Connect Magazine Japan #95 July 2020

AJET News & Events, Arts & Culture, Lifestyle, Community

JULY 2020

SPECIAL

HIGHLIGHTS OF THE YEAR The Japanese Lifestyle & Culture Magazine Written by the International Community in Japan1

CREDITS & CONTENT HEAD EDITOR

HEAD OF DESIGN & LAYOUT

Alice Ridley

Megan Luedtke

ASSITANT EDITOR Hannah Lukow

ASSISTANT DESIGNERS Rhema Baquero

SECTION EDITORS Rachel Fagundes Linka Wade Devoni Guise Caroline Allen Rashaad Jorden Clare Braganza Hoong Shao Ting Valerie Osborne Tayler Skultety Rebecca Ruth

COVER PHOTO

Charlotte Coetzee Ashley Hirasuna Rhema Baquero Megan Luedtke Ethan Wang Ailsa Van Eeghen Anna Reyes Hoong Shao Ting Erica Park George Van Horn

CONTRIBUTORS Mark Christensen Jocelyn A.S. Navera Abbie Philpott Jo Watts Jo Dennis Viveka Odmann Chantal Brown Annelise Wilp Yentel Le Roux Toshie Ogura

Rhema Baquero

SOCIAL MEDIA Hannah Lysons

COPY EDITORS

Megan Luedtke

Damien Levi Isabella Teo

TABLE OF CONTENTS PHOTO

GENERAL SECTION EDITORS

Megan Luedtke

ART & PHOTOGRAPHY

HEAD WEB EDITOR

Gelo Pascual Eric Gondree Mark Christensen Faith Suzuki Nandine Robb Allan Freedman Jessica Craven Michelle Zacharias Amy Brenton Linka Wade

Rachel Fagundes Devoni Guise Yentel Le Roux Annelise Wilp Chantal Brown Viveka Odmann Jo Watts Abbie Philpott Jocelyn A.S. Navera Logan Phillips

Taiki Yokobayashi Yoshika Watson Amy Brenton Michelle Zacharias Jessica Craven Allan Freedman Nandine Robb Sheila Mulherin Faith Suzuki

Natalie Andrews Eli Ferster

Daisy Braid Alivia Hancock Chelanna White Michelle Zacharias

Eric Gondree John Baumlin Erica Park Anna Reyes Ailsa Van Eeghen Logan Phillips

This magazine contains original photos used with permission, as well as free-use images. All included photos are property of the author unless otherwise specified. If you are the owner of an image featured in this publication believed to be used without permission, please contact the Head of Graphic Design and Layout, Ashley Hirasuna, at ashley. hirasuna@ajet.net. This edition, and all past editions of AJET CONNECT, can be found online at http://ajet.net/ajet2 connect/magazine-issues/. Read CONNECT online and follow us on ISSUU.

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Letter from the Head Editor Working for the Kyoryokutai

by David Caprara Japansplaining by Hannah Lukow Letter from the Assistant Head Editor Finding Community Against All Odds

by Rhema Baquero Slaying the Cosplay Game

by Amadara Oguara Letter from the General Section Editors Ohara Gozaimasu by Mike Clapis From Dust to Dust by Michelle Zacharias A Folkin’ Good Time by Erica Park Letter from Events Editor The Snake that Played with Fire

by Ailsa van Eeghen 6 Festivals in 6 Days: The Tohoku Tour

by Edward Portillo Letter from the Fashion & Beauty Editor Vouge’s Fashion Night Out by T. Harris Fall Styles in Kyoto by Madelin Yochum Letter from the Entertainment Editor 1000 Worlds Clash at Tokyo Game Show 2019 by Nathan Post Interview with Kabuki Actor Taiki Yokobayashi by Rachel Fagundes, Toshie Ogura, and Taiki Yokobayashi Letter from the Culture Editor At Home in the World by Connor Mclead Terrace House: A Window into Japanese Dating Culture by Yoshika Wason Letter from the Arts Editor Capturing Tokyo’s Music Scene

by Bryan Phippen Creating Through Cosplay by various contributors Letter from the Sports Editor ¡Vamos Tokyo Carajo! by Niall Devine Finding Your Throw by David Atti Letter from the Travel Editor North Japan’s Premire Locations for Spiritual Rebirth by Tim Bunting Journey Through Magic by Lillian Letter from the Community Editor Bad Guys Doing Good

by Mark Christensen In Jesus’s Name (R)Amen by Erica Park

LETTER FROM THE HEAD EDITOR

Choosing two articles to summarize a whole magazine sounds like a straightforward task . . . right? Yeah, yeah, yeah, I could do it in my sleep. No worries mate. There are no two “best” articles for CONNECT 20192020 but there are definitely two articles which have stayed with me after reading. These pieces that stood out because they were ones that engaged further than just reading and thinking “Ah that was a nice article,” but became articles that made me more curious about uncharted Japan. My goal as Head Editor was for our readers to cultivate their curiosity deeper than the image of Japan that is oversaturated across the internet. Think Mount Fuji, Shibuya Crossing, Harajuku, cherry blossoms. We’ve seen it all before! Japan has so many hidden gems (yabai what an internet influencer phrase) that the English-speaking audience doesn’t know about because they aren’t accessible in English. These are the articles I want to read. If there was one thing I would want CONNECT to accomplish this would be it. I am so appreciative of the 2019-2020 team for sourcing these types of articles. They aren’t easy to find and take work but I hope my gratitude has been felt.

My first pick was “Working for the Kyoryokutai” written by David Carprara, a JET alumnus. During 20122014, David was placed in the village of Kawakami, Nara Prefecture. After completing his placement, he returned to America and began an impressive career as a journalist. After what I would call an epiphany, David yearned for his quiet life again in Kawakami. I am similar to David than I have fallen in love with the charm of the inaka. Obtaining a visa would have been a large obstacle for David if it wasn’t for Chiiki Okoshi Kyoryokutai (地域おこし協力隊).

David describes this program as “A cross between a relocation initiative, an incubator program, and a rural Japanese experimentation program with a universal basic income,” with the main goal being urban revitalization in depopulating areas of Japan. I love this summary of the program. As an ALT with a semirural placement in Fujioka, Gunma, the idea of this program seriously appeals to me. It would be great to see more previous ALTs participating. However, as the interviews and applications are done completely in Japanese, I would need to knuckle down and study before applying. I will seriously consider this option in the future to return to the lush Japanese countryside and its wide array of insects.

My second pick was “Japansplaining” written by our Head Assistant Editor, Hannah Lukow. Hannah originally wrote this article when her family was visiting Japan. However, this article will continue to be a relevant reference, whether you have loved ones visiting or you are communicating online. Making sweeping generalizations about a culture is damaging and when you are on the receiving side of this, it hurts. You can only talk from your own experiences. It’s okay to humbly admit your lack of knowledge.

There is still so much to learn, as I have found from my two years working at CONNECT publishing English stories. And I hope you maintain your curiosity too.

For my third pick was “Japan’s Next Top Yuru-Chara” which is very Japan and very ridiculous. I don’t think anything could be more quintessential of the quirky side of Japan than a competition where cute characters compete to be the number one yuru-chara in Japan. Even though Gunma-chan hasn’t won for many years it is clearly the best yuru-chara.

Alice Ridley Head Editor 2nd Year Gunma ALT

4 Photo: Megan Luedtke

ASSISTANT HEAD EDITOR connect.assistanteditor@ajet.net

ENTERTAINMENT EDITOR connect.entertainment@ajet.net

Hannah Lukow

Rachel Fagundes

GENERAL SECTION EDITOR connect.generaleditor@ajet.net

HEAD DESIGNER visualmedia.connect@ajet.net

Eli Ferster Natalie Andrews

Megan Luedtke

COPY EDITORS connect.copy@ajet.net

ASSISTANT DESIGNER

“Have you vacuumed yet? —My mum

Isabelle Teo Damien Levi EVENTS EDITOR connect.events@ajet.net Linka Wade

“If you trust in yourself…and believe in your dreams…and follow your star…you’ll still get beaten by people who spent their time working hard and learning things and weren’t so lazy.” —Terry Pratchett, The Wee Free Men

“Man suffers only because he takes seriously what the gods made for fun.” —Alan Watts

Rhema Baquero

“There is a superhero in all of us, we just need the courage to put on the cape.” —Superman

SOCIAL MEDIA Hannah Lysons COMMUNITY EDITOR connect.community@ajet.net Clare Braganza

We are what we do, and what we allow to be done.” —Francis Hardinge, Deeplight

TRAVEL EDITOR connect.travel@ajet.net

LANGUAGE EDITOR connect.language@ajet.net

Hoong Shao Ting

Rebecca Ruth

SPORTS EDITOR connect.sports@ajet.net

CULTURE EDITOR connect.language@ajet.net

Rashaad Jorden

“I am America. I am the part you won’t recognize. But get used to me.”— Muhammad Ali

Tayler Skultety

The truth about stories is, that’s all we are. Thomas King

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Working for the Ky David Caprara (Nara)

JETs living in Japan in the Reiwa era are there during a period of extreme downsizing that is reshaping the face of the country and its foothold in the world. Many of you reading this live in small towns and villages with faded signs and long-ago-shuttered businesses that give a hint of a time decades ago when these areas were thriving and economically viable.

A few decades from now, many villages that JETs call their Japanese hometown will be abandoned and cease to exist.

From 2012 to 2014, I was a JET in the rural village of Kawakami-mura in the hilly Yoshino region of Nara Prefecture. Kawakami is a village with unbelievably clean water, access to great hikes, and a rich history, but it is as deep in the sticks as one can be in Japan.

The village is comprised of a string of hamlets peppered within a river valley connected by a single road. There are no trains or convenience stores.

On the first day that I arrived in Nara, the JTE who picked me up from the prefectural

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capital to drive me to Kawakami found his own description of where I’d be living to be hilarious.

“Where you live,” he said laughing with a huge grin on his face, “No people! Only animals!” I remember vividly that he spent an awkwardlylong portion of our one-and-a-half-hour car ride to Kawakami making animal gestures and growls, imitating the range of creatures that I’d be living amongst in my village.

My JTE wasn’t completely wrong. However, the people that I did form bonds with throughout the two years I lived in Kawakami ended up becoming more or less family.

This was particularly true with my taiko team members and another group of bikers that I rode motorcycles with.

After my time with JET, I pursued a career as a journalist and spent years chasing writing assignments and producing documentaries for various international media outlets around the world. I climbed into the Nepali Himalayas to create a documentary for VICE on hallucinogenic honey hunters, who ascended

yoryokutai steep cliffs on hand-made bamboo ladders.

I spent weeks camping out in a tent along the razor-wired Greece-Macedonia border reporting on the situation when nearly 10,000 refugees were unable to pass beyond Greece and were bottlenecked in a tent village that devolved into a humanitarian disaster area.

I traveled widely and eventually found fulltime reporting jobs in New York, first with The Tokyo Shimbun and later with Japan’s public broadcaster, NHK. In the years after I left JET, I was building my career and having meaningful experiences, but I frequently thought about my friends in and around Kawakami and dreamed about the idea of returning one day. This desire was augmented by the experience of feeling ground down by life in the city. As my brain fried on my daily standing commutes on New York’s decaying subway system, I wondered if my career really necessitated living in the city.

In this global age of remote work where you can access the world anywhere you have an internet connection, I wondered if it would be

A JET Alumn’s Unexpected Return to Village Life

possible to continue my career in a place like Kawakami for a while.

I left my job in New York and bought a one-way ticket to Japan with the goal of starting a new chapter of my career back in the Land of the Rising Sun. Shortly after making that decision, I was reading through my news feed and found a report that hit me like a punch in the gut.

According to a recent study by the government of Japan, of all of Japan’s thousands of municipalities, Kawakami had been projected to be the #1 village for the highest rate of downsizing between 2019 and 2045. It wasn’t a shock to me that the village was projected to decline, but something about its becoming #1 on the list felt surreal and particularly crushing—like learning that a loved one had been diagnosed with a terminal disease. I grew a sense of determination to select Kawakami as the next place I would call home. I believed that I could make it anywhere, and I felt that if this was so, why not work in a place that could use my help. I wanted to show by example

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of the program is that people from cities are hired to move to the countryside and engage in some sort of activity that will contribute to the life of rural villages.

In the case of Kawakami, where I was hired and able to return to through this program, participants have a four-day workweek and are essentially given carte blanche to engage in whatever kind of work they feel will benefit the area. One guy here is raising fish, another woman is in the process of setting up her own café. A Kyoryokutai friend in the neighboring town of Yoshino renovated a 100-yearold abandoned pharmacy and turned it into a restaurant. My work activities are centered around documentary journalism and, in the future, I would like to also expand into renovating abandoned houses. (There are between 8.5 and 10 million of them in Japan—more than in any other country in the world).

Participants are encouraged to create their own businesses and it is hoped that the businesses and fruits of the efforts of the Kyoryokutai members will outlast the one to three years that they are expected to be with the program. In villages where the conditions of the Kyoryokutai program are interpreted loosely, the program feels like something of a cross between a relocation initiative, an incubator program, and a rural Japanese experimentation program with universal basic income.

that we don’t always have to chase opportunities, but that we can create them even in places where people say none can exist.

Despite its rapidly declining population, Japan still maintains a high wall with regard to letting immigrants into the country. Obtaining a visa stood as a major obstacle to my resettling in Japan.

Eventually, I secured a visa and the financial base for my reporting that I was seeking through a unique rural revitalization program funded by the Japanese government: the 地域おこし協力隊 (Chiiki Okoshi Kyoryokutai).

The Kyoryokutai program was in its first years back when I was a JET and, though I had a vague idea of what it was, I hadn’t really probed it deeply enough to consider it as an option. There is no official name for the program in English but it translates to something like the “Rural Revitalization Cooperation Corps” and the requirements of the program are about as vague and open to interpretation as the program’s name.

As with JET, the conditions of Kyoryokutai members and their job conditions are completely dependent on where they are placed, but a general synopsis

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Most of the Kyoryokutai members are in their 20s and 30s. A good friend and mentor in Japan described life in the inaka for city-folk quite well: “When it’s just one or two of you in the countryside, life is miserable, but when there are 20 of you, it’s a party.”

Participation in the Kyoryokutai is almost entirely Japanese and there is no information provided on the Ministry of Internal Affairs and Communications website in English (all of my research and application for the job was done in Japanese), however, this program is available to foreign nationals and there is a written desire on this website (in Japanese) to increase this participation. As of 2019, JET alumni have been specifically mentioned as candidates for this program on the Ministry of Internal Affairs and Communications Website. It appears there is a desire to create a stronger JET-to-Kyoryokutai pathway, though how this is so is as of yet not entirely clear.

Given the wide diversity of experiences and backgrounds of JET Programme participants, I see great potential for more and more JETs using the Kyoryokutai as a channel through which, after their completion of JET, they can maintain a connection with the villages where they are placed and to expand their work into areas beyond English teaching. The program is not available in every

municipality in Japan but, as of 2018, there are 5,530 participants in 1,050 municipalities across 11 of Japan’s 47 prefectures. The national government has expressed a desire to see these numbers increase.

Through the expansion of the Kyoryokutai program as well as through the efforts of unaffiliated innovative thinkers who have unplugged from city life to live in Japan’s countryside, little pockets of creativity are popping up all around Japan. Their numbers will never be enough to fully replace the numbers lost through Japan’s aging population, rural flight, and declining birth rate, but these communities do offer new ways of living that might be a hint of how rural villages with a depopulation death sentence might actually be able to defy the odds and continue into the future.

Life and work for me back in Kawakami has been fulfilling. I’m back to playing with my taiko team and hanging out with my biker friends. I spend most of my working hours on the journalism work that I had hoped I’d be able to engage in when I left New York. I’m not sure if I will physically remain in Kawakami forever or beyond my time in the Kyoryokutai program, but I do know that because of the ties that were created during my time with the JET Programme, I will always have a connection to this place and to this beautiful country. I’m excited to see how the current generation of JETs and those who will come after them will continue to foster ties with their communities and apply their unique skills to benefit the country.

To learn more about the 地域おこし協力隊 program, research in Japanese on the Ministry of Internal Affairs and Communications Website, or the national 地域おこし協力隊 website. Recruitment is handled through local municipalities and you can find out more through researching online or contacting the kencho of your prefecture to find out if the program is available where you are living.

David Caprara is a journalist living in the hills of Kawakami Village in Nara Prefecture. He is a member of Japan’s Chiiki Okoshi Kyoryokutai program (Japan’s Rural Revitalization Corps) and was a JET based in Kawakami from 2012 to 2014.

You can learn more about him and the work that he’s done on his website, www.davidcaprara.com or by following him on Twitter @Caprarad.

Yoshino Ringyo is a documentary that David is directing from Kawakami on the culture of lumberjacks in Japan and the struggle to continue centuries-old traditions of forestry.

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Hannah Lukow (Gunma)

In just a few weeks from the time I’m writing this, my family will leave their home in upstate New York, drive to JFK Airport in New York City, sit in a flying metal tube for twelve hours, and somehow end up in Tokyo, Japan.

I have lived in Japan since June 2018, but this will be my family’s first time in Japan.

Of course, I am thrilled to have them here, especially because it’s been nearly a year since I last went home to the States. But another, smaller part of me feels preemptively embarrassed. There’s something nauseating about watching foreign tourists in Japan freely do things I have disciplined myself not to do: having loud conversations on the train, assuming that everyone speaks enough English to understand your fast-paced regional accent, or unabashedly jaywalking.

A few months ago, Netflix released the latest iteration of the hit American TV show Queer Eye: “Queer Eye Japan.” For those unfamiliar with the show, a team of four gay men and one non-binary person travel around to give their subjects “more than a makeover” via a trademark blend of consumerism and self-help logic. This time, we follow the Fab

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Five around Tokyo as they make over four Japanese subjects. Of course, the Fab Five is accompanied by gorgeous (and to my knowledge, disappointingly straight) model Kiku Mizuhara, who is tasked with explaining Japanese customs to the team. Five minutes into the first episode, I had to look away. They’re hugging the subjects! Karamo is driving the scooter on the wrong side of the road! Did you hear the way Bobby said arigatou? And they’re just so loud.

Of course, any sense of superiority I might have over the Fab Five or other foreign tourists is surely an illusion designed to protect my own sense of belonging. It’s uncomfortable to watch foreign tourists make “mistakes” in Japan because it’s like looking into a mirror, forcing you to relive that vulnerable time when you were new here and had no clue what was going on.

Luckily for most of us, we now have a bit more of a clue about what’s going on, and we’re eager to share the details of our lives with the people we love back home. Sometimes, though, it seems like there’s just too much to explain—to

Sharing Your Experiences Without Losing Your Mind Japansplain, if you will. In conversations with friends and family, I find myself descending into multiple tangents just trying to explain some banal aspect of my everyday life.

How can we deal with the gap of knowledge and experience that exists between us and the folks back home? Many international residents already face a huge gap of knowledge and experience that often separates us from native residents of Japan—whether it’s language, culture, or etiquette. How can we be the explainers when we constantly need explaining?

The answer I have come to at the moment is to stop explaining and start sharing. When you finally get around to calling that friend from college who earnestly asks, “So what’s Japan like?”, it can be tempting to make blanket statements about the people or places you’ve encountered. It can be tempting to position yourself as an absolute authority. It is more difficult, but perhaps ultimately more

truthful, to speak about your own experiences as just that—your own experiences. Instead of saying, “In Japan, people don’t eat on the train,” you might say something like, “So far I haven’t noticed many people eating on the train in my city.”

It’s such a minor shift in language that I know I will be accused of being the political correctness police (fire away!), but I think it’s a shift that lets you off the hook from being a “Japan expert,” and allows you to be just another person learning about a place and its culture.

Whether you are heading home for the holidays, hosting family here in Japan, or just anticipating a nice FaceTime call, may your Japansplaining be cathartic and your cultural learning be plentiful!

Hannah Lukow is a second-year resident of Japan, first-year ALT in Gunma Prefecture and the Assistant Head Editor of CONNECT. Originally from central New York, Hannah has spent time living in North Carolina and France. Her hobbies include meditating, bothering elected officials, and sharing wholesome memes.

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LETTER FROM THE ASSISTANT HEAD EDITOR Our time together as your 2019-2020 CONNECT team is ending, and as it happens, so is the world as we know it. As much as I’d like to meditate on the past year, I have to speak to the present moment, specifically to the long overdue global outcry that the lives of Black and indigenous people matter.

To compare my experiences as a white foreigner here in Japan to experiences of anti-Blackness around the world feels, in many ways, impossible. But I think it is fair to say that for many white Americans, living in Japan is the first taste of anything like racism. As the one of a few non-Japanese staff members in my school, I get a taste of the alienation and pain felt by BIPOC* who are part of predominantly white institutions: the stares, the chilliness, the exclusion, the feeling of being talked down to, the stereotypes, the invasive questions, the exhaustion of being repeatedly asked to represent a huge, heterogenous group of people. It’s just a taste of discriminatory treatment—I don’t, for example, feel that my health or safety is threatened on account of my race and nationality—but it’s a taste that stays in your mouth.

White foreigners, especially white Americans, are a privileged “other.” As I hope you know by now, people of color living in Japan, and especially Black people living in Japan, have it far worse. Anti-Black racism is rampant. On many occasions, just a single mention of my home state, New York, elicits some comment about how New York is full of scary black people who commit crimes. Just a few weeks ago, in an attempt to explain the social unrest in America to Japanese children, NHK aired a horrifyingly racist and, frankly, inaccurate cartoon which bordered on minstrelsy. Google it. I’ll spare you the details here.

You probably know this. And white readers, you probably know that you are being called to reckon with your privilege and to step up to the plate. White foreigners should grapple with our privilege as part of an antiracist practice, AND we should use our experiences with discrimination here in Japan as an opportunity to develop empathy, understanding, and a shared (if different) sense of struggle. If we are able to engage with both our pain and our privilege, we will be able to more sustainably invest ourselves in this fight. We must show up not only when it’s trending, but every day, all the time, again and again and again. At the end of this letter, I’ve listed some resources and some concrete ways that you can support BIPOC with your money, time, and skills.

Okay, preamble over. TLDR: I’ve chosen to highlight three articles which showcase Black experiences in Japan.

The first piece I’ve chosen is “Finding Community Against the Odds” penned by CONNECT’s own Web Editor, Rhema Baquero, originally published in the November 2019 issue. Rhema builds up a picture of what daily anti-Blackness looks like in Japan, from being pushed out of a train to people touching her hair without permission. But the piece also points to opportunities for genuine cross-cultural understanding and exchange. Rhema describes her practice of featuring pictures of black and brown kids in her lessons and calling out her students’ and colleague’ offensive comments—something that all of us working in Japanese schools can commit to doing.

Next up is “Slaying the Cosplay Game” by Amadara Oguara, published in October 2019 as part of Art Section Editor Valerie Osborne’s “Creating Through Cosplay” piece. Amadara discusses how she became interested in cosplay, and how it eventually became a huge source of joy and even a form of therapy for her.

She also talks discrimination in the cosplay world. “As someone who has been called ‘inaccurate,’ ‘the black version,’ or even racial slurs while cosplaying,” Amadara writes, “it was meaningful to know that in essence, the color of my skin SHOULDN’T and DOESN’T dictate what characters I can and can’t be. I AM Sailor Venus […].”

12 Photo: Clay Banks on Unsplash.com

The last article I’ve chosen to highlight, which will be linked but not reprinted here, is Christina Bellvue’s “#MelanainAndJBeauty,” originally published in the April 2020 issue. Christina provides an impressively comprehensive look at Japanese cosmetics which work well with darker skin tones, covering everything from base makeup to brow makeup. Here, I would also be remiss not to give a huge shout out to Fashion and Beauty Editor Devoni Guise, who did an excellent job of cultivating fashion and beauty content which put people of color at the center.

Going forward, I ask that CONNECT’s 2020-2021 editorial team actively seek out and publish even more work which centers BIPOC experiences in Japan.

In love and solidarity, Hannah Lukow *BIPOC stands for Black and Indigenous People of Color, and is preferred here over the term “people of color” in order to speak specifically to Black and indigenous experiences.

DONATE

(Note: Due to the large number of people and organizations donating money right now, a few popular organizations have asked that money be redirected to less supported organizations. I’ve done my best to research and identify organizations most in need right now. If you aren’t sure about an organization, do your research—it’s always good to double check that your money is going to a deserving place.) ⩾ ⩾ ⩾ ⩾ ⩾ ⩾ ⩾ ⩾ ⩾ ⩾

Black Trans Travel Fund My Block, My Hood, My City Color of Change National Lawyers Guild National Bail Fund Network American Civil Liberties Union (ACLU) The Marsha P. Johnson Institute Emergency Release Fund The Loveland Foundation The Bail Project

The following organizations are accepting donations, but are well-supported: ⩾ The Black Visions Collective ⩾ Reclaim the Block ⩾ NAACP Legal Defense Fund

ACT ⩾ Connect with your nearest BLM chapter on social media: ◊ Black Lives Matter TOKYO: Facebook, Instagram, Twitter ◊ Black Lives Matter KANSAI: Facebook, Instagram, Twitter ⩾ Support black businesses. You can use sites like We Buy Black, The Black Wallet, and Official Black Wall Street. ⩾ Commit to one of the actions in this article, “75 White People Can Do For Racial Justice”

by Corrine Shutack (published in 2017 but still relevant).

READ and EDUCATE The New Jim Crow by Michelle Alexander So You Want To Talk About Race by Ijeoma Oluo Just Mercy by Bryan Stevenson White Fragility by Robin DiAngelo A People’s History of the United States by Howard Zinn How To be An Antiracist by Ibram X. Kendi

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Rhema Baquero (Hyogo)

The train slows to a stop and fresh passengers step through the opening doors. The car is crowded during rush hour and across from me the bench packed full of commuters. The new passengers look to the empty spaces on either side of me, wide enough to fit two people each. They look at each other and choose to stand for the next eight stops.

