The lies we tell...

Golden Week, true to its name, was definitely worth a gold medal in my book. One day of work, two days of good rest in Tokyo, and three days spent with S in Wakayama on a little trip to the countryside. We did the southeast section of Wakayama-- Nachi falls, a short hike on Kumano-dou, Doryoko Gorge, and a couple of famous shrines.

The scenery was beautiful, and we had two days of nice weather, sandwiching a day of pouring rain, which was smartly spent under cover on a boat through the gorge. But as corny as it sounds, the best part of the trip was the company. It seems like no matter what we do, whether we're on a bus or eating raw fish together or soaking in an onsen, every minute with S is so much fun. The longer we're together, the more I keep thinking, ok, this can't get any better, and then it does. Well, my love life was not to be the point of this entry, but as you can see, I'm constantly distracted.

I don't often think much about my heritage, and I'm rarely confused about where I come from or who I am. I've always been so American-- I AM so American, that it's never been a problem. But in just the past week, I've had two experiences that have made me identify with a "Korean side" that I'm not sure is even really a side. Maybe it's just a loose identification.

Experience no. 1 occurred in Wakayama, where S actually "stuck out" as a gaijin. In Tokyo, people don't pay a mere glance at foreigners anymore, but in the countryside, I feel like S should have attached a sign to his forehead that said, "GAIJIN DA." And since I was with him, I got the obvious questions. "Dochira kara kimashita ka?" to which I always answer "America." But that answer is never satisfactory. The next question is anticipated. "Nikkeijin desu ka?" (Are you Japanese-American?) "Okaasan wa nihonjin desu ka?" (Is your mother Japanese?) And I found myself answering with little white lies that eventually turned into full-blown stories. By the end of one day in Wakayama, I was a fourth-generation Japanese-American whose family originally came from Toyota-shi (where my host family lived). I was raised in America and spoke Japanese because I studied it in university (that part was true). So why did I lie? Partly because I felt more comfortable being Japanese than Korean in the Japanese countryside, and partly because I am tired of explaining. But how many times do you need to tell a lie before you begin forgetting the truth?

Experience no. 2 occurred back in Tokyo with S' friend who is now living in Seoul, having moved there from Tokyo last summer. His girlfriend is Japanese, and he loves Japan and really misses living in Tokyo, understandably so. But though it is easy to understand why he, as a Frenchman, may prefer Japan to Korea, as I, as an American, might as well, I found myself inwardly if not outwardly becoming defensive of Korea and its people. The tensions between Japan and Korea are still quite strong, especially recently over the controversial island of Takeshima, or Tok-do, depending on how you're siding, and unfortunately, it's quite hard for his Japanese girlfriend and him to avoid some anti-Japanese sentiment. Anyway, my point is not who is right or wrong in the history of relations between Japan and Korea. That is a conclusion for someone with either more knowledge or more experience to determine. But I was surprised that I felt myself getting increasingly defensive with every criticism of Koreans that I heard, whether it was a valid point or not. It wasn't even a conscious reaction, but more a feeling in the pit of my stomach. I was thinking (to myself of course while keeping my "tatemae" in tact), who are they to talk about Korea and Koreans? What do they know? When in fact, they probably know more than I do-- they have at least lived there. And so what does that make me? A hypocrite? Or a victim of circumstance?

And here I am. An American living in Japan and telling old Japanese men in the countryside that I am Japanese, though it seems as though I still have a sizable piece of Korea lurking somewhere in my gut. Confused? If not you are a better person than I.