Ah yes, Japan. The land of the rising sun, samurai, ramen, anime, karoshi and other many great things. For a hardcore weeb like myself, Japan has been a central piece of my interests, be it binge watching anime, studying the language, learning about the culture and cuisine, and in general reading about this curious place where everything seems better than the place you currently live in. Many people wish to visit this mystical, beautiful country some time in their lives, as have I ever since I first learned about it as a small kid, and more so after I became obsessed with anime in my teens.
This year I finally got the chance to fulfill my lifetime goal of visiting Japan. Long story short – it was the best time of my life. The nature, the people, the culture, the technology, the temples, everything is so unique, so interesting, so beautiful. People often talk about how traveling enriches their lives and helps change their perspective of things, and I never really understood that until I spent my vacation here.
As this obsession of mine around Japan has started a long time ago, it is quite natural that there were times I would get bored of it and turn my attention to something else, forgetting about the country and hobbies that I had which centered around its culture. Gradually, interests wane when there is nothing new that stimulates them.
Dwindling interest
After all, when you live so far away, and your only exposure to the culture is movies, TV shows, anime, manga, youtube videos, news and the occasional local Japanese restaurant, how long can you sustain an interest in the culture until you start feeling like that’s all there is to it? Why bother learning the history, the language, if you won’t really use it, except maybe to watch media in the original language, or to understand the historical context?
Somehow, slowly, you start forgetting that Japan is an actual real place. A physical island with a hundred million people who lead lives just like we do. Your idea of the place is shaped and warped only by the media you consume about the country. That was the case for me at least, when it starts feeling like you know about the culture a lot already, and watching any more videos about it, reading more news about it, is just not that exciting anymore.
After all, why should you continue to care, if all the stuff happening in Japan doesn’t affect you directly, or if there is that one cool place in Tokyo you would kill to visit, but then you remember you live 8000 kilometers away from it, and there is barely any chance you would ever visit it, and why continue grinding Kanji if you never used it so far in the past 6 years?
Everything you learn is useful – just maybe not immediately
These were the questions that I’ve been pondering about my obsession for Japan. I’ve spent so much time learning about the country, and after many long years started feeling like there was no real point to my efforts.
Boy did I realise how wrong I was when I landed in Tokyo for the first time, and started exploring the country.
Before the flight, I spent many weeks constructing an excruciatingly detailed itinerary. While at home, planning for the trip, the feelings were still quite mixed for me – I longed to visit the country for such a long time, but will I really be able to enjoy it fully? After all, I felt a bit “burned out”, so to say, from being surrounded by Japanese things online all the time.
Nevertheless, I made sure to include as many “must see” and personal points of interest into my trip – including but not limited to seeing the famous shrines in Kyoto, bathing in an onsen, getting drunk with the locals in an izakaya, and of course, spending a fortune on a metric ton of weeb shit in Akihabara.
After my arrival, it took a while to get used to navigating Japan, but already I felt ecstasy in my body just looking around the place – omg look, it’s those skyscrapers I saw on Google Earth! And the signs, they’re in Kanji, and I can read them! And I’m riding the famous trains, and I hear people speak Japanese, and so many sushi and ramen restaurants, I can’t wait to start experiencing it all!
I started feeling something weird that I haven’t felt in a long, long time. The feeling that all those years I’ve been reading and learning about the country were all for this moment. That finally, my obsession, my time I spent learning was not “wasted”.
The first time I tried to use my reading skills was to buy a ticket for the train to get to my hotel. Took me only like half an hour to learn to read the map and navigate the ticket machine, but I did it. Then, arriving at my hotel, I tried to talk to the receptionist in Japanese, which of course, being my first ever attempt at speaking with a Japanese person, failed miserably and we fell back to English. After checking in, I wanted to order ramen, so I found a local ramen shop and ordered there in Japanese, which this time was about a 95% success, as I didn’t know how to say that I wanted more soy sauce in my broth.
Little by little though, as I kept walking around the city, reading the signs, listening to how people speak and engaging in small talk here and there, I “rewired” my brain into thinking in Japanese, so to speak, and I started really immersing myself into the culture.