I rise from my seat at the coffee shop and meander to the women’s restrooms. A woman steps out and sharply gasps at the sight of me. Throwing her gaze to the ground, she skitters past me to safety.

A child of three or four walks down the hill of my neighborhood with his hand in his mom’s. He looks up from his teetering steps and freezes. “黒外人! 黒外人! こわい!” Black foreigner! Black foreigner!

SCARY! He screams and points directly at me. I can still hear him over the music in my headphones as I pick up my pace.

On the train home from my birthday dinner, a Japanese man approaches my husband and I as we quietly chat by the door. He shouts at us in Japanese. Then he slurs in English, “Japanese only!

Train for Japanese!” The doors open to the station before ours and he pushes my husband off the train.

He tries to touch me as well, but my husband is back and in between me and the man. I look to the car for help, but everyone keeps their heads down.

A year into living in Japan, I should be used to these common occurrences, but it is not always easy to be reminded that you are and always will be an outsider.

I expected this before making the decision to move here. I read accounts, spoke with current POC residents and watched YouTubers tell their stories.

I constantly face racism and microaggressions in America, so I hoped that I would be prepared for what I would face in Japan.

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In order to not feel isolated here, I knew I had to find people who have similar experiences to mine. In my foreigner community, I found other melanated people who go through the same reproaches that I do.

When a group of us with sepia shades of skin ride the train or walk together, we definitely get looks. But it is much easier to ignore when you are not alone.

We talk about our lives here and back home over dinner, drinks and desserts. Even if our experiences may vary, sometimes it is rejuvenating to be around people who get it and don’t dismiss our unique experiences as just something that happens to all 外 人 foreigners.

For a further reach, I joined Facebook groups for people of color who live in Japan. I purchased my tickets for the annual Black Women In Japan conference, and I am more than excited to make more connections with the women+ who live across the country. At Tokyo orientation, I went to the JETs of African Decent dinner, where I spoke with senpai JETs about their lives, got advice, and made new friends in and around my city. It is important to know that you are not alone in what you are living day to day. There are many groups online for marginalized people, including but not limited to JET PH, Asian Pacific Islander JETs, Indians in Japan, Black in Japan, Jamaicans in Japan, and the new Viva JETS+!. Anytime someone posts in one of my groups that they will be visiting my city, I reach out and try to connect with them.

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I also enjoy time with friends from other countries who are not black or brown. It’s interesting to talk about culture acceptance (or lack thereof) in their countries and to share experiences from my own.

It’s wonderful that they are willing to listen instead of discounting what my life is like here. I also like to listen to their experiences as a foreigner in Japan, because sometimes it is just cathartic to talk and release.

And of course, it is important to make connections with Japanese people here. Whenever my husband and I go out with friends to izakaya, he is great at initiating conversations with the local patrons. When I hear “それは僕の奥さんです” that’s my wife! I join in with my fledgling Japanese skills and have a good time making new single serving friends. We also have Japanese friends with whom we love to go to karaoke and battle between a medley of Japanese and English songs.

It’s in between the Country Roads and A Cruel Angel’s Thesis that we all feel the cultural exchange.

Being a foreigner in Japan is one thing in a land of willful homogeneity, but to be a foreigner with black or brown skin brings another set of challenges.

Children and adults unabashedly touch our hair, make comments or mock our skin tone. Darker skin is not a standard of beauty here. Skin whitening products are marketed as beautiful. We have to stand against stereotypes put out by Western media and perpetuated in the Asian media. And there is still the sanctioned Black face you can see on the NHK. I came to Japan knowing what I could face. But it’s one thing to know and another to experience it.

My job in Japan is to literally serve as cultural exposure in the classroom and daily life.

I use pictures of people of color with ethnic names in my activities. I talk about what it is like to be a minority in America. When I understand that a student is making a rude comment about a person in the textbook, I alert the Japanese teacher in the room. When a coworker asks a question that is not acceptable, I let them know why. When someone reaches to touch my hair, I remind them that I am human and it is not ok to touch someone without their permission. I try hard to see someone’s negative reaction as based on lack of exposure and curiosity.

However, this is a battle minorities cannot do on their own. Ultimately, it will have to come down to Japan’s

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willingness to make a change. But for the time being, all foreigners can plant the seeds for each other while we are here.

But despite the negatives, I really do love my life here and experiencing all that Japan and its people have to offer. For every unfortunate interaction, I have had many, many positive ones. When senior citizens stop me to talk and practice their English; when people go out of their way to help me find a location; when someone doesn’t just ask where I am from for the sake of knowing, but seems genuinely interested in learning about my background, I feel like Japan could be home. Even when a friend and I were stopped in the bank lobby for legitimately thirty minutes by a Japanese man who gave us an entire half English speech (with iPad pictures!) about his life in America back in the 80s. It is wonderful to have these moments of engagement and inclusion. And what helps the most is the readily available love and acceptance I receive from the students that I teach.

This past summer, as I sat in the ward office helping new ALTs register with the city, an older woman approached me and asked about my black and blue braids. She told me she found my hair beautiful and asked if she could touch it. Ninety-nine percent of the time I reject this request, but she had no ill intention behind her smile. She touched the ends of my hair so gently, and told me she had only seen hair like mine on TV. She seemed genuinely excited to see something different in real life. Her friend walked up and respectfully admired me, but did not reach up to touch me as well. As the general reaction is to grab at me, I appreciated it. I was happy to give these two women a small personal experience with my culture.

It was one that I will certainly remember.

Rhema Baquero is a second-year ALT from America in the great port city of Kobe. She can often be found in a coffee shop either reading, writing, drawing, or studying Japanese. After playing rugby at university and graduate school, she was excited to finally attend the Rugby World Cup. All photos provided by Rhema Baquero

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Slaying the Cosplay Game Cosplay

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Excerpt from “Creating Through Cosplay”

Amadara Oguara (Kyoto) I am THAT cool anime-loving English teacher by day, but what my students don’t know is that I cosplay by night! I am currently a first-year elementary and junior high JET in Kyoto City. I attended my first anime convention in 2009 not knowing what cosplay was, and when I found out that it was a thing people do, it absolutely blew my mind. I’d always enjoyed dressing up during Halloween, but didn’t realize it was something I could do for more than one day out of the year!

I’ve cosplayed casually since, but have become more serious about it in the last year. As a cosplayer who is a person of color as well as LGBT, I’ve become more aware of discrimination and harassment in the community in recent years, and work to be an advocate for acceptance, change, and making cosplay a safe and enjoyable space for all. Cosplay is not only a form of self-expression and a creative outlet, but also a form of therapy for me

As for this Halloween, I am looking at being Nezuko from (Demon Slayer). I feel blessed every day for getting to live in Kyoto and can’t wait to do some amazing cosplay photoshoots throughout the different seasons, especially this fall!

I cosplay characters from anime, video games, and American cartoons/webcomics—basically any character that resonates with me. Some of my favorite series to cosplay from are Steven Universe, My Hero Academia, Kakegurui, She-Ra, and Lore Olympus. I am most active on Instagram as @ miss_suju, and can also be found on Twitter as @miss_suju_cos. I’ve gotten to befriend so many people from around the world through cosplay, so if you see this, shoot me a DM, I promise I don’t bite!

Amadara Oguara, AKA Miss Suju, is a first-year elementary and junior high JET in Kyoto City. She’s of Nigerian and Native American descent and originally hails from Seattle, Washington, USA.

after going through some especially rough years.

When it sucks to be you, it’s nice to be someone else for a few hours or a day, and it’s truly a hobby of joy. Through cosplay, I bring joy not only to myself but to others, and that’s what keeps pushing me further. I’m sure it’s a similar feeling for some of you out there too!

Even though I’m in Japan now, I want to continue to slay the cosplay game! I have cosplayed on Halloween before, during my study abroad at Waseda University in 2016. I went to the Shibuya Halloween celebration as Sailor Venus. The most touching moment was a little Japanese girl seeing me in the street and shouting, “ 母ちゃん、見て！セーラーヴィーナス” — “ L o o k , Mom, it’s Sailor Venus!” As someone who has been called “inaccurate,” “the black version,” or even racial slurs while cosplaying, it was meaningful to know that in essence, the color of my skin SHOULDN’T and DOESN’T dictate what characters I can and can’t be. I AM Sailor Venus, and I made that little girl’s night.

Left: Amadara as Toga Himiko from My Hero Academia.

Right: Amadara as Catra from She-RA. Cover: Amadara becomes a gem as White Diamond from Steven Universe.

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LETTER FROM THE GENERAL SECTION EDITO Hey! I’m Natalie, one half of the GSE coin!

This year has been my first year on JET, and I feel being a part of the CONNECT team really made it a unique one. I initially applied for the copy editor position but was instead selected for General Section Editor, and I couldn’t be happier with what I got. Being able to cross all the categories to source stories allowed me to meet all kinds of interesting people and learn more about types of Japanese tradition I had never thought about before (specifically, the practise of misogi)! A particular highlight was being able to develop friendships with some people I interviewed for articles—I’d have never met them without CONNECT. My personal favourites out of the articles I’ve sourced (although this was incredibly hard to choose) have to be Mike Clapis’s “Ohara Gozaimasu”, a brilliantly written piece about a Shibuya festival which celebrates Kagoshima dance, and “From Dust to Dust”, an intriguing article by Michelle Zacharias on how she is making a commentary on dust and air pollution by creating art from dust itself.

To round off my message, I’d like to give a huge thanks to Alice, Hannah, the rest of the CONNECT team for being awesome people to work with and always willing to help each other out. A massive thank you in particular to my co-GSE Eli for being super reliable and just an all-around amazing person to work with!

Looking forward to what this new year and new team will bring!

20 Photo: Sora Sagano on Unsplash.com

ORS Hi I’m Eli, the other half of the GSE team.

My favorite part of being a GSE has been getting to work with multiple sections. Whether a section needed help for a given month, or a random contact or idea spawned an unexpected article, I never knew what kind of article I’d be working with.

My favorite article I worked on was a culture article called A Folkin’ Good Time by Erica Park, which I loved because it covered such an unexpected little pocket of culture, and captured that classic dynamic between ancient and modern in an unexpected way.

Another thing I enjoyed as a GSE was my ability to help others out in little one-off basises. Other Section Editors sometimes need an extra eye or a second opinion, and I was often free enough to help out. This gave me a chance to do things outside of my main duties, like copy editing and word count chopping. In general the GSE is a position that rewards people who can slip into any role that comes their way, and who enjoy picking up slack and being a team player. My co-GSE Natalie is the perfect example of this, as she seemed to always be doing ten different things at once for every issue. I tried to keep up in my own way, and was very grateful for the chance to work alongside her and the rest of the wonderful staff of Connect.

Most of all though, I was glad to connect with the community of writers and English-speakers in Japan, and hear their voices. Thank you!

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Ohara

Gozaimasu Mike Clapis (Tokyo)

Dogenzaka. Whether or not you've heard the name, you have most certainly seen it in pictures and videos. This shopping district is home to the densely-packed Shibuya Scramble crossing, a favorite location for tourist selfies and impromptu interview segments for NHK. The Shibuya 109 shopping mall proudly towers over the space like a watchful mother, bearing gifts of cosmetics and neon activewear commercials. It might be the most famously crowded city block in Tokyo, which makes it a good contender for most crowded worldwide.

As a Tokyo resident, I avoid Dogenzaka at all costs. Just the thought of the inevitable train-cramming that awaits on my commute to and from the place is enough to get a claustrophobe like me breathing into a paper bag. So if you told me when I first got here in 2014 that I’d be dancing up the legendary Shibuya thoroughfare with around 2,000 others wearing a bright cotton happi and matching headband under the hot Tokyo sun, sidewalks lined with cameras capturing every moment, I might have been a little skeptical.

The Ohara Matsuri, as this event is known, has its origins in Kagoshima, where it is renowned as the largest dance festival in Southern Kyushu. Every year, the city floods with troupes of dancers and street performers keeping Edo-era Kyushu artforms alive.

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The 2017 Ohara crew posing after practice in a downtown dance studio.

Photo: Mike Clapis

The 2017 team practices in a circle to make sure everyone is in sync.

Photo: Mike Clapis

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It was started to honor the efforts of Kagoshima’s post-WWII reconstruction period, but the Tokyo branch of the festival (which began in 1996) is held between Shibuya’s Dogenzaka and Bunkamura streets and celebrates the bonds of friendship bridging Shibuya and Kagoshima.

In my research of historical links between the two cities, I discovered that Kagoshima was the birthplace of both Togo Heihachiro, a naval hero during the Russo-Japanese war whose shrine can be found in Harajuku, as well as sculptor Teru Ando, who made the original version of the Hachiko statue that stands outside Shibuya Station to this day.

Street vendors and convenience stores share in the promotion of Kyushu tourism with prefectural delicacies. Spectators can expect to see scores of local dance crews representing their neighborhoods with specifically-designed uniforms of happi and headbands, and parading the length of Shibuya’s biggest shopping district set to the rhythm of taiko drums and flutes. So how did an uncoordinated, culturally illiterate JET like myself end up in the middle of it all?

I joined the International Ohara dance group in 2018 at the behest of my girlfriend, another JET who had friends already participating. She sold it to me as a fun way to bond with our fellow Tokyo JETs. I foresaw a potential problem in the form of my two left feet, but I knew I’d be alright once I saw the choreography. Festival dancing consists of deliberate, full-body sweeps favoring smoothness over speed or technical ability. This makes it easy for onlookers of any age to jump in after watching only a few cycles. This open-

door policy makes sense—matsuri are famous for fostering a sense of community and cultural sharing through dance, and anyone can join the march behind the dancers during Ohara, like an Edo Japan conga line.

I contacted former TJET Social Chair Marlene Pierce to learn more about the group’s formation in 2017.

“We were actually contacted by a guy [called Tommy] who was interested in pairing with Tokyo JETs for a cultural opportunity. He pitched the idea of having an all-JET team to the TJET board and we all decided it was too good of an opportunity to pass up. One of the other council members, Rebecca Harkness, agreed to co-captain the group and we were off and running!”

Another former JET, Farshad Khansari, elaborates. “Tommy started it all. It was nice to be able to participate in a local festival. A lot of Tokyo JETs say they missed out on being part of a community since they weren't placed in a smaller town or village, and this was a great opportunity to have that ‘Japan’ experience in a big city.”

Tomokazu Mistudome (aka Tommy) is a native of Kagoshima prefecture and now lives in Yokohama as a local promoter of cultural exchange. From my experience with the group, Tommy had a hand in every aspect of our practice and performance, and made arrangements for us to share a practice space

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and reception venue with another dance team.

When Farshad announced he was moving back to the US, Tommy even organized his goingaway party.

The practice sessions I attended in 2018 with the rest of the crew were held every weekend over the course of a few months in a two-storey house just outside downtown Shibuya. We practiced in the home’s large tatami rooms with an experienced team of middle-aged and senior dancers who fed us a constant stream of compliments and omiyage during lunch breaks.

Dancers are given three routines to learn: the “Ohara Bushi” (Kagoshima’s most famous Bon Odori dance, from which the festival gets its namesake), the “Kagoshima Han’ya Bushi”, and the “Shibuya Ondo”. Each dance’s historical value can be understood when you realize the moves correspond to the natural geography of their place of origin. I recalled learning this during a practice session—one of our teachers was demonstrating the proper wrist rotation and gradual raising of the arms in the Ohara Bushi steps, palms open and fingers splayed out, which she likened to smoke rising from a volcano.

Marlene spoke more on this detail. “A lot of the flat arm moments are representative of flat grassy plains, arms make the peaks of mountains, hands swish above heads to represent tall fields of grass swaying in the wind. Other dances have the casting of fishing nets into oceans or depictions of rising or setting suns.” A quick YouTube search of these dances in action prove the importance of getting these naturalistic details just right.

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Since joining the event three years ago, JET’s International Ohara team has won awards for their efforts, and in fact their attention to detail could stem from the knowledge that they will stand out as foreign ambassadors. Maybe this is something all JETs implicitly understand—that when all eyes are on you, you become extra careful not to make mistakes.

But this isn’t to make the Ohara Matsuri sound contentious, or even competitive. In a land governed by social hierarchies, everyone taking part in the festival can appreciate this is one venue where rules and convention take a backseat to fun and cultural exchange. It is, after all, a loving tribute between the sister cities of Shibuya and Kagoshima. The International Ohara team stretches the boundaries of that sisterhood to encompass nations from across the globe. Even when COVID-19 has rendered the event all but cancelled for 2020, there is a strong feeling among members of the team that many of us will be back next year, ready to dance alongside our new friends.

Readers who would like to learn more about the TJET Ohara Group or get involved themselves can contact the International Ohara 2020 Facebook group, or message the group moderators Caitlin Fox Orwell & Kathy Agüero.

Mike Clapis is a former Tokyo JET who lives in Nerima with his girlfriend and a tomato plant. He enjoys swinging in hammocks and collecting Civil War chess sets. He subsists entirely on a diet of yakisoba and milk candy. He is an okay dungeon master but wants to get better.

Ohara Bushi at the ShibuyaKagoshima Ohara Matsuri, 2018 Photo: Mike Clapis

The group takes home another award, this time 2nd Place overall in 2018.

Photo: Mike Clapis

Tommy poses with the team after winning an award for their performance in 2017.

Photo: Mike Clapis

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Untitled; Asian Winds series Dust, ink, gum arabic, and honey on paper 34 cm x 25 cm (H x W) Private collection

Untitled (Dust Pic) Dust, ink, gum arabic, and honey on paper 25 x 34 cm 2019

From Dust to Dust:

Anthropocene Art Adventures in Asia

Michelle Zacharias (Saitama)

Writers are always advised to write about what they know and the same thing applies to artists and their art as well.

What, in my everyday life, is unique to me and how could I express that in visual form? The flowers in my garden?

The Tokyo art world dismissed them as simply “pretty.” I needed something more conceptual, unique, and more representative of myself. Being an outsider? Maybe. My allergies? Bingo!

well as other pollutants, blowing across the entire Asian continent. I felt like I had to push it further and tried painting portraits on masks, but that felt too gimmicky. At the same time, I tried self-portraits dirtied by the suggestion of air pollution by using layers of plastic. I was trying to use coloured pencil since I had developed a reputation for using that medium in unusual ways, but I felt I had to stress the conceptual aspect even more.

Having lived and worked in southern Japan in the shadow of a huge chemical factory that looks like a science fiction metropolis, I’ve been regularly exposed for many years to aeolian dust—or, yellow dust—which comes from the semi-arid areas of the Asian continent, such as the Gobi Desert in China, as well as toxins from the factories in the area.

Then I got the idea to make paint from the dust in the air. Yes, that’s right. D-U-S-T. I even asked the staff at Pigment, an incubator for artists in Tokyo where I had been taking occasional classes if they thought it might work.

Pigment focuses on traditional Japanese materials, such as specially crafted, lacquered-handled brushes, to help preserve artistic traditions and introduce them to artists.

One of their regularly held classes teaches how to make paint from the powdered pigments, made from crushed stones, clay, or minerals, that line their walls.

As a prairie girl, I developed sensitivities to the smog and other types of pollution that surfaced annually and had reactions that were similar to allergies but are actually common reactions to smog or fine particulate matter (called PM 2.5 in Asia). The Kyushu area has more yellow dust than PM 2.5 and the Kanto area has more PM 2.5 than yellow dust, but both areas have yellow dust and PM 2.5. I have become an expert on the different reactions triggered by each of those two types of dust and rarely need to look at the details of the air quality index (AQI) anymore. So, why not use my art to talk about air pollution?

I started drawing the flow of air across China—the spring winds which carry yellow dust from the Gobi Desert as

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Pigment’s staff agreed, albeit a bit reluctantly, that my idea should work in theory. They even emptied the Roomba vacuum cleaners and gave me their dust! They also suggested using a glass muller to crush the particles for a smoother paint.

To prepare the dust, I filter out bugs, cat hair, leftover popcorn, and other bits from the vacuum. More than 80% of the household dust blows in from the outside. Japan is semi-tropical with bugs everywhere, so I zap the dust in the microwave to kill any mites.

Celebration (Top) Coloured pencil, watercolour, and gesso on wooden panel 218 cm x 114 cm 2008

Most of my collected dust comes from the outside, so the contents and the colour are affected by external factors such as traffic, soil conditions, proximity to industry, as well as climatic conditions that cross international borders.

Dust obtained from the half of my apartment in Saitama that faces train lines and busy roads contains more tiny black particles and is darker than the dust obtained from the other half that faces a large cherry tree on a sandy lot. Dust from the Big Island of Hawaii is very black, and discussions were held about whether or not the goddess of Pele would curse me for taking it off the island or not.

After starting to use dust in my work, I’ve found reactions to be very interesting. Tokyo loves the concept and has embraced the project; Kyoto prefers the beauty and detailed nature of my coloured pencil work. An elderly artist friend who was the last to join the Gutai art movement* in Kansai wishes she had thought of it first.

After approaching Cafe 104.5 in Chiyoda, which is run

by Blue Note Japan, their curator championed my work and displayed it at the cafe and at Bigakko, an alternative

art school in Tokyo. He likes an underdog and, as a non-Japanese woman artist over 25 years old, I tick all those boxes. These dust paintings also fit with the current trend of Anthropocene art: art which shows the effects of humans on the environment.

Cafe 104.5 usually has one feature artist who fills the room and the stage with bright colour, and another artist with one small piece usually near the register. The curator was on board from the start and collected dust from Ochanomizu, so the paintings would be specific to the site and show what kind of particles float in the air in and around the restaurant.

At first, the manager was opposed to the whole idea, especially the curator’s idea of including samples of the dust, because people think dust is dirty and unhygienic despite the fact that we breathe it in, touch it, and are covered in it all day. In the end, it was decided not to display the sealed vials of dust at the cafe but at Bigakko instead—and reword the descriptions to say “natural pigments”, not “dust”.

Tangled Windy Webs Colored pencil, watercolor, and gesso on wooden panel 80 x 100 cm 2018

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The painting on the right shows wind currents in Japan, and the one on the left shows winds in the Eastern hemisphere despite the dust used being locally sourced.

Why? Because the aeolian dust from China has long been regarded as only seasonal in Japan, but recently has affected neighbouring countries such as Korea and Japan year-round. Flights have been cancelled, paint stripped off of vehicles and an increasing amount of people are suffering from respiratory problems.

The dust is no longer limited to only spring, as many Japanese people would believe, but now blows all year.

My personal theory is that the dust from the Gobi Desert was pure sand hundreds of years ago, but it now picks up pollutants from the increasing number of factories and in turn is affecting people’s health. If you look for smogrelated health problems, the symptoms will often include headaches, coughing, asthmatic attacks, fatigue, runny noses, and others.

For my next project after resolving some health concerns (that may or may not be related to Pele), I intend to make portraits of people using paint made from their own dust; and to suggest that air pollution goes across national borders, the people should wear surgical masks in the portraits to make them both more anonymous and more universal.

Through these paintings, I would like to show that air pollution affects anyone and everyone. I also want to say that you can make beautiful art from materials perceived as dirty and distasteful—in fact, aside from the filtering of the dust, all of the materials I have used are eco-friendly and not harmful to people’s health, unlike many other mediums.

April 9, 2017 Dust, ink, gum arabic, and honey on paper 25 cm x 34 cm April 9, 2017

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But above all, I want to start a dialogue amongst people, especially in Asia, about the problems of air pollution.

Economic development in China has increased dust content in the air, affecting the health of people in China, Korea, and Kyushu. Yet, medical professionals did not and still do not seem to recognise the correlation. My own dust sensitivities are being treated as having an unknown cause.

It has taken me a while to figure out a way to convey my message in an engaging manner, but I think I have finally found the solution. Awareness on all counts can start with discussion—and I want to offer the opportunity to participate in this discussion to as many people as possible.

Desert Blossoms Dust, ink, gum arabic, and honey on paper 27.3 cm x 22 cm 2019

If you want to be involved in my dust portrait project, all you have to do is get in touch with me at misheru32@ gmail.com, send me a Ziploc bag of your dust, and a photograph of you wearing a mask.

I would like to hold the exhibition of both the dust paintings and my coloured pencil drawings in a gallery, hopefully with a corporate sponsor. If anyone working at Duskin or Sharp’s air purifier department is interested, please contact me. *Gutai was a radical, post-war artistic group initially based in Kansai that inspired several later generations of Japanese artists. Originality was important and performative immediacy was valued more than traditional styles. Gutai ended in 1972 with the death of their leader Jiro Yoshihiro. For more information visit The Art Story.

Born in Canada, worked in Yamaguchi as an ALT from 1992-1995, and currently based in Saitama and Kitakyushu as a visual artist, Michelle Zacharias always seems to be on the outside looking in. As a Canadian in Japan, is she now a Canadian artist or a Japanese artist? Although this is the 21st century in a digital world, she works primarily in etching, coloured pencil, ink, and dust. Too conservative for the arts and too artsy for the conservatives; too analog for the digital age and too abstract or organic for those doing photographic copies.

Do labels like these work in an international or Internet context?

Artist website (English): Viewed From the Outside Additional info (English and Japanese): TANA Gallery Bookshelf Sandstorm Dust, ink, gum arabic, and honey on paper 27.3 cm x 22 cm 2019

Dust to Dust 31

A FOLKIN’ GOOD TIME

My Journey from Japanese Traditional Folk Music to 8-bit Technofolk

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Photo: Zen Sasaki Erica Park (Kyoto) I stumbled upon Japanese traditional folk music the same way a horror film heroine might trip into a dark, deep pit in an old, creepy mansion: by accident.

And much like said heroine who suddenly wakes up in said mysterious, deep pit, I don’t even know how I got here. The last thing I remember was wondering about Japanese instruments and typing “Japanese traditional songs” into a YouTube search bar, before being sucked in by the strums of shamisens and the dynamic vocals of Japan’s traditional folk singers.

