by Edzard Haschka

Although I have never set foot in Fukushima Prefecture myself, it, or rather the events that brought the region tragic global attention in 2011, is closely linked to my personal life story.  From 2009 to 2011, I had the great opportunity to study at Takushoku University in Tokyo. Actually, I planned to study in Tokyo until I graduated in 2014, and who knows, maybe I would have stayed in Japan forever after that. When the earth began to shake at 2:46 p.m. on the afternoon of March 03, 2011, I was in the library of Takushoku University’s Bunkyo campus. At first, the ground began to vibrate slowly, as I had experienced from countless earthquakes, but after a few seconds, the shaking became stronger until I was the first person present to stand up and slowly walk toward the exit. The librarian noticed my worried look and said as the intensity of the shaking increased, “Maybe everything will be okay.” I quickened my pace and replied, “Maybe not.”

Takushoku University Bunkyo Campus, next to the Entry to the Library, Tokyo
Copyright © Edzard Haschka 2009

At that moment, about 15 seconds after the onset of the first tremors, Japan was shaken by the strongest earthquake since records began. As I ran outside, I saw some bookshelves collapse, cracks appear in the concrete of the floor and in the facade of the university, and the glass panes of the buildings caused a deafening clang. Shocked, we watched on a television screen an hour or two later as whole swaths of land not even 100 km from us were destroyed by the strongest tsunami mankind has ever seen. But it was the disaster at the Fukushima nuclear power plant that triggered the consternation in me, and especially in my family, that made it necessary to abandon my enthusiastically pursued plan to stay in Japan and start the journey home – a decision I still don’t regret today.

So much for my personal Japan story, which ended on March 14, when I left Japan as a “flyjin”. Back in Germany, however, the catastrophe never left me. I followed with concern about the attempts to contain the nuclear catastrophe and the helplessness with which mankind faces the threat of radioactive contamination. This invisible threat, against which people can protect themselves only at an extremely high cost and only for a short time, led to the establishment of exclusion zones in the region around Fukushima, a measure that left thousands of people homeless.

View towards Korakuen from the rooftop terrace of Takushoku University’s main building on the Bunkyo campus, Tokyo
Copyright © Edzard Haschka 2011

Given these circumstances, it is noteworthy that the efforts of Japanese institutions to revitalize regions in Japan that are threatened with depopulation also extend to the Fukushima region.  In my research on efforts to revitalize remote regions, I came across a very interesting website run by Fukushima Prefecture. The website, https://fukushima-ijyu.com/, is the official website for those seeking assistance in resettling in Fukushima Prefecture.  The website explicitly promotes resettlement to the region based on specific exemplary migration stories and interviews. The website features (as of June 26, 2023) interviews with 30 ijūsha (internal migrants) who have moved to the Fukushima region for various reasons. Some of them are from Fukushima and lived temporarily in one of the major Japanese cities, while others are from other areas of the Japanese archipelago. The selection of ijūsha gives the impression of a representative cross-section of the population, as both men and women, single people and parents of families from different regions are presented. As different as the circumstances and reasons for migrating to the Fukushima region may be, what all migrants have in common is that the decision to migrate was made out of an inner drive and was voluntary and positively inclined.

Through images similar to this one, the Fukushima Prefecture administration describes the site as an uncontaminated rural idyll, Fukushima Prefecture
Copyright © Rikako Matsuoka 2020

Services offered on the website include answers to frequently asked questions, contact forms to counseling centers, and referrals to support services. I was surprised, however, that the nuclear disaster and its impact on the region are not mentioned on the website, not even in an appeasing way. Even for unconcerned newcomers to the region, learning a few things about radiation might be significant. I also expected to find some information for refugees such as displaced people who need to resettle quickly. So I wondered how the post-disaster evacuation and the new attempts to attract migrants to Fukushima are connected. Who are the relevant target groups for promoting the region as a destination for migrants, and why would people consciously choose to migrate to the Fukushima region? In my opinion, this raises interesting research questions and challenges to be addressed with regard to migration to the Fukushima region.

References
Dambeck, Holger (February 28th, 2012): “Japans Regierung fürchtete Evakuierung Tokios”, Spiegel Online: /https://www.spiegel.de/wissenschaft/technik/fukushima-katastrophe-japans-regierung-fuerchtete-evakuierung-tokios-a-818084.html (last viewed on June 23rd, 2023).
Kan, Naoto, and Jeffrey S. Irish (2012). “My Nuclear Nightmare: Leading Japan through the Fukushima Disaster to a Nuclear-Free Future”. Cornell University Press.
Official website of Fukushima Prefecture for those interested in relocating to this prefecture:  https://fukushima-ijyu.com/interview (last viewed on June 28th, 2023).