Akihabara
One of the first places I visited was Akihabara – the weeb mecca. I, of course, being a long time weeb, have always dreamed of visiting this place, as most weebs desire to. And how would you not want to, when it’s the central hub of everything otaku? I still remember, standing in the train, almost shaking in anticipation as the train stop read “Akihabara”, and I set foot into the street.
Once you emerge from the station, you are right away greeted with large, multi storey buildings, covered with huge ads of nothing but anime. Everywhere you look – electronic stores, anime merch, manga stores, game arcades, cosplayers, itashas… It looks about as amazing and weebish as you imagine it. Honestly, you need a while just to stand there, look around, and take it all in. The feeling of “finding my place” has started to settle inside of me.
It is hard to describe the feelings I had walking around all the various shops in Akiba. The fact that you can just walk into a place, and look at thousands of anime figurines, anime blu-rays, tons and tons of manga piled one on top of the other, and just the sheer amount of random merchandise you can get for even the most obscure anime that you love. The closest thing I can describe it as is a sense of belonging. This is the place where you can be unapologetically yourself in whatever interests you have.
The effect is only enhanced by the fact that you are always surrounded by hundreds of people who, just like you, love anime and are devoted to it. When you walk up to a manga isle and see someone reading manga there, when you’re checking out figurines and see people examining and discussing and buying a collector’s edition figurine, when you decide to check out the ero doujin section and see people browsing through them just like you are doing. Even though you don’t talk to each other or even make eye contact, there is a weird sense of camaraderie when you’re browsing certain things together.
The other interesting thing I found browsing through the shops is that certain fads don’t really ‘die’ here the same way they do in the west. I was walking around one shop when I noticed a TV screen showing video of Kanon. A visual novel, released in 1999. And it still had a dedicated corner for it, with some merch from the game for sale under the hung TV screen. I feel like in the west, such an old game is already ancient history and doesn’t really have that big of an audience. Even an anime that aired last year is already “old news” that nobody wants to talk about. I asked a Japanese friend about it and he confirmed that Japanese fans tend to be more dedicated to the stuff they like. The release date doesn’t really matter as much – if the creation is of high quality, there is a huge, solid, dedicated fan base around it that can keep strong for decades to come.
The whole experience was magical, almost religious. Spending the entire day being surrounded by anime, with thousands of people walking by who are also browsing anime merch, it had a huge impact on me. To be honest, it left such a huge impact that when I eventually came back to my hotel room I started to cry. I had completely forgot how it felt to indulge yourself in something you love. But more so than that, I saw a bustling, active, passionate community who engages in the same interests you have, and that was what I missed the most in my life.
You can only spend so much time talking about the things you like with people online before it starts to feel kind of shallow. Being in the hub of everything anime is so much different than just talking about it on some online forum or discord server. And this sense of community, comradeship, was what I was missing. Not just browsing for manga and figurines on Amazon and sighing while looking at the prices, not just ordering a trinket or two on Aliexpress and waiting for a month for the shipping. But going into a physical shop, where you can see everything for yourself, touch it, feel it, while being surrounded by like minded people, and buying it right there (and not to mention for a much cheaper price than online).
Just this one day alone has rekindled my zest for anime, and I already felt the excitement for the rest of my trip to only get better as I get to know the culture on an even deeper level.
The people, or how I kept inadvertently getting drunk with the locals
One of the things people who traveled to Japan will often say is how nice the local people are. And I am here to say that it is absolutely true. The hospitality the people will show you, the extra mile they put in to help you, is something I have never experienced before.
Politeness
When I had to leave Hakone and buy a Shinkansen train ticket for my next stop, Kyoto, I went to the ticket machines in the train station to buy myself a ticket. I knew which ticket I had to buy, but no matter what combination of buttons I selected, the ticked I need would just never come up as an option. I spent about 5 minutes trying to find it, until a local Japanese person came up to me and asked if everything is alright, probably clearly sensing that not everything is alright with my buying process.
So I told him that I am trying to buy a Shinkansen ticket, but no matter what I do, I can’t seem to find it. He told me I should go to a manned ticket booth and buy one there, as it would be easier. Every train station has an automatic ticket machine and a manned ticket booth that you can buy tickets from, and I knew that, but I didn’t know where it was, which was what I told him. He told me where it was, then started walking, and saying “let’s go”. I was a bit confused for a second, but then followed him, realising he meant that he would take me there.
