"Is this the Japans?" "Have I made it to the Japans?" I remember this line uttered by the amazed English navigator, John Blackthorne, the main character of James Clavell's novel, Shogun. Although I eventually read the book, my first encounter with the work was the 1980 CBS television miniseries of the same name starring Richard Chamberlain as pilot Blackthorne. As a young boy steeped on boy's adventure stories, this had everything one could want; Portuguese pirates, samurai, beautiful maidens, plotting Jesuits, ninjas, warlords, battles, betrayals and triumphs. It is a terrific story and enshrined Japan in my imagination.
In a surprising turn, the director of the CBS miniseries decided to maintain Clavell's insistence on using extensive conversations in Japanese (rendered in the novel by italicized romaji) without subtitles or translations. The idea was that Blackthorne was an alien in the land and did not speak the language. His gradual understanding and the effort it took was a key point in the development of the story, as was his relationship with his interpreter and teacher. Having rewatched the series recently, I was struck by just how much effort they put into making the dialogues clear without ever offering direct translations. The viewer had to infer meaning from a gradually increasing set of expressions. It is a testament to the pacing of the story that this never felt pedantic or burdensome. If it was occasionally frustrating, that was exactly how Blackthorne was feeling.
My chief concern before embarking on my own trip was the issue of language. How much would I need to know? Would we have a translator with us at all times, or would we have to manage on our own? My early investigations indicated that even thought Japanese children are taught some English in school, few adults speak it (or will admit that they speak it) outside of Tokyo. Even then, since their education is mainly focused on reading and writing, it may be difficult to communicate. I began my studies with Rosetta Stone, the online language teaching tool. I spent many hours working through the lessons and practicing speaking using my computer and a microphone. However, in one glaring omission, I was allowed to select from three options how the text would be displayed, hiragana/katakana only, hiragana/katakana and kanji, or romaji (the roman alphabet phonetic renderings that Clavell used). In the interests of expediency, I selected romaji, which I later realized was a big mistake.
No one in Japan uses romaji routinely. It does appear on signs occasionally, but is of little use when trying to communicate with native speakers. In fact, our language classes were all taught using hiragana and katakana, the two syllabaries (not alphabets per se) that are used in Japan to spell out words phonetically. Kanji, a much more complex logographic system, has many more than 1,500 distinct word pictograms and usually presents a significant obstacle to foreigners becoming literate in Japanese. However, by spelling out words phonetically it is possible to be make oneself understood and reading signs or documents becomes at least somewhat possible, since many include at least a bit of hiragana in addition to kanji.
Blackthorne's remark about reaching the Japans reverberated in my memory shortly after I arrived. When entering customs in Narita airport I was presented with signs that said (in English) Welcome to Japan. Westerners often think of Japan in the singular; a single island, a single nation, a single language, a single history. Even the flag with its iconic red spot in a field of white present an image of a stark singularity, a unified totality. There is a Japanese term that captures this idea succinctly; shimaguni - island nation. But is it really? Or is that just a simplification?
In causal conversation, one of the instructors at AIT mentioned "the Japanese archipelago" instead of simply saying Japan. I knew already that Japan was actually made up of four principal islands: Honshu, the main island, Kyushu to the west, Shikoko to the south and Hokkaido to the north. However, if you don't live there it is easy to forget this and think instead of only one island called Japan. (We do the same thing with Hawaii). But things are not even that simple. Okinawa is part of another set of islands located to the southwest. When I inquired further, about how many islands there were in Japan altogether, I was told that there were probably several hundred inhabited ones and many more small rocks. (A quick Google search yielded that there are around 430 inhabited islands out of a total of 6,852 making up the Japanese nation. Archipelago indeed!)
Armed with this knowledge, it should be obvious that it is important to consider Japan not a single monolithic entity, but rather as a diverse and intricate multitude. One should explore with a sense of openness to possibility and jettison any preconceived notions about what Japan is. One should not search for the simplifying abstractions. (This was a principal aim of an entire branch of writing about japan that sought to idetify a single essential trait or characteristic, the nihonjinron that Sugimoto rightly rejects.) If I am prepared to see all of the variations and complexities that make up the society, culture, history, language, demographics and geography of what we call Japan, I may be rewarded with a subtle, deep, rich and varied experience. I will endeavour to keep this at the forefront of my mind as I proceed along my journey. Welcome to The Japans!
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