Edzard Haschka is a student in the BA program in Japanese Studies at Freie Universität Berlin

by Cornelia Reiher

After three months of teaching, some of my memories of fieldwork have already faded, but by integrating the topic of urban-rural migration in Japan into one of my courses this semester, I was able to share my fieldwork experiences with students. In a BA course on mobilities, ten students examined the internal and transnational migration of Japanese citizens and the technologies that enable migration, new lifestyles and new forms of work. Students read and translated academic articles, Japan’s latest digital strategy for rural areas, blogposts from urban residents who have moved to the countryside and articles from Turns, a magazine that focuses on rural areas, urban-rural migration and rural revitalization. We also watched promotional videos by prefectures, municipalities or individual migrants.

Some of the students from the BA course on mobilities at the Japanese Studies Institute at FU Berlin
Copyright © Cosmo Hümmer 2023

In class, we discussed many phenomena related to urban-rural migration, paying particular attention to mobilities other than human. With a focus on technologies, we explored how digital transformation has enabled urban-rural migration and changed rural lifestyles. Students were particularly interested in new forms of work such as digital nomadism, remote work and workation, as well as the digitalization of agriculture. We also looked at social media as a means that migrants use to stay in touch with their friends and families in their former place of residence, but also with each other. Looking at the different types of social media networks that migrants use to stay in touch and support each other by sharing information, but also by positively portraying themselves and their experiences in the countryside, provided many interesting starting points for discussions with the students, who could easily connect migrants’ experiences and use of social media with their own life worlds.

Issues of the magazine Turns we read during class
Copyright © Cornelia Reiher 2023

In addition to reading and discussing the various sources, I also wanted to encourage students to write about what they had learned. But instead of simply writing a term paper that only I would read, I asked students to write posts for this blog based on the course readings. So in the following weeks, this blog will feature posts from BA students in the Japanese Studies program at Freie Universität Berlin who participated in the course on mobilities.

The rural idyll in Japan many urban-rural migrants are looking for
Copyright © Cornelia Reiher 2023

All the contributions are about urban-rural migration in Japan, but the topics of the contributions are very different. They range from traditional crafts to digital transformation in agriculture. One paper discusses what rural areas are, while others focus on the migration experiences of individual migrants and their families or on new forms of work such as remote work and workation. All contributions are based on Japanese sources that were read, translated and summarized by the students. In some cases, the contributions were inspired by the students’ own experiences in the Japanese countryside and also tell personal stories. I hope readers will enjoy students’ perspectives on urban-rural migration!

by Kazuyoshi Kawasaka and Ami Kobayashi

Rural areas in Japan (inaka) are often thought of as homogenous and “authentic Japan” when compared to metropolises such as Tokyo and Osaka. Metropolitan cities are associated with more diverse and rapidly changing ‘young’ lifestyles, but rural areas in Japan have been also changing due to various reasons. One factor, which we regard as a trigger of societal change in rural areas, is the Japan Exchange and Teaching Program (JET program).  The JET program was introduced by the Japanese government in 1987 in order to internationalize Japanese society, including rural areas. According to McConnell (2000), the JET program is Japan’s unique top-down attempt to create “mass internationalisation.” The JET program aims to cultivate international awareness and understanding of cultural diversity in Japan’s local communities through inviting applicants from abroad as assistant language teachers, coordinators for international relations or sport advisors across Japan. Japanese officials called it “the greatest initiative undertaken since World War II related to the field of human and cultural relations,” designed as an international exchange program to change Japanese people’s attitude towards foreigners and foreign cultures by grassroots personal interactions (McConnell 2000: x).

A typical scenery in rural Japan.
Copyright © Ami Kobayashi 2016

Although it was not its intention, the JET Programme has also influenced LGBTQ+ activism in Japan. For example, JET participants organised ‘Stonewall Japan’ in 1995, which was one of the earliest LGBTQ+ groups in the public education sector in Japan and is still active. Although Japan welcomes thousands of young graduates from all over the world for the JET Programme every year, previous studies rarely discussed the difficulties they face in Japan’s rural communities. Some publications discuss the conflict between the “locals” and “foreigners” from a rather dichotomous perspective, but they do not pay attention to the heterogeneity of foreigner’s experiences, especially those caused by their race, sexuality and gender identities.

ALTs teach English in Japanese elementary schools, middle schools and high schools.
Copyright © Tono Education and Culture Foundation 2015

In order to examine the difficulties that JET teachers with minority backgrounds face, we conducted semi-structured interviews with former and current LGBTQ+ JET teachers in 2021. They all have worked in rural areas and many of them could not speak fluent Japanese. None of our interviewees had access to local LGBTQ+ communities, and none were actively open about their gender and sexual identity, since they feared that their identities would make their lives more difficult. One of the striking points is that depending on the skin colour and ethnic identity of LGBTQ+ teachers, the problems they faced and how they coped with those situations differed significantly. While white interviewees did not mention their ethnicity, interviewees of colour often referred to their ethnicity as an additional factor entangled with their sexuality that made their work at Japanese schools even more difficult.