Although it’s usually put under the umbrella term “min’yo,” there is no exact name for the genre Japanese traditional folk music belongs to. Sometimes they’re called inaka bushi (country melodies), other times they’re called inaka buri (country tunes), or even hinata uta (rural songs). However, I think min’yo, whose kanji roughly translates to “the people’s chant,” is a weirdly accurate description of these simple, yet intriguing songs. For simplicity’s sake, I’m going to be referring to them as min’yo from here on out.

In the same way certain foods or adorable mascots are part of a prefecture’s identity, min’yo songs are another way for many regions in Japan to further distinguish themselves. Originally sung by the lower class, their purposes vary from work songs sung while toiling away in fields, to sacred religious chants performed during ceremonies. Many songs tend to have imagery of nature or details of everyday life, and often performances incorporate special dances or instruments.

Take for example Japan’s oldest min’yo song: “Kokiriko-bushi.” Hailing from Gokayama village in Toyama prefecture, “Kokiriko-bushi” illustrates the natural flora and fauna of the village during the harvest season. A performance of “Kokiriko-bushi” is visually intriguing as well; performers move slowly across the stage in uniquely shaped straw hats, as others play the iconic binzasara instrument: an accordion-like apparatus consisting of many wooden slats that

clack together to create the “dedereko-den” chorus of the song.

I fell in love with how all these elements came together into a cohesive experience.

My appreciation for min’yo grew extensively throughout college, and during the long hours of nighttime studying or More compelling, though, were the powerful emotions behind each song. Each one seemed to condense the essence of feelings like sadness, happiness, or loneliness in a way that you could empathize with, despite the language barrier. downtime between projects and papers, min’yo playlists kept me company. Whether it was the more New Age, emotional ballads of Ikue Asazaki, or lo-fi recordings of televised performances from the 90s, I listened to it all.

I wasn’t too picky, and even if I didn’t always understand the words, I let myself get swept away by the vibrant energy each song and performer exuded.

Unfortunately, my college roommate and study buddies didn’t quite share the same enthusiasm for min’yo, and I don’t blame them. I completely understand that min’yo isn’t exactly easy listening for a lot of people. It can be a bit grating at times, with tunes that don’t follow traditional Western note progressions, not to mention the sometimes startling kakegoe (call-and-response) that seemingly jump out of nowhere.

Older Japanese folks didn’t understand why I enjoyed the genre so much, either; even they found min’yo to be a relic of the past that didn’t quite have the chops to withstand the more international appeal of modern-day songs. For a lot of people, min’yo was something that only a few Japanese people sang, and even then only to demonstrate Japan’s nostalgic, rustic charm. I found myself having to agree with them. It seemed that min’yo was reserved for special occasions, like cultural events or TV specials, and so many recordings I enjoyed were decades old. Perfect preservation of the genre seemed to be the goal, and innovation was limited, if present at all.

guitar’s gentle strums. Before I could fully process what I was hearing, a loud, piercing, siren-like horn cut through the mix, and jarring though it was, I only became even more entranced by whatever the hell YouTube just recommended me.

Then the vocals kicked in.

To hear the powerful voice of a trained traditional folk singer sing a tragic love story from the Kamakura era is absolutely breathtaking even under normal circumstances, but it was even more so amid the blips and thrums of the 8-bit chords and guitar plucks weaving throughout. The singer’s notes swooped up and down with confidence, working alongside the digital landscape of the background music. I’d never listened to such a wonderful marriage between traditional and modern musical aesthetics before, and as soon as the video finished, I was already eager for the next song.

As it turns out, those skilled vocals belonged to classically trained folk singer, Akiko Kanazawa (whose min’yo rendition of the Beatles’ “Yellow Submarine” is definitely worth checking out). But listening to her other works, it was clear that someone else had had a hand in Omodaka’s skillful mixing of chiptunes and traditional folk standards. After a few music videos and a deep-dive internet investigation, I soon discovered that Omodaka was not just a one-off, eclectic min’yo mashup, but an expansive collaborative project that combines traditional Japanese music with contemporary visual artists. And behind all of it is one man—electronic music producer and DJ, Soichi Terada.

And then I discovered Omodaka.

I was looking for more min’yo to listen to on the Internet (as per usual), and during a mindless return to YouTube’s homepage, I noticed a distinctive thumbnail. A stark white, minimalist graphic of an arrowhead flower emblazoned on a punchy, vibrant red background; that’s all there was to it. The title was equally as simple: “Hietsuki Bushi,” uploaded by Omodaka. At the time, I had no idea what any of those words meant, but I was riding high on my min’yo video binge, so naturally, I clicked.

Imagine my surprise when, instead of hearing the bare twangs of shamisen like I was expecting, I was hit with a lush, multi-layered 8-bit melody mingling with a classical

Photo: Ben Mason

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Terada, the founder of house-electronic music label Far East Recording, has enjoyed listening to min’yo music since childhood, but felt he “couldn’t say that [he enjoyed min’yo]” to his friends because they weren’t interested in it. He experimented with min’yo/house fusions, and over time, Terada developed a distinct sound that would define his label. Later on, spurred by a desire to collaborate with visual artist friends, Terada launched the Omodaka project in 2001.

Pieces by the Omodaka project usually involve Terada’s friends creating fantastical, even psychedelic, animated music videos for his “techno folk” songs (a term Terada has coined to describe this niche genre). My personal favorites are “Yosowya-san,” with its side-scrolling 8-bit exploration of Japan’s gambling culture, and, of course, “Hietsuki Bushi,” an adventure about a love confession thwarted by portal jumping spacemen, a farmer/lion/bird chimera, and oh— aliens. There are also several albums released under the Omodaka name, each filled with songs which need no music videos to be enjoyed.

Where Omodaka really shines, however, is during live performances. They are an unabashed bonanza of pure theatricality, complete with large screens displaying Kanazawa in various costumes as she sings to the audience virtually, and props like paper lanterns and bamboo flutes. Especially striking is Terada’s costume and stage presence.

Donning a white plastic mask, a shaggy black wig, and miko (Japanese shrine maiden) religious robes, Terada transforms into a strange, barely human, androgynous entity whose only goal seems to be to get the blood pumping to some good ol’ technofolk.

Best of all, when you look into the audience during an Omodaka show, it doesn’t solely consist of geriatric Japanese; the crowd is diverse and, importantly, it’s young. I’m certainly no expert in methods of preserving intangible cultural heritage like min’yo, but I think that

Photo: lensman82 Terada is taking a step in the right direction to make sure min’yo will stick around for a bit longer.

Sure, some purists may condemn Terada’s genre mixing as sacrilegious to everything traditional folk music stands for. However, when I see the audiences during Omodaka’s performances sway their bodies to Kanazawa’s trilling and yell back kakegoe to Terada, I feel that wonderful energy that drew me into min’yo in the first place. All I hope is that some of these people will also go back and listen to the music that led to the Omodaka project in the first place, and appreciate the unique sound of min’yo, too.

If you would like to check out the Omodaka project or Terada’s other works (he’s composed music for video games as well!), then I highly recommend looking at his label’s YouTube channel: “fareastrecording” (all lower case, no space). If you search “Omodaka - Topic” in the search bar, YouTube even has a curated playlist with Omodaka’s entire oeuvre! You can also listen on spotify.

Furthermore, Terada regularly updates a Twitter account which announces future performances and other exciting news, like the October 28th release of Omodaka’s newest album in five years!

Erica Park is currently working as an ALT in Kyotanabe City, Kyoto Prefecture. Her main interests are Japanese traditional culture, going to art museums, and overanalyzing media (preferably over a tumbler of Laphroaig 12). When she’s not doodling or daydreaming about finally getting tickets to a Takarazuka performance, she’s planning a trip to yet another prefecture in Japan.

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Photo: Ben Mason

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LETTER FROM THE EVENTS EDITOR As I’m sure you can imagine, it’s been a difficult year to be thinking about events. The majority of my term as the events section editor was spent scouring the internet for festivals and events all across the country.

It was always interesting to explore local traditions and activities—and I’ve definitely added to my Japan “to-do” list as a result. Unfortunately, the last couple of months turned up with nothing but cancelled events.

However, this did give me the opportunity to work with the CONNECT team to redefine an “event.” During this time of pandemic, something I’ve been consistently impressed by is people’s ingenuity and ability to adapt. Can’t do a movie night? All of a sudden, Netflix parties were a thing. Community can be found anywhere, and where there’s community, you can have an event.

Choosing favorite articles from this year was difficult. There were so many great events that people went to and chose to share with us. In the end, I chose Alisa van Eeghen’s “The Snake that Played with Fire” (originally published in the October 2019 issue) and Edward Portillo’s “Six Festivals in Six Days: The Tohoku Tour” (originally published in the November 2019 issue). I feel that both of these articles truly made the reader feel present at the festivals. The vicarious experience of reading through these pieces made me want to attend the festivals for myself. Going to events here in Japan can be such an incredible experience—but I feel as though you get out as much as you put in. Both of these authors threw themselves into the experience of being in the crowds, chanting along, making friends just for the night, and truly being a part of the festival. When events start happening again, I encourage you to explore your local area and discover traditions or seasonal hotspots you may have never known about. Until then, I’ll be adding to my “festivals to go to next year” list.

I also wanted to highlight Victoria Eichbaeur’s “Journey to the Heart of Shigaraki Pottery” that was published in the culture section of the February 2020 issue. The article delves into the history of this Shiga Prefecture art form, but also into Japanese pottery as a whole. I was interested enough to do some more reading on my own about Japan’s numerous forms of stunning pottery. Plus, I was lured into reading the article in my quest for knowledge about Japan’s ever-present tanuki statues and their err . . . hefty attributes. Who knew such a remarkable art form could be so closely related to something so undeniably odd? Read to find out how one form of pottery can go from lewd tanuki to elegant tea ceremony.

Linka Wade (Gunma)

36 Photo: Megan Luedtke

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The

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Snake

that Played

with

Fire Ailsa van Eeghen (Kagoshima)

“3, 2, 1! Staaaaart!” With that, the street erupted into an inferno of sparklers, firecrackers and dancing humans.

“This is crazy!” I thought to myself, not for the first time since moving to Japan.

For the next little while, I watched in awe as men danced atop sparkler breathing snakes and women danced below in celebration, deftly dodging the sparks showering them from above.

The Daijayama Festival (大蛇山祭り) or ‘Large Snake Float Festival,’ is a celebration held in the city of Omuta ( 大牟田) in Fukuoka Prefecture. Every summer huge floats decorated in the images of snakes are pulled through town accompanied by wild drumming performances and teams of dancers. Every year since the festival’s beginning in 1961, every effort has been made to make a more powerful snake than the previous year’s.

Known as ojoyama, the floats are about 10 meters long, 5 meters high, and weigh up to 3 tons. For hours, the teams pull these huge snakes through town, putting on a spectacular show.

Arriving in the late afternoon, I was quickly swallowed by crowds as I headed towards the festival. The sounds and the smells quickly enveloped me, transporting me into that classic Japanese summer festival world. I walked past small mountains of steaming karaage, bubbling takoyaki hot plates, mounds of yakisoba being tossed and flipped, squeezed through the bubble tea crowds and admired the ever-changing yukatas as they flashed in and out of sight.

Over the buzz of the crowd, I could hear drumming

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and chanting coming from the street. Sliding my way through the mass of people, I found a spot right at the front, fitting in snug between two families. Almost immediately a float rolled past, the sound of the taiko drums heavy in my ears. The decorated float looked more like a dragon than that of a snake, despite being in the snake festival. The huge head was swinging wildly, pushed on either side by happi-wearing men. The men atop the float were shouting “Yoi-sa! Yoi-ya-sa! Yoi-sa!

Yoi-ya-sa!” as they raised their arms in celebration. In the belly of the snake were men of all ages. Glistening from the sweat rolling down their bodies, they took turns to play the taiko drums, the change so smooth that not a single beat was missed.

The taiko playing was captivating. The men would sway from side to side with their arms pulled along by the weight of their bodies, almost elastic-like in their manner.

They were holding chunks of wood not much bigger than their hands, which they would effortlessly pull down to the drum all the while still swaying around. At one point one performer, swinging with such momentum, bent over the float railings backwards, before snapping back up, not a single beat missed.

As the sun set, the atmosphere fired up and so did the snakes. Over the loudspeakers, I could hear a countdown begin. The float near us came to a halt and as the snake’s head came to rest, bundles of sparklers appeared out of nowhere. Like that of a fireworks show gone wrong, the float exploded with light and fire and noise. All the men atop the roof started dancing, sparklers in hand, whilst the taiko drumming became more fervent.

Huge sparks were shooting out of the snake’s mouth as it swung back and forth. The whole thing looked like it could go up in flames at any moment. Chants of ‘Yoi-sa!

Yoi-ya-sa! Yoi-sa! Yoi-ya-sa!’ echoed all around as the dancing quickened and excitement built. I looked up and down the street and watched in awe as all the other floats came alight too.

As the lights faded, and the dancers’ movements calmed, I slowly returned to reality. People began spilling out onto the streets, much to my confusion. Was it over?

Was that the big finale? I jumped the barrier, hoping to get some respite from the cloying stickiness of the crowd.

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As I strolled along, enjoying the space, I realized the festival wasn’t actually over. It had just taken a different form.

Lines of people had formed at the heads of the snakes, most with young kids and babies in hand. We watched as a parent handed over their child to one of the men. As the teams sang “Yoi-sa! Yoi-ya-sa!” and as the drums began playing, a child was lifted into the mouth of the snake and shaken up and down, its little head bobbing all over the place. I would later learn that it is a form of blessing called kamase. The legend goes that if a child is bitten by one of the large snakes, they will live healthy and disease-free for a year. By the looks on some of the children’s faces, it seemed like they would have much preferred to get a cold than be in the snake’s mouth.

Leaving the festival, the sounds of, “Yoi-sa! Yoi-ya-sa!” continued to resonate in my ears. For one day every year, the floats are brought to life by the sweat and passion of hundreds of people. For those few hours, I felt like I’d been walking around in another world and now, as the sparklers died down, and the snake came to rest, I was returning back to just another Japanese summer.

Ailsa van Eeghen is a photographer who has been living in Kagoshima Prefecture for four years. She usually spends her weekends with her camera exploring the back roads of Japan, enjoying the wildest festivals and hiking up mountains. You can find more of her pictures on Instagram at @ail.saa and on her website where she writes about her travels.

Photos: Ailsa van Eeghen

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6 Festivals

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in 6 Days: The Tohoku Tour Edward Portillo, Gunma

hoisted up vertically, for everyone to admire. I took a piece of straw as a souvenir, and headed to my hotel to rest up for the trek to the next day’s festival.

Iwate Prefecture

When I came to Japan in 2017, I set out to see every one of its 47 prefectures. As part of that ongoing quest, I took a 2000 km journey through the region of Tohoku this summer. Each of the six prefectures in the region has an amazing and historic summer festival, and I was able to see them all in just six days. Follow me to Japan’s vast north!

Fukushima Prefecture

First up was the Fukushima Waraji Matsuri, in Fukushima City. I set out from Tokyo, and after several hours of travel, arrived in time to join in the climax of the festival: the parade of the waraji. You may ask yourself at this point, “what is a waraji?” Well, it’s a traditional straw sandal. The kind you might have seen an average person wearing as they went about their business a few hundred years ago. But these are no average sandals, not in Fukushima. Instead, the people craft giant versions of these traditional sandals, including a golden version, among others. One giant waraji is several meters long, carried by over a dozen men, and big enough for a man to “surf” it by holding on to the thick sandal tongs.

Some 250 km north of Fukushima lies the city of Morioka, home to the Sansa Odori Matsuri. The trip was long, and I even had to stop for a few quick car repairs, but eventually I made it to my lodgings and headed out into the city to see the festival.

There is a legend in these parts about a demon named Rasetsu, who terrorized the castle town of Morioka long ago. The people cried out to the deity Mitsuishi-kami for aid. Hearing their pleas, the deity caught Rasetsu, and forced the demon to pledge never to bother the people again. Rasetsu left his handprint on the rock of Mitsuishi Shrine as proof of his pledge. Thus was born the name Iwate, the rock (岩, iwa) hand (手, te) prefecture.

The people were so overjoyed at these events that they danced in the streets shouting “sansa sansa,” and continue to do so to this day. This is no small dance parade, but a mass of people, young and old, from the city and the surrounding areas, dancing as their ancestors did long ago. After watching the hundreds of dancers parade by, I headed to the nearby castle ruins to look over the city and dine on festival food. Life was good.

Seeing that man desperately holding on to the sandal as he was bounced up and down the street was an experience I never thought I’d have, nor is it an image that I will ever forget. After parading the sandals up and down the main avenue, covering the pavement in straw, the giant sandal—the largest waraji in all of Japan—was

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Akita Prefecture

Just south of Morioka is Hiraizumi. This wondrous town is home to the relics of an age long since past, wherein a powerful clan built a golden “Kyoto of the North,” and inspired legends of a golden city that would cross continents and inspire adventurers to discover a new world. Finding myself among these ancient sites, I felt a connection to the past, but I also saw the connection from this distant outpost, one end of the silk road, to the age of discovery that followed some centuries later.

However, that was but a pit stop on the way to the prefecture and city of Akita, on Japan’s northwest coast.

Famous for its dogs and snow, the prefecture also hosts the unique Kanto Festival. Here, the locals balance giant tiered lanterns on their bodies before a cheering crowd. You can witness the seasoned veterans expertly maneuvering the bamboo poles from their hands to their shoulders, foreheads, and even to their hips, while nearby elementary kids struggle with their miniature sized versions. It sounds so simple, but to witness it in person is to see wizardry at work. It is through sheer skill and talent that the performers make holding 50 kg poles seem effortless, as they move the poles along their bodies and pass them from person to person. This is truly artistry.

Aomori Prefecture

Nearly 200 km north of Akita, I found myself in Aomori, a city at the northern end of Japan’s Honshu island.

Summers here are brief, but during the Nebuta Festival, the spirit of the town burns bright. The Nebuta (or Neputa), are giant floats, pushed and pulled by festival goers, made of colorful paper and depicting famous warriors, local legends, old Chinese tales, and more. The creativity and care with which these floats are made is apparent in each one as it passes by. Even though I didn’t know all of the stories, I still marvelled at the lights, the colors, the dragons, and the cherry trees that rolled by.

But you’d be wrong to think that these floats are the only attraction. The people of Aomori dance along the parade route in special costumes, and the chant of “rassera” rings through the air. I found myself shouting this phrase, which is a local dialect version of “irasshaimase,” into the night air for hours, getting caught up in the spirit of the festival. I know I will never forget that night, and neither will you.

Yamagata Prefecture

Before leaving Aomori prefecture, I ventured 70 km south, to the little village of Shingo, which hosts the peculiar site known as the Tomb of Christ. Famous from the visits of many a YouTuber, this place definitely had something special about it. Whether it was the presence of the divine or something else, I’ll leave to you to decide, dear reader.

Nearly 400 km down the road to the south, I finally found myself at my penultimate festival, the Yamagata Hanagasa Matsuri. I had a heck of a time finding lodgings, but once I did, I was able to head out and witness the people of Yamagata dancing. The name Hanagasa comes from the straw hats worn by the festival participants, who come from a variety of different groups

such as the JSDF, local schools, and even a hip hop dance group. That last one certainly put a bit of zest into their dancing, showing that even events with ancient roots can evolve and change.

And here’s a plug, if I may, for a certain little Mexican restaurant near the station. Many places in Japan have good Mexican food, but only Muchas has captured the authentic taste so well. Stop in if you have a chance, and bring me some tacos.

Miyagi Prefecture

The last day of our trip began with a trek to Yamadera, the mountain temple of Yamagata. After parking at a friendly shop, I climbed 1000 steps to see a temple hewn into the mountain. The centuries-old buildings cling to the stone, and overlook a gorgeous view. Definitely worthwhile.

After heading out, I soon arrived at nearby Sendai, the biggest city in Tohoku, and a place I will most certainly be seeing again. The last festival on my list was the Tanabata Matsuri, held a month later than most other places in Japan because of their adherence on using Japan’s traditional lunisolar calendar. The decorations of the city were a sight to behold, with giant streamers, long chains of paper cranes, and ornamental balls, among others, saturating the festival areas. It felt like walking through another world.

Wrapping Up

I left Sendai after too brief a stay, and drove four hours back home to Gunma, exhausted, but with a new appreciation for all the people whom I never knew existed, all those who create these amazing events for themselves and their communities.

Japan is a wonderful place full of things to do and sights to see, and every place is special in its own way, so it’s easy to get caught up in the things happening in your own town, but if you venture outside your area, you may just find yourself experiencing something more wonderful than you’d imagined. Every journey I’ve taken has only reinforced my desire to keep traveling, and made me appreciate the opportunity I’ve had to visit so many places. If you happen to see me out there, go ahead and say hello! I’m always happy to meet fellow explorers.

Edward Portillo is a third-year ALT in Gunma prefecture, and is originally from Los Angeles, California. He would not have been able to make this trip without the invaluable support from his friends, who choose to remain anonymous. His hobbies include badminton, video games, and attempting to visit every prefecture in Japan (23 down, 24 to go). This is his third piece for CONNECT and he hopes to keep contributing stories about his journeys in Japan. He has a blog at thisweekinjapan.tumblr.com that he really should update more often.

All photos provided by Edward Portillo.

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LETTER FROM THE FASHION AND BEAUTY EDITOR As the Fashion and Beauty Editor for Connect, I have been able to learn so much about the trends and history in Japan. Fashion and beauty are subjects that are very specific to each individual. Two articles in particular are great examples of fashion in Japan and how people carry their own style. My first choice is “Vogue’s Fashion Night Out, Could Have Been My Night In” by T. Harris, which provides an interesting perspective on an abandoned fashion tradition that is only active in Japan. My second choice is “Fall Styles in Kyoto” by Madeline Yochum, wherein the author interviews her friends about their style and how/if Japan has influenced them. Both articles offer insight into how a person’s experience with fashion in Japan is uniquely them.

Vogue’s Fashion Night Out is a weekend event hosted by Vogue in the fashion district of major cities. This is a time for brands to showcase new designs, fashion lovers to network, and stores to move inventory by offering amazing deals on merchandise—at least, that’s what Vogue markets it as. T. Harris attended the event and left with a different perspective. I liked this piece because consumerism in fashion has always been something that bothers me, but I partake in. Reading how globally-recognized brands advertise and create narratives to keep people buying superfluous items was interesting.

Madeline Yochum’s piece was a fun read. I appreciated the way people put together outfits and what processes they go through as they pair different pieces together. Yochum featured her friends’ varied fashions for the article, then interviewed them about their style, favorite pieces, and how Japan has influenced them. It’s fascinating how one’s environment changes a person’s taste, and especially interesting how the same environment can have completely different results on what a person considers beautiful.

Yochum’s article gives a quick snapshot of this phenomena.

As an editor, I have read many articles curated by my peers. An article I found especially compelling was “The Japanese House Explained” by Benjamin Everett. I live in Japan and travel by Japanese house without ever paying them or the land much mind. This was my first time seriously considering the function and aesthetics of the homes in my everyday life. This was an article that stayed on my mind and deserves being called to attention.

Devoni Guise (Saitama) Follow me on IG @goal.getting.

46 Photo: Megan Luedtke

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Photo: Peter Sjo on Unsplash.com

vogue’s fashion night out in tokyo 2019 ...Could have been my Night-In T. Harris (Saitama) Saturday, September 14 was VOGUE’s 20th Annual Fashion Night Out in Tokyo, held around the Omotesando/Aoyama area. For those who don’t know, VOGUE is a high-fashion magazine that has been around since the late 1800s and is distributed in multiple countries. The magazine is very respected and the fashions it showcases is usually the hottest buzz in the industry. Fashion Night Out (FNO) is VOGUE partnering with different brands to have one night where everyone can enjoy shopping and mingling. This year’s theme was sustainability and environmental responsibility. The event took place in Omotesando Hills, a large mall in Shibuya,Tokyo.

I love paging through VOGUE to get a feel for current trends or what is changing in the fashion industry, so when I read about this event, I had to go. Omotesando is a luxe shopping district in Tokyo, and with VOGUE in town interesting things were sure to be happening. . . .

Or so I thought.

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I do not want to say that the event was lackluster or poorly done, but I think I had different expectations.

In fact, my expectations may have been a little too lofty, and unaware of the actual purpose of the event.

I was expecting to see new, interesting, or forwardthinking trends in fashion, but instead walked away with the feeling that FNO was half-heartedly meant to entice people to buy something. Overall, the event, in my humble opinion, lacked sustenance. There were highlights, such as the talk with the VOGUE Japan’s Editor-in-Chief, Mitsuko Watanabe, but overall I left a little disappointed. Here is a rundown of my experience.

FNO is not a showcase event— don’t expect to see new trends.

FNO is not an event that has fashion designers or brands showcasing new collections. I came in expecting there to be a lot of focus on sustainable practices in fashion and new clothes with that in mind.

Instead, there was some discussion from panelists, but

not much. There were also T-shirts sold with different images relating to recycling or being environmentally friendly.

Instead, it is more of a brand recognition and building event. Meaning, there were a lot of people distributing ads for different stores, and clerks trying to get you to follow their social media or use their hashtag for a small prize. Prizes ranged from specialty boba teas, candy, or small bags. Some stores did offer new releases that matched the sustainability theme, such as Stella McCartney’s sustainable Hunter boots. The main part of FNO was the interactions with different Japanese celebrities, the VOGUE Japan’s Chief-ineditor, and a performance by Sekai no Owari. The rest of the event was meant to be spent exploring the shops. Which wouldn’t have been a bad thing, but as mentioned, besides maybe ten to fifteen shops, there were not many special events, special edition or new releases being sold, or giveaways occurring.

The crowd was not much different than usual.

If you are the type who loves participating in art events to just people watch, such as me, then FNO may have tickled your itch. In general, Shibuya is a very fashionable area in Tokyo, and Omotesando is a luxury street lined with shops like Gucci, Louis Vuitton, and Valentino to name a few. There is no lack of fashionable people to appreciate on any day of the week. Compared to the average crowd found out and about in Omotesando, FNO did not attract a particularly different crowd to come out. So, if you are big on people watching, you may be better off picking a quiet weekday and enjoying the crowds.

