Name：Mr. Fernando Rojas

Nationality：America 

Induction：July 2010

July, 2010

“Nando sensei, what’s your best memory in Fukui?” asked this one of my students at Daianji Junior High School. “How do I answer such a question?” I thought to myself. I paused for a while, with multiple possibilities running through my mind.

“It has to be the food.” I’ve always enjoyed eating food and during my time in Japan, I’ve had the pleasure of enticing my tongue’s palette with new, exciting tastes. Be it Echizen crab, Wakasa plums, or Fukui’s sosu katsudon, I was never disappointed and always left with a happy, full stomach.

“Is it the nature?” Japan is known for its natural beauty and Fukui is definitely no exception. In summer, I visited the Mizushima sand bar and its clear pristine waters in the middle of Tsuruga Bay. In fall, the calm waters of the Kuzuryu Lake reflected the shades of red, orange, yellow, and the occasional purple. In winter, the snow covered roofs of Eiheiji emanated a sense of serenity and purity that complemented the austerities of monastery life. Cherry blossoms signaled the beginning of spring and a new school year. Before I knew it, summer and its “plum rain”(梅雨) and “new green”(新緑) were here once again.

 “What about Japanese culture?” Aside from the numerous seasonal festivals around Fukui, there were also the small towns defined by their unique traditional arts. Many have had the opportunity to try their hand at emulating the trade of the craftsmen at the Takefu Knife Village. I remember making traditional washi paper in late November, my hands freezing, as winter’s cold weather was setting in. Every Thursday, I attended calligraphy class at the Fukui International Activities Plaza, executing complicated strokes meant to for right-handed people with my “south paw.”

Fulfilling my role as a Cultural Ambassador, I promoted my own American culture to the Japanese community. I remember dancing my traditional Mexican dances at the Fukui International Festival Day, donning my “charro” outfit with my sombrero on my head. I remember teaching how to cook Mexican food to curious Japanese friends. Gone were the stereotypes that all Americans were blue-eyed, blonde-haired, gun-toting white people.

I thought about all these ideas and realized that it was the Japanese school life. Every morning, I would get up and bike to school. At one school, I was surrounded by rice fields and mountain. At another, I could gaze upon the Hino River and the sakura trees lined along the shore. I experienced my first tea ceremony thanks to my students. And during kyushoku, I was able to try different kinds of food every day, some better than others. I felt that I learned more about the real Japanese life by merely coming to school and interacting with the children. I’m sure that once I return to America, I will cherish all these memories and gladly tell them to those curious about hearing my life in Japan.