The Inevitable First Post

Well, I`m back in Japan. I honestly didn`t expect to be back so soon, after having left Hikone only last August. And yet I find myself back in Tokyo for the summer, once again making my way through crowded train stations, alternating between sweating in the humidity and attempting to keep out of the rain. Japanese summers are a weird mix of unbearable heat and endlessly overcast skies, which as a person born and raised in California is eminently confusing. I like it to be hot and sunny or cold and rainy; the idea of sweating in the rain is just so wrong to me.
It`s going on five weeks now that I have been back in the city, or at least it`s outskirts, and I am remembering both all the things I love and hate about Japan. I dreamed about Lawson onigiri for weeks before arriving. I looked forward to karaoke and all-you-can-drink restaurants specials, and being able to smoke in bars. Yet, upon arriving, I was once again reminded of the drawbacks of this country. The expense, of both travel and simply living, and the small but inescapable things that constantly remind you that you are gaijin, never fitting in. Having lived for the last three years in Manhattan, I got so used to the plethora of races, languages, and foods of that city that to return to a place where the only weird thing is yourself is certainly disconcerting. Particularly for me, a blond woman, a size 12 in a land of size 2s, with quite a few tattoos-- suffice to say I stand out more than the average gaijin.
The gaijin thing, as any of you who have visited or lived in Japan know, gets old pretty fast. The old ladies who get up and move if you sit next to them on the train, the schoolchildren who stare and point-- at least in Tokyo it is not as bad as the boonies, but it beings to wear on the self-image after awhile. I don`t think, honestly, that it is nearly so bad for the American men who come to Japan. This is a country of beautiful women, women who wear heels and dresses everyday, who laugh and titter and love to date American men. They are women who are used to a patriarchal society, in which men are placed first, and one`s worth is often based on her viability as a bride. In a country where women are still expected to quit their jobs when they marry, and have their husbands bath and dinner ready when he gets home, and turn a blind eye to his infidelities, it`s really no wonder that many of them turn to foreigners. Alternately, perhaps it is fair to say that many American men long for the type of marriage not usually found in America anymore, a wife who is quiet and obedient and has dinner ready when he gets home.
I have to say, on either side, it frustrates me to no end. I hate the society that creates such purposefully weak women, and particularly the women who are so intensely complacent in such a life, the ones who care nothing for anything beyond make-up, clothing, and landing a rich husband. Although I have to admit, the frustration with the American men in the equation comes for a more intensely personal space. Living in Japan, I always have to remind myself that however long I am there, I will have to put my love life on hold. As a person who doesn`t have any interest in dating Japanese men, since I am not the arm candy that they prefer, and refuse to be a housewife, I am limited in my interest to foreigners, who of course prefer the uber-feminine Japanese women. I know this stems from a place of jealousy, somewhat, at the easy beauty of Japanese women; but it also reminds me of my own American-ness, my need to be independent, to have a career of my own, and I really can`t be angry about my unwillingness to give up my values.
Sign. Japan is always such a confusing place.