One female ALT told us: “I think the, there was a lot of, like, race involved as well. My, the other JETs in the area were all like, you know, blue-eyed blonde and everyone was very friendly with them. But I would like, go to a café with my friend who was black and (…) they’re looking at us like ‘nani (…)’ like ‘what, what is this’, you know. (…) And that’s like not something that I can talk to my coworkers about at all, but also wasn’t something that I can talk about with my, like, JET peers, because they were all white.”(Former ALT, Hispanic, Lesbian woman). But despite the challenges and most of the teaching plan being fixed, most of our interviewees have found ways to make LGBTQ+ visible and tried to tackle heteronormative and sexist presumptions in schools. Through their outlook, worksheets and additional information for English classes, they have negotiated the existing gender and sexuality norms within and outside of the classroom.

In some rural areas in Japan, ALTs are the first foreignerschildren meet and their activities often go beyond simply teaching English.
Copyright © Tono Education and Culture Foundation 2015

In rural areas, there is generally less privacy and people are less tolerant of cultural and sexual diversity, while in big cities, many LGBTQ+ people and foreigners have established their own communities. Japanese LGBTQ+ studies have just started to include LGBTQ+ lives in rural areas into their research and to overcome their metrocentrism as the recently published book “Chihō” to seiteki mainoritī [The “Countryside” and Sexual Minorities] by Sugiura Ikuko and Maekawa Naoki shows. In this sense, the subtle activities of LGBTQ+ JET teachers to expand diversity in rural areas need to be evaluated and further explored. In addition, effective measures should be taken to ensure their safety and mental health in Japan’s rural schools and communities.

References
McConnell, David L. (2000), Importing Diversity: Inside Japan’s JET Program, Berkeley: University of California Press.
Sugiura Ikuko and Maekawa Naoki (2022),“Chihō” to seiteki mainoritī [The “Countryside” and Sexual Minorities], Tōkyō: Seikyū-sha.

Dr Kazuyoshi Kawasaka is principal investigator of the DFG-funded project “Sexual Diversity and Human Rights in 21st Century Japan: LGBTQ+ Activisms and Resistance from a Transnational Perspective” at the Institute of Modern Japanese Studies at Heinrich Heine University in Düsseldorf.
Dr Ami Kobayashi teaches at the Institute of Modern Japanese Studies at Heinrich Heine University in Düsseldorf and at the Institute of History of Education at the University of Kaiserslautern-Landau.

The authors have just published an article about the topic:
Kawasaka, Kazuyoshi and Kobayashi, Ami (2023), “Surviving Under the ‘Hidden Curriculum’: The struggles of LGBTQ+ JET Teachers in Japanese Rural Areas”, Studia Orientalia 124, pp. 145-161.

by Sarah Bijlsma

For the past few months, I have paused my doctoral research due to the birth of my daughter last December. It took me some time to adjust to this new reality, as I went almost directly from fieldwork on Miyakojima to days spent feeding, changing diapers, and reading picture books. Besides this weblog and the occasional academic papers I read, one channel that keeps giving glimpses of life in the Japanese countryside is the Netflix series “Love Village” (“Ai no Sato”).

Watching “Love Village” while the baby takes a nap
Copyright © Sarah Bijlsma 2023

“Love Village” aired in early May and has 18 episodes at the time of writing. The show contains some elements common to modern dating shows. For example, eight single men and women are given a living space outside their normal lives where they get to know each other on a day-to-day basis. When someone falls in love, they ring the “love bell” (ai no kane), confess his or her love and leave either together or alone if rejected. What is new, however, is that the participants of “Love Village” are between 35 and 60 years old, so they have all passed 30, which is about the average age of marriage in Japan [1]. A second new element of the show is that the contestants do not live in a stylishly furnished apartment, but in a 152-year-old kominka (traditional Japanese house). While living in the countryside, the contestants are tasked with growing their own vegetables and renovating the house together during episodes of the show.

Watching “Love Village” makes me miss the Japanese countryside
Copyright © Sarah Bijlsma 2023

These two unique elements – the age of the participants and the task of restoration – are fascinating to me because they directly reflect the two major problems facing Japan today. The first is the aging of the population. With 28.4% of older Japanese in 2018, Japan has the oldest population in the world [2]. The second problem is the shrinking population, especially in rural areas. As several authors have pointed out in this blog, the restoration of akiya (vacant houses) by urban Japanese newcomers is a new trend used as a strategy to combat rural migration [3]. Accompanied by a soundtrack of high-energy Backstreet Boys hits from the 1990s, “Love Village” portrays life in the countryside as great fun. Members cut bamboo in the forest and eat flowing noodles (nagashi sōmen), they happily remove spiders from bedrooms and they simply move their dinner inside when it starts to rain. In addition, daily life seems both convenient and cheap: many vegetables are picked directly from the field, and there is a grocery delivery service that brings the rest of the food into the house. Restoration also seems to be going on without much of a hurdle, and week after week one can see members successfully restoring the wooden floor and shoji paper windows in the house. Most importantly, the restoration of an old Japanese house actually turns out to be a recipe for finding true love.

