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Having just returned home after a short vacation, I recently re-entered the cycle of gift-giving and - receiving in Japan. Many of us have undoubtedly heard of Japan described as a "gift-giving culture," and I am certain that anyone even casually familiar with the country will attest to the generosity and thoughtfulness of its people. I've lived off-and-on in Japan for only a few years, but still I have lost track of the number of times that I have had to restrain myself and refrain from praising an object too highly for fear that its owner would simply give it to me. The conversation normally goes something like this: "Oh, that's a marvelous [fill in the blank]!" "You like it? Please take it... No, I insist... It's nothing, really" - which leads to all sorts of bizarre relations of indebtedness.
But how exactly does this "gift culture" work? How does one negotiate the ebb and flow of indebtedness that accompanies gifts in Japan?
Well, I'm not qualified to answer either of those questions, but I think they make for an interesting place to begin this reflection on what is surely a crucial aspect of life in Japan. Now, omiyage is normally translated as "souvenir," which is itself a word borrowed from a foreign language (in this case, French, via Old French and Latin). It is usually defined as "a token of remembrance" or a "memento," with its roots in the notion of recollection, calling-to-mind and memory. The German (Andenken) or Spanish (recuerdo) equivalents seem to me even more precise in their association with objects that bring-to-mind or record past experiences. We might also call these objects "keepsakes."
But omiyage seem to function differently. They don't quite bring memories of a trip back to life; instead, they seem to attest to the fact that the traveler thought of others, back home, while away on his or her journey. After all, I'm not sure what, say, chocolate-covered macadamia nuts have to do with New York, but they apparently are a popular form of omiyage for Japanese travelers, judging by their ubiquitous presence in airports and gift-shops. At the risk of sounding a bit too much like Ruth Benedict (author of The Chrysanthemum and the Sword, a wartime study of "the Japanese Mind"), I would have to say that omiyage have more to do with social obligations and indebtedness than anything else.
Be that as it may, anyone living or doing business in Japan should keep the importance of gifts in mind at all times. They are a way to express appreciation and maintain smooth relations. They are not bribes or baksheesh, along the lines of advice often encountered in travel guidebooks ("Always carry a supply of American dollars, Johnny Walker Black and Marlboro cartons in order to get out of a tight spot"), but they certainly do come in handy as ice-breakers or tokens of appreciation for, say, your colleagues' hard work covering your absence from the office.
When I first arrived in Japan, I had training and had an orientation with one teacher who neglected to follow the advice we had been given regarding omiyage: he didn't bring any souvenirs from his hometown, and so he arrived empty-handed at his school. Let's just say that he failed to make a good first impression, and in my opinion this crucial faux pas cast a shadow that he never quite managed to get out from under - well, that plus the fact that he had his students doing jumping-jacks as a "warm-up activity" at the beginning of every class. I don't think he lasted one year over here, in fact.
But for those of us who really want to make a go of it in Japan, gifts are something not to be neglected. I used to joke about carrying an empty suitcase overseas in order to fill it with omiyage upon my return to Japan; now, I actually do that! Perhaps it's due to the fact that I've witnessed firsthand the failure of more than one person who ignored the proper etiquette concerning gifts. For example, I once had a coworker who refused to bring back omiyage from his vacations. I suppose it wouldn't have been such bad form had he also refrained from telling everyone in the office where he was going. I still recall him lecturing me about how "we're not Japanese, so this custom doesn't apply to us!" and how he refused to "worry about other people" while he was relaxing on his vacation. "The point of a vacation is to forget about the office!" he would tell me, over and over again.
Well, let's just say that he didn't last much longer over here than the calisthenics enthusiast.
Now, it seems to me that there are three main schools of thought concerning omiyage: the first is the "let's buy it all right away, at the beginning of the trip, and then not worry about it anymore"-type; the second is the "let's wait until we get home and buy it in the airport"-variety; and the third is the school of "let's buy omiyage as we go along," which happens to be my own personal (albeit a more stressful) strategy. They each have their strengths and weaknesses, but what I like about the third approach is the fact that you can customize your gifts a bit more than, say, simply buying maple syrup or Turkish Delight for everyone.
In any case, the custom of omiyage does indeed call for "worrying about other people" while away on holiday. But the point isn't simply to ruin your good time or remind you of your social duties; I think what it comes down to is acknowledging that you in fact belong to a social network or community of some sort, and that you are making an effort to maintain that set of relationships. After all, the people I've seen who refuse to acknowledge those ties end up enacting a sort of self-fulfilling prophesy: if one doesn't wish to "belong," or if one doesn't make any effort to do so, then it goes without saying that one will remain an "outsider" forever.
