Shallow
There’s a strange feeling that comes over me when I run into foreigners (i.e., non-Japanese) people in Japan.
In the beginning, I’d be curious. Depending on the situation (bar) I might even go up and introduce myself to them. Finding a foreign person, someone you could actually talk to, was like finding the one kind of jellybean you want in a bag.
But then something interesting happened. I realized that, despite having moved halfway across the world to be here, despite having a similar job or age, a lot of us didn’t really get along.
Go figure.
I was talking to a friend of mine about it one day.
“I don’t get it. We’re all adults. But sometimes there’s a lot of drama in these foreigner circles,” I said. “We’re all alone here. In this together. Shouldn’t we band together and make this experience like the greatest thing ever?”
My friend had a good explanation as to why my foreigner utopia does not exist.
“When you have a relationship for shallow reasons, you have a shallow relationship,” he said. “Speaking English is a shallow reason.”
It made me think of all the Japanese people I already have connections with. I’m better friends with some of them than I am with the foreigners. Because we have similar hobbies or beliefs. And yeah, there’s a language barrier. But there’s an unspoken belief that we get each other, more so than a lot of people I know who speak English.
In a way, the language I don’t speak with my Japanese friends says more than the English I do speak with some foreigners I know.
My friend’s comment makes me reflect on what my relationships are based on. Something meaningful, like appreciating the same things?
… Or something shallow, like speaking the same language?
