Tanabata has become a bit of a
tradition for our Club. It started out as a fun thing to do in summer
when half our membership had vanished into the ether for a few
months; the first time we tried it, we got rained out, had to do it
in the university student centre, and used me as the tree. But our
planning skills have improved since then, and over the years we've
managed to grow it to a respectable size. And since we have a limited
financial capacity, we usually do it as a potluck.
This heralded some concerns for us this
year, because we had invited a bunch of recent arrivals from Japan
and having a potluck with Japanese people can be a little iffy.
Basically they tend to bring either far too little, or something
completely ridiculous. Sometimes both. I think a single bag of 5-cent
candies, as the shared contribution of six people, was probably the
topper here, but you're also likely to get single bags of chips or
rare, inscrutable treats that elicit furtive gestures and mutterings
amongst observers. Maybe it's that Japanese people tend to think of
food and drink as the host's responsibility (if so, they probably
figure that we Canadians are all incorrigible cheapskates trying to
slough off the cost onto the guests), though I mostly suspect that
they are just unacquainted with the concept and could be trained up
with a little practise.
(If you are now wondering what exactly
an appropriate potluck contribution would be, a nice fruit or veggie
tray is usually a good choice. A couple 2Ls of pop or some
dessert-type stuff is ok, but damn near everybody is going to bring
pop or dessert-type stuff, so watch out for that. If applicable,
something from your home country will usually go over pretty well.
And if there's going to be alcohol involved, a flat of 24 beer is
always welcome. It doesn't even have to be good beer.)
Anyway, we needn't have worried. This
group arrived bearing mainly a bunch of Taiwanese snacks, which not
only ranged from edible to tasty, but were present in appropriate
volume, as well. What was better, everybody here was cool. You know,
I hate to say it, but as much as ryuugakusei are generally good folk
– it takes a certain sort of person to want to learn a foreign
language and live within a foreign culture – some of them are just
really shitty people. Cause that's just life, you take any large
group of people, some of them are going to be shitty, you know? You
can try to hang out with just the ryuugakusei you actually like, but
you'll always have to deal with the hangers-on from time to time, the
ones who only want to use you for your English or think that they are
entitled to make you their personal assistant, or that they are
somehow above you, just by virtue of being a foreigner amongstforeigners.
You can also organize ryuugakusei into
three broad categories: Those who make no effort to engage the host
culture or even actively avoid it; those who spend time with their
countrymen but still make a substantial effort to engage the host
culture; and those who go for full integration, sometimes to the
level of eschewing their native language altogether. I've always
thought that a Japanese person refusing to speak Japanese in a room
full of exclusively Japanese speakers was, you know, kind of really
fucking stupid, but who really gives a shit, I guess. I tend to avoid
those who fall on either extreme of the spectrum anyway, the former
because they're boring, the latter because they're annoying. People
who visit another country and then try to pretend they're somewhere
else are usually this way because they're reserved and quiet
so they're rarely very much fun to hang out with.
And anybody going for full integration tends to be so overflowing
with cultural sanctimoniousness that they're completely intolerable.
As in many things, a balance is best, really.
We lucked out, and these guys were all
of the cool, balanced variety. We had a few good icebreakers, too,
that is, people who aren't afraid to just go ahead and strike up
conversations with strangers, an essential element of any event
involving Japanese people.
Additionally, two of them were
shakaijin, “society people,” i.e. gainfully employed, although
working at A&W rather than a suit-and-tie company, but shakaijin
nonetheless. Both have aspirations of Canadian citizenship (the
standards for which, if you didn't know, can be a
little...stringent), and we discussed the various laws therein in
some detail; after becoming a citizen, one of the girls intended to
enter a Canadian university for a four-year degree. All of this was
immensely interesting to me as not only am I on the cusp of becoming
a shakaijin myself, but of course have also been slowly working on a
plan to do what they're currently doing but in reverse.
I also learned that many Japanese think
that root beer tastes like medicine. So we'll know not to get any of
that next time, I guess. Some blonde girl said she'd heard of that
from her Korean friends as well. She brought up Korea a couple of
times and wrote her name on her cup in Korean, but she left before I
could ask what her deal was.
The main event at Tanabata, of course,
is writing out wishes and hanging them on a bamboo tree. Despite
stereotypes, bamboo trees aren't exactly something you can just go
pick up at Wal-Mart in Canada, so we usually use a grate or railing
instead (you are welcome to steal this trick for your own Tanabata
party). I wrote down “That I may get back to Japan quickly.”
“I knew
that was going to be your first wish,” President grinned.
Then I wished that
my job search should go well, which admittedly is kind of the same
thing, since the one is predicated on the other.
Additionally, every Tanabata I send up
some kind of a prayer for my sister.
Last year she'd recently gotten married, so I wrote out a wish for
her happy married life (or in Japanese, that her household would be
bountiful). Now she's expecting a child, so I wished for him or her
to be born healthy and happy. This seemed right to me. I tried to
think of what would make her happiest in the world, and I am sure her
most feverish hope right now is for the health of her unborn child.
Indeed, I saw on Facebook later that her own Tanabata wish was for
exactly that.
Japanese guy:
Please invite me to hang out again.
Rude Boy:
Absolutely, you should find me on Facebook.
Japanese: Yeah, I
just added your wife, so we can find each other.
Rude Boy: Oh,
great.
Then he walked off
somewhere before I realised what he'd said.
In
hindsight I can sort of understand why they might have some
confusion. President rooms in a full-on house, and if they thought it
was ours,
we probably seem pretty domestic. Plus, I'm 24 this year. I certainly
remember how distant and established 24 seemed back when I
was 19. Shit, back when I was 17 and my sister was 22, I was in awe
of her. She seemed so mature and put-together. It was only when I
turned 22 myself that I actually realised, Christ no, she didn't know
what the fuck she was doing, nobody does. When you're a little kid,
your parents present themselves as omniscient and practised, and it's
usually a couple of decades before you figure out that they were
making it up as they went along too. I got off-topic there, but I'm
going to assume you all understood my point.
It was a fun, chill kind of a night (President's roommate: “This is
a drinking party? You can have Asians over for drinks
anytime.”) Mostly, I was just glad to be hanging out with Japanese
people again – it's been faaaaaar too long since I've done that. I
miss it. And it was good, too, to be back in the thick of things.
I've always been more comfortable leading than following, and I'm
certainly more comfortable on the field than in the sidelines or,
fuck's sake, the audience. For at least that night, I felt like
President and I really were President and Vice President again; all
thoughts of guiding Club rather than commanding it, and being careful
not to change the system through observing it, all that shit had fled
my mind. Ah, I don't know – maybe this summer will be our victory
lap?