counting sheep

The foreigners are out in droves. They are wandering the streets of Kyoto searching for anything “Japan” they can find and take a picture of. I met no fewer than twenty on my bike ride home this evening. That’s almost one a minute. And that was only counting the tourists.

It’s quite easy to tell the difference between a tourist foreigner and a resident foreigner. The tourists do the traditional map dance - pointing and twirling, looking down, looking up, and looking lost. They travel in packs, backpacks and broad shoulders taking up the entire sidewalk. Solo travelers walk, but without the strident step of someone late to teach an English class.

Residents speed past visitors and Japanese alike on a spiffy mountain bike or a mama-chari with a full basket. They never smile at other foreigners, looking away in a disinterested fashion at the passing buildings rather than meeting someone’s eyes. If on foot they walk confidently, and rarely wear a backpack.

As much as I would like to be (and often am) extremely critical of visitors, I can’t let myself be too disdainful; I have been in their place before, and will be there again. If I could only get over their horrible sidwalk manners, I might be able to forgive their awful pronunciation and tacky kanji t-shirts.