It took a while to get to the booth, like a 5 minute walk from the ticket machines. It made sense why I couldn’t find the booth before, since it was so far inside the station. When we arrived, he clicked some buttons on a screen near the entrance, gave me a paper ticket with a number on it, and told me to wait until my number flashes on the screen. I thanked him several times while he was leaving and not really seeming like it was a big deal to him, but it was a huge deal for me.
The worker there, standing next to the screen, probably understood that I’m a confused lost foreigner, so after the person left, he came up to me and explained everything I need to know about which line to wait in and then what to say to the person selling tickets to get what I need. I followed his instructions, and successfully bought my first Shinkansen ticket!
I heard stories like that from other people, where when you ask for directions from a local, they not only just tell you where to go, but start drawing you detailed maps and even walking with you just to make sure you get to the correct place, but I never thought it would happen to me. And it’s not like this is an isolated incident – stuff like this just happened all the time. And when it happens so often, I honestly started feeling a bit bad for being treated so nicely, with so much respect.
Another thing is that this kind of polite demeanor really rubs off on you. I started noticing that when there is a situation where I might “inconvenience” someone with an action I’m about to take, I’d rather silently wait behind until the person in front finishes what they need, or I start bowing and whispering “sumimasen” almost automatically when I’m already “inconveniencing” someone. Then you actually want to start helping other people. There was one place I hiked up that had a nice picturesque view, and there was an older Japanese couple there taking selfies. After they were finished, I kind of faced them and asked if they’d like to get their picture taken. They were of course very happy with my offer, so I took some pictures for them with the view, and they returned the favor of taking some pictures of me as well.
Being surrounded by this cultural understanding of “helping out” and “not inconveniencing others” changed how I talk to others a lot. Sadly, it is kind of difficult to keep these behaviors when you are back home into a culture that is more selfish and self-centered, where this level of politeness is not really expected from you, and can sometimes get you into more awkward situations than help you out. But there are still some principles that I brought back home which I tend to stick by more strongly now.
People love when you show interest in their culture
There is a quote that’s going around online, which goes something like – “If you talk to a man in a language he understands, that goes to his head. If you talk to him in his language, that goes to his heart.” It sounds nice on paper, but how many of us actually experienced this feeling of “talking to his heart”?
In typical weeb fashion, I did try to learn Japanese, back in my high school days. I somewhat kept it up, but I haven’t tried to study the language deliberately for many years. Even so, I still do remember a lot of what I have learned, and could dabble in some basic small talk and such.
One of the things I really wanted to do in Japan was get to know the locals, and the way I decided would be the best to go about it (maybe a weird way) would be visiting some small, local izakayas where the locals gathered after work to drink, snack and hang out. So, every other day I would find such a bar where I would spend the evening in, with the goal of having a meal, drink a few beers and try to chat with some local people about anything at all.
The first time I attempted this was in Kyoto. I just came back from the Ghibli Park in Nagoya, hungry and tired. Originally my plan was to go to a game arcade and spend the rest of the evening there, sinking some hours into a rhythm game that I got a real liking to. But before that, I of course wanted to have a quick meal, and Google Maps showed an izakaya not far from me. The reviews were good, so I went towards it.
Approaching the doors, I could hear coarse, roaring laughter emerging from inside. Hesitating for a bit to enter, as to not “crash the party”, I decided to walk in. After all, I’m just one random guy, I’ll just walk in, eat, and leave, I’m not gonna do any harm, right?
As I open the doors, and greet the people inside with “konnichiwa”, I immediately notice everyone go dead silent and awkwardly stare at their drinks. I take the seat in the far back, and the lady behind the bar, an elderly looking woman that the locals endearingly called “mother” as I later learned, asks me in Japanese, “Do you speak Japanese?”. I answer modestly, “Oh, a little bit”. The atmosphere in the place was still a bit awkward, so I try to somehow break the ice, continuing in Japanese: “Somehow this place became so quiet. I heard such loud laughter from outside”. This seemed to work, as the other customers sitting there – an elderly couple and one younger guy – start chuckling and asking me the usual questions: “you really know Japanese? How did you learn? Are you traveling alone? What places have you visited so far?” and so on.