The purpose was confusing.

As I wandered throughout Shibuya and the different roads around Omotesando I became curious as to why VOGUE saw this event as something that had to be done. Through my eyes this was not an event done for the love of fashion or art, but more a chance for

brands to increase their social media followers, build up their recognition, and hopefully sell some items.

But as I walked around, I noticed that, besides the ten to fifteen stores actively luring people in with small trinkets, the vast majority of stores were empty or almost empty, and it was business as usual for them.

The crowd swelled during the build up to the Sekai Owari performance, and then dispersed right after.

For many of these stores, FNO was not helping them attract more attention or sell clothing. In fact, the lack of results (combined with VOGUE’s poor planning) led to FNO’s discontinuation in New York in 2013 and systematic shut down in the US. People came to just look around and have fun, not to buy anything.

If anything, I think this event was more for VOGUE’s sake as a way to better establish its own brand voice in Asia. But I wonder how mutually beneficial it is for the small businesses that feel pressured to participate, tolerate the crowds and see no return on investment.

Do I regret venturing out to Tokyo for FNO? No, it gave me a new perspective on the fashion industry and gave me a lot to think about concerning the business aspect of it all. Plus, Shibuya on a Saturday? There are worse places to be. I think if I am to give advice to anyone interested in this event, it would be to stifle your expectations, have a set list of brands you know are participating that are doing something worthwhile, take it easy, and enjoy yourself.

VOGUE’s Fashion Night Out will also be held in Kobe on October 19th, Nagoya on October 26th, and Osaka on November 16th-17th. If you attend one of these events please send in your opinion to the event to CONNECT! T.Harris is a second year ALT in Saitama. In her free time, she likes to visit museums, watch anime, and browse through fashion magazines.

Photos: T. Harris

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Fall is arguably the most beautiful season in Japan. With autumn foliage, festivals, and crisp weather alike, it’s the perfect occasion to step outside the box and play with a variety of styles that accompany this seasonal change.

And in Kyoto, you’ll find a wide range of street looks that vary from minimalist to modern to normcore. In the spotlight are three JETs who live and work in Kyoto, with an interview featuring their takes on fall fashion for every occasion.

Alys Grey: Group Gathering Born in NYC, this is Alys’s first time in Asia. She tends to embrace a simple look but pairs it with more colorful, ornate accessories. She’s lived everywhere in NYC and happily embraces a mix of Japanese and Western styles. Her dress and cardigan are both from H&M. She got her boots from AEON and her handbag from Alice On Wednesday in Tokyo.

How would you describe Japanese fashion?

Eclectic people who are really high fashion, very sleek, but on the other hand you have people that are very cute, and then there are the people who are kinda funky. So you see some sorts of combinations that you typically wouldn’t see in other places.

How does that compare to fashion back in New York City?

It’s actually pretty similar, but we don’t gear as much towards cute. We don’t have as much cute.

You’re more likely to see more sexy in New York.

I think fashion in Kyoto is a bit more reserved. Or, maybe refined is the better word for it. You still see a lot of cute styles, you also see the occasional funky ones. But, when you are in Tokyo you

definitely see a lot more outgoing styles than in Kyoto. People try out things that I don’t think they try out in Kyoto.

Fall go-to accessory or look?

I really like wearing leggings with dresses or shorts. It lets me give my summer wardrobe an extended lifespan. I like to pair my leggings with cute ankle boots whenever possible. I have some really cute clothes I picked up while I was in Tokyo.

Since I love nautical themes, I’ve always been a fan of sailor fuku-based designs but have never had a chance to try them.

Christin Cook: Dinner Party Pittsburgh native Christin Cook is in her third year in Kyoto. Over time she’s slowly added a mix of

Photo: Alys Grey and Matthew Li

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styles to her wardrobe that range from UNIQLO deals to forgotten second-hand jackets. Her bag is from a thrift store in Kameoka, Kyoto called 創庫生 活館 亀岡店 (Sōkoseikatsukan Kameoka-ten).

How would you describe your personal fashion?onal style?

My personal fashion is a gradual mixture of components from all the places I’ve traveled to. I like to incorporate different bits and my own flair.

I like to focus on functionality and comfort, not just physical comfort but what makes you “feel” yourself.

How has your style evolved since you first came to Japan?

I experiment more with different silhouettes. In America, there’s only one type of silhouette that’s seen as attractive, but in Japan it’s very different.

So, I’m having fun melding the two. For example, high-waisted, wide-legged pants are really popular. And often, oversized shirts. So, I might do something like a more form-fitting, high-neck top with wider pants. Maybe one item form-fitting, one item loose and flowy. Combining the two.

Photos: Christin Cook (left) and Alys Grey (right)

What makes Kyoto fashion unique?

You can find a style that matches how you feel, and if not, you can create your own. There’s a little bit more freedom. People won’t call you out for being more out there.

Oh really, in Kyoto?

Yeah. Maybe they will feel it, but they won’t say it.

What’s your go-to fall accessory?

Waterproof leather boots and a scarf. Boots are useful because autumn is the perfect time for spontaneous adventures.

Matthew Li: Daytime Date Although this is Matt’s first job abroad, he’s no stranger to Japanese style or culture. This is his fifth time in Japan and over the years he has visited nearly 20 prefectures. He has developed a unique relationship with Japanese fashion. Originally from NYC, Matt’s fashion taste leans towards urban streetwear but incorporates elements of casualwear as well.

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What are some differences you’ve noticed among different cities in Japan?

Tokyo fashion is a lot more daring. In Kyoto, there is this conservatism in clothing, especially with men’s clothing. Even with women’s clothing. I don’t see as many niches as I would in Tokyo or Osaka, or even Kobe. Clothing here reminds me of American clothing.

What are your favorite places to shop in Japan?

I like Shimokitazawa in Tokyo and also Omotesando in Tokyo. Other really good places across Japan are Immelimoola in Osaka’s America Village. Hiroshima is known to be the home of fashion trends.

What do you like best/least about Japanese fashion?

You can look casual while also looking like you’re dressing up. There’s a really nice mix between looking unique and appearing casual. Especially

with their oversized clothing. And a lot of the designs mix streetwear with formal wear. It’s really interesting to see that here. Depending on what you’re into, Japan’s a good place to find anything.

Especially if you’re in Tokyo.

Fall go-to accessories?

In fall, a light jacket. Places with really good jackets are Rage Blue, Bathing Ape, and A.P.C also has really good jackets. I think colored jean jackets and camel is a good design for fall. Surprisingly, orange is a good color if you’re wearing a black top, and oversized sweaters are great, What are you wearing now?

My camel pants are from an underground shop in Seoul, Korea (which also has a location in Shimokitazawa), specializing in oversized clothing.

This shirt under it is from WEGO, a fast-fashion brand in Japan. It’s really good if you’re just trying to find cheap stuff. It’s the Forever 21 of Japan.

And this bag is from Bershka New York. My go-to fall accessory is a Junred bomber jacket I got from Ragtag.

Photos: Matthew Li (left) and Cristin Cook (right)

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Last thoughts?

I guess clothes can describe my personality, or at least my interests and the kind of lifestyle I want to pretend I have. In Japan, I think keeping up your appearance is a way to gauge how much you care about yourself. But that’s probably everywhere in the world.

Midwest native Madeline Yochum graduated from Washington University with a bachelor’s degree in journalism. Before coming to Japan as an AET, she worked as a journalist in Missouri and South Korea. She developed a passion for writing and service in Madagascar, where she documented her experiences teaching in a rural community.

Madeline resides in Kameoka, Kyoto near her favorite hideaway: Nango Park.

Photos: Matthew Li

All photos provided by Madeline Yochum

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LETTER FROM THE ENTERTAINMENT EDITOR Being the entertainment editor of CONNECT this last year has been an absolute privilege. For many of us expats now living in Japan, early exposure to Japanese entertainment, perhaps anime, J-pop, horror films, or video games, sparked our young imaginations and may have helped draw us across the sea. For me personally, getting to experience some of Japan’s many traditional forms of entertainment, from tea ceremonies, to moon viewing parties, festivals, folk concerts, and theater performances, has been the biggest delight and surprise of living in a foreign country. I feel very lucky that my role as entertainment editor has given me a chance to explore so many sides of Japanese culture through the lense of the amazing entertainment produced here, and through the stories of the incredible entertainers and ALTs who have made Japan their home.

I chose to highlight these two articles, 1,000 Worlds Clash at Tokyo Game Show 2019 and Interview with Kabuki Actor Taiki Yokobayashi, because they show the range of entertainment in Japan, from the intensely traditional to the cutting edge.

Video games are one of Japan’s largest cultural exports and Tokyo Game Show is Japan’s largest and liveliest video game expo. Nathan Post, our wonderful reporter on the ground floor, was a delight to work with, and gave us a great insider’s view of the event, gorgeous pictures, and hilarious game reviews. In particular his VR highlights and reporting on the Indie Game Awards was a really fascinating look at the new and developing technologies (smell-o-vision is a thing now?!) that are changing the way we play and interact with games.

On the complete opposite end of the spectrum, interviewing Taiki Yokobayashi, a 4th generation kabuki actor, gave me the chance to learn more about one of Japan’s incredible traditional theater forms. Just tracking down this story was one of the highlights of my time on the JET program. I am intensely grateful to Toshie Ogura for going with me to a theater-shrine in a remote rice field to help conduct this interview, and to the Awai Kasuga Kabuki Preservation Group for inviting us behind the curtain into their dream-like world.

I hope that this interview gives readers a better understanding of this unique art form, and inspires them to get on out and explore the hidden gems of the Japanese countryside.

Picking just one article to recommend from another section was really difficult, but I’d have to go with The Snake that Played with Fire from the Events section. I adore Japan’s many strange and varied festivals, and this one seemed like a blast! I’d love to go there myself and get my snake on, and I hope our readers will too.

Cheers, Rachel Fagundes (Okayama)

54 Photo: Megan Luedtke

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1,000 Worlds Clash at Tokyo Nathan Post (Gunma)

Ahead of me an enormous frost dragon roared behind a man in glittering armor. To my right, two women were fanning themselves with cash from a bathtub full of money. To my left, a man posed with a sword taller than he was. Behind me, two robots loomed high over their surroundings. And all around me were the sights and sounds of the 2019 Tokyo Game Show.

If you’re not familiar with the event, TGS is an annual trade show that plays host to the world’s biggest video game companies, as well as a plethora of independent games and developers, as they come together to show off the newest titles and innovations in the industry to each other, the press, and the public.

The show takes place over four days every September at Makuhari Messe, near Kaihin Makuhari Station in Tokyo. It is open exclusively to industry insiders on the first two days, and then to the public on the following two. This year the show ran from 10:00 a.m. to 5:00 p.m. each day with an admission fee of 2000 yen for the public.

If you’ve never been to TGS, it’s hard to fully comprehend the levels of insanity, passion, and money that surround the event each year. This year, the show attracted more than 260,000 people over its four days. That translates to huge crowds, massive displays, and hundreds of millions of yen spent vying for your attention.

This year’s show included some of the biggest upcoming titles of 2019 and 2020, including Final Fantasy VII Remake, Cyberpunk 2077, Marvel’s Avengers, Death Stranding, and more. There was also a greater emphasis this year on VR developments, with one of the show’s eleven(!) event halls dedicated solely to VR and AR gaming.

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Game Show 2019

Most Anticipated Games Final Fantasy VII Remake Judging from my talks with guests on the show floor and the imposing multi-hour line, the biggest thing at the show this year had to be the Final Fantasy VII Remake demo.

Final Fantasy developer Square Enix’s booth dominated the main hall, with much of it dedicated to this game. Unlike previous Final Fantasy remasters and definitive editions, Final Fantasy VII Remake is a complete reconstruction of the original from the ground up. Fans have been begging for this game for well over a decade and Square has finally responded with a stunner of a title.

Gone are the 1998 original’s PS1-era chibi block characters and pre-rendered 2D backgrounds. In their place are beautiful modern recreations of the characters and environments in full 3D, with an overthe-shoulder camera angle and realistic proportions.

Also gone are the turn-based random battles of the original. This change is sure to generate controversy among series purists, but in its place is a much more active and flashy system that incorporates elements of Kingdom Hearts and Final Fantasy XV’s real time combat systems with the ATB and menu-based systems of the original.

The TGS demo covered an early sequence of the game, where Cloud and Barret are infiltrating one of Midgar’s Mako reactors. It culminates in a boss fight against the original’s first boss, the huge robotic Guard Scorpion. The demo featured a bit of exploration and item collecting, and a lot of combat.

The changes in the combat system mark the biggest departure from the original. There are no random battles, so all enemies appear directly in the world.

You can run up to them to initiate a fight with no transition to a separate battle screen. During combat, you can move around with the analogue stick to line

All photos provided by Nathan Post

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up attacks, dodge roll with the X button, guard with the R1 button, and perform basic melee attacks with the square button.

As you fight, an ATB (active time battle) gauge fills up in the bottom-right corner, which lets you perform menu-based attacks, much like the original. Once one bar of the gauge has filled up, you can press the O button to pull up a traditional FFVII-style menu, which slows down the game to an almost-paused state. From there, you can use up an ATB segment to cast magic, which costs MP, or perform one of Cloud’s signature melee attacks like Braver.

Also carrying over from the original is the Limit Break system. Once Cloud has dealt or taken enough damage, his Limit Gauge starts flashing and allows you to perform a Limit Break attack (in the case of this demo, it was Cross Slash) to deal out heavy damage to your enemies.

And while you might think the shift to a 3D action style would limit player control only to Cloud, Barret was also playable in the demo. You can switch control between party members at any time during combat with up and down on the D-pad, or choose

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commands for them by pressing L2 or R2 while in the combat menu.

Barret had access to the same basic actions as Cloud, though instead of sword attacks, his basic square attack unleashes a hail of bullets from his gun arm. He also has access to his own range of special attacks, magic, and a limit break in his combat menu.

The battle against the Guard Scorpion was significantly more climactic than in the original, featuring cinematic changes in camera angle, backand-forth dialogue between Cloud and Barret during the fight, huge barrages of rockets and gunfire, and of course, fully voiced cutscenes on either side of the fight.

The game is sure to prove controversial, as remakes of cultural touchstones often do, but judging from my hands-on time with the demo, it looks to be channeling the Lifestream of the original while successfully adapting it to the modern age. The first part of Final Fantasy VII Remake’s episodic release launches on PS4 on March 3, 2020.

Death Stranding One of the only games at the show to stand toe-to-toe in hype with Final Fantasy VII Remake was gaming visionary Hideo Kojima’s first new game since his departure from Konami: Death Stranding.

This game has drawn reactions of astonishment and bewilderment basically nonstop since it was announced back in 2016. It features the likenesses of Guillermo del Toro, Mads Mikkelsen, and Norman Reedus, as Reedus’ character Sam treks across post-apocalyptic America carrying a baby in an amniotic sack, fending off some sort of mysterious rain ghosts. If you’ve been following this game, you know I’m not making this up.

Up until this point, no one was particularly sure what this game would even be. Kojima is well known for his beloved stealthaction series Metal Gear Solid, but the sparse gameplay clips of Death Stranding had so far only shown Sam walking along valleys, extending roboladders from his backpack to climb cliffs, and cautiously avoiding . . . the rain?

At this year’s show, however, Kojima gave an hour-long stage demo of the game and, after watching it, I can finally say I think I know what it is. And what it is is very strange.

The presentation starts with some typical Kojima weirdness as Sam wakes up from a nap on the ground, unzips his pants, and starts peeing away from the camera. A meter pops up beside him showing his bladder’s contents in milliliters quickly decreasing. Sam continues like this for 20 seconds or so, aiming the stream around in various directions until his bladderometer reaches zero. The realism of today’s games truly is awe-inspiring.

Next, Kojima showed Sam carrying supplies across the wilderness. But there is much more to this act in terms of game mechanics than you would expect.

Every piece of gear you give Sam to carry adds to a weight total, and shows up physically as another item on his back. If you stack them poorly, Sam’s center of balance (shown by a faint yellow circle under him), will be thrown off and it will be difficult to move and balance.

Balance is an important part of the game, it seems.

The L and R buttons are dedicated to controlling Sam’s balance as he moves across the terrain.

You have a variety of sensors to show you how treacherous different terrain is, from the steepness of slopes to the depth of rivers. If Sam stumbles or falls, his supplies can be damaged or lost.

Kojima pauses to talk about what the “stranding” in the game’s title means. First, it implies the solitude of being “stranded.” Sam is alone throughout much of his adventure except for holograms, and of course his amniotic baby companion BB. However, “stranding” also refers to each player’s game world as one unique “strand” of a larger thread. And those strands can cross over. Kojima reveals the game will feature passive multiplayer features, somewhat similar to those of games like Dark Souls or No Man’s Sky. As you connect different geographical regions to an in-game network, you begin to see traces of other players’ Sams, like their footsteps, paths through the world, rest points, and most importantly, items.

You can use things left behind by other players, like their ladders, shelters, and equipment. And of course you can also craft and leave things behind for them.

You can even give other players “Likes” for the things they’ve left. Kojima reiterates these separate yet connected game instances are the titular “strands” of Death Stranding.

The demo continues, and at one point Sam receives a harmonica for delivering some goods. He stops to rest and changes his shoes, massages his shoulders, and plays the harmonica for BB. This is all done through the player’s input rather than through a scripted cutscene. BB reacts positively to Sam’s harmonica playing and bestows him with a few Likes.

Something more akin to a traditional Metal Gear Solid game finally appears as Sam encounters a camp of “Mules,” enemies who will try to steal your cargo (though not actually try to kill you). They have amassed a sizable collection of cargo in their camp taken from other players’ Sams.

Our Sam proceeds to approach the Mules’ camp in a freeform stealth sequence reminiscent of Metal Gear Solid V. He is eventually spotted and the Mules

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attack with shock spears. Sam equips an electric bola gun and stuns a few Mules before stealing a truck and driving off.

We also got a closer look at the rain ghosts seen in previous trailers, or “BTs” as they are properly known. Sam sneaks through an abandoned town area, trying to avoid some of the floating shadowy creatures, but is eventually spotted. He is pulled through a mass of tar in the ground and ends up fighting a massive four-legged BT with the bola gun from before. He infuses the gun with his blood and dirty shower water to power it up. Once again, I’m not making this up.

Sam eventually runs out of ammo, but as things begin to look dire, he calls for help from . . . other players! A few Sams from other players’ worlds appear to help turn the tide of the fight. Though it appears their participation could be limited to just cheering him on and tossing him items, rather than full-blown co-op combat. We’ll have to wait for more information on that particular element.

As the demo wraps up, Kojima talks more in depth about the kind of cooperative creation available in the world. It seems that crafting is not limited to just gear and items, or even vehicles like trucks and motorcycles. You can actually build bridges, roads, and structures by yourself or with other players, and have those structures show up in everyone’s game worlds, adorned with the name of whomever contributed to that project the most.

I walked away from this Death Stranding presentation with more answers than questions for once, which was certainly nice. The game seems to be a mix of heavy world exploration a la Zelda:

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Breath of the Wild, with occasional stealth and combat mechanics from Metal Gear, and held together by a shared world multiplayer system like that of Dark Souls or No Man’s Sky—all under the roof of typical Kojima political intrigue and supernatural weirdness.

Judging from this TGS demo, Death Stranding is shaping up to be one of the most interesting titles of the year. And best of all, it’s out quite soon. Death Stranding will be released exclusively for the PS4 on November 8th.

Other Games to Watch Out For Here are some quick one sentence rundowns of seven other titles to look out for.

Cyberpunk 2077: The team behind The Witcher series tackles cyber future tech in this upcoming action RPG. Persona 5 Royal: An overhauled version of one of 2017’s best JRPGs, featuring new stories, characters, bosses, and Personas.

Nioh 2: A follow-up to 2017’s “like Dark Souls but with samurais” title by the team behind Ninja Gaiden.

Marvel’s Avengers: A co-op RPG-lite action game with a persistent and evolving world in the style of Destiny, but for your favorite Marvel heroes.

Project Resistance: A 4 vs 1 multiplayer title set in the Resident Evil universe, where four survivors work to outmaneuver a fifth player playing as a boss monster.

Dragon Ball Z Kakarot: The newest Dragon Ball title takes cues from more traditional RPGs and features expansive zones to explore and secrets to discover in addition to its trademark anime action.

Code Vein: This Dark Souls-inspired game combines a stark anime style with a gothic world of blood and vampires.

VR Highlights There was an especially big focus on virtual reality (VR) at this year’s show, and while there may not have been as many big-name VR titles as previous years, the variety of indie titles—and especially hardware innovations—more than made up for it.

I saw games using body harnesses, cyber shoes, impact vests, moving chairs, and yes, even smello-vision.

TACTSUIT The bHaptics “TACTSUIT” comprises a vest, wristbands, gloves, and ankle bands which all wirelessly interface with select games. The game on display with the suit was a simple cartoonish wild-west shooter. The gimmick here is that you can actually feel the impact of the shots when you’re hit.

And no, it doesn’t hurt. It felt similar to the rumble you would feel from a normal game controller, but localized to different parts of your chest and back. The wristbands also rumbled to signify firing your pistols, but it didn’t do much to replicate the kickback of firing a gun in your hand. It was a cool demonstration of the tech that, while expensive, certainly helps immerse you in VR. It probably won’t

become a staple of home VR setups, but makes sense for Japan’s increasingly popular VR arcades.

Cybershoes Another VR accessory that elicited more than a few smiles and laughs from the passing attendees was Cybershoes’, well, cyber shoes. These sandal-like contraptions strapped over your shoes and had what appeared to be small rollers on the bottom to track movement. The game on display was Skyrim VR on PC. Guests would sit in a swiveling chair with the shoes and headset, and then take their first awkward shuffles into the world of Skyrim. Walking while sitting is probably not an action most of us are familiar with. Even so, seeing these first forays into tackling the problem of movement in VR space was impressive.

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The KAT VR mini also seemed to be using a sort of sock-shuffling technique for VR walking, where the players would slide their feet across the concave surface of the platform and shuffle-walk in place to move. Again, it’s not ideal, but these kinds of first shuffle-steps are good to see.

Ambiotherm One of the craziest demos on display in the VR booth was Keio-NUS CUTE Center’s The Lost Foxfire, featuring honest to goodness Smell-o-Vision (or “Ambiotherm,” as they called it). In the game, a fox spirit is running amok around your house and you have to chase it down and put it out with a fire extinguisher.

As one tends to do.

KAT Walk mini One other solution to the problem of movement in VR was presented in KAT VR’s KAT Walk mini. This VR station is a platform about the size of a piece of gym equipment with a waist harness to hold you steady as you walk in place on a concave surface.

The demo featured a realistic VR shooting game controlled with the KAT Walk mini and a gun controller. I didn’t get a chance to try it for myself, but the people who did wait in line for the chance were standing, turning, looking, aiming, and (kind of) walking physically while in VR.

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The only problem is the fox can split into multiple identical spirits with no visual indication of which is the real one. The only way to tell the target apart is by smell. If you’re focusing on the right spirit, you’ll know by a bit of sweet warm air generated by the Ambiotherm apparatus on the headset.

The game itself was rather simple, but the technology on display was anything but. Chasing after the smells of fox spirits with motion controls in virtual reality was easily the most disembodied I felt at TGS this year.

Indie Game Awards Sense of Wonder Night is an award-show-like event held after the second TGS business day, meant to highlight a select few indie games that inspire “a sense of wonder” in those who see them. These were all games and projects worked on by small teams of

just a few people, many of whom are still in school.

Here are three of the projects that inspired the greatest “sense of wonder” in me.

Uplight While many of the games featured at Sense of Wonder Night broke conventions through unique gameplay ideas, Uplight was the single nominee that did so through hardware innovation.

Uplight is a handheld game system whose screen is not flat, not round, but a cube. A rotatable 3D cube sits atop a game controller, with five different faces of the cube acting as five game screens that all work together to allow you to play a game in three dimensions across its surface. (The sixth face, of course, was attached to the controller.)

The developers showed off a 3D version of arcade classic Breakout. In the Uplight version, players would still try to erase blocks from the top of the screen by bouncing a ball between them and a paddle at the bottom. However, here the ball is free to move off the edge of one screen and onto another, so as you play, you rotate the cubic display to keep the ball in view and move your paddle across the screens as well to hit it.

It was one of the most creative pieces of hardware I saw at the show, and I look forward to seeing what other applications it has.

Bravoon Bravoon was equally creative in its twist on traditional racing games. At first glance it looks like another future-racer in the style of Wipeout or F-Zero, but its main mechanic is anything but standard. In Bravoon you’re of course trying to be the first across the finish line, avoiding obstacles and staying on the track along the way, but the trick here is that you can boost your speed by—wait for it—closing your eyes.

It uses the Xbox’s Kinect accessory and face tracking to make this happen. So it’s actually you, the physical player, closing your own eyes. And the longer your eyes are closed the faster you’ll go. Of course this sets up an obvious risk/reward mechanic of speeding you up in exchange for, well, not having any idea where you’re going. It was a really clever game and I wish I had gotten the chance to play it for myself.

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Stone Story RPG Stone Story RPG is immediately striking for its retro visual style, but this isn’t another of the neo-retro pixel art games. Stone Story RPG is done entirely in the same ASCII art style of PC games from the ‘80s like Nethack. These games were from an era before even basic 2D art in games, and so were drawn entirely with text editors. The characters, enemies, and entire world were made exclusively from periods, slashes, parentheses, and the like.

Stone Story RPG emulates this style impressively and pairs its minimalist aesthetic with minimalist yet captivating exploration and crafting gameplay. Your character moves around, collects items, and fights enemies automatically. Your role as the player is instead to make choices for your character like what items to craft, what gear to equip, and what paths to take.

