All Part of the Show

Dearest Rachel –

You might be surprised (or you might not, what do I know?) to discover how often I get started on the letter to you, only to virtually crumpled up and throw it over my shoulder into the trash. Maybe I can’t find an ending for it. Maybe it’s just too rambling and loses its focus. Maybe it veers into a topic that’s not really fit for wider publication; things that we would talk about together as husband and wife, but just shouldn’t be spoken of in public.

I was working on something like that yesterday at this time, and I couldn’t quite tie it all together. And indeed, as it turned out, it might’ve been a little harsh on the other guests. But last night, as Daniel and I were leaving dinner, chatting to each other as we do, we got into an elevator with somebody who turned to us and asked us the strangest question, and yet one that allows me to take yesterday’s unpublished topic and reframe it completely:

“Are you two part of the entertainment?“

Seeing my puzzled expression, she went on to explain herself. Apparently, she’s been noticing the two of us throughout the course of this trip. That’s certainly fair, as we are fairly distinctive, compared to the other passengers; especially Daniel, whose at least a generation younger than just about everybody else, and wears that distinctive, neon green sleeved jacket everywhere he goes in public. And while I’m not sure if I’m the second youngest passenger on this ship (no, scratch that – I know that girl that the crew member was chatting up the other day was decidedly younger than myself, and there are a handful of kids here with their parents, so even Daniel isn’t the youngest, or even the second youngest, person on board), I don’t carry myself like most of the others any more than he does, albeit in a very different way. And it seemed that this lady noticed this.

Now, at this point, you might smile and nudge me and say something to the effect of “well, how could she not?” But we really aren’t out and about in the ship all that much. Once we get back from our excursion, and go to dinner, we generally just retire to the room. Daniel listens to his news and podcasts, and I work on church financials and my letters to you, and if there’s time left in the evening, we watch a few videos (not nearly as many as we do at home, I should point out). So it’s not as if we’re out here ‘performing’ for the entertainment of the other guests all that much. Not to mention, the lack of a stage for us to occupy ought to answer that question in the first place.

But apparently there’s something about us that amuses other people to watch. And, considering we’ve done some people watching of our own throughout the course of this trip – both of those aboard ship, and the everyday goings-about of the locals – it’s more than fair to realize we’re being watched, too. There are worse things to be said about than to be mistaken for a comedy act.

In fact, it probably shouldn’t come as any great surprise. Even going back to before the cruise, when we attended a sales event by the travel agency, sponsored by a different cruise line (one that we’ve traveled before), we found ourselves painfully aware that we didn’t really fit in with the crowd that was enjoying the hors d’oeuvres and sipping the champagne that evening. Apart from being in that income bracket, and liking to travel this way (or at least, I do – Daniel, not so much. I think he’s just along for the ride sometimes), we have nothing in common with these people.

With that in mind, we have two options. The first is that we could try and act like everybody else, and do what we can to blend in. While this might be the proper thing to do, it’s also not inherently feasible. Where we are gives a good example of why this isn’t going to work: you can act as native as possible. You can speak the language fluently, and be perfectly versed in the manners and customs of the Japanese. But you will never be anything other than a ‘gaijin’. It’s unavoidable – your skin color, your eyes, your height (well, maybe not your height, but Daniel and me, yeah) – they all mark you as ‘not one of them.’ What you do to fit in may please and impress them, but you will never actually pass for one of them.

So that brings us to the opposite plan; that of leaning into these differences, and making some humorous light of them. Or, in a more subdued fashion, not actually say anything to address those obvious differences, but let them speak for themselves. Ashore, this means that, since you already look like a tourist, play the part; stare at the scenery, squint in the weird lettering atop the buildings and try to make it all out, take pictures of what the average Tarou or Kim in the street finds perfectly normal. Embrace what you really are, and be comfortable with it. And with Daniel and myself, that includes making observations to each other, and bouncing our thoughts back and forth between us, just like you and I used to do.

Onboard ship, I’ve discovered what it truly means to ‘be yourself,’ and wholeheartedly endorse the lifestyle. While we may be running ourselves ragged on each tour that we go on, this is meant to be a vacation as well. We’re supposed to be comfortable, to enjoy ourselves, and if dressing to the nines in order to go to dinner does not make us comfortable, we avoid the main dining room, apart from the occasional breakfast (which is considerably more casual). We even skipped out on White Night, which is some custom that they have on this particular line, wherein everybody dresses in white and enjoys a buffet on the pool deck (and, given the iffy weather here, especially in the evenings, takes their meal into the adjacent casual dining lounge). I did bring several white polos, but since neither of us has white pants (and Daniel really doesn’t have anything that would work for this custom at all), we made sure that we were tired out (and fed) while we were in Takamatsu, so we didn’t have to show up and stick out so much that evening.

But if we had, we would probably have confirmed this lady’s suspicions, that we were all part of the show. After all, I’d been wandering around town in my bright red ‘Marxism’ T-shirt (I’ve gotten comments from time to time throughout this trip about ‘you have some of the best T-shirts,’ which I take as high praise, even coming from folks who don’t often wear them themselves); combined with Daniel, with his curly hair and laconic demeanor, we might very well look like father Groucho and his son Harpo.

Now, we’re taught as Christians that we are always on display, and we should always act in a manner worthy of Him, or at least, not dishonoring Him; there are people, after all, who is sole purpose in life, seems to be that of being a bad example. I have to admit, I’ve never had it driven quite so clearly, as with that one strange question. And while I may not have succeeded in being a ‘sermon in shoes,’ settling for being ‘the entertainment’ isn’t such a bad fate, either.

Anyway, that’s all for now, honey. I’ll keep in touch. Until then, keep an eye on me, and wish me luck. I’m going to need it.