The most common recurring piece of advice I heard before leaving to study abroad in Japan was that I should make efforts to join a club, or a team, and become involved. The idea behind it was full cultural immersion: to take our Japanese outside the classroom and apply it to everyday life. I was welcomed into my host university’s track and field team, and in my experience, it was as much of a culture shock for me, as it was for them.

It was not an easy transition to position oneself inside a group of all Japanese, and my friends who also joined various teams and activities also shared similar experiences. By being a prospective addition to the team, and the “uchi to soto” (inside group vs outside group) concept that exists in Japan, I was already an outsider, and then even more so by being a gaikokujin.

Just because you look like them, it doesn’t necessarily make you one of them… I wouldn’t describe it as an unwelcoming atmosphere, but an awkward one. The first day I went to observe the track and field team, I was handed a uniform and tracksuit, and the second day was a race day. It was a qualification race for the Hakone Ekiden, one of the most prominent university relay marathon races in Japan. So, I dressed in my tracksuit, and went to the train station and ran into  four of my teammates on the platform. Their faces were new to me, just as mine was new to them, and even if they did see me the day before, this time they were curiously whispering when I was only five feet away. And we rode the train all the way to the meet like that: as two separate groups, not talking, despite wearing identical outfits.

Dressing like the Japanese, following the trends, and styling based on their fashion is not all it takes to be welcomed into a particular “in-crowd”. The foreigner wearing gothic Lolita clothing or mimicking popular hairstyles and make-up art will stand out and garner attention but at the expense of still being thought of as soto. It isn’t about whether or not it looks good or bad but rather just that it’s different. And with this cultural concept, being different is enough to distinguish “in” from “out”.

My impression of the Japanese is that they are introverted and shy, but curious… I’ve also learned that some of them have interesting impressions of foreigners, and in my case, specifically Americans. There exists the assumption that all Americans are outgoing and extroverted. For me, being the guest on the team, I expected that everybody else would approach me after I made my presence as a new runner. In my mind, I had played my part of the extrovert by seeking out the group and following through with my interest to join. I assumed that I would be met halfway in making new friends, but instead, I was kept waiting. And I was kept waiting for a while. There would be a few exchanges of words and greetings though nothing that led to a substantial conversation.

Over time, when they did start to open up and express their curiosity, I was overrun by various questions and comments. I was told statements such as “I’ve never seen a half [mixed] person before” and asked questions such as “do you own a gun?” The more they realized that simple conversations with the American didn’t have to be terrifying, the language barrier seemed to come down more quickly.

That being said, speaking the same language also doesn’t make us one of them. The language barrier is a big issue when it comes to interacting and communicating. In my experiences, the introversion did not just come from the shy Japanese personalities, but also the fear of striking up a conversation with a non-native because they won’t know what to do if it fails. The fear of not being able to understand the response, or the fear of not having the foreigner understand what they are trying to say is enough motivation to keep the “in-group” exclusive for a while. A dialogue may open for a couple of sentences only, because one or both parties believe that they have reached the limit of their foreign language abilities.

There were also those teammates who were studying English, or had lived in America before, or wanted to study abroad, who seemed to be driven by the prospect of one thing: eikaiwa (English conversation). Rather than becoming a fellow athlete or teammate, I had become the source of practicing English that they would not otherwise have access to. In theory, it was convenient for both parties involved, though ultimately, I was left to discover that I was merely the token English- speaking person in the group, who was befriended for the sole purpose of conversing in English. Every practice while jogging, I would act as an English conversation partner for one of my teammates. It ended up being great practice for them, and a good bridge to making real friends for me, but in the beginning that was not the way “in” and it wasn’t giving me any Japanese language practice, which was my motivation for joining in the beginning.