This title is also the one that’s furthest on its way to being a complete and full game. Stone Story RPG is already out in early access on Steam, so give it a look if it sounds like your kind of game. And

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considering it went on to win the $3,000 grand prize for Game of the Show at Sense of Wonder Night, expect to hear more about it in the months to come.

Wrap Up TGS is something every gamer should experience at least once. And if you’re already here in Japan, it’s all the easier to do. TGS 2020 will be held in Makuhari Messe in September of next year, though specific dates are yet to be determined. Judging from past years though, expect admission to be open to the public on Saturday and Sunday for a door fee of 2,000 yen or 1,500 yen if you sign up in advance online. Happy gaming!

Nathan Post is a former JET who spent 5 years as a middle school ALT in Fujioka. He’s a lifelong gamer whose favorite titles are Kingdom Hearts II, Resident Evil 4, and The Legend of Zelda: The Wind Waker.

When he’s not gaming he enjoys pina coladas, getting caught in the rain, and thinking about gaming.

He is currently attending language school full-time and working on breaking into Japanese-to-English game translation.

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Taiki Yokobayashi (Okayama) | Toshie Ogura (Okayama) | Rachel Fagundes (Okayama)

Interview with i k i a T r o t c A i KabukInterview i h s a y a b o k o with Kabuki Y Actor Taiki Yokobayashi After driving through rice fields on tiny, unlit, dirt roads in the dead of night, circling and searching for a location that would obviously scream KABUKI FESTIVAL, I came upon Katsuga Shrine. The locals had been performing kabuki here since the late Edo period, and built a theater behind the shrine to house their annual autumn festival.

Dozens of cars were clustered around it, trying to park, jostling to pass each other on the narrow inaka roads.

This must be the place, I thought. As I stepped inside the little theater, I saw that it was packed to the gills. The audience, entirely comprised of (mostly older) locals, sat on rows of floor cushions facing the stage, all the way to the back of room, where latecomers stood. On stage young boys costumed as exquisite cranes whirled like dervishes, dipped and bowed and fluttered their wings around a beautiful maiden (also a young boy) dressed in brilliant red. Whispers began to circulate as the locals realized a wild gaijin had appeared in their midst, and I was excitedly ushered into a better seat toward the front.

66 Photos: Rachel Fagundes

For the next several hours I was treated to a dazzle of color and sound. A variety of self-contained scenes, and a few longer plays, were presented, broken up by intermissions where the little old ladies in the audience chatted happily with their neighbors and whipped snacks out of their bags to share with one another. Some of the scenes were dance performances with little discernible plot. Others appeared to be family dramas or historical epics, where I could mostly figure out the characters and their relationships from their interactions and costuming. Even without understanding every element of what I had just seen, I left the theater at the end of the night enchanted, and feeling very lucky to have been invited into such a traditional space in my inaka community.

Almost a year later I returned with my friend and translator, Toshie Ogura, to interview one of the kabuki actors and sit in on a rehearsal for the upcoming kabuki festival. This time we entered from backstage, and found images of painted kabuki actors peering down from the walls. Every surface seemed to be covered with old posters, yellowing newspaper clippings, and playbills of past shows. Backstage was also surprisingly full of women, working on props, costumes, and equipment.

On the stage itself, rehearsal was already in progress.

Actors—and surprise again, a few actresses!—mostly in street clothes, rehearsed their blocking.

We were introduced to our contact, Taiki Yokobayashi, a mild-mannered young teacher by day and master kabuki actor by night, who showed us around the theater before settling into an interview. In particular, he directed us to a wall of photographs, rows upon rows of pictures of groups of children and teens in full costume and makeup, posing on stage. “This is me!” He said, pointing to one young boy, then to another, “and that is my friend, there!” He gestured to a grown man practicing on stage, and then back to the photographs, “That’s him many years ago, and this one’s his father!” And on and on, the faces go back for generations.

always asks us to perform one play at their festival with them. This year I am playing Hatsugiku at both festivals.

Have you ever heard of Konpira Kabuki,* in Shikoku? We also perform in the “Sanuki Kabuki Festival” there in Kagawa Prefecture every October. *Konpira Grand Theatre, also known as “Kanamaru-za” is the oldest kabuki theater in Japan still standing. It was built in the 1830s and recently restored to its original Edo period appearance.

Note: All interview responses were originally in Japanese. They have been translated into English by Toshie Ogura and transcribed and edited by Rachel Fagundes.

Rachel: Thank you so much for letting us interview you! Please tell us about this kabuki troupe.

Yokobayashi: This group is the Awai Kasuga Kabuki Preservation Association. This building is 20 years old. Before that, this kabuki group used to act on the outside stage of the Kasuga shrine for roughly 30 years. So they have roughly 50 years as a formal group. Before that, there was no fixed group in this area, but the indigenous people used to perform kabuki to worship the gods in autumn and to celebrate the harvest.

Rachel: What types of stories were performed to worship the gods?

Yokobayashi: We have all the scripts for all the titles this group plays, have ever played ever. There are 16. We pick four of them to perform every year, plus the crane dance, which we do every year at the start.

However, we don’t write a special story to worship gods. Instead we perform with worshiping thoughts and feelings in our minds.

Rachel: How long have you been a kabuki actor?

Yokobayashi: For 21 years. I started when I was maybe turning 6 or 7.

We are quite famous in Japan, in Okayama. It’s because the young people are disappearing from the countryside. They want to hunt for their jobs in the city. The countryside people want to revitalize the villages, so the city and the countryside people focus on this kabuki group.

This is an authentic kabuki place. It’s rare for communities to have places like this, and active kabuki groups. So kabuki gets a lot of attention.

We want more young people to revitalize the villages and to pass on the kabuki to the younger generation.

Rachel: Your kabuki festival is in October, right?

What about the rest of the year?

Yokobayashi: From July we begin practicing. Each person has their work. There’s no admission fee so it’s all for free, all volunteers.

There are three places for us to play kabuki every year. This is our main location. We also play in Nagi. There are two big kabuki groups in this area. Our group, and the Nagi group. We have our festival here, at this temple, and two weeks later the Nagi Group has their festival. The Nagi Group

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Rachel: Do you come from a kabuki actor family?

How long has your family been performing kabuki?

Rachel: Were you able to see your grandfather perform also, when you were a child?

Yokobayashi: My great grandfather, grandfather, father, and I have all been playing kabuki together as a family—so four generations. A few families in our theater troupe are like that, but that’s kind of rare.

Yokobayashi: I don’t remember actually. My grandfather died young, but there are many pictures that I can see. And I’ve seen videos of him performing.

Rachel: What was it like learning kabuki from your father?

Yokobayashi: Autumn is kabuki festival season for me. It’s a matter of fact. It’s natural for me. From my childhood I have admired kabuki, thinking, “Oh, it’s so cool!” So I wanted to do that. My father has never said “Do kabuki!” or “You have to do this!” but since I admired the kabuki players, it was natural for me.

Rachel: Usually kabuki actors are all men, playing both the male and female roles. But some modern kabuki troupes allow women. There are women in this group, right?

Yokobayashi: There are professional Edo kabuki groups or Edo families, so they are kind of real, high-class professional kabuki players. When it comes to the professional kabuki players, women are totally not allowed to play on the stage.

However, when it comes to our local kabuki troupe, Awai Kabuki, anyone is welcome. This group especially is very inclusive, regardless of ages, sexes, whether you are from a kabuki family or not.

Most of our actors are people who are connected to the Awai area in some way. They aren’t all from kabuki families. Some have not played kabuki before, but I invited them in so that we could perform kabuki together and they said “why not!” As long as they come to practice anyone is welcome.

A couple of years ago foreign people used to practice for this kabuki play for a couple of years in a row. They used to act on the stage, not in leading roles, but it was very impressive.

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Rachel: You have sisters also, right? Are they involved?

Yokobayashi: They used to act on the stage!

He proudly directs us back to the pictures on the wall, where his sisters can be found among the others.

Three brothers and sisters on the stage when we were children. After they graduated from junior high, they stopped acting, but I decided not to stop acting. My sisters got married and they live in Tsuyama, but they come back to this kabuki in the autumn festival. My oldest sister has two children, the oldest is turning 2 so we are discussing him playing on the stage. So that’s how our family is going to be. With my friend’s children, it’s the same. We are chatting happily “maybe next year, or maybe next-next year, your children are going to join our kabuki!”

Rachel: Can you tell me about the kabuki makeup?

Does each actor apply their own?

Yokobayashi: We don’t put on makeup by ourselves. There are professional makeup artists for kabuki who are called kaoshi.

Rachel: Does that run in families also?

Yokobayashi: It’s not a family-style. If you really want to be a makeup artist for kabuki, you have to ask the master for training. To be an apprentice.

Rachel: So how many makeup artists work with this group?

Yokobayashi: This group doesn’t have any professional kabuki makeup artists which are exclusive to this Awai kabuki group. So we always ask the Nagi Kabuki group to borrow their makeup artists. Maybe three or four makeup artists.

Rachel: What is the makeup made of?

Yokobayashi: Horse fat. Horse oil.

Rachel: What—Wait, what?

Yokobayashi: Horse oil.

Rachel: So, is this oil you put on the horse, or is this oil made from the horse’s body?

Yokobayashi explains the plot of Revenge of Hideyoshi Part 10—Amagasaki in a Hidden Place, a tragedy about the doomed young lovers: Jujiro, who must go off to battle, and Hatsugiku, his devoted fiance. While he is getting into the somewhat complicated historical circumstances that led to this scenario, our interview is interrupted by his own father who, grinning, shows us a picture from last year’s performance.

In it, Yokobayashi stands in full costume as the noble young warrior Jujiro, and his father poses delicately on his arm as Jujiro’s 16 year old fiance.

Both laugh.

Yokobayashi: It’s kind of a solid oil. It’s not liquid.

So you take the oil and get it melted on your palms and then spread it on our faces and then put white powder on it. It’s kind of a face painting. Body paint.

So with the horse oil, it will be easier to spread the face painting better, smoother.

It’s really really hot on stage because of the light and we have to wear kimono and heavy costumes, but the makeup doesn’t move or sweat off.

Afterwards, it’s really difficult for us to remove the makeup because of the horse oil.

Rachel: Does it smell?

Yokobayashi: A little. It’s kind of a fat oil.

“Everyone was busy!” Yokobayashi explains, “A girl my age was supposed to be Hatsugiku, my fiance, but everybody got busy, so my father had to stand in!”

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Rachel: So how does the makeup define the different characters?

Yokobayashi: Ah yeah, it depends on the character, how to do the makeup is different. Totally different.

Have you heard of Kuge? Kuge are like, high society people. So the eyebrows should be like dots. Round dots.

The makeup of samurai should be straight.

Straight lines. Straight and thick. When it comes to the strong characters, the makeup should be like kumadori**.

Rachel: I know that the language of kabuki is very ancient. It can be difficult for modern Japanese people to understand. So, as an actor how do you communicate to the audience?

Yokobayashi: Actually I don’t understand the lines myself at first. When I first get the script for a new play, I don’t understand what kind of lines they are and what they are saying. I have to research the meaning, or ask someone, until I understand. And after I understand the lines I try to express it using emphasis in my voice, or in my body language and behavior, or using mie.

There are books on how to make up each character.

So when it comes to Hatsugiku, she should be like this. So the makeup artist should always see the textbook of each role, and they makeup according to the textbook. **stage makeup worn by kabuki actors in the aragoto acting style.

Kumadori makeup is highly stylized and characterized by bold stripes and symmetrical patterns on the face.

Rachel: So, her character type will appear the same every time.

Yokobayashi: Yeah. And so when it comes to the veteran makeup artist, he doesn’t have to see the textbook because he knows everything. That kind of craftsmanship.

Rachel: Tell me about the character archetypes.

Yokobayashi: When it comes to kabuki, there is not purely good heroes or purely villainous characters.

For example, even though he is an asshole in this play, there is a good point to Toyotomi Hideyoshi.

The characters are complicated.

Mie are theatrical poses struck at the height of a dramatic moment to emphasize its importance in the scene. They are an important element of the aragoto style of kabuki acting.

The hyoshigi, wooden block instruments, are key to marking these moments. Yokobayashi explains, “When it comes to doing mie, the wooden instruments should create a beat that becomes more intense, to a crescendo. Ton! Ton! Ton! Ton! Ton! Ton!”

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h t i w w e i v r e t In i k i a T r o t c A i k Kabu kobayashi

We practice striking the wooden instruments in a fast rhythm. He strikes a pose as each strike rings out, freezing his face in a dramatic expression, moving slightly in between the beats. It’s almost like vogueing.

The strikes become more rapid and intense as the moment escalates towards its emotional climax.

Rachel: Can you tell us about the stage?

Yokobayashi: This is a rotating stage. During a performance, backstage staff put a peg into this hole, from the top, and they rotate the stage. This changes the set, so there are scene changes.

Rachel: Is this a common feature in many kabuki theaters?

Yokobayashi: Yes, it’s often.

Rachel: Are there any special effects, or tricks?

Yokobayashi: The lights are so hot for the actors, the lights are designed not to shine on the audience but to be bright on the actors, to focus on their faces. So the lights are a kind of special effect. At this theater the performances are at night.

Rachel: Can you tell me about the musicians who perform with the kabuki plays?

Yokobayashi: There is a narrator, a shamisen player, a hyoshigi (wooden block) player, so there are three players with kabuki. For each title, the lineup can be different. Sometimes there are three shamisen players for one title, like a high tone shamisen, a low tone shamisen, and a normal shamisen. There should always be one narrator and one wooden block player, but there could be one, two, or three shamisen players depending on the play.

When it comes to the wooden block player, there is no fixed musician for that. For example, if I do not have a role to play in a particular title, I can play the wooden blocks. But the narrator and the shamisen players are fixed roles, they are not actors. We borrow them from Nagi.

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Rachel: It sounds like all the local kabuki groups help each other.

Yokobayashi: Our group cannot live without the Nagi kabuki group. We borrow many costumes from them also. So indigenous kabuki groups help each other to pass on their traditions.

Rachel: What do you want foreigners to understand about kabuki?

Yokobayashi: Kabuki is really unique to Japan, so I want foreign people to understand the whole uniqueness, so for example, the atmosphere itself, the story itself, is really Japanese-like. I want foreign people to experience authentic Japan.

Maybe foreign people won’t understand the whole story completely, but if they think ‘this part was really impressive’ or ‘I felt really moved by their acting’—if they think so or they feel so, then we will be very happy.

Taiki Yokobayashi is a junior high PE, crafts, and computer science teacher. His motto is “Try anything! Experience counts.” He loves kabuki, has been performing since he was 7, and is the fourth generation in his family to be a kabuki actor.

He’d like as many people as possible to learn about kabuki.

Toshie Ogura is a Japanese English teacher. She treasures her family, friends, and students, and loves to travel around the world. She also loves Japanese culture and studies tea ceremonies, calligraphy, kimono culture, Buddhism, and Japanese cooking. She enjoyed learning more about kabuki as well!

Rachel Fagundes is a third year ALT in Okayama Prefecture and the Entertainment editor of CONNECT. She previously worked as the associate editor of Tachyon Publications, and once taught a Lit class at UCSC on ethics and social justice in the Harry Potter novels. She likes science fiction, fantasy, the Italian Renaissance, and Japanese festivals. She will steal your cat.

Song Dance Artist

LETTER FROM THE CULTURE EDITOR

Culture can be at times an intimidating force, and at other times a source of comfort. One truth about culture is that it is a deeply complicated topic. I have chosen two articles from this past year that I felt best highlight important cultural moments in Japan tied to current events within the past year: “At Home in the World” by Connor McCleod, about the Kansai Pride Festival, and “Terrace House: A Window into Japanese Dating Culture” by Yoshika Wason.

Connor McCleod is originally from Aotearoa, New Zealand, where he worked with schools and communities as a rainbow activist. In October 2019 Connor attended the Kansai Rainbow Pride Festa, and wrote about his experience for CONNECT. The festival happened just a few weeks before the much-criticized ‘We’re in Japan!’ season of the popular show ‘Queer Eye’ was released, sparking discourse around what it means to be queer in Asia, and Japan specifically. Read Connor’s article to learn how pride parades in Japan differ from other parts of the world.

Terrace House is a Japanese reality TV show loved by many. Foreign audiences especially enjoyed the show for it’s diverse cast and the insight it gave into Japanese culture, a culture well-known for a distinction between public and private behaviour. Earlier this year however with the sudden and tragic death of housemate Kimura Hana, the remainder of the season was canceled. Since then fans and Japanese officials have been grappling with how to prevent cyber-bullying within Japan. Yoshika Wason is such a fan with a special connection to the show’s diverse cast through her half-Japanese heritage. Read Yoshika’s article about what initially drew international fans to the show and how cast members’ love stories played out onscreen.

De-stigmatizing mental health is an ongoing issue in Japan and moving to and thriving in a new culture does not always come easy. Finding the right help can be difficult. That’s why I chose ‘A Guide to Counseling for Foreign Residents’ by Caroline Allen as an article from another section that I would like to spotlight. It’s a comprehensive how-to for finding counseling in Japan but it’s Caroline’s personal touches and writing style that really make the article shine. Navigating culture is never an easy task but with a little effort we can begin to understand ourselves and others a little better.

Tayler Skultety (Nara)

74 Photo: Megan Luedtke

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At Home

in the World

Reflections on the Kansai Rainbow Festa Connor Mcleod (Mie)

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Kansai Rainbow Festa was my first pride festival

in Japan. I went with my boyfriend and some other JETs for the first time just over a year ago now. I was then fresh to Japan and the festival was a sigh of relief for me at the time.

Being a JET couple, my boyfriend Sam and I were both out to our colleagues and community from the beginning whether we wanted to be or not. It was nice in some ways, not dealing with assumptions of heterosexuality. But it was also draining in others, such as my partner being awkwardly asked on his first day which bathroom he would need to use, or people laughing, thinking we were joking when learning that we were a couple (ha-ha, gay people!).

None of the reactions were surprising, but soon my everyday life of suits, seriousness, and the realities of senior high school life in the countryside left me missing the company of the rainbow (1) community and a place where my identity wouldn’t be consistently challenged or misunderstood.

The Kansai Rainbow Festa has been held at Ogimachi Park in Osaka on the third weekend of October since 2006. Festival-goers can enjoy drag shows, speeches, and other pride-like showcases, while also visiting the dozens of booths in the sandy park, which sell everything from rainbow pins and flags to cold beer and special holiday packages. There are also several events in bars and other venues in the surrounding area over the two days, however, the main event is the parade on the Sunday.

Last year’s festival happened to be held on one of the last truly hot days of the year; a very lucky thing for mid-October. We met with a group there and checked out the booths. I picked up a rainbow flag with ‘peace’ printed on it in white block letters, downed a tequila shot at the booze tent with a fellow JET, then retired back to a picnic blanket beneath a tree to cheer while two women were “married” on stage.

I didn’t get to make it to the parade last year, so when I saw the Festa coming up again in 2019, I was determined to experience it in its entirety.

I arrived at the parade only slightly worn down from drinking at gay bars the night before. The white tents, which I had spotted flattened and anchored down on Saturday, were back up and proudly showing off the flags of the community. The first day had been cancelled due to Typhoon Hagibis, so the crowds were ready to make the most out of the day.

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Parade attendees were put into five groups, one of which had a strict no-photo policy to protect participants concerned about their privacy. Volunteers patrolled the groups and organised us into walking groups of three across. Over and over again they yelled down the lines, creating the most disciplined and serious parade walk I had ever seen in my life. Suddenly over the loudspeaker, we heard a giant “itterasshai”. We left the park without music, still walking three abreast, waving flags to a missing crowd. Police patrolled and watched carefully for misdemeanours while we reached the road. It felt strange. I didn’t really understand what was going on.

Back home in New Zealand, I worked at a rainbow youth charity. We had hundreds of young people with our float, most of whom held signs of protest against things such as conversion therapy, or demanding adequate healthcare for trans people. We blasted music and the sidewalks were full of people waving, smiling, and taking pictures. But in Osaka, we simply waved a few little rainbow flags at the public (most of whom didn’t seem to have any clue as to what was happening), took up a sliver of space on the road, and chatted amongst ourselves. The few trucks of dancing men and drag queen entertainers were spaced out and often split apart from the rest of the march due to traffic. It was a calm and quiet walk.

I understand that pride takes on different forms in different contexts. Sometimes it’s a protest; an exclamation of support for people of minority

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sexualities, genders, and sex characteristics. A gathering of activists, community workers, youth, the disenfranchised, and their families and allies.

A place of discussion and change-making. And more frequently, pride is a party—a sometimes very expensive, and corporatised one.

For myself as a takatāpui activist and former rainbow youth worker, the recent development of corporatization at pride has felt uncomfortable at times.

Takatāpui Takatāpui is an umbrella term that is used by indigenous New Zealanders to describe Māori people of minority sexualities, genders, and sex characteristics.

Earlier this year in Copenhagen, I danced through the streets of the city’s pride festival, chasing after a beer keg on wheels, snapping photos with costumed performers. It was fun—I enjoyed every moment of it. But most floats were filled not by charities, or community groups, but by banks, insurance companies, and other businesses. It was a generic giant sponsored party with a rainbow slapped on top.

I didn’t see anybody advocating for our rights; any

young people or youth groups participating. It was as though there was no longer a need to.

The Osaka walk was different from both of these. It felt like a demonstration. A declaration of existence.

There were no overbearing corporate sponsors, hundreds of rainbows with logos, or flying company banners. The parade was by, and for, the community.

I later learned that the reason we had to walk threeabreast was that if the group became too large it could be treated as something else by law enforcement; a protest or riot. For a while, I walked on the road seeing no rainbows; no people celebrating on the streets. Until in a shop doorway stood an old man furiously waving a little flag smiling and cheering for us all by himself. I would go on to spot a few people doing the same and they made it all worth it.

Even though the parade felt strange to me, I couldn’t help but grin at the high-fives, tadaimas, and otsukares from an awaiting crowd on our return.

People were proud—and so happy—-that this was all happening.

Arriving back to the park, a huge cheer went up as the world-famous-in-Japan Obachaan group were for some reason scheduled to start the party. I waved my rainbow peace flag and jumped with the crowd.

At this time, surrounded by the community, and unashamedly holding my boyfriend’s hand up in the air, I felt just a little bit more at home in the world over here in Japan.

Footnotes: 1) ‘Rainbow’ is used by the author to describe people of minority sexualities, genders, and sex characteristics, and the term is commonly used as such in his country. He prefers it over acronyms such as ‘LGBTQI+’ which have the potential to exclude non-Western concepts of gender and sexuality, although recognises that not everybody shares this same opinion, nor identifies as part of a ‘rainbow’ community.

Connor Mcleod is a second-year ALT living in Mie Prefecture. Before living in Japan, he worked with schools, universities, and community groups to give rainbow people in Aotearoa, New Zealand a sense of safety and belonging. He enjoys gardening and experimenting with vegan cooking using Japanese ingredients in his spare time.

Photos by Yvonne Worden Further Viewing: Kansai Rainbow Festa Video by Yvonne Worden

PRIDE!

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TERRACE HOUSE: A Window into Japanese Dating Culture Yoshika Wason (Aomori Prefecture)

80 Photo: mrsiraphol on freepik.com | Graphics: freepik

Why Terrace House Became a Sleeper Hit

on reality TV, the show focuses on new friendships, romance, careers, and personal development. At its core, Terrace House presents itself as a relatable slice of life program in the format of reality TV.

Terrace House is a reality TV show about six strangers living in a house, but to understand the international popularity of Terrace House, you need to understand what the show is not about. There are no challenges, no eliminations, and no prizes. Instead, people “graduate” from the show on their own terms, usually when they feel they have completed a personal goal.

People on the show generally get along and when drama does happen, it’s usually of the someoneate-my-food-without-asking variety. Stripped of most artificial structures and constraints common

Terrace House appeals to viewers abroad because it provides a window into Japanese culture. I first started watching the show in 2017 as it was easily accessible on Netflix and I wanted to listen to conversational Japanese. I became intrigued because the season that was airing at the time, Aloha State, took place in Hawai’i as opposed to Japan. Although Aloha State gets a bad rap among Terrace House fans, I related to the cast because, like many of the members from that season, I’m a half Japanese person who grew up abroad.

Note: this article contains spoilers for all seasons of Terrace House released at the time of publication.

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I found it interesting to see members code-switch between Japanese and English. I paid close attention to how members integrated Japanese, American, and local Hawai’ian values to varying degrees into their daily lives. It felt like a social experiment to see these cultural dynamics play out in a group living environment. The current iteration of Terrace House, Tokyo 2019-2020, fortunately, continues to include an increasing number of people who are not Japanese as well as Japanese people who have lived abroad.

As the show, like any reality TV program, portrays an intentionally curated version of the daily lives of real people, Terrace House can give insight to the larger cultural context that the show is situated in. Of course, taken alone, Terrace House is not a definitive guide to Japanese culture and often individual differences hold more weight than broader societal norms. In fact, I believe one of the strengths of Terrace House is that it shows how individual people who have a diverse range of personalities, opinions, and backgrounds can all coexist together.

With this in mind, I believe that it’s still a worthwhile pursuit to draw connections between Terrace House and Japanese culture.

Finding Love Dating is one facet of Japanese culture that I have never experienced first hand. That’s why while watching Terrace House, I like to compare what I know about dating in the U.S. to dating in Japan.

Though it isn’t strictly a dating show, the structure of the program promotes dating by casting people who are usually young (in their late teens through 30s), single (though singledom isn’t a requirement), and attractive (so many models and actors). The show’s equation always has three men and three women.

This setup is reminiscent of a 合コン (goukon), a blind group date, where there is an equal number of men to women. When members first meet each other, they often ask questions about their goals, relationship status, and ideal romantic partner. Many members say that they hope to find love on the show.

All this leads us to the question, what can Terrace House tell us about dating in Japan?

