They had the amazing opportunity to don authentic Japanese costumes and march in the Hikone Shiro-matsuri (Castle Festival) Parade:

The boys are probably thinking, “Don’t mess with me.  I’m carrying a sword.”

And a beautiful blend of the two cultures, old and new:

“Once you have traveled, the voyage never ends, but is played out over and over again in the quiestest chambers. The mind can never break off from the journey.” - Pat Conroy, The Prince of Tides

I sent my fourteen year old son around the world to Japan last weekend.  He’s traveling with a dozen eighth and ninth graders (and two teachers) to our sister city of Hikone.  He’ll live with our friend Kohei, explore Kyoto and Hiroshima, and embark on the adventure of a lifetime.  I’m not superstitious, but the fact that he left on Halloween and will return on Friday the 13th did give me slight pause, mostly for the irony. 

I’ve been choked up about his departure, but not for the reasons you might expect.  Once the plane lands safely (and it already has), my heart really doesn’t fear something terrible happening.  Perhaps that’s protective denial, but I’m really quite comfortable with his safety.  What keeps needling me is how this will impact his view of the world.  He’ll have a real connection with a family and teens in a completely different culture, and he’ll learn how similar we are where it really counts.  He’ll get a glimpse of the impact, more than 50 years later, of a real weapon of mass destruction, and offer a small gesture of peace.  He’ll visit shrines and temples and gain some respect for completely different religions. 

With all these experiences, he can’t help but come back a different son.  I look forward to that, while at the same time I’m sentimental about saying goodbye to the innocent one.  Does that make sense?

Lest I wax on too seriously, I know he’s still a teenager.  I hope he will be sensitive about his world travels around others who might never enjoy such an experience, but I know that will be hard.  I also know much of his “adventure” won’t be lofty but more quirky things only teen would notice.  Here’s a quick rundown of the teen perspective through our preparation:

Sensei’s advice:  Don’t mess with the fancy toilets. 

Teen’s response:  I can’t wait to play with the fancy toilets.

Sensei’s advice:  DO NOT FEED THE DEER (at the Itsukushima Jinja Shrine).  THEY WILL ATTACK YOU. 

Teen’s response:  Let’s get (my funny friend) to feed the deer and see what happens.

Sensei’s advice:  Remember the honor bestowed upon you.  Don’t get too goofy with the Samurai sword you’ll carry in the parade. 

Teen’s response:  Oh boy!  We get to play with real Samurai swords. 

Sensei’s advice:  Don’t even think about buying beer from the vending machines. 

Mom’s response:  I don’t even want to think about it.

Take home lesson:  Remember the power of suggestion.  Never say, “Don’t do this adventerous thing” to a teenager (or his parents!)

May God’s blessings be upon them through the next couple of weeks, on the plane or in the toilets!

photo credit: lrargerich

Ann Arbor-Hikone Exchange 2009

“Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness. Broad, wholesome, charitable views of men and things cannot be acquired by vegetating in one little corner of the earth all one’s lifetime.” — Mark Twain

Or, as my teen son summed it up on Facebook (not quite as eloquently, but I must admit, it captured the sentiment): 

“There’s a fr__kin’ sweet Japanese kid at my house!” 

 How sweet it was.  We had a great week hosting Kohei, our fourteen year old exchange student from Hikone, Japan. 

Prior to his visit, I worried about whether our home was welcoming or clean enough, how we would communicate, and whether he would eat well or miss his home.  I wanted to make sure he had a great time, that he appreciated our fair city, and that we pretended to act like a normal American family.   Or maybe even better than normal, whatever that is.     

There was no need to worry.  Kohei was delightful, and he spoke terrific English, to our great relief.  He was social and engaging:  playing football with the neighbors, riding ripstik with my younger son, and teaching my daughter magic tricks.  He deemed all of my food “delicious.”   Of course it was–even the squash soup and the boxed mac ‘n cheese.  I hope my own kids were paying attention.

