Adventures in Japanese Television

Well, I thought Security Husband would want to post up something right away regarding our bizarre last Tuesday, but as the Bitter Baron repeatedly says, this giant baby thing has been up for AGES.

We were on live television. We were both interviewed on live television. Japanese television. We can say, without a doubt, that we have never experienced anything quite like that before.

For people not familiar with TV here, many shows consist of fast talking interviewers who are the superbouncyenergetic "tarento"... ("talent") They pose, they chatter, they say absolutely nothing of any value whatsoever. If there is a food tasting show, you can expect, "Ah! AH! OISHIIII!!!" gasped more than once by whoever is tasting. Light, inane banter wells up between the cohosts to fill the space where viewers could process what is being said.

That said, we didn't really know what we were getting into. The International Friendship Association, a really decent wonderful group of people, consisting of Japanese people interested in meeting and having exchange with foreign residents here, and an extremely wide spectrum of people from different countries--Phillipines, Brazil, Peru, Tibet, China, Korea, England, USA, Germany, Vietnam... to name the countries of people I have met... all come together. This group runs the Japanese conversation class Security Husband and I attend. So, when our friend asked us if we could come to jump rope for a tv program, we thought, "Why not?"

This tv program apparently contacts groups around Shiga prefecture and asks them to show their stuff, and then jump rope--ten people at once. We were asked the night before if we had any traditional handicraft we could bring to show off. Looking around our apartment, we drew blanks. We never brought any. Though, we do have LOTS of Japanese handicrafts, and omiyage from China that people have brought us. D'oh.

At the event (which we arrived at somewhat confused to begin with, as we were told the wrong location!) we swiftly realized that in addition to not having any "mono" ("thing," our running joke of the evening), we also did not know that all these different groups of people had been asked to make and bring food. It was to be an international potluck extravaganza. And we, the representative United Statesians, had nothing to offer, and no handicraft or traditional costume to show off. We also did not know that it was to be a live broadcast.

No worries. The rehearsal soon began, and the two extremely talkative male tarento with their extremely capable lady stage manager ran the group of twenty or thirty of us assembled foreigners and Japanese through what would happen--a test run.

There were drinks, fried chicken and potato things, and baked sandwiches from Brazil. There was cake, rice pudding, and an amazing soup from the Phillipines. There were rice balls from Japan. The interviewers went through it all, tasting, oohing, aahing... Then they interviewed The Local TV Personality, the de facto leader of all MIFA events, who gave a very good presentation on what the group was, what we do, and how much the foreign population has grown in our little corner of Shiga. Then the tarento moved upon the crowd of foreigners, and singled out people for interview--particularly those who hadn't rehearsed prior. We were safe, but our fellow single American got lots of commentary about how pretty she was, weren't they lucky, ohmygoshI'msogladshespeaksJapanesebecauseIcouldNEVERspeakENGLISH!...

Then the nawatobi!! We all ran outdoors to find the giant jumprope, and we lined up. We got a few practice tries, and were told the goal was 20 jumps with all of us. Well, the next segment came up, and we let loose with a wild roar (that we rehearsed before.) Then the jumping. Besides inflicting a few bruises on one another, it was all very fun. We failed the first time, with only five jumps. Then we got to try again--and 30!! We did it!!! Then, breathless, all of us clustered together while the tarento sought out more people to interview and chatter at. I was a victim. Asked the innocuous--"where are you from?" I had my big chance and flubbed it. "Go-shusshin wa doko desu ka?" Well, I KNOW the right answer-- "America." America is my home. Shusshin is "home," or "origin." I thought, "hometown," and ran with it. "Now," I replied, "it's Minakuchi. Before, America." Place I was born, eh? Well, no. But... Minakuchi is my home now. And for a lot more of these people here than us, it will STAY home. And maybe this is my little American brain going off, but origin tends to matter a lot less than the place you call home. But I couldn't possibly explain that with my limited language ability.

Then they interviewed Security Husband. Both of us had no idea what they asked, but he flubbed, too, stammering that he only really understood English, in broken Japanese. GREAT. Somewhere, legions of people who have studied really hard, gone to uni, got their degrees in Japanese, and who were watching TV at that instant all buried their faces in shame. The stereotype is, of course, that foreigners can't speak Japanese. But, truth be told, there are a hell of a lot of them that can. And WELL. Like our fellow American from earlier, who explained fluently that she had studied Japanese before she had come.

Eventually, it ended. We got to eat the delicious food that other people had prepared. We got to chitchat with ourselves, and with others. Then we went home, laughing. We have found in the past week three different people who actually SAW us on TV as they were watching. Well. Sometimes you find the bizarre, and sometimes the bizarre finds you.