Gabby in Gifu and Beyond: 2006

At the start, yen was the illusive destination of my journey here in Japan. Now I know that money is just an illusion that I was chasing. Although it is necessary to pay rent, bills, food, and other important expenses, I found in Japan that “yen” has two very different meanings: “the monetary currency of Japan,” and “desire” “hunger” or “love.” Still, I’m chasing yen. During the last several months, I have learned to change my focus from the prior to the latter.
During the spring semester at my University before applying to the JET Program, I heard that my city’s adult education program had free classes for adult English as Second Language learners and that many of these students were waiting for native English speaker tutors. In curiosity, boredom, or possibly foreseeing my future career in English as a Second Language, I filled out a tutor application form and was soon matched with a student. The student, Maria, nervously called me on my cell phone one evening to ask if we could set up a weekly meeting time. I agreed; from then on, we met for an hour every Thursday night for the next four months. Maria was from Argentina and a mother of two. She had come to the US to work, to make a better life for herself and her family. When she entered the Adult Education Center for the first time to meet me I was impressed by her keen style, youthful grace and kind hearted smile. As she learned Basic English, I gained experience teaching. Sometimes she would help me with my Spanish. After a few lessons, Maria opened up and shared some stories of when she was “my age.” Although the lessons were focused on her English, I enjoyed practicing Spanish with her and it helped our mutual understanding and her comfort level with me. One night, to encourage English conversation, I asked Maria about what she remembers as a happy memory from her life in Argentina. She told me she used to live in a beautiful village near the mountains, famous for its wine. Although her family didn’t have much money, she remembers being very happy. When she was younger, she said, she used to dress up with her best friend in colorful traditional Argentinean dresses with full skirts. They would learn traditional dances and practice them together. Occasionally, they would put on the special dresses and perform outside for their friends and neighbors to enjoy. Neither did she need money to be happy, nor did she charge money to make others happy. As she described her carefree youth in her home country, her eyes grew distant. When she paused after recounting her story, her eyes watered up with tears as if there was much more she wanted to say, but language – or her heart – wouldn’t let her. Her pockets in Argentina were empty but her life full of happy memories. Did her new life in the United States mean more money but less happiness? Four years later, I cannot remember if she recounted this story to me in English or Spanish, but I can still imagine her as a young woman, dancing with her best friend.
I taught English to Maria during my entire spring semester for free, but she gave me something more valuable than a paycheck. In a few words, she explained to me how important it is to enjoy where I am. She said when the day comes that you have long left that place behind, only then do you miss it. Later you are never able to relive the present time or the same people and places together at once. My time with Maria was one of the most fulfilling professional experiences I have had. It taught me the value of the present and people, and all things therein: life, conversations, experiences and memories.
Teaching English in Japan through the JET Program has given me the gift of a similar lesson. It has been more for me than just a bridge between graduation and a full-time job in the so-called real world. My reasons to work on the JET Program were popular ones that many JET participants share: interest in Japanese culture and language, travel, new experiences and opportunities. For many of us, it is a no-brain decision to take the jump into a new job in Japan. Applying for the JET Program was much like applying to tutor English at the adult education center in my hometown. I never thought I, the teacher, would be the one learning a lesson.
At the time I was accepted to the JET Program I had recently started a new job and new life in Boston. I was enjoying life there and it was hard to imagine starting all over again in another country. But in the big picture, I knew that if I didn’t accept I would look back a year later and wonder what living in Japan would have been like. I would question myself and second guess my decision forever. I could not live with that. So, I looked forward to all that the JET Program offers. I expected to learn and experience new things. I just never thought life’s lessons in Japan would be so difficult. Life has a way of punishing us first and giving the lesson after - that is, if we are open to learning it.
While I was teaching English in Japan, life taught me a greater lesson. It taught me how to find out independently what is important for me. The lesson I learned from life in Japan so far is that there are two kinds of yen. It is very important to be able to distinguish between the two distinct meanings and what they mean to you. During my first half-year on the JET Program, I found myself wanting to save more and more money. It was like a game I would play with myself, challenging myself to spend less and save more. I became a good player, if I do say so myself, but got addicted to winning. But the problem is that the yen-saving game is a never-ending game. No matter how much one saves, it is never enough. My friends would call me to go out, but more times than not, I would decline. It wasn’t because I was anti-social, but because going out meant spending money. And spending means losing the money game. On any given Saturday night, while other JETs were trying out a new restaurant, I was cooking spaghetti for the seventh time that week. I thought I was living a smart, frugal life with the purpose of saving yen. But in reality, I had become a miserable penny-pinching hermit. And this lifestyle made money the deciding factor in my life. Yen veiled every situation and made my decisions for me.
