’ plan was working or not until, as I was clearing up the dishes, the otoosan suddenly tossed me the car keys and told me it was fine for me to use the car to drive my friends back to the train station. It seemed I had grown up years in the space of that meal! Of course now I was really panicked—wondering if I could handle my new-found maturity. But I also knew that, after all this effort, I had to carry this off. So I got in the car and inched my way very slowly and very carefully to the station.

After this, things changed dramatically in my host family. My curfew ended. My cooking became a standard feature in family events, and I tried out every dish I knew (and then some). It also became my duty to pick up my host brother or sister at the train station when they arrived late. Being able to have my own role and duties in the family made me feel much more comfortable. And throughout this time, our discussions continued. I had been planning to stay on in Japan after the semester ended to try to get a business internship. During the last month my family invited me to stay on with them after my semester ended. I felt that they truly meant this invitation, so I accepted.

2. Not just a "Host Family" (10.3)

The last part of my homestay seemed like the culmination of everything that had happened before. I felt very comfortable with having my own role and duties in the family. Throughout this time the discussions that we had started early on continued, but became much deeper. I had been planning to stay on in Japan after the semester ended to try to get a business internship. During the last month my family invited me to stay on with them after my semester ended. I felt that they truly meant this invitation, so I accepted.

In finally being able to explain to my family all my feelings about my Japanese background, (Japanese American) “identity” and thought processes, and other questions, my host family has started to help me out in my questioning. In doing so, they (the parents) have enjoyed learning how unique their culture really is in the world and its good and negative aspects. They have also learned to appreciate my upbringing—and are thinking of ideas of how to raise their children to be a little more “worldly”.

It’s difficult to explain in a couple paragraphs; however, I can honestly say that I am becoming a close friend with my host parents. Our conversations have been getting deeper, more personal, and sometimes emotional. The net effect has been an incredible bridging of cultures. Before coming here, my family (in the States) went through a lot of turmoil for various reasons. Well, during that time, I really learned the value of my family and we all became closer. However, just as I came upon this realization, I had to come to Japan. So after sharing with my host family my “re-awakening” into the value of family, they seem to have reached out to really be my family in Japan, not just a “host family.

Erika (female, Germany)

1. Taking on Chores, Family G (8.2)

Two years ago I stayed with Family “G”. I was taken into this family on my own initiative after meeting Mrs. G in Germany during discussions about cross-cultural psychology when she was visiting my university. They did not want to take any money from me. I received the same kind of support from this family that one usually receives from their own family. I really felt like a family member.

But the situation was not like this in the beginning. When I first came I received a lot of deference from all the family members, especially the mother. The mother taught psychology at a university in Kobe, the father was a lawyer, two boys were then in senior high school, and the oldest son had recently entered the university. It was my first time in Japan and I was shy. Later the family told me that this had an impact on their behavior. I was always served tea and of course meals. Even when I was studying in my room the mother came and brought me fruit or tea. I also could not speak Japanese; therefore I was unable to join the family discussions. The family members had to talk to me especially in English.

After I offered to help with household chores I got more and more involved in the family’s life.I took on the same household duties as the two boys, and pretty soon things shifted so that I no longer took the first turn in the bath; the parents did. Gradually, the mother stopped treating me specially as well. I no longer had a special role in the family and got more involved in family matters. Nevertheless the mother was good at detecting my feelings and took time to talk to me when I felt sad.

For the most part the homestay went okay. Every morning at ten o’clock the group of nine students, each staying with a different family in this small town, gathered at the community center, and from there a driver would bus us to various places. We met a calligrapher; were taken to the home of a potter, where we learned how to throw clay; and even went to a middle school. Once we went to the nursery school (hoikuen) where my okaasan Yoshiko works.

The evenings we spent with our “families”. Mine was pretty interesting. The otoosan worked in the town office, and he would drink sake in the evening with his father, then retire to his study to listen to jazz. In addition to okaasan there were three children, two girls in high school and a boy of eleven.

