I've had two experiences recently that have given me new insight into Japanese Culture. I'm not really sure what that insight is yet. Maybe sharing the experiences will help me figure it out. I joined the Hula Club. It's a lot of fun, but it makes me a little homesick because it's run very similarly to the Belly Dancing Club: members of the club teach dances and technique at meetings and the members are a bunch of awesome girls :)))). We had a performance last weekend (unfortunately, I decided not to participate so as to have more time with Phoebe and Mom), and at the meeting last Thursday we watched video of the performance. When we watch videos of performances in the Belly Dancing Club there's usually an emphasis on talking about how hot we look with short interruptions for constructive criticism. Maybe we're just conceited, but the Hula Club took a radically different approach. After watching the video the club leaders asked for comments and criticism. When no one volunteered we watched videos of the advanced group's dances and the club leaders viciously criticised themselves, saying things like "that was the worst," "I'm embarrassed to watch this," "we were totally off there" (ok that one is not so startling). To my amateur eyes, the performances we pretty good, too! Anyway, then we watched the video of the beginner's dance again. This time the club leaders asked anyone who thought their performance was good and with few errors to raise their hand. No one did. Then they asked for explanations of what was wrong "giving particular criticism to yourself." That got people talking. I can see how it's effective to be forced to notice your own mistakes, and these girls are actually nice, not as scary as they sound here, but this seemed like a really stressful way to get feedback. Not only were there very few positive comments, but being so self-critical seemed destructive, especially given the previous emphasis placed on having confidence in our dancing. Obviously there's something cultural going on here, I'm just not sure what it is yet.
On Saturday I went to nearby Shinagawa Aquarium with Jess and Tomo, my conversation partner from Madison who was home visiting his family. The aquarium is pretty nice, with several tunnels made of magnified/distorted glass so you can see fish, turtles, stingrays, eels, small sharks and seals (not all in the same tank) close up. We also went to a dolphin show. It was amazing, not only are dolphins beautiful and clearly flawlessly designed, they are very good at somersaults and waving their caudal (? is this the tail fin?) fins in the air. But the truly entertaining thing about going to the aquarium with Tomo was that at almost every tank he would point to the animal swimming inside and ask "have you ever eaten that?" Or "I hear that is delicious, but it's very expensive." I know that Japan has an ancient fishing culture, but this just seemed at odds with the preservation-centered atmosphere of the aquarium - located on "reclaimed" land that used to be sea. I've never thought of going to an aquarium as an appetite whetting exercise. I like meat, but I don't like to think of eating a specific animal, especially not one that I've just decided is cute or pretty or whatever. It seems to me that appreciating a fish in an aquarium setting and in a restaurant setting should remain separate. On the other hand, maybe that's just me trying to avoid the reality of the situation of eating animals and the (sweeping generalization) Japanese attitude is actually more healthy and connected to reality. Regardless, these are
delicious looking, right?
I've had two experiences recently that have given me new insight into Japanese Culture. I'm not really sure what that insight is yet. Maybe sharing the experiences will help me figure it out. I joined the Hula Club. It's a lot of fun, but it makes me a little homesick because it's run very similarly to the Belly Dancing Club: members of the club teach dances and technique at meetings and the members are a bunch of awesome girls :)))). We had a performance last weekend (unfortunately, I decided not to participate so as to have more time with Phoebe and Mom), and at the meeting last Thursday we watched video of the performance. When we watch videos of performances in the Belly Dancing Club there's usually an emphasis on talking about how hot we look with short interruptions for constructive criticism. Maybe we're just conceited, but the Hula Club took a radically different approach. After watching the video the club leaders asked for comments and criticism. When no one volunteered we watched videos of the advanced group's dances and the club leaders viciously criticised themselves, saying things like "that was the worst," "I'm embarrassed to watch this," "we were totally off there" (ok that one is not so startling). To my amateur eyes, the performances we pretty good, too! Anyway, then we watched the video of the beginner's dance again. This time the club leaders asked anyone who thought their performance was good and with few errors to raise their hand. No one did. Then they asked for explanations of what was wrong "giving particular criticism to yourself." That got people talking. I can see how it's effective to be forced to notice your own mistakes, and these girls are actually nice, not as scary as they sound here, but this seemed like a really stressful way to get feedback. Not only were there very few positive comments, but being so self-critical seemed destructive, especially given the previous emphasis placed on having confidence in our dancing. Obviously there's something cultural going on here, I'm just not sure what it is yet.
On Saturday I went to nearby Shinagawa Aquarium with Jess and Tomo, my conversation partner from Madison who was home visiting his family. The aquarium is pretty nice, with several tunnels made of magnified/distorted glass so you can see fish, turtles, stingrays, eels, small sharks and seals (not all in the same tank) close up. We also went to a dolphin show. It was amazing, not only are dolphins beautiful and clearly flawlessly designed, they are very good at somersaults and waving their caudal (? is this the tail fin?) fins in the air. But the truly entertaining thing about going to the aquarium with Tomo was that at almost every tank he would point to the animal swimming inside and ask "have you ever eaten that?" Or "I hear that is delicious, but it's very expensive." I know that Japan has an ancient fishing culture, but this just seemed at odds with the preservation-centered atmosphere of the aquarium - located on "reclaimed" land that used to be sea. I've never thought of going to an aquarium as an appetite whetting exercise. I like meat, but I don't like to think of eating a specific animal, especially not one that I've just decided is cute or pretty or whatever. It seems to me that appreciating a fish in an aquarium setting and in a restaurant setting should remain separate. On the other hand, maybe that's just me trying to avoid the reality of the situation of eating animals and the (sweeping generalization) Japanese attitude is actually more healthy and connected to reality. Regardless, these are 
delicious looking, right?
ok. i giggled at Tomo's reactions in the aquarium. maybe it was just him? would his sibs say - oh that is SO tomo-esque? poor little hula girls having to criticize themselves. i so relate to the having an insight but not knowing what it is. i might steal that line.
ReplyDeleteYeah I've heard a lot of Japanese people will go to aquariums and shit and talk about how they want to eat everything. Then I get hungry. Then I stuff my face. Then I get fat(ter).
ReplyDeleteHi,
ReplyDeleteI'm surprised to find this article. You wrote about me!
I remember pointing to some fish such as balloon fish and saying so then. Of course I don't say so pointing to fish Japanese people don't eat (such as dolphin). But some kinds of fish in an aquarium in Japan look good both for eating and for watching or are good for them in fact, and then some Japanese people (like me) are talking about them as a kind of foods, in an aquarium.
However it's not usual.