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Maintain harmony. A big reason why Terrace House works is that people generally make an effort to get along with each other. This is tied to the Japanese concept of 和 (wa), which means harmony. 和 is used to explain an ideal group dynamic where each person considers how their words and actions impact not only themselves but also the group.

That’s a major reason why cast member, Cheri, became a villain during the Aloha State season; she disrupted the 和 of Terrace House by refusing to forgive or apologize to her fellow cast-mates in the wake of conflict. On the show, maintaining harmony becomes complicated as there are several layers of relationships to keep up with, including that between potential love interests, roommates, and friends.

In real life, the stakes are probably not as high but preserving a good group dynamic is relevant if you are interested in dating a coworker or someone from your groups of friends. With only six people in the house at once, love triangles often form. The fact that conflicts rarely ever rise beyond awkward conservations is a testament to the strength and importance of the 和.

Read the air. Indirect communication is an important part of Japanese culture, especially when it comes to dating. As the modern Japanese saying 空気を 読む (kuuki wo yomu) goes, one should read the air, and if you fail to do so you risk being labeled “KY” or unable to read the air (kuuki wo yomanai).

Terrace House has many examples of indirect communication, like the infamous Costco scene in Boys and Girls in the City. When Yuki (aka Tap) tries to ask out Arisa on a date, she rejects him in a roundabout way by suggesting that they turn their plans into a group outing to Costco. Though some find indirect communication annoying, if Tap could understand the unsaid subtext, he would be spared a full-on rejection. Unfortunately, Tap is “KY” so Arisa has to dish out a harsher and more direct rejection.

How real is Terrace House?

Confess your love. Want a boyfriend or girlfriend?

According to Terrace House, the ideal process of dating generally follows this pattern: go on a few dates, confess your feelings if things go well, wait a few days for the other person to think it over, become a couple if the other person accepts the confession, and then leave Terrace House together. Of course, there is more than one path to coupledom and some people are looking for a more casual arrangement.

Still, parts of this template are relevant to dating in Japan outside of Terrace House, particularly the confession or 告白 (kokuhaku). After feeling out the situation (kuuki wo yomu) there is an expectation that a direct confession of one’s feelings must happen and an answer must be given before the relationship can move forward. Which is often on Terrace House treated as a very serious step in the relationship. As someone who grew up in North America, confessing but not asking for an immediate answer is an unfamiliar extra step in the dating process. When I really think about it, however, not expecting an answer right away gives the other person time to seriously think about their future without impulsively making a decision.

Age is nothing but a number. I have to admit that the older I get, the more critical I have become of people who actively pursue relationships with others much younger than themselves. In my eyes, two people with a large age gap are often operating at different life stages. Even bleaker, I think that a large age gap can create an unbalanced power dynamic. I held onto this belief while watching the infamous fling that occurred during Boys and Girls in the City between Riko (18) and Hayato (29). I felt uneasy because Hayato convinced her to try to hide their relationship from the cameras when she was okay with it being out in the open. Contrary to my opinion, Riko’s mom, other house members, and the panel did not see an inherent issue with their age gap. In another season, Opening New Doors, filmed in Nagano prefecture, house members Seina and Noah leave the house together to start a relationship. Seina and Noah were another age-gap couple, Noah being just 21 at the time to Seina’s 30. For such a widely-watched, main-stream show, there simply doesn’t seem to be a strong stigma against age gaps. Honestly, this is one cultural difference that is difficult for me to wrap my head around.

While Terrace House can tell us many things about dating and other aspects of Japanese culture, there are some notable limitations. Terrace House can never be one hundred percent real because the members are placed in an unnatural living situation where they have no say in their roommates. Also because cameras monitor each person’s daily routine, participating in the show necessitates trading privacy for screen time. In return, members indirectly promote their personal brand and projects. Everyone wants to look good for the cameras. Some people even try to hide certain parts of themselves from the screen, like the aforementioned relationship between Hayato and Riko. Other attempts at curation include when Risako, a cast member on Terrace House: Tokyo 2019-2020 tried to hide her smoking habit because she thought it would negatively impact her image as a fitness coach. It’s not just house members that distort the truth, the production team can also alter reality through their off-screen interactions with the cast and through post-production editing.

Considering the filtered nature of the show, can successful relationships start on Terrace House?

I think the threshold of success in a relationship is subjective but there are some clues based on the longevity of relationships that start on Terrace House.

On the show, lots of people go on dates but only a few couples emerge and even fewer relationships last after the show. Does this mean that love is dead and Terrace House is all fake? Personally, I don’t need Terrace House to be one hundred percent real.

As long as the show is still a close approximation of life in Japan with diverse, relatable members, I don’t mind that the show is curated. Each week I will keep watching Terrace House so that I can cheer on members during their journey to find love and beyond all while learning a bit of useful Japanese.

Yoshika Wason is a second-year high school ALT in Aomori. She is also co-president of API AJET, a group for JETs of Asian and Pacific Islander descent.

When she’s not watching Terrace House, she likes watching reality shows and listening to true crime podcasts. She writes poetry and nonfiction at www. yoshikawason.com

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LETTER FROM THE ART EDITOR

Art is powerful. Of course, art has the power to entertain. Whether that be through making it yourself or enjoying a piece of someone else’s art. But I also think it also has the power to forge connections, close the gaps between people and transcend cultural and social boundaries. No one today can ever know what it was like to be an Italian painter in the 14th century, but such a painter’s work can be appreciated equally whether the viewer be an aging Japanese salaryman or a lively American schoolkid. The beauty of a piece of art can speak for itself, generating a bit of empathetic understanding capable of closing the distance between the artist and the viewers.

For many of us, living far from home in a culture that is not our own, art is a comfort. It provides a new avenue in which we can find, or create, community. So, for me, the CONNECT art section is not just about highlighting the talented artists within Japan’s international community. The art section also provides a space in which we can celebrate the ways in which art allows us to create community across cultural boundaries.

My first choice for this special throw-back issue was Tokyo ALT Bryan Phippen’s “Capturing Tokyo’s Music Scene.” I first came across Phippen’s photography through a JET Facebook group. As a music lover, I was immediately interested in featuring Phippen’s work in CONNECT. Honestly, I just thought his photos were cool. But when I read about Phippen’s experiences doing concert photography what impressed me most was how Phippen was able to use his passion for music and photography to find community in Japan.

His hobby not only gave him the opportunity to create some cool images but also to meet some cool new people. As a viewer, through Phippen’s images, I find myself too in the front crowd of a punk show in a small club in Tokyo. Although I’m not a member of the Tokyo music scene, for a moment I can feel its energy and passion.

My second choice for this issue is the October special: “Creating through Cosplay.” As the art section editor, this was one of the most memorable pieces that I helped to put together this year. “Creating through Cosplay” highlights the talents of six cosplayers in Japan. Each artist did a short write-up about their cosplay experiences. Not knowing much about cosplay, it was really illuminating to experience this world through the voices of some of its members. Even though each artist came from a different background and had a unique experience, what stuck out to me as a common theme was the sense of community. Through cosplay, each artist was able to forge connections with both Japanese cosplayers and other members of the international community. For many, these connections have led to strong friendships and spaces of acceptance in which they can express themselves authentically.

Far from just being simple entertainment, art is a tool by which we can better understand each other and form stronger relationships. I’ve enjoyed being able to highlight art’s ability to create community this year through CONNECT and I hope the art section continues to showcase such stories long into the future.

Valerie Osborne (Fukuoka)

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Photo: Megan Luedtke

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Capturing Tokyo’s Music Scene A Tokyo JET brings together his love of photography and music Bryan Phippen (Tokyo) Music and photography have always been part of my life.

I had a sizeable cassette tape and CD collection by the time I entered high school, and my grandparents always made sure I had a roll of film or two for my point-and-shoot camera when we went on family vacations. I combined the two interests when I moved to Portland, Oregon in 2008 and started photographing Portland’s punk, metal, and indie rock scene.

After finishing graduate school, I applied for the JET Programme. Having photographed bands like Forward and Boris while living in Portland, I was excited for the opportunity to network with and photograph the bands who reside in and tour through Tokyo. When I was notified by the JET Programme that I would be placed in Tokyo, I did a lot of research on which venues to pay attention to, which stores specialized in the music I listen to, and which bands I could get in contact with once I arrived.

My typical approach to photographing concerts starts with figuring out the camera policy of a venue. I typically photograph punk shows, and the venues don’t really care who brings a camera. There are often multiple people with cameras of all types, from professional bodies to small point-and-shoot film cameras. Between sets or after the show, I often have the opportunity to talk to band members who are milling around the bar area or the merchandise table.

When I know the camera policy of a venue, I can start selecting my setup. For example, a punk band playing at a more DIY venue may push me towards using black and white and a flash to freeze the movement of the musicians.

On the other hand, a shoegaze band playing in a venue with colorful backlighting and great spotlighting will allow me to skip the flash and take advantage of professionally designed lighting.

My gear consists of two different setups. My camera of choice is a Nikon F4 film camera with an SB-24 flash, a combination that I’ve been using for ten years. In Portland, most concerts I photographed were on Kodak Tri-X, a classic high contrast black and white film used by photographers like Anton Corbijn, Garry Winogrand, and Sebastião Salgado. When I want photos to be in color, I typically bring my Nikon D700 and Nikon SB-800 flash.

Because of the way they were designed, my film lenses are still compatible with my D700, which cuts down on the number of lenses I need to own.

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I have now been in Japan for five years, and I am currently working as an ALT at a private school in Tokyo. While in Japan, I have had the opportunity to photograph bands from all over the world, but two shows, in particular, have really made being here feel special. The first was one of the earliest concerts I attended in Japan—a festival called Grindfest, held at Trinity B3 Skatepark in Itabashi. The lineup consisted of punk, grindcore, metal, and a heavy dub group. During the set of a thrash metal band, some people decided to start skating along to the music, and I found myself in a position to catch the band, the crowd, and a skater all in the same frame.

The second was a free event that I heard about by chance on Facebook: a combination concert and art exhibition, with four bands and forty artists, held at an abandoned bathhouse and apartment complex in South Tokyo. I didn’t arrive soon enough to see Boys Age, and the fin. ran into noise complaints and visits from the cops.

However, ヒカシュー, an 80s art pop group, and MeltBanana, a 90s noise group, made the trip well worth it. ヒ カシュー played a career-spanning set and even covered Kraftwerk, which was a pleasant surprise. Melt-Banana were as intense as ever despite downsizing to a duo since the last time I saw them in Portland. The bare concrete bathhouse, lit with industrial work lights and only the tile mural on the wall to remind you of what it used to be, is something I’ll always remember.

Concert photography has been a huge part of why I’ve enjoyed my life in Japan so far—not only because I have been able to hear great music, but also because I have been able to meet great people. I’ve become friends with people who were just curious about my camera or the photos I took. I’ve met great photographers like Gin Satoh, who photographed Japanese punk bands in the late 70s and 80s, and Teppei Miki, who introduced himself to me after seeing me at a lot of the same shows that he was photographing. Five years only scratches the surface of the Tokyo music scene, but I’m thankful for all the opportunities I’ve had, and I look forward to meeting even more people in the future.

Bryan Phippen is originally from a town called Myrtle Creek, in Oregon, USA. He is a fifth-year Tokyo JET working as a Junior High and High School ALT at a combined grades private school.

All photos provided by Bryan Phippen

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Cosplay

[Kazplei] Noun the practice of dressing up as a character from a film, book, or video game, especially one from the Japanese genres of manga or anime.

Photo: Brooke Lark on Unsplash.com

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CREATING THROUGH COSPLAY Costumes aren’t just for Halloween for six cosplay-loving expats Apart from the plethora of sugary sweets and spooky stories, Halloween is probably most notorious for one thing: costumes. Originally a practice used to ward off illintentioned spirits, even the most skeptical of us still like to partake in the long tradition of dressing up for Halloween.

While we may no longer feel the need to confuse ghosts and ghouls, there’s something about putting on a new identity for a night that continues to attract us. It’s just plain fun.

But for some, donning a costume isn’t reserved solely for chilly nights in late October. Rather, dressing up is a yearround passion and creative outlet. Dressing up becomes an art form. This type of devoted costuming has become a huge part of Japanese pop culture, called cosplay, short for costume play.

Cosplay has spread far outside the borders of Japan to become a popular hobby worldwide. Cosplay gives fans an outlet to celebrate their favorite characters through dressup, while also serving as an inspiration for creative output.

Many cosplayers don’t simply wear a costume, but spend countless hours painstakingly creating an ensemble in order to transform into their most beloved fictional characters.

Being a huge part of Japanese pop culture, it’s no surprise that many expats in Japan are dedicated cosplayers.

CONNECT has asked six current and former cosplay-loving expats to share their experiences: 89

Creating Cosplay & Community Rhema Baquero (Kobe) When I started cosplaying in 2012, my main concern was accuracy. I worried I would not appear “authentic enough” if I did not cosplay a Black character. To no surprise, I had difficulty finding a character that fit me. While deep into another run of Fullmetal Alchemist, I came across the automail fitted Paninya. With only a few weeks left before the comic convention, I set to work looking through the sparse screen grabs of the character’s arm.

After late nights of hot glue burns and X-acto knife slips, I created a working, fitted automail arm made from plastic yard sale signs, metallic vinyl and elastic. I enjoyed being in a costume I made with my own hands, and conversing with mega nerds, but what I really enjoyed was figuring out how to craft the costume. From that point on, I dove deep into the creative side of cosplay, transforming our second bedroom in America into a fully stocked sewing and building workshop.

Rhema as Katsuki Bakugo from My Hero Academia.

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I am NOTORIOUS for waiting until the last minute con crunch to start crafting my cosplays, but ahead of that, I am shopping for fabric, wandering the aisles of the hardware store, and picking up items at dollar stores. I enjoy looking at a prop and piecing together a way to bring that 2D thing to life. If you name a character, I am already deconstructing their look in my mind.

Rhema (as Kratos from God of War) and husband Marc (Zoidberg from Futurama) cosplaying for their engagement pictures.

Cosplay is an artistic hobby where I can be creative and use my mind in inventive ways.

I love being in this subculture, but there is a problem in the community when it comes to the treatment of people of color (POC).

We are often ignored in top cosplayers lists and passed up by pro photographers on con floors. We are told we should be OK with blackface, brown face and yellow face. We’re told we are not accurate because the skin we are born in doesn’t match the character. We are not the character, but the Black, ghetto, or Muslim version of the character. So many Black cosplayers have shared screenshots of people calling them the n-word [insert character name] and other slurs. Can we not also safely be the characters we admire?

Over time, I found my confidence and the need for body-specific authenticity faded.

However, the negativity can still be off-putting.

Not being able to see yourself in something you love can be discouraging. Despite all of this, marginalized groups have come together within the community to lift each other up out of obscurity. There is a whole world of us, and you’ll see that we too are thriving. Follow us on social media and say hello when you see us at conventions. Look into other cosplayers of color, physical ability, body types, sexualities, and even religions.

I am fortunate to have a partner who jumped into (read: was pulled into) cosplay with me.

I make his costumes and he transforms with them. Marc is regularly stopped for pictures by fans of the personas he portrays. During our honeymoon in Japan, we attended the International Tokyo Toy Convention at Tokyo Big Site in our Majin Buu and Piccolo cosplays. In our pink and green body paint, we stepped inside and immediately noticed we were the ONLY cosplayers among thousands of Japanese

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people trying to enjoy their toy previews.

But in the train stations and throughout the convention, we were constantly stopped for conversation and pictures by people who seemed excited to see us.

Four years into cosplaying, I found best friends in Courtney, Darla, Hunter, Jasmine, and Lynn, whom I have bonded with over cosplay-making slumber parties, dancing across the con floor, and previously feeling like islands in our subculture.

Living in Japan offers a whole new set of cosplay challenges. Fortunately, I found friends within the JET community, and we are determined to costume together soon.

This year, I’m debating between Miles Morales and Bakugo for the best holiday of the year. Knowing me, I’ll start crafting our costumes at the last minute. I am just excited to continue to have people around me who are just as excited about cosplay as I am.

Rhema Baquero is a 2nd-year ALT in Kobe who teaches at the junior high and elementary levels. Over the past seven years, she has cosplayed in America and Japan as comic book, anime, video game, and original characters.

Rhema has found a community through cosplay (here seen posing as characters from A Centaur’s Life).

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Getting Crafty with Cosplay Sarah and friends cosplay as characters from Steven Universe.

Sarah Markee (Wakamatsu) Since childhood, I have loved dressing up. At home, I would pretend I was Sailor Moon while watching the anime. I also had fun dressing up for Halloween at my school, and trick or treating in the neighborhood. I went to the Renaissance Festival every year with my family and we would all dress up in full costumes, like princesses and pirates. In my senior year of high school, my sister and her boyfriend

took me to an anime convention with their friends. I had a Kairi outfit from Kingdom Hearts 2 that I bought on eBay and owned some dirty pink Vans shoes. It was my first real cosplay, and though I did not have every piece of her outfit “perfect,� it was so much fun to see everyone all dressed up in character. I was in awe of the really extravagant cosplays. You could tell that so much work had been invested into these masterpieces.

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It was from that moment that I knew I wanted to get serious about cosplay. I wanted to really look like the characters, not sort of look like them. I started following cosplayers on YouTube, DeviantArt, forum boards, and eventually on Facebook and Instagram. However, I wasn’t very crafty despite my interest in art. I didn’t know how to sew, make durable pieces that weren’t too heavy, choose prop materials, or even how to apply makeup!

But I challenged myself to learn. With every cosplay, I get better and learn more tricks. Once I cosplayed with a group of friends. We were stopped over and over throughout the day for pictures. It felt good to be appreciated. People complimented the hard work I put into my wig styling, makeup, and outfit. I was someone who inspired others! And so I keep looking for more ways to get involved in events, learn new techniques, and cosplay more. My next goal is to make a music video, and to try to craft foam armor that looks real!

Thank you for following along, I hope I’ve inspired you to cosplay too! Please be on the lookout for MimiKon36 on Instagram for my cosplays and other art outlets!

Sarah Markee is a first-year ALT at a junior high school in Aizu, Wakamatsu. She’s originally from the state of Michigan in the USA.

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Sarah as Aqua from Kingdom Hearts.

Capturing Characters through Collaboration

Adrienne Nicole (Shizuoka) I try to be the adult I needed in my own life at age 13. I’d like to think that my younger self would think I’m pretty awesome now. A part of that is my cosplay. Just because I’m over 30 doesn’t mean I have to pack away the things that make me happy. Fictional characters can still bring me joy, and now I have the financial means to bring them to life. However, it’s far more important to me to embody the essence of the character rather than look identical to them. I can be a brunette Tsukino Usagi, or a blue-eyed Princess Leia.

Most of my costumes are sourced from vintage garments. My Princess Leia dress is a vintage wedding dress from Spain. My Ahsoka Tano costume is an altered disco-era dress with some accessories I already owned. Props such as lightsabers and Sailor Moon wands are commercially available. Other specialty items outside of my skill set are sourced from some great professionals on Etsy. A few of my gowns were made by a seamstress in a Shakespearean production group.

I’ve had to learn many skills, from airbrush and special effects makeup to wig weft sewing. My specialty is doing special effects makeup. While makeup might not be ‘art’ to some, it’s what I love doing. I love being able to change my face to embody the character. For example, the slit mouth woman is a careful application of liquid latex, shreds of toilet paper, and melted 100 yen shop lipstick. (Thanks, YouTube!) The Ahsoka makeup is stenciled airbrush makeup. I had to study the character guild from the television series, design, then cut the stencil in multiple segments. I had to teach myself how to use the airbrush equipment, and how to mix and apply the makeup. My Princess Leia makeup came about from studying the original makeup sheet from the film’s makeup crew.

I’ve also had to find ways to work around my limited use of my left arm and shoulder. Last

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year, I was struck by a car while crossing the street in Shizuoka, and my injuries were rather devastating. After five months of physical therapy, three times a week, I was finally able to pick up both of my lightsabers and pose the way I wanted.

The changes to my face have been upsetting as well. Honestly, Illaura is the only person who can make me look good in a photograph. She’s very lovely and generous with her willingness to edit out my scars when I’d rather not see them,

although I’m trying to get better about how I feel. Our next big cosplay will be Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes, partly as an homage to my now titanium-filled left arm.

Adrienne Nicole is originally from the United States. She was a JET in Shizuoka from 2011 to 2016 and still resides in Japan. You can check out more of her cosplay on her Instagram @moon_moon_purinsesu.

Photos: Illaura Rossiter

Illaura Rossiter (Chiba) I do a lot of work regarding cosplay creation, and photography, both on my own and with Adrienne. I began cosplaying for Kumoricon in Oregon in 2008. I go for 100% character accuracy in my own costumes which involves a lot of screen shot-ing, pattern drafting, and testing on the cheapest available fabrics before I finally begin my final product. When working with Adrienne, however, I find myself looking at vintage clothing and trying to figure out how to match the provided clothes to her image of the character.

Working with Adrienne, we have taken our cosplay out for a spin in various settings, from parks to the cosplay studio Haco Stadium in Tokyo. At first, in choosing what cosplay to make or wear in Japan, I was very worried about sticking out.

But people have always been amused, happy, or curious about our cosplay and photographic works, so I have been able to more freely choose my cosplay.

Outside of tailoring Adrienne’s cosplay, and my own costumes, my main work has been in the cos-tography realm. Doing this type of work has really pushed me as a photographer to learn new skills and techniques, not only for taking photos, but also for editing. Unlike other types of

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photography, I feel it is very important to really “know” the character I am shooting. It’s not simply a matter of posing and shooting, but knowing how the character might act, their famous poses, iconic scenes. Understanding how they carry themselves is vital to capturing not only the cosplayer, but to portray them as the character.

Illaura Rossiter is from Oregon, USA. An exJET (2014-2019) from Shizuoka, she has recently transplanted to Chiba prefecture. You can find more of her work on Instagram and Facebook at @irossiterphotography.

Left: Illaura cosplays as Kaylee from Firefly.

Right: Illaura and Adrienne together as human Luna and Princess Serenity from Sailor Moon.

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Finding the Right Material (and Acceptance) Adriana Garcia (Hokkaido) Being placed in Sapporo for JET, I had access to cosplay specialty stores and an Animate all within the same building. Not trusting Japanese sizes, I was determined to make my own costumes if needed like I did back home. I was first given the runthrough on how to use a sewing machine when I was twelve and took off from there.

And so, I started cosplaying in Japan when I found a sewing machine in a thrift store for 2500 yen. Though it was missing a presser foot and only had one bobbin, it worked great—perhaps my best impulse buy ever. Due to time constrictions, I was dependent on the Kanariya fabric store chains. There was a four-story Kanariya downtown near Odori Park which had a huge selection. This building was near the cosplay shops which had wigs and wig accessories. This was great for last-minute accessories but I was always too cheap for that. In fact, Daiso was also a great place for certain color thread, fabric scraps, elastic, and general sewing accessories.

Adriana keeps in character as Ariel from The Little Mermaid.

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Sapporo has a few cosplay events downtown.

A few are in the summer and another is the weekend before Halloween. There are events, contests, and get-togethers. On actual Halloween, the six-block covered shopping district known as Tankuki Koji is overstuffed with cosplayers. All young adults, they cram into the middle blocks of the shopping center, taking pictures and giving out candy.

Last year for Halloween, I joined the madness and went slightly simple with a Disney cosplay.

Deciding to be Ariel from The Little Mermaid, I first started with the top part of her blue dress. All of my patterns were back home so I was back to winging it using a T-shirt as a guide at first. This method involved wasting a lot of fabric as I used excessive fabric and had to cut a lot away. I went super simple and used stretchy fabric as her “corset,” mostly

because I sucked at sewing on zippers. The skirt part was sewed on and I made a few adjustments before Halloween.

When I joined the madness in Tanuki Koji I was ambushed by many cosplayers who recognized Ariel. I stayed in character pretending not to speak which somehow made communication easier. I would pull out my dinglehopper (fork) whenever someone asked for photos. Originally, I credited this acceptance in the cosplay madness to my chosen character’s inability to talk.

However, when I later continued cosplaying with characters that could speak, I found I experienced the same level of acceptance. I recommend attending any cosplay event as it is a very social experience.

Adriana Garcia is a former Sapporo JET from Nevada, USA.

Read Amandra Ogura’s contribution, titled “Slaying the Cosplay Game” on page 22.

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LETTER FROM THE SPORTS EDITOR

Passion. Every sport has its share of passionate followers. Passion brings out so much joy when our favorite teams win—and so much heartbreak when they suffer crushing defeats.

Passion for sports can also help us find community. Niall Devine is a perfect example of that. His article “¡Vamos Tokyo Carajo!” illuminates how FC Tokyo won over his heart and how the club’s 2019 season served as one of the high points of his football fandom.

Through his love of the capital city’s club, Devine establishes bonds with not only locals (one FC Tokyo fan gave him and his father each a sheet of paper with information about the roster and supporters’ chants) but fellow gaikokujin who support FC Tokyo as well. Fandom is a communal experience, and it’s clear from his words that Niall Devine has found a new family. A family with which he’ll travel to the “middle of nowhere” to cheer on his club.

I mentioned family and community earlier. Those concepts are also apparent in David Atti’s “Finding Your Throw.” The Chiba Prefecture JET writes about his judo experiences, and the article culminates with the moment he delivered a perfect through during a match.

Although judo is an individual sport, to excel in it, you still need support and guidance from others. That’s really no different from the general ALT experience as gaikokujin almost always have to navigate language barriers and confusion, which Atti touches on in that article. In fact, “Finding Your Throw” captures the essence of not just a sporting experience but a general experience for a non-Japanese person.

Success in any facet of Japanese life doesn’t come overnight, and Atti adroitly chronicles his journey from novice to (somewhat successful) judoka. Sport is often a grind and brings out moments of doubt and bumpiness on the road to success. It’s evident from Atti that overcoming those hiccups is enormously satisfying.