I ordered an okonomiyaki, and while waiting I also ordered a beer to drink while we kept talking and shouting “kampai!” probably a bit too often. The topics of our discussions were quite numerous – we talked about differences in cuisine and weather between Japan and my home country, talked about our favorite anime and manga, our tastes in women, wordplay and puns, fortune telling… Even though I am aware that anime is popular in Japan, it still felt surreal to talk to an older person nearing his 70s about anime and manga, particularly about Miyazaki’s movies after I showed them my Studio Ghibli bag that I got after buying some merch in the Ghibli Park the same day.
After I had my okonomiyaki, they started asking me about various local foods, curious if I had tried them. And when they mentioned something I haven’t tried – they just ordered them for me. Dish after dish, just as I finish one, they continue asking, and if they find one I haven’t tried, they ask “mother” to prepare one for me. I even tried foods that were not on the menu, but because they asked mother to prepare a dish for me, she would (seemingly reluctantly, but in a cheeky way) prepare it for me. Oh, and don’t forget the drinks as well. Just as I down one beer, there is a new glass prepared right away. And as the night went on, beer changed to shochu, which I also delightfully indulged in. All drinks and foods were on them, and they would wear the most gleeful smile when sharing that they are delighted to treat me to their local foods and drinks.
We talked more about each others lives, sharing hobbies, what kind of jobs we do, and so on, until it was time for the couple to leave, and I joined them as it was already quite late and I felt properly drunk. My tab in the end was only like 800 yen, which is such an absurdly small amount in comparison to how much I ate and drank that evening. We walked along together for a few minutes until we had to split ways at a crossroad, wishing each other a good night and going our separate ways.
And this was just one example of several such evenings that I had visiting local bars and talking to the people there in their language, showing an interest and curiosity in their culture. In one bar, this time in Osaka, ran by a middle aged couple, the chef was straightforward in his expression of appreciation, telling me how “happy it makes him that there are people who devote so much time to learn their culture”, which was accompanied with an impromptu exposition he devised of their national tableware, and of course followed with more sake drinking, all on the house.
One thing that all the chefs of these bars mentioned was that, in the first place, foreigners seldom enter their bar. Maybe once per month, if that. More so it is rare to see a foreigner who would know how to speak Japanese. And you can see something changing in the people once you start talking to them in their language, showing a curiosity in their culture. This must be what the previous quote about speaking to the heart was talking about.
Renewed interests and fresh perspectives
Of course, shopping in Akiba and drinking in bars were not the only things that left lasting impressions on me. I haven’t even mentioned the nature, the parks, temples, castles, city life, cuisine, street food culture, other various entertainment places I visited, other quirks of culture I have learned and noticed. But talking about all that in one post would just make it unreadable and long. Plus, it was mainly those two things that really hit the spot for me when it came to rekindling my passions and interests, not only in Japanese culture, but just life in general. I was able to have a glimpse of life from a totally different perspective, which revitalised the zeal I had lost for many things, and life in general really.
It would not be far fetched to say that taking a month from work and dedicating it just to exploring a foreign culture that you love, and really allowing yourself to get lost in it, unapologetically indulging in your desires, and meeting tons of new people, cured me from a depressive rut that I’ve been stuck in for a couple years now.
Sometimes, when we spend a long time on a single interest, we can forget why did we even fall in love with it in the first place, what is the point of spending so much time on it, and so on. We might start thinking that we need to “move on” from it, find new interests, or just “suck it up” and continue doing it, but with all the enthusiasm we previously had for it burned to a crisp, lifeless, decrepit.
But sometimes, we just need to engage in it from a new perspective. Sometimes a change of scenery helps us see our interests in a new light, which shines over us with a renewed love that we have lost amidst the years spent together in routine. Sometimes we need to express our interest in a new, different way than usual, or use it for a situation we don’t usually use it for. Sometimes it’s finding like minded people that inspires you anew. Sometimes, you just need to take that next step, that may be more difficult than usual, to resurrect something that was at the forefront of your life.
One response to “Akihabara and Regaining Zest for Lost Interests”
I hope I can visit Japan myself one day.
Your story motivated me to try it at least! (hopefully soonish with the yen situation)