My Host Family!

Wow, what a day it has been. I woke up early this morning because I had to be checked out of the dorms by 10 AM. I did a all my final packing, folded up my futon, vacuumed the tatami, and took my bags down to the lobby to wait. I was so upset to be leaving all of my friends that I had made. As I walked to a local grocery store to get some breakfast I started thinking about whether or not deciding to do a homestay was the right decision. After all, I had total independence, could come and go as I please, could eat what I wanted, do my own laundry and feel like a cool kid when hanging it out on the patio to dry. I had already made so many new friends from so many different places. We had enjoyed movie nights, trips through dark allies, and had grown out of our uncertainty and jetlag together. I knew it would be an insult to back out now, when I was committed and this host family was expecting a student.

Plus, I started to think… with my friends, the only Japanese I spoke was when we ordered food. With a host family it was going to be like going from a crawl to a full out sprint. The language aspect was very enticing. However, I worried that my otosan, host father, would be quiet, pensive, and stoic- how I assume all Japanese men are past a certain age. I didn't want a pushover okasan, host mother, who did whatever the otosan said. I mean, you all know my mother, so I don't think I would be happy with a submissive mother. So, again, I was torn.

Walking into the Center for Intercultural Education (the CIE) I was starting to get anxious. I saw Japanese families and their children walking in to the CIE as well- they were they to pick up students just like me. Here I had a brief pouting moment where I wished I had small siblings, but quickly snapped out of it. After signing in, I was put in a waiting room with all the other students, while the host families were put in another room. The wait was agony, though they had a tv show playing in the classroom. Every time a mediator came into the room to call another student, my pulse jumped up into my throat. I kept reciting the phrase I would say when I met my family: 'hajimemashite, Sarahdesu, doozo yoroshiku.' Hello, I am Sarah, it's a pleasure to meet you. Followed by a bow. That was about as far as I had gotten in my thought process. All I could see after that was a language barrier and awkward silence that was bound to go hand in hand with that.

Finally, my name was called. My family was here. They were waiting for me. "Nervous?" asked the director of the homestay program as she led me to my family. "Uhhhh….," I replied. Out of the doorway of the host family room came two late-middle aged Japanese people, my Okasan, Michiyo Yuo, and Otosan, Junji Yuo. Otosan was about an inch taller than me, with black hair, and a very very anxious presence. He was wearing a sweet turtleneck with a tweed blazer over it. My Okasan was about 5'0, with shoulder-length wavy black hair. She had on a warm looking knit sweater and a dangly necklace that reminded me of the late 80s. They were both very clean, very proper, and both seemed as terrified as me, maybe more. I rushed out my greeting, sort of mumbling and bowing at the same time. I'm pretty sure they didn't understand what I had said.

We were led into a room with other families and students and sat down on opposite sides of the table with our mediator to discuss our homestay contract. I would have a 10PM curfew- easy enough, I'm in bed by then. My host mother would do all of my laundry for me- very new to me, very kind of her. I was expected to keep my own room clean, except on sunny days when okasan would come into my room to take my futon and air it outside. I was expected to call if I would be late, plan trips ahead of time, and ask if I wanted to have a few friends come over. We went over health insurance, train passes, and phone bills. Breakfast would be made for me whenever I woke up and dinner would be every night at 7PM. My okasan asked if I was good at cooking and I was blunt and told her yes. I said I would love to cook food for them and they both got very very excited, which I wasn't expecting, because Japanese women are VERY possessive of their kitchens. After all was said and done and I had filled out my commuter train form, we left for our family car.

Otosan was determined that I know exactly how to get from the two different train stations to the university, so after we stopped at the station to pick up my commuter pass and a surprise welcome cake pickup, otosan drove all the routes to the university from both stations. It reminded me a bit of my own dad, who would, undoubtedly force his protection and aid upon anyone who was going to live as a daughter in his house. On the ride home, we discussed their two grown, married children and some of their grandkids. They both laughed about how young my parents were and we also talked about how their Chihuahua, Chiro,(pronounced Cheerio without the 'I') wasn't fond of strangers and I should probably not make eye contact with him or touch him for a few days. We also talked about Chicago. Otosan had been to Chicago twice, Okasan once with him. They talked about the magnificent mile and shopping and even driving up to Wisconsin. They liked how I scoffed at Wisconsin.

 

Once home, Otosan helped me carry my bags up to my room on the second floor. It is a small room, but more than enough space. We all went back downstairs where they showed me the toilet, whose seat lifted automatically when I entered (sweet!) and the ofuro (bath room). We then went into the living/ dining area and we sat down at the low kotatsu table (A table with cloth hanging down from all the sides so a small space heater under the table keeps the area under the table warm), and enjoyed my welcome cake. After that, Okasan started to cook dinner, so they sent me up to my room to unpack for an hour or so. My clothes all fit perfectly either in the two drawers or the hangers I was given.

When I came back down, I was surprised to find Otosan surrounded by papers with information about their internet/ network. He had spent the entire past hour on the phone with an IT person trying to figure out how to find his network and make it connect to my computer. I was overwhelmed and grateful and it made me think about my dad instantly. His persistence and continual attempts to help me get my internet up and running were really too kind. I gave okasan and otosan the presents I had brought with me from America- a Chicago calendar and a mug with some Valpo gear in it. They were both genuinely excited about the calendar and marveled at all the dates and yasumi (holidays) written on the calendar. They couldn't understand why a holiday would be written on the calendar if it wasn't a day off of work holiday. All Japanese holidays are days free from work. They were very excited when they started stumbling across Japanese holidays on the calendar and then marveled at how we included so many foreign nations on our calendar because our society is so mixed. I wonder what it would be like to have only one nationality as a population…

We then looked at family photos because Otosan wanted to see pictures of my REAL Otosan. He stopped and analyzed every single picture for a long time, commenting and joking and memorizing all of my family members names and faces. He commented how I didn't look like my Otosan at all, and I decided to not explain the step-father concept because my Japanese wasn't good enough, so I just agreed that yes, I look like my mother a lot.

Next was dinner that okasan had slaved over. We each had a Japanese salad, a small bowl of Japanese rice, and in the middle of the table, a pot of frying tempura food. We had everything from Fish to green peppers to lotus roots to shrimp to mushrooms. Both parties taught each other what the names of the food were in the other's language and we laughed and joked. Everything was relaxed and being around my new ryoshin (parents) was so easy. I felt like I was at home again, minus the screaming and chaos. As we neared the end of dinner, my otosan and okasan told me that I had a good easy nature that reminded them of a Japanese person. They were trying to tell me that I fit in easily with them, but the word they used translated as 'atmosphere', so I think that the word they used has no direct translation. But, I have a Japanese atmosphere. J

It is crazy how much my Otosan is like my Dad. He cracks jokes about the same exact things my dad would, and he is fun to be around. My okasan loves to laugh and she is patient with me, trying to explain concepts I do not understand.

Well, my Okasan is taking me to get my alien registration done before school tomorrow so I have to say farewell!