*Blows dust from the gears and levers of An Anthropologist in Cologne*
I’m still paying for this domain, aren’t I?
Well, that’s convenient. Eighteen months’ hiatus while I wrestle with the writing of my actual PhD, and find the German environment increasingly comfortable, even as the Western world seems to crumble around me, have put the kibosh somewhat on interesting cultural observations and immigrant tales.
No longer. We’re firing up the generators once again just in time for the Anthropologist in Cologne to, er, not be in Cologne. The cycle of the travelling academic, must, it seems, go on. I’m a little closer than I was to finishing the PhD, though nowhere near where I would like to be, but sadly the ever-benevolent Landesamt für Besoldung und Versorgung Nordrhein-Westfalen, my benefactors, have as promised ended my contract with the close of 2016.
This means many things. I have said goodbye to my faithful bicycle Gretel, now passed on to another recent immigrant, who has promised to keep calling her by her name. I am leaving my wonderful flat, and saying goodbye to flatmates who have become like family to me. I have cleared out my office, spent at least half an hour tearing my hair out about why books weigh so damn much, and my tickets are all lined up to fly home for the holidays.
Once again, I find myself saying goodbye.
Outrageously, the end of my contract also means that I must find gainful employment while I complete my magnum opus, almost as if I was a normal human being, rather than being employed as a civil servant here in das Vaterland in order to pursue my education.
Gainful employment for the months of January and February has made itself known in the form of time spent as a visiting academic at the Center for African Area Studies at the University of Kyoto, Kyoto, Japan, a placement I have taken the greatest pleasure of accepting.
It seems that immigrant tales and amusing anecdotes of my faux pas will be in vogue again, and it seems fitting to record my outrageous cultural transgressions in an entirely new context. The language, I was recently informed by one of my new colleagues at Kyoto, has around 30,000 characters, depending on how you count them. Most primary school children, he reassured me, only have to learn 1,000. I have, let us say, given up on the prospect of reading.
Nevertheless, my goal in two months is to be able to shop without a chaperone or a translator, as pathetic-sounding a goal as it will be difficult. It took me roughly two months to do that in Germany. German, incidentally, seems like an easy-to-learn and rule-free language by comparison.
I shall record here some of my preliminary expectations and thoughts about visiting a country I have wanted to visit for many years, but about which I know little. I think it will be interesting to see how wrong I am.
I shall begin my travels to Japan from Edinburgh on the 6th January, and barring any further industrial action from Lufthansa I should arrive on the 8th to begin my new life as an ignorant gaijin. Rest assured that I have been watching anime with subtitles rather than dubbing, and provided that Japan features handy subtitling of any and all conversations, street signs, and swordfights in which I avenge my father, I should be absolutely fine. I am, however, somewhat concerned that my hair is neither blue, purple or red, and that I do not know any giant flying robots.
Almost the entirety of my knowledge about Japan, having never been there, comes from pop culture, the most fun but hardly the most reliable of lenses through which to view an incredibly rich and complex civilisation. Fortunately, I also have this:
Japan seems to occupy an interesting place in the popular psyche. Aside from being told to “enjoy my holiday” (you know who you are) many of my friends and colleagues seem to think I shall be visiting a giant shopping mall filled with wonders. Do not worry, I shall return with gifts, and will admit to no small amount of stereotyping when I get excited to the point of mental breakdown at the possibility of visiting certain places.
I am also expecting tatami mats, taking my shoes off, and meditating a lot, though I find these quite a lot more likely given that my flat was advertised as having the first, so I shall want to do the second, and that Kyoto has a ridiculous number of temples in which I can continue the meditation I practice anyway. I am also expecting to eat a lot of fish, and given that I have been living a long way from the sea for a long time, I am also unreasonably excited about this.
On a more academic level, I shall be working in an African Studies centre, and I am sure that such a familiar environment will be something of a rock of certainty for me, as African Studies has been my common theme between all the places I have lived for the last three years. I can also take heart that most of my Japanese colleagues will be anthropologists, and so I should not worry too much about cultural misunderstandings. I suspect they are used to it.
Japanese ethnography has been consistently important and powerful as a tool for understanding life in Southern Africa at least since the 1970s and the work of Jiro Tanaka. It is through one of his former students that I have received this kind invitation to work there. It is, without exaggeration, a great honour to be invited to work in the department at Kyoto. I hope that I justify my being invited there and am able to contribute to the department. I also hope that this will be the first of many trips to Japan.
I guess we will see how it goes.
Tschuß, Goodbye, and, I guess for now, Sayounara!
 Blame the bosses not the workers for strikes, folks. An injury to one is an injury to all.
One of only two anthropologists to work long-term at Ekoka to my knowledge. The other is, well, writing this.