Looking back I can think of a lot that is worth being embarrassed about, even in that short time, but I’ll just share one short example that sticks out in my mind. The Ueharas lived about four kilometers outside of town, and both parents started work early. Due to the timing of my schedule, that meant either otoosan or okaasan would have to take time off work to drive back, pick me up, and bring me to my scheduled ten o’clock meeting. I thought I’d be less of a burden if I could get around on my own and asked to borrow one of their mountain bikes that, as far as I could tell, no one ever used. Besides, I liked the idea of the ride, with a little time to myself, and a little bit of “freedom”. Of course they insisted that driving me was no trouble, that it was too far for me to go by bike, and what if I got lost? But I was adamant and they gave in.

Then, after three days of commuting on my own, I got sick. It was nothing more than an attack of hay fever, and it turned out that a day off the travels with the other students and having a little time to myself was just what I needed to get back on track. But after that I didn’t go back to using the bike.

Of course, it wasn’t until much later that I gave serious consideration to how that episode had appeared to the family. And how I had made them look to their community. At the very least it was probably embarrassing for them that I was riding four kilometers into town on a bike, rather than them taking proper care of their newly arrived guest by driving him where he was supposed to be. Even worse, after allowing me to run loose on the bike I then became too sick to attend the daily activity. Even though I thought I was “helping them out,” by riding the bike, they obviously felt responsibility for my going to town by myself on the bike. In fact, getting sick was like having all the okaasan‘s worries coming true. She in particular seemed to take responsibility for my allergy attack, and it struck me as curious that no amount of assurances seemed to allay her concerns.

If I had it to do over again, I would have accepted the ride and arranged for some other mountain biking experience, perhaps with their son. At the time I thought such risks as getting lost and becoming ill were my own. Now it seems like there is no such thing—especially since I was a guest in their home.

2. Otoosan: Baby or King? Family K (8.3)

I was taken into Family “K” on a homestay through an exchange program, on a paid basis. The mother owns a shop, which is located in the house. The father is a tanshinfunin (living away from the family, on a company transfer), working in a company in Niigata and returning once a month. The daughter works during the daytime and studies at the university in the evening, and the younger brother also works. I will describe the once-a-month visit when the father returns home. In this family the mother is called okaasan by all family members and the father is called otoosan.

When the otoosan comes home on his monthly visit, he arrives late in the evening around 11:00 p.m. Usually at this time the okaasan is already in bed, but on these Fridays she stays up. When he is coming, she does not show her tiredness, even when she seemed to be very tired before. She warms up dinner for him, brings it to him, asks him if he’d like to drink sake, and warms it again when it isn’t the right temperature. The otoosan sits and eats and talks about his job or about various news. Mostly he talks about the latest progress in his research on three-dimensional cloth. In doing this he is smiling softly and talking in semi-polite language. He is totally dominating the topic. Sometimes he brings an omiyage (gift) from Niigata like a guest or like he is returning from a journey. We all sit around him (except for the son, who never joins the family) and listen to him.

From time to time he asks for sake or something else. The okaasan is always moving back and forth from kitchen to table. Sometimes the daughter or I am asked to help her. In between trips she sits down and listens, her eyes wide open, as she is looking admiringly at the otoosan. She makes short comments in semi-polite language. When the otoosan decides to go to bed, we all get up and go to bed.

Everyone eats breakfast when he or she gets up. But everyone will run into otoosan. During his return week-ends the otoosan seems like he is on vacation, with nothing to do. He sits in the dining room (the living-tatami room is never used by the family) all day. Sometimes he prepares the meals or cleans up the stairs. His face is always smiling. But when his daughter wants to talk about some family matters she is concerned about, he turns toward the newspaper.

We all have Saturday night dinner together. On such week-ends we have especially good dishes. The okaasan has been thinking for days what she can cook on such week-ends, whereas she usually cooks spontaneously with what she has at home. Again the okaasan is the person who listens and serves, while the otoosan starts talking on topics like golf or work. At the end the okaasan mentions some topics from the neighborhood. After dinner everyone goes off and does his or her tasks, and we enter the bath in random order.