It probably wasn’t helped by the fact that to most Japanese, I did not look mixed or half-Asian, but fully Caucasian. They had no reason to assume that I had any level of Japanese language ability that included keeping up with nuances and humor. This made it easier for me, since it allowed me to surprise them consistently. Even with this “advantage”, when my teammates did realize that I could converse in Japanese, they were suddenly worried about how much I knew and would be overly cautious in considering how much I did or did not know. It seemed as they were entered into a new realm of stress regarding speaking with the foreigner. Considering the opposite of that, the expectation for people who look Japanese seems to be set much higher. In regard to those non-natives, it appeared to be assumed that they can speak Japanese, until it is discovered that they can’t. In both scenarios, it’s at these points that the aforementioned fears of being unable to communicate kick in, into a positive feedback loop.

Another difficulty of feeling fully accepted is the presence of the sometimes false, always presented, politeness known as tatemae. The difference between honne, one’s true feelings or desires, and tatemae, one’s public behavior, is hard to notice at face value. Similar to those times when store employees don’t get responses to customer service surveys, or when we get non-responses from friends who decided they wanted to cancel plans at the last minute, that was what is was like living in Japan for the first few months every time I met a new group of people. In fact, I would say it was safe to assume that without a situation that would require consistently seeing the new people I met, there was a high possibility that I would not see them again. They will be polite, probably exchange phone email addresses, and will say that they want to hang out again so an event should be planned, only to result in me never hearing from them again. It emphasizes that distinction between just experiencing a night out and making a close friend. I think that foreigners tend to expect the latter, which can be the source of frustration. But that is okay because despite all of that, if you give it time, the “uchi-soto” dynamic can shift.

It is possible for those shy exterior walls to come down… Though many foreigners and non-native Japanese feel as though they will never fit in, it is possible to go from being an outsider to part of the “in-group”. I joined the university track team during the off-season, but by the time track season started, it was no longer awkward to be wearing the same uniform going to track meets. When it ultimately got to that point, it made my time on the bukatsu (club) one of the best conquests of the intended cultural immersion. The collective cheering that is customary of Japanese sports fandom was unlike any form of cohesion I experienced as a track and field runner back home in California. I managed to make one or two close friends a couple of months in, and like a domino effect, the warmth from the rest of the team followed. It may take a shift in perspective on both our parts and some patience working through some cultural and language boundaries, but once “different” goes from being scary and unapproachable, to interesting and safe, it is my experience that the uchi to soto differences also seem to matter a little bit less.

Sneaking Out

First of all, we weren’t supposed to stay out all night with any of our language partners because apparently the program directors thought that was a no-no. If we did stay out all night, we had to fill out overnight forms saying where we were going to be and what we were doing. One of the cooler language partners encouraged us to make up a story about where we were going, and then just go clubbing with her and her friends the whole night instead.

So, me and my good friend Hunter, being the responsible young gentlemen that we are, filled out an overnight form saying that we’d be overnight at a manga cafe or some nonsense like that. Then, around midnight, Hunter and I left the dorm and took a train to meet up with our Japanese friend and her group of friends before heading out to the clubs.

Staying Up All Night

In America at least, people would normally go out between like 10 and 12, then stay out until they got tired or until the bars and clubs close at like 2:30am. In Japan, though – people go out at like midnight, get to the club at like 1am and then stay out all night until morning when the trains start running again at like 5am or so. It was crazy. Coming out of a dark club woozy with alcohol into the bright morning sun is a surreal experience.

Staying out all night was really fun, but it certainly made for a rough next day. Getting back to the dorm at like 6 or 7 in the morning didn’t leave a lot of time for sleep before any activities, and I even ended up skipping out on one of the group activities because I just didn’t have the energy.

In the Club

The first night we went out was definitely the most hilarious. Upon arriving at the club, the Japanese girls showed their IDs and paid their cover and got one drink ticket. These drink tickets were redeemable at the bar for drinks, but more on that later. When Hunter and I got up to the doorman and showed our passports, the guy gave us each two drink tickets just because we were Americans. The Japanese girls thought this was unfair. Hunter and I thought it was awesome.

Anyway, at this club they had a drink ticket vending machine off to the side, and there you bought drink tickets and then took those drink tickets over to the bar and exchanged them for various drinks. The cost of drinks ranged from one ticket to a few, and I’m not sure how efficient a system this way, but it was interesting nonetheless.

