Japan Series (Part 3): Local

Japan’s cherry blossom season brought a new freshness to the air, light and pink. A new school year begun, bringing with it excited newcomers with their rose-colored glasses. I felt strangely possessive of my town, my neighbourhood, like a dog circling its territory. People knew me everywhere on campus, and I admit that I was selfishly relieved to see I still held the best Japanese out of all the American - European foreigners.

While this competitive spirit subdued a little, I realized during my time in Japan it never left. In Tokyo, thanks to a family friend, I got to have a meeting with the European Union embassy’s delegate to Japan. He was a tall Belgium man, and when we talked about the lifelong pursuit of bridging cultures in this unique country, his words stuck with me: “You get over the feeling of being an outsider, but no matter how long you’re here or how good you are, you will always feel inadequate. It’s all worth it, of course, in the end.”

Outside, blinking back tears in the sleek, wet streets in Minato-ku, I felt like I was teetering on the edge of some cruel dream. This country made me hate my foreignness, curse my skin and features that would always earn me wary glances no matter how many years I stayed. I was always turned outwards, desperate for Japanese approval, for my proper manners, for my practiced and perfect “Japanese-ness”. Pride came from praise and having earned their trust.

My Japanese boyfriend would joke that I was a spy because of my three passports. This created intrigue, and with my easy conversation in his language, I became a girlfriend he could bring to family and company dinners, charming his closest friends to bask a little longer in that image I so sought after. For a picture all together that confirmed: “I’ve done it. I’m a local.”

Those moments in which everything disappeared, where I was treated as an equal, trusted and loved, it was then that the world became beautiful. It was always an intimate moment. The streets spoke back to me with their affectionate memories, and my friends displayed particular acts of thoughtfulness.

My ego melted away, and I could fall into the feeling of adoration, and this world would catch me. Gentle, quiet, unique. I believe I did become a local in Japan, but it is a status that depends not on my personal competitive pride, but on the ability to erase oneself. It is bliss, pure and fleeting. It is the act of accepting a nation wholly, embracing its beauty and appreciating its people. By living in different places, it is this practice that I seek to recreate: continually turning myself outwards.

"It's all worth it, in the end."