a long road
We're in the middle of an incredible experience here in Hiroshima. It's very different from the last time I was here--when I came alone, a year ago, to experience things myself. It was a much less thorough, less valuable experience then, but it affected me more. I spent an entire day crying, after seeing the atomic bomb dome, the Peace Park and the museums for the first time.
Two nights ago, I went out with some friends here to an izakaya where we drank and did karaoke and had a great time. We were half Japanese students, half American students. On the way to the izakaya, we walked through the Peace Park at night, the hypocenter of the bomb that was dropped here 60 years ago, and saw the stage they had set up, the thousands of chairs in perfect rows, for tomorrow's events. We saw the monument to Sadako Sasaki, the 12 year old who folded a thousand paper cranes in order to stay alive and defeat the leukemia that came as a result of the bomb, 10 years on. This whole city is what it is because of the atrocities that occurred here 60 years ago. Then we went out drinking, and laughed, and had fun together, Americans and Japanese, less than 1km away from the center. I just can't comprehend that--how much the world has changed, for better and for worse, since that moment.
Two nights ago was fun. Yesterday morning, we all went to the Peace Park together to see the museums and to hear speeches by some atomic bomb survivors (hibakusha), and some experts. We heard a number of different opinions, and learned a lot more about the bomb and the situations of war surrounding what happened than I had ever imagined. One speaker told us how furious he is with Japan and the city of Hiroshima for adopting the role of "victim" and absolutely refusing to acknowledge the fact that it played a crucial role as aggressor before and during WWII, and that there's a reason the bomb was dropped on Hiroshima (Japan likes to claim that it was because there was no POW camp here, but this man claims that it's because the largest and most important concentration of both military might and industry were here). We also heard opinions from first-hand witnesses that the bomb was completely unnecessary--that the soldiers here, at that point in the war, had nothing to fight with but kitchen knives and bamboo spears, that they had no food and no supplies and no weapons. We heard opinions that the bomb was actually just an experiment on the part of the USA, which had never detonated a plutonium bomb before Hiroshima, that the city was never bombed and kept pristine so as to observe the effects of the bomb more accurately. We heard that the Soviet Union played a big role in what happened here--that the bombs were dropped, when they were, in order to scare the USSR and claim the role of superpower for the USA. We've heard all sorts of things, I've learned more here than I ever imagined I could, and it will take a lifetime to think it all through and come to conclusions, if conclusions are even possible.
Last night, we brought the thousand paper cranes that we and our alumni had folded to the Sadako memorial in the Peace Park here, and had a little informal ceremony, all 80 of us. It was moving. I cried a lot yesterday--I needed it. We all cried a lot yesterday, but we learned a lot and thought a lot too. It was surreal, last night, walking through the park last night, on the way back from the ceremony and coffee with new Japanese friends, the (intentionally) misshapen trees, the eternal flame bright over the memorial pool, reflecting the cenotaph, the atom bomb domb visible in behind, the stage with an international orchestra practicing for tomorrow. Watching everything get set up over the past few days--our hotel is only a 10 minute walk away from everything--has been pretty amazing.
The ceremony will be tomorrow morning. It's going to be amazing. 60 years. Koizumi will be here. The world will be watching--hopefully.
We've had newspaper and television crews following us around for the past couple of days. We were in a couple of newspapers today, and we've been on television at least once. I wish I could follow it all.
This morning, we attended a peace ceremony at Noboricho Middle School, Sadako's school. The children showed us around, and then we had a lecture on peace education, followed by a discussion. That was moving and educational also.
So things are going well. But there are frustrations. We are a large group, which I don't deal so well with, and I have qualms about our leadership. Everything is unbelievably disorganized, which is surprising, since this is Japan, and the executive committee members have had a year now to plan things. Our schedule is ridiculous--we do way too much, and have no time to unwind, relax, and reflect on what we're experiencing. The only food they give us are these terrible bento boxes that we're all sick and tired of.