As for my favorite non-sports article, some of my favorite experiences in Japan are reflected in Abbie Philpott and Monica Aguilar-Scion’s collaboration, “Tatami Surfing.” I have hosted several guests through Tatami Timeshare and a lot on CouchSurfing, and quite often, hosting is an adventure. I chuckled when I read about Abbie and her friends struggling to reach their host’s house. But more importantly, I was reminded about the joys of services like Tatami Timeshare—mainly the opportunity to make a new friend or two and discover something interesting about the world.

Rashaad Jorden (Kochi)

Instagram: @7beachbum

100 Photo: Megan Luedtke

ยกVAM TOKY CARA Niall Devine (Tokyo)

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A year of hope and heartbreak following F.C Tokyo, the J-League and Leeds United

I get very romantic when I talk about football. It’s pretty much been all I’ve talked or cared about since I was four years old. Nothing makes you more ecstatic, but nothing quite breaks your heart like it.

I come from a family where following Leeds United could be described as cult-like, even through almost two decades of watching batshit insane owners run wild, driving an infamous club into obscurity. Every even-numbered year was spent soundtracked by Los Campesinos!, Three Lions, and World In Motion on repeat with the foolish optimism that this is the summer England finally does it . . . before seeing them lose to Iceland or go out in the group stages.

Football often hurts a lot, but I’m forever a pig chasing a carrot on a stick.

MOS YO AJO!

When I found out that I got on the JET Programme and I was moving to Tokyo, the first thing I did was to look for somewhere to watch football. I booted up FIFA on the Xbox and chose F.C Tokyo, and that’s where it all started.

When I finally got to Japan, I started going to games at Ajinomoto Stadium in September, and fuuuuuck—it was dreadful: 4 games played, 4 games lost, 0 goals scored.

Fantastic. Great. Nice one.

The Japanese season finished in December. Then came a winter of staying up way past midnight to watch a magical Argentine transform the disappointing club I grew up watching into world-beaters overnight, making me giddy like a 4-year-old over football again.

All the while, I waited for the J-League to start again the following spring.

March came around and I started going to the football again. F.C Tokyo were suddenly . . . good. Really good. Top-of-the-table good. An 18-year-old named Kubo was playing out of his skin, tearing apart defences like an overly excited labrador on a new couch. The opening home game of the season was

against Sagan Tosu, which we won 2-0. Granted, we were fortunate that Tosu had a man sent off, but they still had Fernando Torres (although he actually played like shite).

My dad and our friend visited from Leeds in April and I took them to a game. One of the Tokyo fans clocked that we were a group of gaikokujin, and gave us each a sheet of paper that told us about the club, who the players were, what the songs were, and even how to ask for a pint from one of the beer ladies roaming the stands. I think I actually saw my dad’s heart swell when he was given the sheet. Kubo was on fire, the Tokyo ultras were screaming for the whole game and F.C. Tokyo put away a poor Matsumoto Yamaga side easily. We stood up and clapped the players as they made a lap around the pitch after the game had finished. For the first time, I got it—F.C Tokyo had me hooked. I wanted in properly.

Some fans launched an English Twitter account for the club, and I asked for some advice about watching the game in the stand with the ultras for first time.

In a top-of-the-table clash, F.C. Tokyo came from behind to smash Yokohama F. Marinos 4-2, but the result was secondary. I bounced, got drenched in rain and sang about Diego Oliveira for all 90 minutes.

And after the final whistle, I got to see the club send off Kubo as he moved away to Spain to become the Japanese Messi (if he’s not great in 10 years, this is probably gonna come back to bite me on the arse).

Tobitakyu Station always gets stupidly congested after a game but it does also have a 7-Eleven outside it, so I did the sensible thing and hung outside with a Premium Malts whilst waiting for the crowds to die down. As luck would have it, I bumped into the crew behind the F.C Tokyo Twitter account—who come from England, Canada and the USA. We talked exclusively about football—about F.C Tokyo and clubs from our home countries. After swapping LINE details, I finally got on the train home.

The following week was the Tamagawa Classico: F.C. Tokyo vs Kawasaki Frontale. Kawasaki are F.C. Tokyo’s bogey team and a tough team to beat— defensively strong and decent on the counterattack.

I asked the folks I met the week previously if they wanted to go for a beer beforehand (Ajinomoto Stadium has a fan park that is open for a few hours before each game which serves decent beer and food). They introduced me to the people they stand with each game, and I tried (and failed badly) to converse with them in Japanese. They’re honest-toGod the sweetest, nicest people though. And decent drinkers, too.

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After drinking for what seemed to be ages, my bladder gave in and I needed to use the gents’ room.

On the way there, we were stopped by a Kawasaki fan and he interviewed us for his YouTube channel.

I was very drunk, talked about my love of Leeds United and Diego Olivera and taught the very kind gentleman a new swear word.

Because of the Rugby World Cup, F.C Tokyo’s scheduled was heavily adjusted as their home stadium was going to be occupied for the better part of three months, which meant that Tokyo had to play eight straight away games. I was distraught as that meant three months without a home game. It didn’t mean I had to go without football, though.

This is the best thing about the J-League: there is no aggression between opposing fans. You can waltz between stands and fan groups easily, have a chat, and nothing will happen. Do it in England and you’d probably be glassed or at least punched.

The club arranged for a public screening of their game at Kashima Antlers, which was the biggest of the season as it pitted the top two teams in the league. If Tokyo won, they would have a 7-point lead ahead of second place Kashima. But if Kashima won, that lead would shrink to 1 point. I met the people I had gone drinking with before the Kawasaki game at Sunshine City in Ikebukuro, and they suggested we run away at half-time to somewhere we could get beer and food. F.C Tokyo should have come away with at least a point for all the attacking they did, but a goal conceded from a corner two minutes into the game and a sucker punch towards the end of the game meant that Kashima took all three points.

I met back up with my new group of friends, and we went into the stadium. They snuck me in to the area where they were standing, and we got even more drunk and even rowdier. Kawasaki beat us 3-0. I didn’t care though as I still bounced and sung for the best part of two hours. I almost spewed on the train too, but I didn’t.

If choosing F.C. Tokyo on FIFA was akin to swiping right on Tinder and the first four losses were like stumbling through awkward dates at cheap cocktail bars, then the games against Matsumoto and Yokohama were accepting that you actually loved them. And the game against Kawasaki was knowing that they’re the one.

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I had watched Leeds bottle promotion to the Premier League four months prior, England get knocked out in the semis of the last World Cup, and now it felt as if the season was about to run away from us. Never have I seen my team win a trophy, and now it feels as if that carrot is being pulled away ever so slightly.

My parents had me christened when I was a baby but in hindsight, there’s a possibility that it may have been Bela Guttmann cursing me to a life of trophyless football.

I slumped back into my chair of the izakaya we were in, fearful of watching another team slip towards the business end of the season. But the people I was with plied me with more food and beer and (slowly) cheered me up. It was probably the beer, mind you.

A couple of weeks later, I was on a shinkansen to Matsumoto for my first away game with Tokyo.

Matsumoto’s stadium is in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by mountains and an endless sea of greenery. It abuts the airport, so you have planes passing over the stadium quite loudly every hour or so. The club is also famous for its green beer, which went down like water on a very humid September afternoon.

Tokyo’s fans travelled down in significant numbers, taking up almost a quarter of the ground. The club placed flags in every seat of our section, turning a corner of the Sunpro Alwin into a sea of red and blue. The game was nothing special—a toothless nil-nil draw between the two sides with the referee making some absolute howlers, but Kashima also drew which meant Tokyo still ended the weekend at the top of the table.

I’ve had a few people ask me why I decided to start following F.C. Tokyo in particular, and thinking back on the reason becomes messier than a Jackson Pollock painting. It’s some parts “they’re my local club,” a little bit of “I can get a ticket from Stubhub which is easier than other clubs,” other parts “because Urawa play in the exact same colours of Manchester United, so fuck that,” and a tiny bit of “they’re on FIFA.” But honestly, I didn’t expect to care as much about or be as enamoured by F.C. Tokyo and the J-League as I have been.

I think about the 2018 World Cup and Marcelo Bielsa’s first season at Leeds United as the strongest my love for football has ever been, and compared to that, this F.C. Tokyo season is up there with it. For all the heartbreak, bottlejobs, and sadness, football is fucking great.

If there’s one thing you should add to your bucket list before leaving Japan, it’s to go to a J-League game.

Niall is a second-year ALT in Tokyo from Leeds, UK. He’s into sports (not rugby), weird music, vegetarian food and making niche Simpsons references. Follow him on Twitter @NiallDevine #screwflanders All photos provided by Niall Devine

David Atti (Chiba)

“I think I want to try judo.”

I casually uttered those words to Mr. Sakai, the secretary at my elementary school. He was a good person to talk to about judo since he had been a judoka himself.

Mr. Sakai paused to look at me for a minute before starting to make calls like a stockbroker on Wall Street. He quickly arranged for me to meet Sunaga-sensei, the local fire chief and head instructor of Kamogawa Judo Club. So I went to the dojo, and on my first day, I was presented with a gift: my uniform.

The uniform formerly belonged to Sunagasensei’s son, and it was practically a dojo relic since the fire chief’s name was stitched in the lapel. I stared at the judogi that had been passed down to me. Kamogawa’s characters were boldly embroidered in black on the right side. The inaka judo club welcomed its newest white belt.

Sunaga-sensei was explaining to me that the dojo’s members were primarily firefighters and students when suddenly, one of the black belts roared “HEY! HEY! HEY!” as he sprinted into the dojo. This judoka was full of warmth and charisma. Sunaga-sensei cracked a smile before introducing me to Kazu, a 29-yearold fireman and former champion of Chiba Prefecture.

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I immediately noticed his cauliflower ears, forged from years of newaza (ground technique(s)).

He was in great physical condition, standing about 5 feet 6 inches and weighing a lean 68 kilograms. Sunaga-sensei said he’d like us to practice randori (free sparring) together. On the mat, Kazu quickly demonstrated to me what he referred to as “bachi bachi judo,” throwing me up and down the dojo at will. When I established a grip and tried my best to throw him, he’d tease me, shouting, “hoshii” (close or almost) with a big grin on his face before slamming me onto the mat again. I staggered to get to my feet with the wind still knocked out of me. Meanwhile, Kazu was already on his second victory lap around the dojo again howling, “HEY! HEY! HEY!”

Kazu's wife, Aya, Kazu, David and Kazu's old senpai Makoto-san

After my first taste of randori, I couldn’t imagine how anyone could refer to judo as the “gentle way.” When I think back on my first day, I showed two things if nothing else: my ignorance of the Japanese language and heart. Over time, this would prove to be a comical and perilous combination.

But Kazu eventually decided to take me under his wing after many more one-sided randori sessions, and all the black belts were excited when I told them I wanted to learn uchi mata (inner thigh throw). I was in the right place to do so. Everyone praised Sunaga-sensei as an “uchi mata master.” Uchi mata is considered one of the more complex throws in judo as the timing needs to be perfect. Sunaga-sensei acted as tori and requested that Nori-san serve as his uke. Nori-san, one of many firemen in the dojo, resembled a Japanese Terry Crews due to his shaved head and “dynamite body.”

After witnessing the fire chief throw around the much larger man with ease, I thought I’d give uchi mata a try. I decided that this technique would be my main focus.

Miyahara-san, Nakano-san, David and Kazu

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In The Art of War, Sun Tzu writes, “All warfare is based on deception.” I started to understand this more after studying judo. I tried desperately to throw everyone with my uchi mata, but my attack was too transparent. In boxing terms, I felt like a crude slugger throwing wild haymakers against a slick counter-puncher. I telegraphed my throw in every way imaginable. Kazu joked that every time I’d try to throw him, my eyes would pop out of my head like that old-time cartoon wolf.

Tamaru-sensei, a fourth-degree blackbelt and absolute bear of a man, sought to remedy the situation with something he called kuzushi—the practice of “breaking your opponent’s balance” before throwing them. Tamaru-sensei grabbed my judogi and “broke my balance” with a forward throw, ouchi gari. I stumbled backwards on to my heels, fighting to stay on my feet. As I struggled to regain my footing, Tamaru-sensei abruptly yanked me forward on to my tippy toes and launched me into the air with a proper uchi mata. Suddenly, I was airborne. Sailing through the air, I couldn’t help but wonder how big of a hole my body would make when I hit the floor.

Luckily, Tamaru-sensei kindly pulled up on my sleeve and lapel at the last minute so the impact wouldn’t cripple me.

He led me to a white board in the dojo to further illustrate his point. He imparted to me the need to use kuzushi in combinations. Tamaru-sensei broke down the combination he had just used on me. “Ouchi gari, mae!” (large-inner reap, forward!) he asserted while pointing to a small

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circular magnet on the white board. Next, he slapped a larger magnet on the white board and firmly said, “uchi mata, ushiro!” (inner thigh throw, back!). The blackbelt picked up a dryerase marker and drew a line connecting the two magnets representing my new combination.

These types of deceptive combinations effectively utilize kuzushi and are referred to in Japanese as “renraku waza.” To really ensure I was getting all this, Tamaru-sensei smiled as he concluded his lecture in English, “Do you understand?” I couldn’t help but laugh as I replied in my native tongue, “Yes, I understand!”

Tamaru-sensei’s lesson really resonated with me. I boxed for years as an amateur in the U.S. and I was starting to notice an overlap between the two combat sports. In my opinion, in the same way the pugilist sets up his knockout blow with a jab, the judoka employs kuzushi before a big throw. It is essential in both disciplines to disrupt your opponent’s rhythm by unbalancing them before following up with stronger attacks.

If a boxer neglects the jab and only throws power punches, the other fighter can likely see them coming from a mile away. This approach is predictable and exposes the fighter to the risk of being countered. This was the same problem I was having during randori. Judokas and boxers both get to the level where they can effortlessly string together combinations from all angles by varying their attack. I tried to apply these concepts effectively using “deception” in my judo.

Six months or so into my first year on JET, my Japanese gradually improved along with my judo, although both were still cringeworthy at best. I started asking Tamaru-sensei, “What do I do during newaza in a judo match?”

Tamaru-sensei gave me a detailed explanation in Japanese but I understood little more than “gaman shite.” This expression can mean “to be patient” or “to endure” depending on the context. One day, Tamaru-sensei was shocked to see me trying to “endure” a choke for too long. He quickly stepped in and asked, “Why don’t you just tapout?” I responded like Mifune Toshiro in a Kurosawa epic, “Gaman!” I barked.

Tamaru-sensei erupted in laughter, swiftly cutting down all my samurai fantasies. After regaining his composure, he explained that during newaza, if the contestants are inactive on the ground, the referee will stand them up in a matter of seconds. “If that’s the case, just be patient!” he said before reproaching me, “You don’t endure a choke or an armbar!” My failed attempt at stoicism has since become one of Tamaru-sensei’s favorite stories to tell at the judo club’s wild drinking parties.

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I practiced uchi mata for over a year, struggling to land it consistently during randori. I was beaten from pillar to post every week as Tamaru-sensei and Sunaga-sensei looked on, shouting instructions to me. My senpai started to embrace me more, making a great effort to explain uchi mata’s mechanics in English when I couldn’t understand his Japanese. One of Kazu’s best throws was “ippon seoi nage” (onearmed shoulder throw), which he had used to throw me countless times during our “bachi bachi judo” sessions. I rarely practiced this throw but decided to go for it one day during randori, doing my best to emulate Kazu’s movement and timing.

Everyone (including myself) was shocked when I pulled it off. Kazu told me that in our year of doing randori together this was the first throw I had truly earned (He even let out his customary “HEY HEY HEY!” saluting my progress). Sunaga-sensei and Tamaru-sensei told me I had finally found my “tokui waza” (signature move). Everyone was relieved that all those randori sessions weren’t just senseless violence, and those who had helped me “find my throw” assured me this was just the beginning. But I couldn’t afford to rest on my laurels for long⁠—I was told our “bachi bachi judo” sessions would “level up” from that day forward.

The feeling of executing a perfect throw is surreal. If a judoka can execute a perfect throw during competition, they win by ippon (victory in one move) automatically ending the match.

Until that moment, randori had felt laborious and stiff to me. A contest of strength against

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strength. When I was finally able to throw an opponent properly, it felt fluid and relaxed— almost effortless. It even sounded different. I started to compete and win via ippon using my new favorite throw. One day before practice, a shy chubby-cheeked elementary student approached me. His wide smile was missing a few teeth. I was incredulous when he asked that I teach him ippon seoi nage. This marked the start of my understanding of judo as the “gentle way.”

Photos: David Atti David Atti is currently a second-year JET in Kamogawa City, Chiba Prefecture. When not on the mats, he enjoys travelling and reading about the Sengoku Jidai. David graduated from SUNY Geneseo with a degree in American Studies before coming to Japan.

Sources: https://judoinfo.com/terms/ https://www.judo-ch.jp/english/dictionary/ https://jisho.org http://classics.mit.edu/Tzu/artwar.html https://www.tofugu.com/japanese/japaneseonomatopoeia/

Romaji

English Definition

Kanji

Judo

Gentle Way

柔道

Judoka

Judo Practitioner

柔道家

Judogi

Judo Uniform

柔道着

Newaza

Judo ground technique emphasizing pins, chokes and joint-locks.

寝技

Randori

Free Sparring

乱取り

Bachi-Bachi Judo

Bachi-Bachi is Japanese onomatopoeia for “Strong popping of a fire”

バチバチ柔道

“Bachi Bachi Judo” is the equivalent of a boxing “gym war.” Hard sparring more resembling an actual competition or real combat than practice Uchi Mata

Inner Thigh Throw

内股

Tori

One executing technique (the thrower)

取り

Uke

One receiving technique (the throwee)

受け

Kuzushi

Breaking opponents balance/unbalancing an opponent

崩し

Ouchi gari

Large Inner Reap

大内刈

Renraku Waza

Combination Techniques

連絡技

Ippon Seoi Nage

One Armed Shoulder Throw

一本背負い投げ

Tokui waza

Best technique or signature move

得意技

Ippon

Victory in one move/one point

一本

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LETTER FROM THE TRAVEL EDITOR

“The world is a book, and those who do not travel read only one page.”—Saint Augustine 2020 has posed an unprecedented challenge to the tourism industry and travelers, but during a time like this, I’m extremely glad to have been a part of the travel section here at CONNECT, bringing stories from our well-travelled contributors to you. Having heard about one too many fascinating destinations and seeing one too many captivating images, my Japan bucket list has only grown as I eagerly await the time when I can frolic across this beautiful island freely again and perhaps meet a few of the contributors.

It was a difficult choice, but the two most memorable pieces for me can be found in the February issue— “North Japan’s Premiere Location for Spiritual Rebirth: The Dewa Sanzan” by Tim Bunting and “Journey Through Magic” by Lillian Seiler.

Why? Not only are the locations off the beaten path and the photos absolutely gorgeous, but the amalgamation between travel and other aspects of Japanese culture in Tim and Lillian’s pieces was also so powerful it struck a chord with me. Tim introduces us to the practice of Shugendo and previews how you can get a glimpse of it through hiking the enthralling, sacred mountains; Lillian’s article and fun quiz for Ghibli fans is a reminder (even for people new to Ghibli) of the need to pause and appreciate the detailed brilliance of Mother Nature, which is so close to heart for nature-loving Japanese people. When you plan your next trip, why not consider avoiding the crowd and ‘bathing in negative ions’ amidst the splendid nature Japan has to offer?

A shout out goes to all the contributors who have shared their memories with us through extended writings, pictures, recommendations or any other form throughout the CONNECT year. Here, I’d also like to bookmark a few informative, themed articles FYI. (I dare say I’m pretty proud of how they turned out, through a combination of my research efforts, the design team’s stylish work, and contributions from many kind people!) > About Autumn—Autumn leaf-viewing spots across Japan > Bathing Bare in Hot Spring Heaven—The hottest spots around! > Blooming Bliss—The low-down on flowers and when to see them! > Nature’s Candy—Pin these fruits on your travel map!

Stay curious about the world around you, and travel safe! Thank you for coming on these amazing journeys with me.

Hoong Shao Ting @insakuraland Travel Editor

112 Photo: Megan Luedtke

Shao Ting’s favourite from another section. . .

It has certainly been eventful this past CONNECT year. Who can forget Typhoon No.19 a.k.a. Hagibis? Read up on our contributors’ experiences and stay alert! Afterall, Japan, which has been blessed with beautiful nature, cannot avoid its wrath.

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Tim Bunting (Yamagata)

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Take a step through the Zuishinmon gates and into the cedar forests of Mt. Haguro, and you will instantly be whisked into another world— the world of the Dewa Sanzan.

Located in the middle of Yamagata Prefecture, the Dewa Sanzan is the collective name for the three sacred mountains of the former Dewa

Province: Mt. Haguro, Mt. Gassan, and Mt. Yudono. These three peaks have been used for over a millennium as training ground for Haguro Shugendo monks, more commonly known as Yamabushi, on their pilgrimage of rebirth.

In the ancient belief of Shugendo, in which elements of Buddhism, Shintoism, Taoism, and native animism

are combined, mountains are believed to be the abode of the Kami (gods) and Buddha. According to Shugendo, by training in the mountains, we are able to attract the spirits of the Kami and Buddha into our souls before emerging reborn. Even today, along with Mt. Koya in Wakayama Prefecture and Mt. Hiko in Fukuoka, the Dewa Sanzan are amongst the most famous training grounds for Yamabushi in Japan, and are where you too can be reborn.

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The Dewa Sanzan pilgrimage of rebirth traditionally begins on the lowest peak, Mt. Haguro. Of the three peaks, only Mt. Haguro is low enough to not be covered in metres of snow in the colder months, making it accessible year-round. Known to represent the world of the present where we overcome our worldly desires, Mt. Haguro is home to the Shukubo, pilgrim lodges where for more than 300 years travelers have stayed and prepared for their pilgrimage of rebirth. Any pilgrimage begins with a stay in the Shukubo that are still run as they were in the olden days, such as the grand Daishinbo run

by Master Hayasaka, or Daishobo run by the famous Master Hoshino.

The Shukubo will provide you with shojin ryori (ascetic cuisine), a Hakui white jacket or Shiroshozoku white garments, a Shime necklace, and blessings at their altar to send you off on your voyage into the mountains.

From the Shukubo village, head through the Zuishinmon gates and down Mt. Haguro’s famous stone stairway amongst the towering cedars. Follow the winding path and you will cross the Haraigawa River that Yamabushi traditionally use for purification rituals, Jijisugi, the grandpa cedar, and the Japan Heritage Five Story Pagoda. In yaki guni, a.k.a. snow country, Mt. Haguro’s Five Story Pagoda is the only pagoda in the forest which doesn’t use any paint or varnish, allowing it to assimilate into the foliage. From there, the ascent to the top begins, where you will find Sanjingosaiden, the building with the thickest thatch roof in Japan and home to Dewa Sanzan Shrine, the collective shrine of the three gods of the Dewa Sanzan. Saikan is another popular lodging, where shojin ryori lunch is available even for those not staying.

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In Haguro Shugendo, there is a philosophy called Kan’nabi Shinko, which is essentially the training our souls go through when we pass away. Beginning in the lower mountains, our souls complete tasks under the guidance of 13 Buddha as they eventually make their way up to the tallest mountains, in this case, Mt. Gassan. After 33 years, our souls reach the top and turn into gods who look over all the souls far below. As such, Mt. Gassan came to represent the world of the past and the land of the afterlife where we encounter our long-lost ancestors.

The 1984-metre Mt. Gassan boasts the most snowfall of any

mountain, and the latest ski season in Japan, which begins in April. If you’re looking to climb the Dewa Sanzan’s tallest peak, you’re going to have to wait until July, otherwise there’s just too much snow to combat. The most popular route is to catch a bus to the 8th Station on Mt. Gassan, climb to the top, then hike back to the bus.

This path takes you through the Midagahara Marshlands, past the Busshoike Lake, and boasts great views overlooking inland Yamagata to the east, Mt. Chokai to the north, and the Sea of Japan to the west. Other people choose to climb from the Mt. Gassan Ski Lift to Shizu Onsen, or even from Mt. Yudono, but these routes are better for experienced hikers.

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Katarunakare, Kikunakare! Don’t talk, don’t ask! Mt. Yudono’s motto makes it pretty hard to explain things in detail, and the monks of old knew fully well that this only adds to the mysteriousness. Mt. Yudono is known as Oku no in, the Shrine in the Depths, and is home to a sacred object of worship that represents the world of the future on the Dewa Sanzan pilgrimage of rebirth, the exact location where we are reborn. Unfortunately, it is forbidden to speak of this object in detail, so you are going to have to check it out for yourself to see what the fuss is about.

There is a bus that goes to Mt. Yudono from central Tsuruoka, but by far the easiest way to get there is by private car. Mt. Yudono is not a mountain that you climb per se, but is located at one of the entrances that leads up Mt. Gassan. Once you pay your respects at Mt. Yudono Shrine, take the path leading into the mountains to get to the top of Mt. Gassan. Naturally, the reverse is also possible.

Mt. Yudono was traditionally the final mountain on the Dewa Sanzan pilgrimage of rebirth, and is famous for Sen’ninzawa (roughly translated to The Swamp of the Immortals), a training ground to the self-mummified monks known as Sokushinbutsu.

Sokushinbutsu are known in English as Living Buddha or Buddha Mummies, and came about through the belief in Shingon Buddhism that reaching Buddhahood in this life was possible. Would-be Sokushinbutsu went through

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extended periods of harsh ascetic training in the mountains, buried themselves alive in custom-made tombs, then chanted sutras until they turned into a Buddha. By becoming Sokushinbutsu, the monks believed they could provide salvation to the people by proving that Buddhahood was attainable in the current world. Churenji and Dainichibo Temples on Mt. Yudono are home to some Sokushinbutsu, and there are a few others housed in temples scattered throughout Yamagata and the surrounding prefectures.

As the training ground for centuries of Haguro Yamabushi, the Dewa Sanzan have developed a truly mystical atmosphere leading it to become north Japan’s premiere location for spiritual rebirth. Make the pilgrimage to the Shukubo and Five Story Pagoda of Mt. Haguro, top the towering peaks of Mt. Gassan, and explore the mysteries of Mt. Yudono and you too will feel reborn.