Under construction: it takes some time to renovate an old country house
Copyright © Cornelia Reiher 2023

**the next paragraph contains spoilers**

The first “Love Village” couple is Junpei and Okayo. Junpei is 42 years old and has lived his life as a free spirit both in Japan and abroad. After his father’s death, he returned to Shizuoka to take over his carpentry business and is now looking for a woman to help him. Okayo, 39, works part-time at a grocery store. After the two spend days together renovating the woman’s room, Okayo confesses her feelings to Junpei. She emphasizes how important it was for them to work together on the sleeping area and that “I wanted to help someone I liked in my own way” [4]. Although Junpei admits that he was initially more attracted to another female roommate, he chooses the introverted Okayo and leaves the show with her. According to their Instagram profiles, the two are still together. Many viewers have wondered where the kominka from “Love Village” is in Japan, which has led to heated discussions on the Internet. The most widely accepted theory is that it is located in Minamiboso-shi in Chiba-ken. This conclusion is drawn because viewers have found that two company names dropped in the broadcast could belong to a restoration company and a real estate company, both of which operate in Chiba-ken. In addition, the website of each real estate agency notes that they currently sell only traditional houses in the Minamiboso-shi area.

Many newcomers renovate abandoned houses in rural Japan like this one
Copyright © Cornelia Reiher 2023

I like Japanese dating shows because they are so real. A European version would focus mainly on the arguments during the long working days and the jealousy among the contestants. Love Village, on the other hand, shows everyone cheering each other on and working together in many ways. As I myself float on a pink cloud during these months, it’s nice to see relationships forming between people who had long given up on love.

References
[1]          https://www.statista.com/statistics/611957/japan-mean-age-marriage-by-gender/#:~:text=Men%20and%20women%20in%20Japan,when%20they%20first%20got%20married.
[2] https://www.japantimes.co.jp/news/2019/09/15/national/elderly-citizens-accounted-record-28-4-japans-population-2018-data-show/
[3] See or example this blog, “Vacant houses in rural Japan: From empty space to potential places for newcomers” by Jyoti Vasnani (2021), “Renovating old houses: Between Japan and France” by Maritchu Durand (2021), and “A gallery in the middle of nowhere: reusing abandoned houses as art spaces in Japan’s countryside” by Cornelia Reiher (2023).
[4] Love Village, 2023, episode 8.

by Cecilia Luzi

As mentioned in previous blog posts, field research with a child comes with some challenges, especially when it comes to finding appropriate spaces to play and relax. In this article, I would like to talk about an unexpected place that has become a sanctuary for both of us during our fieldwork in Japan: the onsen (hot springs). During my months of field research in Kyūshū, I made some fascinating discoveries about onsen. For example, I observed that some elderly local women visit the onsen every day, whether in the morning or right after lunch, to bathe for an hour or so before returning to their daily activities. Their skin looks gorgeous, and they look much younger than their actual age. I also discovered that there are family baths, kazokuburo, in Kyūshū where you can pay for an hour’s private bath for your family. Although I was unfamiliar with this, I quickly got used to it because it was a nice way for my family to spend the last few hours of the weekend together before my partner had to catch the train back to Kyōto. Finally, I learned that the people of Kyūshū pay very close attention to the quality of the water in the onsen. They can notice even the slightest change or difference in water quality from one bath to another. It always surprises me when I hear that some people take over an hour’s drive just to have a good bath with high-quality water at the end of the day, even if there is an onsen only ten minutes from their house.

A family bath (kazokuburo) in Takeo
Copyright© Cecilia Luzi 2023

In my last few months in Japan, I had some memorable experiences in the onsen. The first house we stayed in had a traditional Japanese metal kettle bath, called a goemonburo, heated directly from below with firewood. This was a great experience. However, when it was too cold to go outside and prepare the fire, or when I was too tired, we would go to the onsen, which was just a five-minute walk up the street. I often met locals there, and over time their faces became familiar to me. Sometimes there were tourists there, too. One day I met three girls who had come from Kitakyūshū to spend the night at the nearby campsite. They wanted to take a nice bath before going to sleep. “Everyone here says there’s nothing interesting in the area, but I don’t think that’s true,” one of them told me. “The nature is beautiful in every season, and the people are very nice!”

The entrance in one of my favorite onsen
Copyright© Cecilia Luzi 2023

On another occasion, I visited an onsen in Beppu with one of my friends. It was a small onsen up in the hills. It was a cold winter day, and it was very pleasant to bathe in the warmth of the onsen while it was drizzling in the mist… In the pool outside, we struck up a conversation with an old lady who lived nearby and came to the onsen every day. There was also a woman who had just moved with her husband from Kitakyūshū to Beppu after they retired. The elderly lady, who claimed to be 82 years old but looked at least ten years younger, gave the newcomer a list of places to go, including suggestions for cheap onsen for only 100 yen and meals at the university cafeteria: “It’s both delicious and very cheap. You should go there. I go very often!”

