Moriguchishi and Doi Station

The home page for Moriguchishi includes relatively little information.  There is a link to a page about a new health plan, descriptions of the city's official tree and flower (a pink blossom called "satsuki"), a visual guide of the mayor's office.  It is not flashy or chaotic like the shopping and clubbing districts of Osaka, and there is not much of historical significance that I can see either.  I even ran into a friend on the Keihan line--dressed in a full suit and nice shoes, no less.  It was so contrary to my image of him that for a second I barely recognized him.  He was on his way to a part-time job a few stops before me.  I asked him, "Do you know Moriguchi-shi at all?" And he said "No... I only hear the name when I come through here on the way to work."  Because of this, I was entirely unsure of what to expect when I left the small but spotless and strangely homey Doi Station.

These are a few of the first views I had on exiting the stations--clean, quite roads bordered by flowers and trees, a line of small shops and restaurants.  There was hardly anyone in town when I came in, which was a shock after being used to extremely crowded streets and long lines no matter where I went.  Most of the people who lived here seemed to be older, grandparents with grandchildren, or young couples with tiny children, or people on the way to work, just passing through.

A small market selling fresh fruit and seeds for gardening.

The small town atmosphere and the potted flowers on every street reminded me of a small town in my native New England.  I was a little bit in love.

I wandered around for a little while, taking pictures.  I got the distinct impression that as a gaijin, I was an incredible rarity.

I decided eventually that I wanted to stop for a lunch, and found to my surprise a covered mall on the other side of Doi Station.  It was lined with tempting sit-down restaurants and bakeries, hundred-yen shops, and supermarkets selling fresh fruit for cheaper than I have ever seen it before.  While I was exploring up and down the street and attracting a lot of stares, I had an experience that to me seemed very quintessentially Japanese.  To my right, the covered mall opened up onto a beautiful Shinto shrine.

There was one main shrine with a bell and a few smaller ones to make prayers at, a station to wash your hands before entering, a place to buy good luck charms and souvenirs.  It made me think of my earlier ideas about connections between what seemed sacred and what seemed mundane in Japan.  A covered mall opening up into a traditional place of worship? In America, it would be unthinkable, but here, it didn't seem so surprising somehow.

For lunch, I eventually decided on a small, sit-down okonomiyaki restaurant inside the covered mall.  For 650 yen, I was given a large, delicious okonomiyaki, miso soup, rice, pickled radishes, some kind of pork-slices appetizer, and unlimited green tea.  While I was waiting, a customer who, like me, was eating alone, was seated across from me with my permission.  She looked up at me once shyly before quickly looking back down at her phone to text.  She seemed shy and a bit bookish, and reminded me a little of a children's librarian.  She seemed young, maybe in her late 20s to early 30s, and was dressed modestly.  After a somewhat awkward silence, I introduced myself to her.  She didn't tell me her name at first, although she did seem eager to chat once I had started.  What was I doing here? Was I a student? Did I find chopsticks hard to use? Where was I from originally?  I did manage to learn a bit about her, as well.  She didn't live in Moriguchishi, she was only here because of her job as an Office Lady.  She had never travelled abroad, although she would like to.  She liked to come to this place for her lunch break.  This seemed to fit what I had observed so far about Moriguchishi--it seemed like a neighborhood for older people, or people with families.  Everyone else was just passing through.  The Office Lady left before me when her lunch hour was almost up.  As I left, the staff thanked me for coming and quizzed me a bit about my origins.  "Please come again," the store owner beamed at me.

As I waited for the return train at Doi Station, I was surrounded by men in full suits waiting for the train as well.  This place was not their home or city either, just a transitory station.  As for me, I really enjoyed my visit and I would love to go again.

Portrait of a Japanese Person

For my portrait of a Japanese person, I asked one of my Seminar House's Japanese roommates, Tamaki, to pose for me. 

Tamaki, or Tama-chan, is one of the sweetest, most genki people I have ever met.  Ever since I moved into Seminar House 1, she's always been ready with a smile and a compliment.  I think that one of the things I like the most about her is that she has such a bubbly, sweet attitude but she's also incredibly diligent.  I've seen her literally stay up all night to study, which is one of the reasons I chose this picture.  I wanted to capture both her amazing smile and her diligent nature.

When I think of her I also think of a story that makes me feel simultaneously guilty and grateful.  In our dorm kitchen, we have had a problem with people not properly cleaning their cooking utensils.  Especially in the case of rice cookers, this can get somewhat disgusting--rice crusted into the bowls and all.  One morning, Tamaki cleaned all the dishes and rice cookers.  Even though they weren't mine, I felt such a sense of collective guilt for my fellow students and appreciation for Tamaki.  I feel really priveleged to have met her.