Late Sunday afternoon the otoosan returns to Niigata, after having an early dinner, getting some meals prepared and obento (take-out lunch) wrapped to take back, and daily life with the okaasan, me, and the late-returning daughter and son starts up again.

When the father is at home he is the center of attention. The okaasan shifts between relaxation (sitting with legs up on the chair) and tension when serving. She holds her feelings back before the otoosan, while before us she does not. During the week when otoosan is absent okaasan will not try so much to supply everyone with everything. The returning otoosan is a special occasion. The otoosan is always smiling, showing only feelings of hunger, thirst, and joy. In a very sweet way he is letting himself be indulged. He keeps his feelings disciplined and he shifts between a soto role (of guest) and the uchi role of being indulged. He behaves only toward the okaasan in an uchi manner, asking for things to eat or drink. But he doesn’t want to be involved with family matters and he turns to the newspaper when his daughter wants to discuss something with him. He never asks how I am doing. The only questions he asks me are informative questions about Germany. To me he shows himself as the authority figure. In his presence I feel like I am in a soto situation and treated with soto behavior.

In the presence of the otoosan, even though it is an uchi situation, the okaasan is behaving in a soto manner. She is disciplining herself, not showing her emotions, and indulging (amayakasu-ing) the otoosan.

The okaasan does not seem unhappy or stressed on such week-ends; moreover she seems to enjoy her role. What makes her expend so much effort on giving deference to (indulging) the otoosan? The reason she told me is that otoosan is stressed at work. Since he has to control himself in this soto situation, she indulges him (amayakasu) enabling intimacy for him, and giving him the feeling of home. Since the otoosan is so rarely at home, this seems to be very important for the family.

This okaasan seems to understand her role in the family much differently from Mrs. G (in Erika’s Family G). When I came to Family K it was my second trip to Japan. I was already used to Japanese culture, older and no longer so shy. On the first day they told me how things should be done. They explained that they did not expect me to help with the family chores, but they did expect me to wash my own clothes and clean my room. This made me feel separated from family life, so sometimes I offered to wash the dishes. And sometimes the okaasan would allow me to do so. But often she told me that I should go and study, since this was my purpose for coming to Japan. I understood that my role is that of being an exchange student whose purpose is to study about Japan. The family provided me with what they think is material for me to study about Japan (like how to wear a kimono, about the tea ceremony and Japanese dance).

The mother pays me a lot of deference. She makes an extra western breakfast for me. When I come home from the university she serves me tea and sits beside me to chat as if she has a lot of time. In the evening she makes dinner for me and since she is recently on a diet and not eating in the evening she sits beside me and talks to me like at tea time. At first I thought her deference was like wrapping. But she is the same toward her children, especially toward her son, even more than toward me. Toward her daughter she is sometimes rather strict. If the son opens the drawer and something falls out she will rush to pick it up. When the son comes home and screams “Oi!” the okaasan comes running. He will then eat very fast, not saying anything to anyone. Soon he disappears from the room and the okaasan draws a deep breath.

The okaasan is the kind of person who soon tells someone what she is thinking and she initially asked me many questions about myself. She talks openly to me about her feelings and opinons, and relaxes in front of me, for example, cutting her nails. She speaks in plain, not polite, language to me. I am sure I am “inside” in this sense, that we share too many things for me to be “outside”.

The okaasan acts every day toward me and others as if she does not mind doing all this deference. Only in the evening she shows us her tiredness. Every day she is the same nice person with the same smiling face as she gives deference. However, she herself receives scarcely any deference. Sometimes from the otoosan she takes it, from her daughter she asks it, but from me she rarely accepts it.

There is a difference between her behavior towards her family members and her customers who come to the shop and to whom she offers tea. Towards these guests she speaks in very polite language and gives deference more diligently. Afterwards she reports to us that she is tired.

The shop gives the okaasan many possibilities to make close friends. When these friends come she serves them tea, and then remains sitting and talks and laughs a lot, receiving presents and favors from them. Since she is running the shop she has no time to go shopping, so her friends provide her with various materials and news. That is her chance “to be indulged” (amaeru). Her shop is her uchi and she calls the shop “watashi no heya” (my room).