A nice meal after a bath in Beppu
Copyright© Cecilia Luzi 2023

When I went to an onsen recently, I was with a young woman who had moved to Hasami from Tōkyō just two weeks ago. I got out of the bathroom early to get my son dressed, and a very funny lady who had already approached me inside started asking me what had brought me to Hasami. Soon all the people in the locker room joined the conversation, especially a young mother with two children who were playing with my son. I asked her where she was from, and when she replied, “Hirado” the other ladies blurted out, “That’s very far away! And you came here just for the onsen? Surely that must take more than an hour!” The young woman nodded, and then suddenly one of the others came up to me and said, “You should go to Hirado while you’re here! It’s a beautiful place.” As soon as she finished, another lady listed a number of other places in the area that I should visit before leaving, and then another lady started naming good onsen and inviting me to try different ones. Suddenly, the entire locker room turned into some kind of travel agency promoting tourism in Nagasaki Prefecture. They were so good at it that I joked that a municipality should hire them!

Takeo Onsen complex during the cherry blossom season
Copyright© Cecilia Luzi 2023

Onsen are great places to engage in conversation and learn more about the daily habits of locals. They can serve as a place to relax as well as a social space for conversation and community building. For my child, onsen became a playground. For me, they became an opportunity to learn more about the daily rhythms of the local community. Exchanges in the bath are very conversational and provide a unique opportunity to connect with others in a relaxed and informal setting. It reminded me of the little bars you find in the main square of any Italian village in the countryside, where people meet to have a drink, chat and give each other unsolicited advice.

by Ngo Tu Thanh (Frank Tu)

Since the invention of the Internet, digital technologies have increasingly become a dominant force in our everyday lives. Digital technology and digitization have evolved remarkably fast in recent years (Coccoli et al. 2014). Morakanyane et al. (2017) define digital transformation or DX as a process that leverages digital capabilities and technologies with the goal of creating new value. Various digital technologies such as social media, cloud-based services, the Internet of Things, blockchain, robotics and automation and Society 5.0 have led to significant changes (Khare et al. 2020, Margiono 2019). In the context of globalization, digital transformation is considered an important strategy that has the potential to positively impact social life and economic growth. As a result, governments and businesses around the world have leveraged digital transformation for their development. In Europe, for example, a 2017 survey found that two-thirds of EU citizens recognize the positive impact of digital transformation and consider it important. Since 2014, the EU has proactively implemented legislation focused on business digitization, investment in digital infrastructure and services, cybersecurity, e-commerce, and data protection (European Parliament 2019).

Working area open to the public on the top of Nagaski Prefectural Government Building
Copyright © Ngo Tu Thanh 2022

Digital transformation has also become a key focus in Japan, both as a buzzword and as a real policy. My interviews with more than thirty policy actors, including politicians, bureaucrats, and advisors, show that many Japanese policy insiders believe that digital transformation was greatly accelerated due to the COVID-19 outbreak. Like the rest of the world, Japan experienced a widespread utilization of digital services and new modes of working, such as telework and e-education, as a result of the pandemic. Indeed, it has been reported that Former Prime Minister Suga proposed a plan to establish a Digital Agency in 2020 due to Japan’s inadequate digital infrastructure exposed by COVID-19 (Suzuki 2021). The Digital Agency was eventually realized in 2021 and is currently headed by Digital Minister Konō Tarō.

In many rural communities, coworking spaces were just introduced recently
Copyright © Cornelia Reiher 2023

Most of the political actors I interviewed firmly believe that digital transformation will have a positive impact on regional development. New ways of working, studying and living, such as telework, workation and distance learning, can help prevent people from migrating from rural areas to cities, especially Tokyo, to work and study. In addition, migrants can now move to rural areas to work and study. Digital transformation is also having a positive impact on Japan’s (rural) development by simplifying the strict bureaucratic processes for which Japan is notorious. Interviewees noted that traditional procedures involving seals, paper documents and fax machines have been eliminated in some public institutions and private companies. For example, a member of the Fukuoka Prefectural Assembly (interviewed August 30, 2022) believes that further efforts should be made to digitize Japan’s bureaucratic procedures to make it easier to apply for national rural revitalization grants.

Coworking spaces in Saga and Oita prefectures
Copyright © Cornelia Reiher 2022, 2023

The Japanese government believes that digital transformation is a domain that requires strong leadership at the national level. In 2022, the Kishida administration further demonstrated its commitment to promoting and leveraging digitalization for regional development by adopting a new framework titled “Digital National Garden City Concept” (Dejitaru denen toshi kokka kōsō). However, local government officials I have interviewed highlight some challenges for Japan’s digitalization efforts. Municipal officials from Buzen City and Hasami Town stated that these municipalities still lack the necessary infrastructure to fully benefit from digital transformation, such as strong internet connection, co-working areas for teleworkers, and human resources capable of driving local digitalization initiatives. However, this new framework presents an interesting development that warrants further examination and attention. Will digitalization succeed in Japan, and how will it impact Japan’s rural development? These are the questions that I want to explore in the future.