As far as atmosphere inside the club goes, it was pretty similar to what I’d gotten used to back home, just with a bunch of Japanese people instead of college age white kids. The only bad part was that people were smoking indoors, and smoke really bothers me, but most of the smokers stayed around the outer perimeter of the venue so it wasn’t too terrible.

Do I Recommend It?

If you enjoy clubbing in your home country, chances are you’ll enjoy clubbing in Japan. My only advice is, don’t go alone, and go with someone who knows good places to go. If you go by yourself or with people who are equally as out of their element as you are, you’ll be less likely to have as awesome a time I think.

As far as language skills go, you don’t really need to know much Japanese to have a good time at the club. Most all drink orders sound the same in each language, but besides that, it’s usually too loud for you to have a conversation anyway. It’s hard enough trying to have a conversation with a new person who doesn’t know your level of language skill, let alone having that conversation in a noisy and crowded nightclub. The real fun comes from just going out and enjoying the whole experience.

It was really nice having someone let us know where to go and when to go and all that stuff. I definitely don’t regret going out while I was in Japan and I feel bad for some of my American friends who passed up the opportunity because it sure was a lot of fun. If you enjoy the club scene and you have the chance to go out in Japan, I wholeheartedly recommend it.

So tell me, have any of you gone out clubbing in Japan? How was your experience? For those who haven’t had the chance to, is it something that interests you? Let us know in the comments!

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Believe it or not, this flurry of police activity has been about dancing. That’s right, if you dance past a certain hour in Japan, you might find yourself at best, asked to stop; and at worst, arrested.

It’s like Footloose, but without the whole “Jesus” angle or Kevin Bacon.

Japan’s Anti-Dancing Law

You can thank all of these dance-related arrests to a 1948 law, the Entertainment Business Control Law.

In the years immediately following World War II, Japan was a mess. The country had been leveled during the war and the central government had all but collapsed. Lawlessness ran amok throughout the country.

The Japanese government tried to crack down on some illegal activities like prostitution and gambling by passing the Entertainment Business Control Law. Unfortunately, this had unforeseen consequences. The strict law not only affects prostitution and gambling, but it also impacts nightclubs too.

Dance music 60 years ago

Dancing after a certain time at night is banned, unless you have a special permit. The permit, which is separate from the numerous other permits that night clubs have to apply for, requires the club to have at least 710 ft² (66 m²) of space for dancers to get down.

This restriction might have made sense 60 years ago, but it certainly doesn’t any more.

Think about what dancing was like during the 40s compared to what it’s like now. People danced more formally, and to swing and big band music. In the 60+ years since the law, dance and dance music have changed dramatically.

Nowadays you don’t need enough room for a big band or a giant dance hall; a small dance floor and a DJ with a laptop is good enough for most people.

Recent Crackdowns

This law has been in effect for over 60 years, but hasn’t really been enforced by police until the last year or so.

In cities like Osaka, Fukuoka, and even Tokyo, police have raided clubs to stop dancing, close down the club for the night or, in some cases, arrest the owner and shut down the club for good.

Club owners are doing what they can to stem the tide of police activity. They’re put tables out in the dance floor to get in the way, posting signs around the club, and just flat-out asking people to stop dancing.

Why Now?

The main question on everybody’s mind seems to be “why now?” Most people are able to see where the law comes from and why it’s there, but if this law has been on the books for over 60 years, why is it only really being enforced now?

Some people speculate that police have only started cracking down recently because of club owners have been blatantly breaking the law for years. Japanese police can look the other way if a few clubs here and there stay open too late, but as more and more clubs keep on dancing into the night, it becomes impossible for the police to ignore.

Dance music today.

Ultimately, it’s hard to say just why dancers have only been prosecuted recently. When asked, Japanese police have been mum on why they’ve ratcheted up enforcement.

One thing’s for sure though: if you go out dancing in Japan, you’d best be on your toes.

Read more: On Getting Arrested for Dancing in Japan, If you go down to the club tonight, you’re sure of a big surprise

Thanks to Henry for emailing this story in!

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