But more than that, there's the social aspect. It's tough to integrate a group like ours, of half Japanese students, half Americans. There are a lot of cultural and linguistic barriers. Even for someone like me, who speaks both languages, who knows both cultures, it's tough--and maybe all the tougher because I'm somewhere in between, because I identify somewhat with both groups and clearly with neither. The American delegates view me as different because I spend more time talking to the Japanese, and the Japanese view me as different for other, obvious reasons (i.e. I'm too loud, too forward).
I've made a bunch of mistakes, I think, trying to figure out who I am and how I fit in with this group. I think, up to now, I've done a poor job of letting people know who I really am, by going to one extreme or another. I blame part of this on Kris and how I spent the first half of my summer, part of it on myself for being immature and dumb around other people, particularly in groups. I've always had trouble in situations like this, surrounded by kids my own age, forced to spend time with them, no privacy or "me time" to speak of--from governor's school five years ago, to dorm life at school, to London two summers ago. I just don't fit in with the group, I don't want to fit in, I don't know how to act as part of a group. And one-on-one or small group time is so goddamn rare, with this insane schedule they have us on. I feel like I want something more than the other kids here, I get bored of trite social banter really quickly and want to have more serious conversation. I want to make real friends, who will still be my friends even after this conference is over. Because our time is so limited... and you can't rush or force those sorts of things. I make a big deal about small things, it's almost like a soap opera to me. I get offended easily. But at the same time, I think most people are insensitive idiots, I feel ignored most of the time, even by people I just recently had a great conversation with (that's one thing I will never understand, how you can have a deep conversation with someone one night and ignore them the next morning). I don't feel like doing all the work, in terms of trying to make friends here, but then I have no choice with the Japanese, they're too shy ever to initiate conversation. This is such a great opportunity for me, for all of us. Nevertheless, I need to slow down. I need to be myself. If only I knew who I am and what I really want.
But there are always good moments. Last night, for the first time, I went out for a little while with a group of Japanese and one other American, and had some great conversation. Conversations, the chance to talk to new people and really make friends, that's what this is all about for me. I'm even starting to get used to the schedule. And it's going to kill me when it's over and I have to go, alone, back to California again, like last winter. At least, next time I come back to Japan, I will have even more friends to see...
We leave for Okinawa in two days, where we will supposedly be staying at a beach resort. I hope we can slow down and enjoy ourselves a little better there.
Two nights ago, I went out with some friends here to an izakaya where we drank and did karaoke and had a great time. We were half Japanese students, half American students. On the way to the izakaya, we walked through the Peace Park at night, the hypocenter of the bomb that was dropped here 60 years ago, and saw the stage they had set up, the thousands of chairs in perfect rows, for tomorrow's events. We saw the monument to Sadako Sasaki, the 12 year old who folded a thousand paper cranes in order to stay alive and defeat the leukemia that came as a result of the bomb, 10 years on. This whole city is what it is because of the atrocities that occurred here 60 years ago. Then we went out drinking, and laughed, and had fun together, Americans and Japanese, less than 1km away from the center. I just can't comprehend that--how much the world has changed, for better and for worse, since that moment.
Two nights ago was fun. Yesterday morning, we all went to the Peace Park together to see the museums and to hear speeches by some atomic bomb survivors (hibakusha), and some experts. We heard a number of different opinions, and learned a lot more about the bomb and the situations of war surrounding what happened than I had ever imagined. One speaker told us how furious he is with Japan and the city of Hiroshima for adopting the role of "victim" and absolutely refusing to acknowledge the fact that it played a crucial role as aggressor before and during WWII, and that there's a reason the bomb was dropped on Hiroshima (Japan likes to claim that it was because there was no POW camp here, but this man claims that it's because the largest and most important concentration of both military might and industry were here). We also heard opinions from first-hand witnesses that the bomb was completely unnecessary--that the soldiers here, at that point in the war, had nothing to fight with but kitchen knives and bamboo spears, that they had no food and no supplies and no weapons. We heard opinions that the bomb was actually just an experiment on the part of the USA, which had never detonated a plutonium bomb before Hiroshima, that the city was never bombed and kept pristine so as to observe the effects of the bomb more accurately. We heard that the Soviet Union played a big role in what happened here--that the bombs were dropped, when they were, in order to scare the USSR and claim the role of superpower for the USA. We've heard all sorts of things, I've learned more here than I ever imagined I could, and it will take a lifetime to think it all through and come to conclusions, if conclusions are even possible.
