I lived for one month with a family who lived in the countryside. The father worked in another city and came every two weeks for the weekend. The mother worked and the twin girls, then eighteen, studied English. It was very strange for me to see this type of arrangement, where the father lives far away. When he came home, he expected to be served. He sat in chair while the rest of the family sat down on the floor for dinner, and smoked and read the newspaper while eating. I couldn’t believe that. One would think that a person that is away for so long would come to share with the family, but I guess the idea we have of sharing is different from other people’s.

The first day I was there, I had to learn my first lesson: How to take a bath. They showed me the bathroom and the room where I was going to bathe. I wanted to take a shower, but they showed discontent, so I followed their rules. It was a room with two low faucets and a footstool in front to sit down. When I sat down, I noticed that there was a mirror so I could see myself getting clean. There was also a container to catch the water and a special towel--common in Japan--to put on the soap. After I had finished with the ritual, and I was clean, I could go into the bath tub that was deeper and shorter than the Western tubs, and the purpose was to relax me. The water was extremely hot, controlled automatically to keep a certain temperature, and I thought I would not be able to handle it. I tried as much as I could to go in, stepped out, put on my pajama and went to join them. They saw my legs totally red and asked if the water had been too hot. I guess it was obvious. Later I learned that they allow the guest to go in first, and then the family follows. Everybody goes into the same tub, with the same water, and the water is not necessarily changed every day. In this house, for example, they used that water to wash the clothes later.

Something else I learned with that family, is that a Japanese breakfast includes fish. I would wake up by the smell of it, and it was very hard to deal with. I had to eat it, of course, so I would not hurt their feelings. We would have rice, fish, eggs, among other things that I already forgot. This was also an adjustment for me because I do not eat much in the morning, but I could not ask for what I was used to because those were their habits.

I was very tired with this family and had had several misunderstandings that had made it very difficult to live there. One of them was that they used the word must to tell me to do anything, and I took it literally. This was very annoying and eventually I got tired and reacted defensively to that. About a year later, I learned that they had been taught that way in school and they were simply applying it mistakenly to real-life conversation.

Another issue was that a week before starting my Japanese classes, they started waking me up really early. I did not like it because first, I love to sleep, and second, I was "officially" still on vacation and should not be bothered. Naturally, I had to get up because it was not my house, until I asked them why they woke me up so early. Their reason was that I needed to prepare because I was going to start classes the following week. I said that when the time came, I would get up early, but they believe in rehearsal, and this was part of it.

After one month, I moved in with my permanent family. That was the greatest day I had! Papa, my host father, and Kyoshi, my host brother, went to pick me up at this house. We went to a nice traditional Japanese restaurant and they were impressed at how I behaved. I had learned a few things by then, like the proper use of the chopsticks and how to position the shoes when left at the door. These were small details, but in Japan, details are very much taken into consideration.

I remember that I found amusing when the Japanese bowed while talking on the phone. But, after several months, I was doing the same. It seems that certain words go with the bow included and it simply becomes automatic. After eight years, I still bow when I talk to my Japanese family on the phone, and my voice and expression changes to a Japanese tone.

One of the things that impressed me very much about the culture was how a person who stands out in any way is undesirable. In Japan to be different is not proper and there are even books that teach how a "salary man" (a worker) should dress, cut his hair, bow . . . I read once in the Japan Times about a girl that had a different color of hair than the other girls and she was asked to dye it black. There was a lot of controversy because the system wanted her to match her peers at any cost.

Fortunately, I do not have any bad memories of being a gaijin (outsider). I do not know if it was because I was short, with dark hair and blended somehow with the population, or if there was another reason for it. But I do know that they act strange towards foreigners. For example, when the train is crowded and there is a seat next to the gaijin, most people will prefer to keep going standing up than sitting next to that person.

I still smile when I remember the things I thought I would never do. One was to make noise while eating (specifically while sipping noodles), and the other was to take a bath--a public bath.

One day, an American friend took me to a small Japanese restaurant in his neighborhood and noticed how hard I tried to eat the noodles in a "Western" way. He laughed and said that he would bet that I would make noise by the end of my stay in Japan. He told me that the noise meant that I was pleased with the food and the cook would be happy, and that even the taste was different when sipped. He was right. One day I went to a restaurant by myself and made noise. I looked around to see who was staring at me for behaving "improperly" at the table, but nobody cared. Eventually, I learned to sip without making a mess and to this day, if I eat at a Japanese place, I sip my noodles and make that wonderful noise. The food does taste different, and the feeling is great!

I had avoided public baths for months and thought that I would never be able to do them. When I had to go to meetings for the weekend, I would wake up earlier and go to take a shower before everybody woke up. One day we were having a great party and one of my friends suggested we go and take a bath. It was almost midnight and baths are taken at night to relax after a long day of work. I did not know what to do. I did not like the idea of being naked in front of all the people I knew and others I did not. I could not picture myself sitting next to other people taking the bath and then going to the crowded ofuro (Japanese bathtub). I did not know if I could stand the hot water, and if not, what would I do naked next to the tub?

Since most of us were foreigners, we still felt a little uncomfortable with this type of bath and that sensation made it easier for me. We did not sit down to scrub ourselves, but instead, started the showers and went under them singing and making fun of what we were doing. Then we went to the tub and it was great. The water was not as hot as I thought it would be, so we all went in, talked, relaxed, and enjoyed the experience.

One of the things I like most about that culture is how over 125 million Japanese can live in 377,835 sq. km--a place a little smaller than California. The safety in that country is unbelievable. People take the train, leave their bags, portfolios or shopping bags in the upper-part compartment, sit down and fall asleep until they get to their destination. When they wake up, everything is still there. I lost my wallet once and recuperated it intact. Children take the train alone without any worries. Women walk at midnight alone in the street and nothing happens.

I loved Japan, even though it had things I did not fully understand.