I came to Tsukuba Science City in February to attend a training on Radiation Science, not to learn how to ride a bicycle. This was always my excuse when my co-trainees continually nag me to bike.
As the days passed by, I eventually recognise that biking was a necessity in this place, ie as public transportation was scarce and expensive--particularly for foreigners like me. But I was afraid to fall from the bicycle and hurt myself so I never rode on it.
The more my friends nagged me to bike, the more I came up with strings of excuses: I'm basically a homebody; I really do not need to go out, anyway. And if I need to, my church friends always offer to give me a lift. Besides, I really just like to stay in my room and learn Nihongo as I love to study foreign languages. And being in Japan is indeed a big opportunity for me to learn not only the language, but the Japanese culture as well.
All the wintry days of February, consequently confined me in Room# 306 at the Tsukuba International Centre (TBIC). In my aloness and stillness in this room, all I did was to study Nihongo and read magazines about Japan. To give rest to eyes in between, I oftened played Chopin and looked through my glass window. The peace and quietness of the place was indeed just perfect!!! That is, to break away from the humdrums of the computerised city where I have lived all my life.
I thought I could go on living my life on this routine of reading and studying after our lectures in radiation science. With each passing day, however, I felt an eager anticipation of the time when I could see Tsukuba--not through my glass window anymore but through the hearts of its people. But how could I go around when I don't know how to bike. If my co-trainees see me walking they certainly would tease me again of not being able to ride the bicycle even Japanese children can!
Winter was over. Spring had come. I was still looking through my glass window. I could see visibly the sun setting high and low--often creating within me a nostalgic feeling.
The barren trees began to bear leaves and the sakura tree began to bloom. Even the birds began to sing. The beginning of life was everywhere. The farmers had started cultivating the fields which were once covered with snow. All I could see, however, were rows of white tunnels. I wondered what crops were protected inside. I wondered how it feels outside. Certainly, it should not be as cold as February. As the temperature in TBIC was constant, I could not feel the change of temperature with the change of season,except when our group went out for study trips around Japan.
I wanted to think as other trainees often say that each of our room was like a cage. But I would not. Yes, I was always there in my room after our lectures--studying and memorising some phrases in Nihongo. I never get bored! I believe that boredom could only come to people who have nothing worthwhile to do.
Had I not come to Japan, I would be studying Nihongo, anyway, at the Foreign Service Institute of the Philippine Ministry of Foreign Affairs. I earned myself a scholarship here where I enjoyed the privelege of studying foreign languages of my choice. I thought it was truly an excellent opportunity to be in Japan this year! After all, isn't the best way to learn a language is to speak it with native speaker?
To get the most of learning Nihongo right here in Japan, I resolved to go at least around TBIC--if not by biking, then by walking. So one day, I decided to go out and walk--first to that spot where my eyes always gazed through my glass window,ie the field covered with white tunnels and the one woman working in it.
Farming has always been one of my interests. Having grown up in the centre of Manila (where riding the bicycle is incidentally dangerous!), I had never really have any first-hand experience or knowledge about farming. The hard work of this woman farmer as I saw it through my glass window each day as soon as the sun was up till it went down truly impressed me.
In a matter of moments, I was talking to her in Nihongo--not with the three surviving words sumimasen, onegaishimasu and domo arigato gozaimasu which I used in train stations going to Tokyo, but with other phrases that made me know for one thing that Ichi-san was her name. Furthermore, that melon seedlings were under the tunnel.
Carrying on further with talking to her in Nihongo, I told her I was shy to ask my co-trainees to teach me how to ride the bicycle. WoW! If I could say it, after establishing rapport, I was able to ask her finally if she could teach me how to ride it. I needed not repeat myself. Ichi-san immediately led me to her nearby house, got me to ride at first on one of her children's bicycle which was too small for me. So she had me rode on her own bicycle lowering its seat.
At that instance, Li-Ming, the Chinese medical doctor who was in my group passed by offering to help me. I had few more practice with him and I was able to maintain balance and bike--the same day. Thank God!!!
From that moment on, I began biking, if I could say, to the hearts of the Tsukuba people day after day. As I could not make a turn smoothly on each intersection, each stop I made was an opportunity to say Konnichiwa to every Japanese around. Amazingly, this had also been an opportunity to make a friend.
Sometimes, this Konnichiwa went beyond miles. At one instance, I got off from my bicycle and helped an old woman secure to ground with bamboo sticks her melon plants. In the process, I soiled my white suit and my white rubber shoes plus my compainion English-Japanese dictionary. But who cares? I enjoyed every minute of it --'farming'--so to speak. Another time I also helped the mother of my seventeen-year-old friend plant tomorokoshi.
As I continued to bike around the city, my friendliness also reaped friendliness in return. Who would feel like a stranger in this country which is called the Land of the Rising Sun? Not me! Having friends like Michiko-san and her mother, Ichi-san and her two little girls, Midori-san and the young boy Ueda- san, I felt like being home.
I never felt alone since then-- having people like them who opened their homes to me and by the same token learning to adopt to their ways of bowing the head for a greeting and taking off slippers in entering one's house. They were the people who warmed my heart through a flower, a melon, a tomato, a smile. Furthermore, their word of kindness was more than enough to lighten up my day from my research work at the National Food Research Institute and make my heart sing.
Six months had passed. The towering pine trees abounding in Tsukuba are even greener and fresher after the rain. The tsuyu flower has replaced the tsutsuji. The bird hoshiro is singing more eloquently.
Three more months have to go before my training finishes. I would not only be learning radiation science but would continue to bike through the hearts of the people of Tsukuba. After these three more months, I will go home in my own nativeland filled with enriching memories and experiences that will continue to linger ---that of having crossed cultural barriers whilst in a foreign country.
From :Strings of Words and Solitude, copyright L.R.Blanco, PhD, MOIF,D.G.