Gift-giving in Japan I: Omiyage
Having just returned home after a short vacation, I recently re-entered the cycle of gift-giving and - receiving in Japan. Many of us have undoubtedly heard of Japan described as a "gift-giving culture," and I am certain that anyone even casually familiar with the country will attest to the generosity and thoughtfulness of its people. I've lived off-and-on in Japan for only a few years, but still I have lost track of the number of times that I have had to restrain myself and refrain from praising an object too highly for fear that its owner would simply give it to me. The conversation normally goes something like this: "Oh, that's a marvelous [fill in the blank]!" "You like it? Please take it... No, I insist... It's nothing, really" - which leads to all sorts of bizarre relations of indebtedness.
But how exactly does this "gift culture" work? How does one negotiate the ebb and flow of indebtedness that accompanies gifts in Japan?
Well, I'm not qualified to answer either of those questions, but I think they make for an interesting place to begin this reflection on what is surely a crucial aspect of life in Japan. Now, omiyage is normally translated as "souvenir," which is itself a word borrowed from a foreign language (in this case, French, via Old French and Latin). It is usually defined as "a token of remembrance" or a "memento," with its roots in the notion of recollection, calling-to-mind and memory. The German (Andenken) or Spanish (recuerdo) equivalents seem to me even more precise in their association with objects that bring-to-mind or record past experiences. We might also call these objects "keepsakes."
But omiyage seem to function differently. They don't quite bring memories of a trip back to life; instead, they seem to attest to the fact that the traveler thought of others, back home, while away on his or her journey. After all, I'm not sure what, say, chocolate-covered macadamia nuts have to do with New York, but they apparently are a popular form of omiyage for Japanese travelers, judging by their ubiquitous presence in airports and gift-shops. At the risk of sounding a bit too much like Ruth Benedict (author of The Chrysanthemum and the Sword, a wartime study of "the Japanese Mind"), I would have to say that omiyage have more to do with social obligations and indebtedness than anything else.
Be that as it may, anyone living or doing business in Japan should keep the importance of gifts in mind at all times. They are a way to express appreciation and maintain smooth relations. They are not bribes or baksheesh, along the lines of advice often encountered in travel guidebooks ("Always carry a supply of American dollars, Johnny Walker Black and Marlboro cartons in order to get out of a tight spot"), but they certainly do come in handy as ice-breakers or tokens of appreciation for, say, your colleagues' hard work covering your absence from the office.
When I first arrived in Japan, I had training and had an orientation with one teacher who neglected to follow the advice we had been given regarding omiyage: he didn't bring any souvenirs from his hometown, and so he arrived empty-handed at his school. Let's just say that he failed to make a good first impression, and in my opinion this crucial faux pas cast a shadow that he never quite managed to get out from under - well, that plus the fact that he had his students doing jumping-jacks as a "warm-up activity" at the beginning of every class. I don't think he lasted one year over here, in fact.
But for those of us who really want to make a go of it in Japan, gifts are something not to be neglected. I used to joke about carrying an empty suitcase overseas in order to fill it with omiyage upon my return to Japan; now, I actually do that! Perhaps it's due to the fact that I've witnessed firsthand the failure of more than one person who ignored the proper etiquette concerning gifts. For example, I once had a coworker who refused to bring back omiyage from his vacations. I suppose it wouldn't have been such bad form had he also refrained from telling everyone in the office where he was going. I still recall him lecturing me about how "we're not Japanese, so this custom doesn't apply to us!" and how he refused to "worry about other people" while he was relaxing on his vacation. "The point of a vacation is to forget about the office!" he would tell me, over and over again.
Well, let's just say that he didn't last much longer over here than the calisthenics enthusiast.
Now, it seems to me that there are three main schools of thought concerning omiyage: the first is the "let's buy it all right away, at the beginning of the trip, and then not worry about it anymore"-type; the second is the "let's wait until we get home and buy it in the airport"-variety; and the third is the school of "let's buy omiyage as we go along," which happens to be my own personal (albeit a more stressful) strategy. They each have their strengths and weaknesses, but what I like about the third approach is the fact that you can customize your gifts a bit more than, say, simply buying maple syrup or Turkish Delight for everyone.
In any case, the custom of omiyage does indeed call for "worrying about other people" while away on holiday. But the point isn't simply to ruin your good time or remind you of your social duties; I think what it comes down to is acknowledging that you in fact belong to a social network or community of some sort, and that you are making an effort to maintain that set of relationships. After all, the people I've seen who refuse to acknowledge those ties end up enacting a sort of self-fulfilling prophesy: if one doesn't wish to "belong," or if one doesn't make any effort to do so, then it goes without saying that one will remain an "outsider" forever.
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