Tim Bunting (@kiwiyamabushi) is a former ALT and current Yamabushi from New Zealand, who is helping the Dewa Sanzan develop into a global retreat centre. Check out yamabushido.jp or dewasanzan.com for more on this wonderful area of Japan.

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Exploring the forest that inspired Ghibli’s Princess Mononoke

“You should go to Yakushima,” a friend messaged me back in April. At the time, I had no idea why or what they were talking about. But then they said, “If you like the Mononoke atmosphere and unique nature environments, you should totally go.”

As soon as I heard the word “Mononoke,” it was over for me. One brisk Google search afterwards confirmed that the nature in Yakushima was responsible for the artistic nature style in Ghibli’s Princess Mononoke. When I read this, there was no excuse not to travel there and see it first-hand. So, I did what any Ghibli enthusiast would do and hastily began planning for the adventure to this mysterious island. Here’s a mini-game: try to find all the hidden Ghibli movie titles sprinkled throughout this article!

Mission Start!

After banding together five spirited explorers, we prepared to fly away to Kagoshima Prefecture. It was decided that going in October would ensure pleasant weather because we weren’t about to hike during Japan’s soggy summer or weary winter. We chose to take a high-speed ferry from Kagoshima to Yakushima, which cost us more than I’m willing to admit here. There was a slight mix-up about which port we needed to go to, however, and we ended up having to do what I like to call, “Indiana Jones” our way over to the right port at the last second.

Everything turned out okay and we made it just in time, despite a couple of hairs of mine greying from the stress.

I will say one thing: getting a car rental in Yakushima was crucial for a smooth trip. Public transport on the island is neither frequent nor convenient, so having our own moving castle of transportation came in handy. We learned that Yakushima has a rather unpredictable climate as well, so the weather was much hotter than expected, complete with fragmented bouts of rain throughout the day.

Even so, the atmosphere of the island was uniquely captivating. After arriving, I was quickly enraptured by the beauty that Yakushima had to offer.

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Shiratani Unsuikyo: the moss-covered forest

Our first objective was to personally experience the otherworldly moss-covered forest that was featured in Hayao Miyazaki’s “Princess Mononoke.” A nearby information center told us that the moss-covered forest was a five-minute walk from the parking lot at the start of the Shiratani Unsuikyo trail. Due to this, we decided to promptly drive up the mountain in our regular clothes, and set foot into the evergreen forest.

The contrast in the atmosphere at the entrance of the forest was overwhelming. I went from being miffed at the blazing sun at the base of the mountain, to feeling at peace in the crisp, invigorating air of the forest. However, there was definitely a miscommunication, because we ventured into what was labeled an “extremely hard trail,” completely unprepared in our casual attire.

One of our members looked down at her shoes (which happened to be a pair of flats), and looked back up towards the trail with the look of “Well. I guess this is my life now,” seeing as there was no turning back at that point.

In order to get to the moss-covered part of the forest, we had to ascend uneven stone steps lined with unruly tree roots, clamber over a cluster of giant boulders, and daintily hurdle ourselves across rivers. While every step was a challenge, every glimpse of the forest was fabulously picturesque. All I could muster was a “wow” every time we arrived at a new section of the forest, as each view sparkled with viridescent brilliance.

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Is that a soot sprite?

In the middle of the hike, I saw quite the peculiar little creature scurrying by my feet. It was a black spider with a round, fuzzy body, and legs that were so thin they were barely visible. “A soot sprite, it’s a soot sprite!!” I blurted towards the others. The perfectly circular spider looked as if it was floating across the rocks due to its virtually invisible legs, which made it look exactly like a soot sprite. I’m not sure if that’s at all related to the soot sprite creatures in Hayao Miyazaki’s films, but it sure did add a bit of Ghibli magic to our travel. It disappeared just as quickly as it appeared, so, unfortunately, I couldn’t snap a picture in time. If you ever travel to Yakushima, keep an eye around your feet and maybe you’ll spot the “soot sprite!”

Mossy Elegance After making it more than halfway, the trail became too dangerous for our members who weren’t wearing the proper gear. Nonetheless, we were still lucky enough to see a good portion of the mosscovered forest before heading back. Blankets of emerald green moss enveloped the landscape, while crystal clear water delicately rippled around silvery stones illuminated by the azure light of the sky. The only sound you could hear was the steady pace of the river. Well, the “wows” that were uttered from my dweeb self were pretty audible too. I was awestruck; it genuinely felt as if I stepped straight into a Ghibli film.

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10-hour trail, start!

The real challenge starts here. The next day, we dragged ourselves out of bed at 4:00 a.m. to prepare for a ten-hour hike. The forests of Yakushima are strictly protected, so cars aren’t allowed to go near the trailhead. Instead, there’s a bus you must take, packed tightly with other eager hikers that will lead you to the starting line.

The start of the trail is misleadingly easy since it’s on a nicely paved wooden track with no inclines or climbing involved. One of us mentioned how the area looked like the prelude to a Disney ride because the scenery was rapidly changing and becoming more dynamic with each step at the beginning. For most of the track, tall trees densely lined the sides which made it feel as if we were going through a portal to a different dimension.

The woods would temporarily open up and reveal valleys of the wind, with water and broad stones beneath us as we crossed over bridges. Most of the bridges were way too narrow with gaps too large to be considered a sane method of navigation, but we managed. Those parts really looked like something you’d see in movies, during an action scene of some sort.

Now, usually, I’d premise this with an “unfortunately,” but in this case, I wasn’t too bothered that the weather was rainy. The misty weather added a nice touch to the atmosphere, as the sheer fog gently cloaked the nature around us. This added extra magic and mystery to our surroundings. The dewy leaves giving a serene glow to the forest was perfect for the full Ghibli immersion experience.

Even though it was a ten-hour, slightly damp hike, the liveliness and beauty of my surroundings gave me continuous energy throughout our journey.

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The Heart-Shaped Stump On the way to the goal, there was a famous landmark called “Wilson’s stump.” While it was a considerably large tree stump, it didn’t look like such a big deal from the outside. It was hard to understand why so many people were lining up to go inside. However, the inside was a completely different story. If you stand at a certain spot and look from that angle inside the stump, the opening at the top appears to be heart-shaped. Sharing that moment of realization with my friends was a wholesome moment that I’ll always remember.

Typically I shy away from large crowds, but the detour to see this was worth it for the view.

Witnessing the Jomon Sugi

Finally, after five hours of trekking, we made it to the goal point to see the famous Jomon Sugi: the oldest cedar tree in Japan. This tree is estimated to be around 3000 to 7000 years old. Now, this was the only part where the misty weather proved to be a bit of a nuisance. Travelers weren’t allowed near the tree, but instead were able to view it from a vantage point. As you can probably guess, the fog wasn’t doing us any favors for a nice view. Although it was tough to see through the fog, the tree had quite an illustrious presence. The jomon-sugi didn’t look too distinct from the other Yaku Sugi (Japanese cedar trees more than 1000 years old), but it had a compelling aura that I admired. I mean, imagine standing in front of a living entity that’s been around for thousands of years!

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Jomon Sugi after-thoughts To be straightforward and honest, the end of the trail didn’t fully live up to my expectations. Not because of the weather, but because I envisioned being able to get close enough to the Jomon Sugi to touch it.

One of my favorite parts about being near ancient trees is the opportunity to press my palms against the trunk and feel the antiquated energy emanating from it. This is something that hikers often do when they come across impressive, age-old trees. Connecting with nature this way is a healing experience for me. It was a little disappointing, but I think the Jomon Sugi might have been vandalized before, and that’s why people are no longer allowed near it. On the bright side, I was able to get close and touch some Yaku Sugi on the trail route, so I was able to connect with the spirit of the forest a little. Still, I left wondering, what would have felt like if I was able to connect and hear the whisper of the Jomon Sugi heart?

After a relaxing picnic in nature, we power-housed five hours back to the start before sun-down.

Everyone left with a great sense of accomplishment, triumph, and exceedingly stinky socks. Despite how taxing the hike was, we didn’t leave with any injuries.

However, my neighbor thought it’d be fun to sprint down the slippery wooden track at 100 miles per hour on the way back. I have never seen a wipeout so admirable before. The most impressive part was that they walked away unhurt. I almost joined them since they challenged me to a race, but I backed out because my danger sense was tingling. I most likely would not have survived that fall as skillfully as they did.

From exploring the mystifying forest, eating the local delicacy of flying fish, relaxing in refreshing onsen, and returning to a surprise delivery service of mukade (aka centipedes) in our hostel beds, I wouldn’t trade this adventure for anything. To all Ghibli fans, or nature fans in general, Yakushima is a must for a one of a kind, enriching travel experience.

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Were you able to find all the Ghibli titles?

Answer key: Spirited Away, [Howl’s] Moving Castle, [Nausicaa] Valley of the Wind, Whisper of the Heart, My Neighbor [Totoro], [Kiki’s] Delivery Service, and of course, Princess Mononoke.

Lillian is a third-year ALT who dances more than she walks. She spends her free time watching funny penguin videos, and also enjoys taking aesthetic pictures of everything and everyone.

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LETTER FROM THE COMMUNITY EDITOR

Community. The word could cover everything, from tales of individuals weathering Typhoon Hagibis, to commentaries on issues within wider society itself. There are many articles I could have chosen to represent my section, but I have decided on two that reflect a more unorthodox side of Japan, about lesserknown groups that may surprise the reader: “Bad Guys Doing Good” and “In Jesus’ Name, (R)Amen.”

What would you do if you found out that your ALT was secretly a Stormtrooper from a galaxy far, far away?

That is exactly who the villainous Mark Christensen—a.k.a. TB-21427—is in his spare time, raising money for charities and visiting children in hospitals. Members of Legions around the world build their own filmgrade Star Wars costumes from scratch, and Tokyo has a branch of its own. This article represents the community spirit at its finest—helping others. Follow Mark as he brings his volunteering efforts from the US to Japan, with and without a white helmet.

The second article explores a minority religion in Japan: Christianity. Erica Park gives us a crash course on the religion’s tumultuous history in the east, from merchants to martyrs, and finishes with an interview with a modern-day Japanese Christian. The anonymous interviewee relates the prejudice she faces because of her religion, both from her own family and complete strangers. But there is hope—slowly, her family and friends begin to understand, and the article concludes with them attending her Christian wedding. The bridging of cultural and religious differences is usually the domain of foreigners living in Japan, and vice versa, but Erica’s article reminds us of the other minorities in Japan who are often left out of the big picture.

Community encompasses us all.

One of the ways we can form ties across our cultural differences is through sport, which is one of the reasons I enjoyed CONNECT’s Sports section every month. “The Longest Cross-Country Ski Race in Japan” follows a lone ALT overcoming the odds on the longest ski race of her life. Despite the language and cultural differences between her and her fellow racers, she felt united in the struggle and was urged onwards by kind race wardens, cheering spectators, and passing contestants. I was completely drawn in by her physical and mental journey, and almost fancied joining her on the icy Hokkaido tracks—almost.

Clare Braganza (Fukushima)

128 Photo: Megan Luedtke

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The idea was a massive success. The project initially bloomed in the US and quickly spread around the globe. What once was a small core group rapidly expanded to an international charity with over 13,000 members, 28,000 costumes, and official groups in over 60 countries, including Japan. The organization has continued to evolve, and developed official standards of professionalism, regional units, and international organization across language and cultural barriers.

Mark Christensen (Fukuoka)

The beautiful princess protests at the menacing black figure, “I don’t know what you are talking about. I’m a member of the Imperial Senate on a diplomatic mission to Alderaan.” The Dark Lord scoffs. “You are part of the Rebel Alliance, and a traitor . . . ” He motions to his ghoulish, whitearmored troopers. “Take her away!”

The class laughs as we recite the famous lines from the opening scene of Star Wars Episode IV, A New Hope. My JTE is a major fan of Hollywood movies, and the students enjoyed the day’s Star Wars theme.

However, as the class winds down, I reach into the old black backpack next to me and pull out something none of my shocked students expect: the skull-like helmet of an Imperial Stormtrooper.

That’s right. Their ALT-sensei is secretly a Stormtrooper in the Galactic Empire’s 501st Legion. Pathfinder TB-21427 of Garrison Titan, to be exact.

So, why am I a Stormtrooper? What is the 501st legion and how does it connect with Japan? The 501st Legion is a voluntary service organization created about twenty years ago. After obtaining and replicating some of the original Star Wars movie armor, a few fans gathered together around the revolutionary idea of using cosplay of the iconic villains for volunteering and charity.

I’ve always loved cosplay, and while I’ve built or arranged for the construction of a number of costumes, I’d found the joy of the hobby disappearing. Lately, the cosplay scene has become increasingly competitive and dominated by beauty models, celebrities, and professional prop makers. For those of us who aren’t Hollywood models or artisans, it could be discouraging.

For me, the 501st Legion provided a unique opportunity to not only rethink and revitalize my understanding of cosplay, but to use it in a way that directly helps the community. It is no easy process; even with the help of my father and some friends it took me over a year to assemble my armor . . . and longer still to have it approved to specific standards.

For those of us with armor, it can be difficult; overheating and dehydration are common risks, and some armor types have extremely poor mobility and visibility. It is difficult to obtain parts as some need to be homemade or obtained through limited channels. Even with all of this, though, it’s definitely worth it.

In the 501st, my tasks have been quite varied, and it’s created a fun new twist on volunteering.

By wearing the masks and armor, we lose our individual identities and become the characters, bringing smiles to the faces of children and adults alike. It doesn’t matter who we are; we come from all sorts of backgrounds. Our activities can be as varied as talking with children, acting, fundraising for charity causes, or in one hilarious incident, being target practice for kids armed with deadly nerf blasters. Other activities can include visits to museums, comic cons, pride marches, movie premiers, and much more!

For all the fun it can be, it can also be a sobering experience. The very first troop that I participated in was a birthday party visit, which is common enough . . . but the child had just lost his father.

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It was a humbling experience to bring a bit of happiness to someone enduring one of the worst kinds of loss.

The Garrison has also visited places like the Seattle Children’s hospital, where we have done our best to be a positive moment in the life of children suffering and sometimes dying from serious medical conditions. It’s a unique experience bringing laughter and smiles to children with little hope. But just as importantly, our garrison has also tapped into the goodwill of scifi and fantasy conventions such as Emerald City Comic Con and used the goodwill of con-goers to arrange for tens of thousands of dollars in donations to go to local children’s hospitals or funds. Likewise, the other garrisons around the world have also been committed to their communities.

In Japan, I’ve found a number of opportunities to carry on the spirit of our work outside of the armor. Recently in my area, a number of JETs organized and held a party for students who had little experience with Western-style Christmas events. We played games, sang songs, and even used a Santa cosplay to share holiday cheer and teach them about a number of Western Christmas traditions. While not a Star Wars themed event, it demonstrated how props and costumes can be valuable teaching tools to engage the minds and imaginations of students. A number of the students proved this further with their enthusiastic reception of the Santa cosplayer and Christmas hats.

I have also helped out at a small Japanese church for a Halloween festival. There, I engaged in much of the same type of work that I do in the 501st legion, such as community games and general helping. I was surprised to discover that some of the volunteers themselves cosplayed for the event, and it was very funny to see a Mario cosplayer running a number of games and activities with children. Costumes can be a great tool, and it is nice to see people using similar ideas to the 501st.

As I passed my helmet out to my classes to examine and even try on, it was great to see the boys and girls in the class laughing and smiling as they tried on the gear. It was even more surprising when a number of quiet and normally silent students began to engage. I truly believe that the use of pop culture is an excellent way to bridge cultural gaps and language barriers. After showing

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the armor, a number of students now actively talk to me outside of class and others jokingly hum the Star Wars theme. I’ve even learned that several of my students are, themselves, cosplayers.

In 2020, I will continue working with the 501st Legion. If possible, I’ll try to coordinate with the local Japanese Garrison. By engaging with Japanese 501st, I’ll not only be able to connect with the Japanese community, but also act as a cultural relay between garrisons. And, even if that doesn’t work, there are still plenty of opportunities to reach out to the local community. Ultimately, I believe that nothing is stopping us from using our own hobbies to reach out to our students and community.

Japan has provided many unique challenges for volunteering and cosplay, but one thing is for certain. Whether or not I’m in armor, I will continue to be ‘a bad guy doing good.’

To see Garrison Titan in action during the pandemic, watch the video here

Mark is a first-year high school ALT in Fukuoka hailing from Snohomish, Washington. Outside of teaching and the adventure of being an ALT, he enjoys cosplay, alpine mountaineering, and nature photography.

Sources: http://bit.ly/costumeresources http://bit.ly/501stlegioninfo http://bit.ly/garrisontitan

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A Peek Into Christianity and the Christian Identity in Japan Erica Park (Kyoto)

Growing up in a Christian home, my favorite thing to learn about wasn’t Bible verses, Jesus’s parables, or the Psalms. Nah. Despite a fairly sheltered childhood, at the very appropriate age of twelve, I was fascinated by the gory, violent deaths of Christian martyrs throughout history. Somehow, I was able to get my hands on a book all about this child-friendly subject, and I remember spending hours flipping through the pages with rapt, undivided attention.

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The book did not skimp on the gruesome demises of these Christians, early and contemporary, detailing (and maybe dramatizing) their torture. What began as morbid curiosity gave way to genuine interest, especially when it came to martyrs in Japan, of which there were surprisingly many. The most famous incident was the 26 Martyrs of Japan, where a group of Christians were killed at Nagasaki in 1597. Aside from the brutality of the execution method (being crucified and pierced with spears; a cruel parody of Jesus’s own death), their deaths piqued my

tweeny curiosity because, up to that point, I hadn’t realized that Christianity was a minority religion in other countries.

As a Korean-American, Christianity played an important role in both cultures I was part of: in the United States, vacations were centered around Christian holidays like Christmas and Easter, and I used to attend one of the many KoreanAmerican churches sprinkled across California.

Although I don’t practice it anymore, Christianity continues to influence what I consider ‘normal’ (it still feels strange we don’t get Christmas off in Japan!).

After a deep dive into Japan’s relationship with Christianity, I soon discovered that the 26 Martyrs wasn’t some random act of violence; it was both the culmination of years of complex economic, political, and cultural factors and represented the beginning of Japan’s dark history regarding religious freedom. As an island nation, Japan had very little contact with Western countries.

In fact, the first-ever documented Europeans to step foot in Japan arrived by complete accident when, in 1543, two Portuguese traders were blown off-course during a trade expedition to China. Within six years of this encounter, the first Christian missionaries from Portugal set out to Japan, beginning with Kagoshima. These initial efforts had . . . mixed success on the Japanese people, and it took time to really take off.

Nowadays, though, Christianity permeates many aspects of modern Japanese culture. Some of the country’s top-ranking universities, like Sophia University and International Christian University (ICU), were established by Christians and openly advocate the religion. Western-style weddings are popular in Japan, with many couples forgoing formal kimonos in favor of dresses and suits and ditching Shinto shrines for Western chapels, complete with a white foreigner playing as the minister—regardless of whether or not they’re actually ordained. Even mainstream anime incorporate Christian iconography or themes; one of Japan’s most successful franchises, the Evangelion series, appropriates Christian mythos and angelology (the study of angels) despite staff members admitting it was purely for aesthetic reasons.

All this and we haven’t even touched on the wide array of Christian literature in Japan, including Shusaku Endo’s Silence, which was adapted into

an Academy Award-nominated film directed by Martin Scorsese in 2016!

With such a conspicuous presence, it’s hard to believe that Christianity is still very much a minority religion in Japan and, despite its prevalence and general acceptance, is still considered very foreign to Japanese people.

Many seem fascinated by the aesthetics of the religion, but less by the actual practice of it. In fact, the entire time I lived in Japan, I’d only ever met one person who openly told me she was Christian. Still, I wanted to better understand what Christianity was like currently. I knew that there were other Japanese Christians, and it was clear research would only do so much: I would need to talk to someone who actually practiced Christianity.

Luckily for me, I knew exactly one person who did.

I was delighted to find out that she was willing to speak about her personal experience in her faith.

During our conversation together, I finally found answers to my questions about being Christian in Japan, as well as further insight into why Christianity is still a minority religion despite over 100 years of religious freedom in Japan. I hope you will enjoy our discussion as well.

The following interview was conducted almost entirely in English. At the interviewee’s request, she will not be referred to by her real name nor will certain details about her personal life be revealed. In addition, parts of the interview have been edited for clarification or grammatical reasons.

Can you please introduce yourself and your background?

I am a Japanese woman, and I began to believe in Jesus Christ as a high schooler. On Christmas, I went to a bookstore and found a book by a Christian author.

My family, however, was Buddhist.

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Do you remember the author’s name?

Her name was Ayako Miura. She has since passed away. She wrote many novels, essays, and songs.

The book I found was titled Michi Ariki, and was about how she became Christian. I was so impressed with it. I read the book, and I felt that Jesus Christ is the real God. The Christian God is full of love, and knowing that Jesus Christ loves me, that he saved me from my sins and gave me a new life, made me so happy.

Did it comfort you to know that Jesus and God was with you?

Yeah, that’s right. I was so happy.

Really? But with Buddhism, you didn’t feel that same love?

Yeah, because when I was a child, I thought if I did bad things, I had to be punished.

In Japanese, we say “bacchiga-ataru”. If I do bad things, bad things will happen to me. It’s like Heaven is going to punish you.

Oh, I think I understand. Is it like karma?

Yes, kind of like that. I was afraid of what I might do. But, Jesus Christ is the opposite. Even though I was so sinful, Jesus Christ died for me, because he wanted to save me from sin. I was so happy to hear that he would do that so that I could live in heaven.

Were you the only Christian in your family?

Yes, exactly!

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How did your family react to you being Christian?

My family was so shocked, and they had difficulty accepting that I was a Christian. I had to wait until I was 20 years old to be baptized. I told my family that 20 years old is considered a legal adult age.

How do other people react when you tell them “I’m Christian”?

Hmm. Well, when I was a university student, I told people I was Christian, but most weren’t surprised. I think it’s because there are some schools in Japan founded by Christian missionaries. Even though most students don’t believe in Jesus Christ, they know about Christianity, and their image of it isn’t so bad.

What do you think non-Christian Japanese people’s image of Christianity is in general?

In general? I think Japanese people, basically, have no religion. Things like keeping graves clean and songs, those are more like customs, now. I think their image of Christians is so . . . katai (hard), or serious?

Really?

Well, some people think Christians are majime (strict), or too rigid. Have you heard this phrase before: “Japan is the grave of missionaries”?

No, I haven’t. Does this phrase mean many missionaries died in Japan?

Or is it because people give up being missionaries in Japan?

The second one. It is so difficult for people to become Christians in Japan. The Christian population is less than one percent here.

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Is your family Christian?

Yes, they are Christian.

Was your husband Christian when you met him? Or did he decide to convert later?

After marriage, he became a Christian. He wanted to know me better and to understand me, but he had to understand Christianity first. So, he went to church, attended Sunday service, and read the bible.

Wow! He was a very good student. (laughs) Well, I think it wasn’t his attitude, but God’s love that helped him.

Did you have a Japanese-style or Western-style wedding?

I thought the wedding would be a very good chance for my husband and others to learn about Christianity, so I asked for a Westernstyle wedding. The pastor of my church came and gave a sermon. Many people came to my wedding and were able to listen to a Bible message.

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How do you think Christianity’s image has changed since you were in high school?

I think it’s difficult to change the image of Christians, but I want to live my life honestly.

I don’t have a lot of power, but I want to try to help other people in need. I want to be kind to other people through Jesus Christ.

So, I guess not many changes?

This is my personal opinion, but I think Japanese people are actually afraid of being different from other people. For example, many years ago, there was a bad accident that happened in the name of religion. A cult was responsible for the accident.

I think Japanese people still keep looking for God, because people are weak. In Japanese society, we work so hard, and our country is unstable. We have so many things to stress about, and I think they want a God to look after them.

But it’s difficult for them to be Christian because we are the minority in Japan, and Japanese people want to be the same as each other.

What do you think Christianity is like in other countries?

Some Korean missionaries came to my church, and I had a chance to speak with them. They were so kind. My image of Christians in foreign countries is of these missionaries. Even though I have never been to a Korean church, I think it would be similar to this experience.

Are there many young Christian people in your church?

Good question! In my church, there are many different generations, from babies to the elderly.

How about America?

My image of American church is pretty good.

If they believe in Jesus Christ, they are my brothers and sisters.

What do you think American churches are like?

I had a chance to talk with some American Christians. Some of them were missionaries, but everyone was so nice. I think church in the United States would be really fun and welcoming. But, maybe this is because I saw movies like The Blues Brothers. . . .

(laughs) Oh, I see!

The church atmosphere seems so cheerful in movies.

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Do young people come with their families or by themselves?

Young people, especially little kids, come with their parents. My pastor believes that children are extremely important. He thinks if children are familiar with Jesus while young, they will lead better lives because He will always be with them.

The average age of Christians in Japan is very high, so we are afraid that churches will disappear in the future.

If too many people leave, our churches cannot exist here.

What do you think the future of Christianity is in Japan?

If the number of young people in Japan decreases, I think many churches will close because it will become difficult to find Christians in Japan. I hope God sends many young people to our churches one day.

If you enjoyed what you’ve read so far, look out for the next article in this series, where I’ll be diving much, much deeper into the complex history of Christianity in Japan.

It’s got samurai, it’s got the Pope, it’s got…

Sino-Japanese trade disagreements?

Check it out!

Erica is currently working as an ALT in Kyotanabe City, Kyoto Prefecture. Her main interests are Japanese traditional culture, going to art museums, and chatting with new people (preferably over a tumbler of Laphroaig). When she’s not doodling or daydreaming about finally getting tickets to a Takarazuka performance, she’s trying to hunt down 80s city pop records.

All Photos: Erica Park

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