In my Japanese neighborhood, there’s a sizeable Peruvian population. Many Peruvians leave their country for Japan with the sole purpose of work, saving yen and sending it home to their family members who stayed behind. I was happy so many lived in my neighborhood so I could practice Spanish from time to time and make other foreigner friends. In my neighborhood, I met Juan. His face placed him in his mid-twenties, so I was surprised when he admitted he was barely twenty. He had come to Japan about a year ago. Before Japan, he lived in Lima, Peru’s capital city. He told me he lived there with his mother, father and sister, currently a university student. He remembers that for fun, he would take his girlfriend out in his new car, something he misses doing here. Back home in Lima, he passed entrance exams for a very good university and was studying Engineering. On the weekends he volunteered at a children’s hospital. Of all the things he said he really misses, it was the kids at the hospital who looked forward to his weekly visits. It sounded to me like life wasn’t so bad in Lima. He assured me, he misses home but there aren’t many opportunities. Upon arrival in Japan he immediately started working twelve-hour shifts in a car parts factory. Each week he rotated from a day shift to a night shift, with just Sundays off to recuperate. When I met Juan, he had been working in Japan for over a year. Nevertheless, he didn’t speak more than a handful of words in Japanese because he never had time or energy to study. With his free time he had to do grocery shopping, laundry and catch up on sleep. Even if he had the energy, his rotating shift didn’t allow him to participate in a regular Japanese class. Additionally, he neither had time to go out with friends nor had he ever traveled outside of the area where he lives and works. Although he is bright and enjoys reading and studying on his own, he has at least momentarily forgotten about his engineering and other studies. However, he has achieved his main goal; he has been able to save yen and send it home to his family. He works hard and is proud of achieving this goal. But he often talks about the difference between Peru and Japan. In Peru, he says ‘’Yo trabajo para vivir (I work to live).’’ But in Japan, he says, ‘’Yo vivo para trabajar (I live to work).’’ In Peru it was a necessity to work in order to enjoy life and sometimes just to eat. In contrast, in Japan he feels life is dedicated to only work. Because of this, he has lost his energy to study and doesn’t have time to travel or experience much of Japan outside of the factory where he works. Juan’s youthful face was heavy with sadness as he explained this. Most of his friends also work at the same factory, but they are in their mid-thirties or forties and have been working there for years. Oftentimes I would ask Juan to stop working so much and go back to studying, or at least go on a day trip to see Kyoto. But as much as I nagged at my friend to change his priorities, I realized I too had been living to work. Being friends with Juan and seeing his life, I realized living life for saving money costs too much. I had to stop before I spent too much of my time in Japan on saving.
At the point when my savings started to grow, everything else in my life was on the table. I had traded in and sold out. I was losing free time, and along with it other immeasurable things: cultural experiences, friendships, even my mental and physical health. As Ralph Waldo Emerson once said, “Money often costs too much.” I had been chasing yen for my first six months in Japan only to realize I had left all the other more important things behind.
Hitting a low, I made up my mind that neither the opportunity to live in Japan nor any moment of my life for that matter should have a monetary value. People can become truly rich, in both senses of the word, by doing what makes them happy. At that point, I stopped chasing “yen” to put in my savings account, and started following my “yen” for happiness, friendships, experience. Ironically, one “yen” cannot buy the other.
My experience on the JET Program has given me experiences I never ever imagined would come my way. And, I can only expect many more unexpected experiences will come. The JET Program experience has given me a personal transformation of thought that is priceless. Because of the last six months, I have had the opportunity to travel to the other side of the world not only physically, but in my mind as well. No longer do I let myself fall into a trap to “chase yen” in the monetary sense but I follow my own desire, my hunger, my love; from now on, I chase my own yen.
For other current JET Program participants or those considering applying to the JET Program, I want to impress this message: follow the yen in your heart and the yen in your pocket will seem inconsequential. Don’t get caught in the trap of the money game. Find your way to balance the yen you need to pay rent and the yen that makes life in Japan a priceless experience.