References
Coccoli, Mauro, Angela Guercio, Paolo Maresca, and Lidia Stanganelli. 2014. “Smarter Universities: A Vision for the Fast Changing Digital Era.” Journal of Visual Languages and Computing 25: 1003–11.
European Parliament. 2019. “Digital Transformation.” European Parliament. https://www.europarl.europa.eu/RegData/etudes/BRIE/2019/633171/EPRS_BRI(2019)633171_EN.pdf.
Margiono, Ari. 2021. “Digital Transformation: Setting the Pace.” Journal of Business Strategy 42 (5): 315–22.
Morakanyane, Resego, Audrey A Grace, and Philip O’Reily. 2017. “Conceptualizing Digital Transformation in Business Organizations: A Systematic Review of Literature.” In BLED 2017 Proceedings, 21:428–44. Bled, Slovenia.
Suzuki, Wataru. 2021. “Japan Launches Agency to Undo ‘Digital Defeat’: 5 Things to Know.” Nikkei Asia, 2021, sec. Politics. https://asia.nikkei.com/Politics/Japan-launches-agency-to-undo-digital-defeat-5-things-to-know.

雨の中で磁器を購入
Shopping for porcelain in the rain
Copyright @ Arita Town Hall 2023

マスクをつけている来場者とつけていない来場者
Visitors at the Tōki-ichi , some with and some without mask
Copyright @ Arita Town Hall 2023

有田陶器市が開催された皿山通りを練り歩くバグパイプパレード
Bagpipe Parade through the main street where the Tōki-ichi  was held
Copyright @ Arita Town Hall 2023

朝がゆのふるまい
Serving Asa-Gayu
Copyright @ Arita Town Hall 2023

References

[1] Official Tourism Website of Saga Prefecture, https://www.asobo-saga.jp (last viewed on May 23^rd, 2023)
[2] https://arita-toukiichi.or.jp/news (last viewed on May 23^rd, 2023)
[3] https://www.saga-s.co.jp/articles/-/1031379 (last viewed on May 23^rd, 2023)
[4] https://www.saga-s.co.jp/articles/-/849986 (last viewed on May 23^rd, 2023)
[5] https://www.saga-s.co.jp/articles/-/1029400 (last viewed on May 23^rd, 2023)
[6] https://www.saga-s.co.jp/articles/-/1028563 (last viewed on May 23^rd, 2023)

by Cornelia Reiher

Finding housing in rural areas is a very important and sometimes difficult part of the urban-rural migrant experience. Previous blogposts have pointed out that while there are many abandoned houses in rural communities, it is often difficult to find housing because the owner is unknown or because they do not want to sell or rent their house. While many urban-rural migrants with families are looking for a house (ikkenya) or an apartment, single people, in particular, do not want to live alone for economic reasons or because they feel lonely. Therefore, sharehouses, a concept that has recently become more popular in Japan (Meagher 2020: 16), are now available in rural areas. However, there are not yet that many sharehouses and those in the areas I studied were established only in the last five years.

View from the window of the sharehouse over the roofs of the town
Copyright © Cornelia Reiher 2023

During my fieldwork, I met many residents of sharehouses. For most, living in the sharehouse was temporary, but there were also some long-term residents and those who have stayed for a short time, left and then returned to live in the sharehouse for a longer period of time. Sharehouses in the countryside seem to serve several functions: They provide a place to live and often work, new experiences and encounters with diverse people from different backgrounds and valuable information about the city for newcomers. They can also be places where locals and newcomers meet. For example, in the basement of one sharehouse I visited, there is an event space that can be transformed into a coworking space, a café, a concert space, or a pop-up restaurant where locals, Japanese migrants and foreign residents come together.

The living room and kitchen of the sharehouse where I stayed
Copyright © Cornelia Reiher 2023

I lived in a sharehouse myself during my last field research in the spring and shared the house with two people, a man and a woman in their thirties, who had moved to the city from big cities in Kanto and Kansai. Since the sharehouse had only opened last October, three rooms were still unoccupied and were therefore rented out to short-term visitors like me. On the first floor were three bedrooms and a bathroom. Upstairs was the kitchen, which was also used as a living room, another bathroom and two bedrooms. The decor was a very stylish mix of DIY renovation, old furniture, textiles and IKEA.

The sharehouse was renovated by its owners with the help of volunteers
Copyright © Cornelia Reiher 2023

Although I had met a resident of the sharehouse during my last field research, I was very nervous about sharing a house with strangers. My last experience with a shared apartment was during my student days, and I didn’t really know what to expect. But it turned out to be a very pleasant experience. We prepared and ate meals together, went out for drinks or just had a nice chat when we met in the kitchen. According to my temporary roommates, one advantage of living together is that they can share food and there are no leftovers. Although they both do their own grocery shopping and each has a basket of non-perishable food like coffee that is not shared, they order vegetables together from a farmer and share them. And if they need something that is not available in town, they order it individually online. Most of the migrants I interviewed agreed that ordering things online makes life in the countryside much more convenient. It was very interesting to see what was shared and what was not shared by the residents of the sharehouse and how they organize their shared space.