3. My Family Doesn't Act Japanese, Family G (8.3)

I will explain the routine in my first family toward the end of my stay. The father is very busy and comes home late, around 10:00 p.m. When he comes home in the evening, the mother warms up the dinner, if he hasn’t eaten yet. He changes his clothes from formal to informal during this time. Then he eats, with the mother sitting beside him and they exchange daily news in informal language. They laugh a lot, and sometimes flirt. After they finish eating, they take a bath together. After the bath they disappear into their work room. If they are not too busy, the mother will prepare a midnight snack for all of us. If they are busy, she prepares something for him, since he always gets hungry around midnight.

During the week-end things are different. The mother and father prepare most of the dishes together, which means she gives him directions for how to do things. On Sunday the boys get up very late. Usually the parents have breakfast together, sometimes with me. After breakfast we sit in the living room drinking coffee (mostly prepared by the father), listening to music and reading the newspaper. The father starts reading what he likes and the mother starts with the advertisements for supermarkets. He hands her each part of the newspaper after he finishes reading it. He sits at “his place”, a comfortable chair by the window with a view of the bay of Osaka and Kobe. If we sit for a while longer, the mother serves us tea, and either the father or I clean up the table afterwards.

We all take dinner together. Again, the father has helped in cooking, whereas I have cleaned the bathroom and the boys looked after the dog. During dinner the topics for discussion are events in the news or any other topic, usually raised by one of the two children and discussed by all of us. Also they discuss problems any of the children has, or family matters. After dinner everyone takes his or her own plates, the father and I wash the dishes and the mother cleans up the kitchen. Then there is relaxation time in the kotatsu (table with heater to warm one’s legs) with fruits, cakes or tea, prepared by the mother and brought by the father. During the week there is no rank order in taking baths. But on week-ends usually the father or mother goes first, followed by me and after that first the younger and then the older son.

In this family all the members experience the same sort of attention. All the family members seem to be relaxed. And all seem to contribute to the well-being of the family through fulfilling their tasks. The mother is not the only one who is doing things for others, or cooking or serving. Usually everyone available will put a hand in.

I was also expected to notice when there was something to help with in the household, or when it was necessary to do something for others. I got involved in the cycle of giving and receiving. In that family a person who was tired, ill, or in a stressful situation would get deference from the others, especially from the mother. It was never tension-related for me, since I was never the only person receiving deference. The mother had more responsibility, and usually did things for others, even when she was tired after work. But she also received deference (meaning people did things for her) when she showed her tiredness. Then the boys would try to do their tasks more diligently, so that things went smoothly. The father would do things for her, as I would also, such as helping with the washing or cooking a German dinner or just doing additional things to spoil her a little.

Elena (female, Latvia )

1. Hearing the Truth from a Stranger (9.4)

I came to Japan several times with my family while I was growing up, and each time I came I did a homestay. When I was on a homestay in junior high school I had a male high school student as a Japanese tutor, who helped me with my Japanese, and he came to my room to do this. My host okaasan never said anything to me about this, but after awhile a friend of the okaasan ‘s told me that I should study with the tutor in the main room (chanoma) where all the family gathered, rather than in my room. Since this woman was someone I hardly knew her words came as a total shock to me, and I wondered why the okaasan hadn’t told me directly. Since I was able to talk about all kinds of things in simple Japanese with the okaasan while I helped her with dinner preparations each night, I didn’t think the problem here was one of language difficulty. In this situation in my own country a student would use her room to study with a tutor, to avoid inconveniencing everyone else in the family, and I did this because I was thinking of the convenience of the family. That this created a bad result and that the family didn’t tell me about it directly was a shock that I remember well even now.

Mark (male, US)

1. I've Got No Complaints (8.1)

Things are going just dandy with my host family. They are very nice, provide me with just about anything I need (often more), and pretty much just leave me to do my own thing. The meals are great, and my only complaint could be that they feed me too much. My room is nice and I am perfectly free to come and go as I please.