Last night, we brought the thousand paper cranes that we and our alumni had folded to the Sadako memorial in the Peace Park here, and had a little informal ceremony, all 80 of us. It was moving. I cried a lot yesterday--I needed it. We all cried a lot yesterday, but we learned a lot and thought a lot too. It was surreal, last night, walking through the park last night, on the way back from the ceremony and coffee with new Japanese friends, the (intentionally) misshapen trees, the eternal flame bright over the memorial pool, reflecting the cenotaph, the atom bomb domb visible in behind, the stage with an international orchestra practicing for tomorrow. Watching everything get set up over the past few days--our hotel is only a 10 minute walk away from everything--has been pretty amazing.
The ceremony will be tomorrow morning. It's going to be amazing. 60 years. Koizumi will be here. The world will be watching--hopefully.
We've had newspaper and television crews following us around for the past couple of days. We were in a couple of newspapers today, and we've been on television at least once. I wish I could follow it all.
This morning, we attended a peace ceremony at Noboricho Middle School, Sadako's school. The children showed us around, and then we had a lecture on peace education, followed by a discussion. That was moving and educational also.
So things are going well. But there are frustrations. We are a large group, which I don't deal so well with, and I have qualms about our leadership. Everything is unbelievably disorganized, which is surprising, since this is Japan, and the executive committee members have had a year now to plan things. Our schedule is ridiculous--we do way too much, and have no time to unwind, relax, and reflect on what we're experiencing. The only food they give us are these terrible bento boxes that we're all sick and tired of.
But more than that, there's the social aspect. It's tough to integrate a group like ours, of half Japanese students, half Americans. There are a lot of cultural and linguistic barriers. Even for someone like me, who speaks both languages, who knows both cultures, it's tough--and maybe all the tougher because I'm somewhere in between, because I identify somewhat with both groups and clearly with neither. The American delegates view me as different because I spend more time talking to the Japanese, and the Japanese view me as different for other, obvious reasons (i.e. I'm too loud, too forward).
I've made a bunch of mistakes, I think, trying to figure out who I am and how I fit in with this group. I think, up to now, I've done a poor job of letting people know who I really am, by going to one extreme or another. I blame part of this on Kris and how I spent the first half of my summer, part of it on myself for being immature and dumb around other people, particularly in groups. I've always had trouble in situations like this, surrounded by kids my own age, forced to spend time with them, no privacy or "me time" to speak of--from governor's school five years ago, to dorm life at school, to London two summers ago. I just don't fit in with the group, I don't want to fit in, I don't know how to act as part of a group. And one-on-one or small group time is so goddamn rare, with this insane schedule they have us on. I feel like I want something more than the other kids here, I get bored of trite social banter really quickly and want to have more serious conversation. I want to make real friends, who will still be my friends even after this conference is over. Because our time is so limited... and you can't rush or force those sorts of things. I make a big deal about small things, it's almost like a soap opera to me. I get offended easily. But at the same time, I think most people are insensitive idiots, I feel ignored most of the time, even by people I just recently had a great conversation with (that's one thing I will never understand, how you can have a deep conversation with someone one night and ignore them the next morning). I don't feel like doing all the work, in terms of trying to make friends here, but then I have no choice with the Japanese, they're too shy ever to initiate conversation. This is such a great opportunity for me, for all of us. Nevertheless, I need to slow down. I need to be myself. If only I knew who I am and what I really want.
But there are always good moments. Last night, for the first time, I went out for a little while with a group of Japanese and one other American, and had some great conversation. Conversations, the chance to talk to new people and really make friends, that's what this is all about for me. I'm even starting to get used to the schedule. And it's going to kill me when it's over and I have to go, alone, back to California again, like last winter. At least, next time I come back to Japan, I will have even more friends to see...
We leave for Okinawa in two days, where we will supposedly be staying at a beach resort. I hope we can slow down and enjoy ourselves a little better there.