A radish from a local organic farmer’s food delivery and a box from Amazon
Copyright © Cornelia Reiher 2023

Staying in the sharehouse made me realize how important they are for newcomers. Both of my roommates agreed that they came to this city because of the sharehouse and its owners. They both learned about the sharehouse from others who lived there for a short time or helped the owners renovate the sharehouse. They were also impressed by their social media accounts, and when they first visited, the owners introduced them to interesting people, which is why they both think the city is exciting, offers many opportunities, and is home to interesting people. In light of the difficult housing situation in many rural communities, sharehouses can provide housing for newcomers, independent of the sometimes quite limited community support systems. They also offer newcomers many opportunities to connect with locals and learn from the experiences of other urban-rural migrants. Thus, sharehouses are important hubs for urban-rural migrants and also places where many activities take place that make rural communities more interesting.

Reference:

Meagher, Caitlin (2020), Inside a Japanese sharehouse: dreams and realities, London and New York: Routledge.

by Susanne Klien

Fieldwork tends to be seen as a standard tool in ethnography, at least until the pandemic. Not so much has been written about exhaustions during and after fieldwork although some vivid depictions of challenges feature on this blog and are described in detail in Kottmann’s and Reiher’s Handbook of Research Design, Fieldwork and Methods (2020). Often, as researchers being indebted to a multiplicity of people in the field, we are less aware of the physical and mental tolls that the conduct of fieldwork in fact takes on our bodies and minds. Immersion constitutes immeasurable chances for us to gain new insights into the field. Yet, immersion also means pressure to miss out, as Harvey-Sanchez and Olsen (2019) observe: “Being forced to see how all the fragments are situated in a web of significance is draining at times. I feel like a vessel and an emotional labourer at once. Taking in all of the different fragments and being forced to see how they fit into a system of meaning, while also being attuned to every pause, every silence, every conversation, and the broader rhythm of speech and movement. I want to be able to unsee it, I explained at the time. Now I’ve learned how to turn on my ethnographer mode, but I need to learn how to turn it off. I want to take off the ethnographer hat –“

Life and death
Copyright © Susanne Klien 2021

From my own experience, it is often after returning home that the full impact shows: a sense of prolonged exhaustion that continues for one month or even more depending on the length and intensity of fieldwork. With increasing age and time constraints, the extent of exhaustion seems to grow. During my follow-up fieldwork of one month in Kamiyama Town, Tokushima in April-May 2021, the different climate, insect and concerns about how to conduct fieldwork during a pandemic were just some elements that seemed to enforce my sense of exhaustion. I remember dropping into the local public bath (onsen) every other day as a means of coping with my lingering physical tiredness. Soaking in the hot water worked wonders. I had been to the small rural town six years before, but still, finding a daily pace, re-establishing a network, accessing things, people, securing food – there were many potential sources of trouble, especially because this was at the height of the pandemic. This time, I stayed with an acquaintance who had set up a guesthouse in a small mountain village – a decision that helped me to get invaluable insights into the tensions between newcomers and locals. The elevated location of my accommodation offered an impressive panorama view across the picturesque valley. It also meant, however, an exposure to a vast array of insects, most uncomfortably, poisonous centipedes and leeches. During my stay, other guests were also exposed and with every day of my stay, I felt the threat of an encounter, especially because I was sleeping on a futon on the tatami floor. I witnessed the fiancé of my host expertly catching a centipede with chopsticks, an impressive feat. Towards the end of my stay, I detected one more of my centipede fellows next to my mattress. I felt a sense of triumph when I managed to catch it (admittedly, not with chopsticks) – ironically, next to Didier Fassin’s Life: A Critical User’s Manual, which I never got around to reading during my stay.

The narrow, curvy road leading to the guesthouse
Copyright © Susanne Klien 2021

The lingering sense of tension, a stiff neck, unfamiliar humidity, the fear of driving on the narrow, winding roads are all moments of immersion. At the beginning of my stay, I was ambitious enough to think that I would cook for myself. After the second day, however, I gave in to the temptation of sharing meals with my hosts. These meals were particularly enjoyable given that there were new guests and visitors every other day and even if there weren’t, these were wonderful opportunities to ask questions about the town and its people. These meals also provided chances to support local shops: I loved going to the (only) local butcher on the main street to get some meat as it was incredibly tasty. My hosts would contribute (mostly self-grown) vegetables – a perfect combination. I also liked to buy a few bottles of local craft beer in town for my hosts, guests and myself.

Kamiyama beer, local meat and self-grown vegetables of my hosts for dinner
Copyright © Susanne Klien 2021

But let’s get back to the ethnographer’s hat and how to get rid of it for one’s own and for the sake of one’s body and mind. In retrospect, I approached my follow-up stay as an extended immersive practice, even when I was sleeping, as I expected centipedes. The only time-out in a way was soaking myself in the hot water, enjoying the moment, trying to think of nothing. There were other instances of going to public baths in rural areas during fieldwork that were more social, so the practice of going to onsen as such may be multi-faceted depending on the field, one’s stage of fieldwork and many other factors. In any case, with more experiences of fieldwork in vastly different contexts, I feel that it is crucial to make sure that one allows for such moments of taking off the ethnographer’s hat and – ideally more extended time off out of respect for one’s body and mind.