2. Still a Guest (8.2)

I don’t really see or interact with my family a whole lot, but I understand they are busy and have their own things to do and they understand the same about me. I am basically still a guest, although I guess I am becoming “friends” with them. I like the situation. It’s comfortable without being too deep.

3. Never Getting into Gear: The Endless Good Guest (10.3)

Here is the update on my homestay. My homestay pretty much continued on as described previously (See Mark 1, 2). Though I never really interacted with the family much outside of home life, I came to get to know them little by little through daily conversations. I wouldn’t exactly say that we bonded or became friends, but we learned a little about each other.

One thing I found about my family was they weren’t as close-knit as I expected. Most of their time together seemed spent in the living room, watching TV, etc. It always seemed to me that conversations were short and not often held. Especially when I was involved, it was as though no one really knew what we should talk about or how to approach different subjects, so most of it went unsaid. It wasn’t as if they were unfriendly or indifferent, it just appeared to me as if they were not used to such open communication and conversations. Most of their communication seemed to be understood at a non-verbal level.

My host father usually woke up a little after I left for school, went to work at the restaurant he owned until late and returned home usually after I had gone to sleep. I very rarely saw him or spoke with him. The two children also were not around much. They woke up, ate breakfast and were gone before I got up. I sometimes ate dinner with them, and that was when most of our chatting was done, usually about the day’s events or what sorts of foods I like or can’t eat, and so on. It was always pleasant, but was also limited by my lack of being able to speak Japanese.

The mother was the person whom I interacted with most. She treated me very nicely and pretty much catered to my every need, which was an adjustment for me. I grew up mostly taking care of myself: laundry, cleaning, cooking, etc. I couldn’t remember the last time someone else washed my clothes for me, so that was a little strange. At first I was uncomfortable having to rely on another person for those things, and it is something even today I don’t like that much.

But I got used to it, and found that she really enjoyed doing those things. As I found out, that was how she treated everyone in the family. She catered to everyone’s needs and took care of everyone in the family. So by including me in that way, I gradually accepted it as being part of the family, not as a privilege of being a guest. Not allowing her to do these things for me, in a way, would deprive her of the opportunity to be who she was.

Over the five months I lived with the family came to realize that I wasn’t really being treated like a guest. I was being treated like a family member, in many ways. But their idea of ‘family’ was a little different than the preconceived notion of a Japanese ‘family’ that I had before coming.

After I left Japan, I didn’t really stay in touch with them for the next year and a half until my graduation. I think maybe a letter or two was all that was exchanged. When I came back to Japan a couple months after finishing college, I stopped in to surprise them in their restaurant. When I walked in, my host father recognized me right away, but didn’t seem too phased by the fact that I was back. My host mother, however was speechless for several minutes. I don’t think she really ever expected to see me again. Since then I’ve kept in touch with them every so often. We talk on the phone once a month and get together once or twice every couple months (usually only with the host mother) and have dinner. The relationship pretty much picked up where it left off, and she still continues to worry about me and tries to spoil me. Not a birthday or Christmas goes by without my receiving some kind of present (usually fairly nice and expensive).

Over the past three years, the family seems to have changed a bit. The son has moved out and lives and works on his own. According to my host mother, he seldom comes back and visits though he lives only a little over an hour away. The daughter is also soon to move out, but I’m not sure when. I think this is makes my host mother a little sad, as her role as caterer and provider for her family is changing. It’s as if she were losing part of her identity each time she loses a responsibility or chore in her daily routine. But I think she’ll take it in stride. I just hope she learns to use her new free time to take care of herself and her own interests.

I’ll continue to keep in touch with them throughout my life. I also hope they will someday come visit me when I return to my home. Their generosity and the relationship we had (and still have) was very comfortable and helped me adjust to life in Japan at my own pace. It was a perfect situation for the type of person I am: a person who tends not to rely on others and is highly independent. They gave me a home to stay in and introduced me to many wonderful aspects of Japanese life, but at the same time gave me the room to learn and experience on my own.

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5