by Antonia Miserka

As part of my research regarding well-being and social relationships in rural Japan, I am conducting interviews with migrants in the Aso region in Kumamoto, Japan.

On a hot summer day at the end of July 2020 I met with Sachiko, a self-proclaimed city-girl in her late twenties, who moved to Aso for her work. She grew up in the countryside, but never felt at ease there. She dislikes insects and anything that crawls or stings for that matter, so she was excited to move to a major city after high school to gain further education and obtain a job. However, the countryside never completely relinquished its claim on her, and so – a few years after fleeing her home amidst woods and fields – she finds herself back among nature.

Anticipating hearing about the discomforts of living in the countryside, I ask her the same question I pose to all my interlocutors: “How do you think your happiness is influenced – positively or negatively – by this region?”

“This region? Well, I think it does not only influence my happiness, it is my happiness. It’s strange I would say that, but it’s true. Not everything’s great, of course, but the good and the bad altogether, it gets you closer – like in a relationship. *laughs* When I first came here, I thought the people living here had a strange relationship with their surroundings – kind of reverential but also affectionate. Like nature is everything, you know. Now I’ve been here for a while, I think I understand why. Through the best and worst of times you are forged together.
Like last week, when the rain fell so heavily, we received a ‘prepare for evacuation’ notice. I hate those, they always make me nervous. Then I sit there, wrapped in blankets, looking out of my bedroom window, up the slope of the mountain, and I feel afraid. But then, you know, a few days later I drive through the woods with my windows open and I smell the moss and leaves, and hear the water run down a stream and I feel joy. It never gets boring.”

“You said you like driving through the woods, do you spend a lot of time outside?”

“No, not really. I’m an indoor type after all. I enjoy reading and watching TV and stuff. But then, every few days or so, I get kind of restless at home, so I pack my things and go out.”

“Where do you go then?”

“Oh, all sorts of places. But I enjoy riding my bike on the paths between the rice paddies the most. I love the smell of the fields, of the dirt and the plants and the wind. I love the sound the wind makes when it rushes through the fields, making the rice plants rustle… I once sat beside a rice paddy for over an hour watching the dragonflies fly from flower to flower besides the waterway, observing the water fleas hop around on the water surface surrounding the rice plants. Do you know the sound of water splashing down a boulder? The sound of semi (cicadas) chirring nearby? The smell of mud and blooming grass? The feeling of the sun on your skin? That’s peace for me.”

“That sounds really relaxing.”

“Right? It’s so relaxing it gets mesmerizing. Have you been to the sōgen (grassland) yet? Like when the deep-green grass stands waist-high and the sun tickles your nose and then the wind gushes through the grass like waves, like an ocean of green… When I’m out there, I could just stand there for ages, watching it move, wave around.”

“For someone who says she’s an indoor type you sure seem to enjoy being surrounded by nature a lot, eh?” *laughs*

“I do, don’t I?” *laughs* “I don’t know why, but since I came here, I started to appreciate nature more. When I was younger, I thought nature was boring – boring, dirty and inconvenient. But now I realize it can also be relaxing and even fun. Since I moved here, I noticed my own senses starting to expand. Like being able to sense the wind. Well, I guess I sensed it before as well, but I never really noticed it, like its sound or its smell or how it feels swiping over my skin. Coming here showed me a whole new range of feelings and impressions, you know?”

Listening to Sachiko’s experiences I reflect upon the meaning of happiness, about what kinds of happiness exist and how they may be experienced. Sachiko did not talk about the importance of friends and family like most of my interlocutors, even though I have no doubt she derives happiness from those, too. Instead, she kept describing her sensory impressions, the things she heard, smelled and felt while being among nature – the sensory side of happiness. Which gets me thinking, maybe we all might benefit from concentrating more often on our senses and the experiences they may offer?

Antonia Miserka is a PhD student at the Japanese Studies Department at the University of Vienna. She is part of an interdisciplinary research project dealing with social relationships and subjective well-being in rural areas, sponsored by the Austrian Academy of Sciences. As part of this research team, she focusses on the role of locality – both local places as well as local communities – for the subjective well-being of residents in different hamlets within the Aso region.