References
Harvey-Sanchez, Amanda and Annika Olsen (2019). “Ethnography as Obsession: On Immersion and Separation in Fieldwork and Writing”, Ethnography of the University 2018: Focus on Politics, https://ethnographylab.ca/2019/01/07/ethnography-as-obsession-on-immersion-and-separation-in-fieldwork-and-writing/ accessed on 25 April 2023.
Kottmann, Nora and Cornelia Reiher (eds.) (2020). Studying Japan: Handbook of Research Designs, Fieldwork and Methods, Baden Baden: Nomos.

*Susanne Klien is an associate professor at Hokkaido University. Her main research interests include the appropriation of local traditions, demographic decline and alternative forms of living and working in post-growth Japan. She is the author of Urban Migrants in Rural Japan: Between Agency and Anomie in a Post-Growth Society (State University of New York Press, 2020).

by Cecilia Luzi

After spending five months conducting fieldwork in Buzen, I moved to my second field site in March: the charming town of Hasami. Located on the border between Nagasaki and Saga prefecture, Hasami is renowned for its lively atmosphere and long tradition of ceramic production. Over the coming months, I will immerse myself in the daily life in Hasami to explore what makes this town such a draw for people from all over Japan and beyond.

The old school building where the event took place.
Copyright ©Cecilia Luzi 2023

On my second weekend in Hasami, I participated in an exciting event at the old Chuo Elementary School. The four-day exhibition and market was called “Thought” and featured crafts and artisans from the Kyūshū region showcasing clothing, accessories and tableware. The first two days were reserved for vendors and investors, while the last two days were open to the public. When I attended the event on a Sunday around 11 a.m., people were eating, drinking and chatting outside while children ran around blowing bubbles. As we walked up the stairs, we passed four food stalls selling bento, coffee and sweets. I couldn’t resist filling my bag with delicious treats, and I took the opportunity to chat with the friendly vendors, who were all young couples between the ages of 35 and 45. They all run restaurants and cafes in the neighboring towns of Hasami and were intrigued by my presence, especially my son’s decision to walk barefoot on the concrete and grass.

The menus from food stands at the market.
Copyright ©Cecilia Luzi 2023

As we entered the building, we were handed tote bags to put our shoes in. A friendly receptionist, who appeared to be in her 20s, asked me where we were from and greeted my son with a smile. I learned she and the other staff were mostly from Fukuoka and had come to Hasami for the four-day event. “Hasami is a fascinating place,” she said, “I’m sure you’ll enjoy the next few months here!” As we made our way inside, we noticed a large crowd milling around the various booths. With about 40 exhibitors, all younger than 45, there was a lot to see. I was particularly taken with two men from Amami Oshima who were using traditional dyeing techniques with indigo and red mud. Although I was somewhat familiar with ao-zome, indigo-based dyeing, I wasn’t sure I had understood the term “doro-zome” correctly when I heard it. Looking for an explanation, I asked, “You mean mud, as in soil?” They nodded and explained to me that mud dyeing or “doro-zome” (泥染め) is an ancient technique practiced on the island of Ōshima, where a special iron-rich soil makes this type of dyeing possible. The result is really beautiful.

The brochure of the clothing brand from Amami Ōshima.
Copyright ©Cecilia Luzi 2023

As I continued my tour, I came across jewelry reminiscent of twigs and leaves, recycled plastic bags, and modular coasters. Then I stumbled upon a booth with four cheerful boys presenting a children’s board game made of small colorful wooden cubes on a square tray. I was impressed by the inventor’s enthusiasm, and we struck up a conversation. He was about 30 years old, and when he learned that I lived in Berlin, he sighed and told me about his dream to present his game at a famous board game fair in Germany. He had finally managed to get his game produced in Japan, and now he wanted to take it abroad. He was born and raised in Saga Prefecture, and his game is now sold in big stores in Fukuoka. “Since a few months ago, it’s also available in a store in Arita, right next door, if you’re interested,” he added with a smile. I took the brochure and wished him good luck. Across the room, people were trying on clothes, sniffing essential oils, and having their feet measured for custom-made shoes or their fingers for future wedding rings. Although it was already noon on the second day, the atmosphere was lively and cheerful with a throng of people.

The flyer of the colorful wooden board game
Copyright ©Cecilia Luzi 2023

It was fascinating to chat briefly with the young craftsmen and women from all corners of Kyūshū. On the way home, I couldn’t help but think about how Hasami manages to attract such events and who the key players are behind this movement. I look forward to continuing my fieldwork in Hasami and finding out what makes this city a “very interesting place,” according to everyone I meet.