By opening our home to a visitor from afar, we learned so much.  The state of my house wasn’t so important; by the end of the week it was as messy as usual.  Despite language hurdles and minor cultural differences (learning to work the shower, doing neat little bundles of laundry each day, or miso soup for breakfast), we’re not so different.  Teens don’t need major entertainment.  They are happy hanging out with friends, wherever they are.  They like to flirt and tease each other, just like our kids.   They enjoyed seeing the local sights, but more importantly, they wanted to make connections.  

When I asked Kohei what he wanted to do most while he was here, he promptly said, “I want to make lots of friends.”   

Mission accomplished. 

At our Sayonara (farewell) party, the Japanese host, Mr. Ikegami, framed it like this: 

 ”I cannot change the war of the past, but it is my duty to make sure it never happens again.”

If we are honest, we all have our history and prejudices.  Conflict with the Japanese is not in my personal history, but it is for many who still feel the sting of World War II.  But regardless of the differences, if we make a friend–a real connection–it becomes impossible to hate or paint broad negative assumptions about an entire group of people.  Because we’ll always remember that one friend who was so kind.   

So now we have a dear friend in Japan, who my son will visit in just two weeks.  I must agree with my son:  It’s very (is it okay to say fr__kin’?) sweet. 

1) Last week we hosted our young visitor from Japan and he was amazing!   We couldn’t have ordered up a more friendly, engaging, appreciative and English-speaking (whew!) fourteen year old.   We said our sad goodbyes this morning, and my son will have the joy of seeing him again in less than three weeks.  As soon as I have time to reflect I’ll write more about it.  

2)  You might enjoy these two articles about the exchange in our local paper:

Students raise money for trip to Japan

Local families host Japanese exchange students

3)  Today is my first born’s fourteenth birthday.  I can’t even process the meaning of this at the moment, but I must be off to prepare since we’ve been a little distracted.  In the meantime, I’ll leave you with a fun photo:

and some discussion on Flickr of the v-sign commonly used for photos.   Enjoy!

Image via Wikipedia

In a few short weeks, I’ll be putting my eighth grade son on a plane to Japan for the experience of a lifetime.  He’s traveling as one of twelve middle school student ambassadors to our sister city of Hikone, Japan for a couple of weeks.  He’ll stay with a Japanese host family, attend a Japanese middle school, march in Samurai costume in a city parade, meet dignitaries, and do all sorts of exciting things.  Prior to that, we’ll be hosting a Hikone student in our home.

Amidst all of the fundraising, language practice, cultural courses and sushi feasts is the project of making one thousand origami paper cranes to present at the Children’s Peace Monument in the Hiroshima Peace Memorial Park.  The monument was erected in memory of a girl named Sadako Sasaki who contracted leukemia after the atomic bombing of Hiroshima during World War II.  During Sadako’s illness, she believed that folding 1000 paper cranes would make her wish for wellness come true.  As her health declined, she changed her wish to world peace, and when she died, her school friends rallied to erect the Children’s Memorial Park in her honor.  Her story is told in the children’s book Sadako and the Thousand Paper Cranes.  Today, the paper crane has become a symbol for peace, and visitors from around the world present about ten million origami cranes at the monument as a peace offering.   Our kids will be part of that tradition.

Right now, for my son, the paper folding project is one more thing to do.  He knows it is significant, but as a middle schooler immersed in the here and now, it’s not that easy to grasp.  He’s honored to be selected, and he’s busy bonding with classmates, adjusting to eighth grade homework and saving for an ipod to take on the plane.  He’s mostly excited to meet his new friends, practice his Japanese, try the food and check out the high-tech (or low-tech, sometimes) toilets. 

As his mother, the lump in my throat rises as the trip gets closer.  I know what a huge opportunity this is.  I know he will be changed by the experience.  I know that when he can navigate around a foreign country, I won’t be able to clip his wings at home.   I know he’ll have so many stories to share, there won’t be time for him to tell me everything.   Some of those he’ll keep to himself, and that’s part of growing up. 

So I pick up a piece of the pretty paper and make my own wish for these young ambassadors:  for health, for safety, for friendship, and yes, for peace. 

Here, one fold at a time, is where it begins.