Turning Japanese by Julie Miller

My teenage daughter’s friends are convinced she’s turning Japanese. They do have a point - while she draws the line at Hello Kitty, she does have a penchant for mobile phone bling, fluff and flounce, and wacky animation.

Needless to say, our arrival into Tokyo was a joyous occasion as we encountered all that makes Japanese society so intriguing – a quirky sense of fashion, face masks, misspelt English and toilets that not only spray your bum, but automatically dry it too. We were thrust into a parallel universe of the wackiest kind; but rather than just observe, we decided to absorb everything we could about Japanese culture during our brief visit.

First up was a pilgrimage to the Mecca of bizarre – Harajuku, heartland of teenage misfits. Every Sunday, groups of outrageously-clad cosplay-zoku (costume-play gang) – mostly outcast teenage girls – gather on the bridge near the entrance to the Meiji Shrine to primp, preen and generally just hang out. Attitude is rife; they are likely to sulkily turn their backs on your request for a photo, then cheerfully pose for their own cheesy shots, a clear indication they are here for their own social benefit and not as a tourist attraction.

But gawk the tourists do – and with good reason. Little Bo Peep appears to be the role model de jour – flouncy skirts, frilly pink hats, layers of petticoats and bloomers, all mixed and matched with sky-high platform shoes and bleached blonde hair. Maids are also in vogue, as are anime superheroes, Lolita Goths and hospital patients donning fake blood, bandages and eye patches.

Across the road, Harajuku’s main pedestrian thoroughfare, Takeshita-dori, is a teenage shopoholic’s dream, lined with shops selling everything from fluffy earrings to retro American fashions. On a Sunday afternoon, Taskeshita Street surges with humanity; tourists, touts handing out flyers, strolling couples and Harajuku girls on a mission, tottering along on oversized heels and dragging Elmo suitcases on wheels (perhaps containing extra clothing for when they return home as their more conservative alter-egos).

The shopping here is fun and inexpensive – after purchasing a pair of black suede heels for around $20, my daughter discovered a shop called Body Line, selling beautifully-made Harajuku fashions for half price – Alice in Wonderland pinafores, Santa’s Little Helper outfits and frou frou skirts. She emerged three dresses and one ‘ice princess’ winter coat later, fully equipped to embark on her own career as a teenage weirdo.

While Japan is the ultimate consumer society, it is also steeped in tradition that impacts on daily life. For tourists curious to learn about Japanese culture, there are several programs available which offer a brief insight into Japanese food, arts, clothing and sporting disciplines, taking you into Japanese homes and providing personal encounters with local people.

In Kyoto, we participated in a ‘Wearing Kimono’ program run by the Women’s Association of Kyoto (WAK), where we enjoyed the privilege of being dressed in gorgeous formal kimonos in a local home before heading to a nearby shrine for the ultimate photo opportunity. Although I had initially baulked at the cost of this program – around $100 a head for just over two hours – it was well worth the expense; not only was it informative and fun, it also provided one of the most intimate moments of our whole trip as we stood in our underwear, chatting to the two delightful ladies binding and corseting us into the luscious flowing silks.

In Tokyo, similar cultural programs also include curiosities such as a visit to a sumo stable (the rather appropriate name for the complex where sumo wrestlers live and practice); taiko drumming classes; and how to fly like a ninja. Our mission, however, was to learn the warrior code of a samurai, the traditional bodyguards of history and dodgy movies. We came into this four-hour session with absolutely no background in martial arts – what I did know had been gleaned from Tom Cruise epics, badly-dubbed Japanese soap operas and Phantom Agents and Monkey, two childhood television favourites. Jo, my daughter, had even less of a clue, which soon became apparent as she clumsily wielded an imitation sword, struggling under its weight and failing to sheathe it cleanly during the initial practice.

Faced with the real deal, however – a genuine katana blade - she rose to the occasion, slicing a tatami dummy (moistened overnight to produce the consistency of human flesh and bone) like a pro, producing a perfect 60 degree angle with one fell swoop. On another swipe, her black belt precision made the straw dummy teeter for a good three seconds before falling; the equivalent of slicing off a head cleanly, a feat that clearly impressed our grand master sensei, Mr Uedo.

My forte, however, was in stealth; I was a dab hand with the shuriken, or metal ninja stars, bulls-eyeing a target from a distance of three metres. We decided that, given the opportunity to relive Japanese history, I’d be a ninja or spy, flying backwards through bamboo groves; while Jo would be a sturdy warrior, protecting the emperor or leading the charge in battle.

With warrior skills honed and clothing choices - both contemporary and traditional – selected and packed, Jo’s conversion to Ganguro Girl (the name given to Japanese girls who desire to look western) seemed complete. But there was one tradition that stymied her ambition – the Japanese onsen experience.

In Japan, public bathing in hot spring baths is akin to a religion, and a visit to an onsen town the closest thing to a pilgrimage. In the tiny spa village of Yudanaka-Shibu, located near Nagano in the Japanese Alps, there are nine public baths, each possessing different healing qualities; it is said if you bathe in all nine sotoyu, you will improve your health and increase longevity. There are also several private onsens in local ryokan, or Japanese inns; ours had two such baths, one for men and one for women.

Despite my cajoling, pleading and appealing to her sense of cultural sensitivity, however, the thought of bathing naked in front of strangers horrified my body-conscious 17-year-old; and even more disgusting was the thought of her wrinkled old mum in the nude. So rather than bypass the experience altogether, I agreed to don a bathing suit, reserving the right to strip to avoid offending someone – an argument my daughter said was the most ridiculous thing she’d ever heard!

Fortunately, we had the basement bath to ourselves, so were spared the embarrassment of being seen fully-dressed as we edged our way into the 40-degree indoor pool. It hardly felt like a traditional Japanese experience; but it was certainly pleasant, very hot and ultimately relaxing. Even more enjoyable was the smaller outdoor pool, the cool air of evening soothing our overheated pulses.

Throughout the whole steamy experience, however, my daughter had one eye on the door, ready to make a hasty exit should someone in their birthday suit join us. While east and west may merge happily in terms of clothing choices and popular influences, in my daughter’s case, culture is definitely skin deep ... and that’s the naked truth.