このコラムは自分が体験した驚くべき異文化を伝えると聞いています。　

1997年の夏、僕は弟のエリックとアメリカから日本にやってきて、北海道を旅しました。　ガイドブックには日本でヒッチハイクをするのは安全だし、手軽だし、いろいろな日本人に出会えると書いてありました。　僕たちも思いもかけない出会いと体験をしました。　その経験は日本の人の驚くほどの寛容さと親切さを知ることになりました。

またガイドブックによれば、ヒッチハイクのアメリカと日本の違いは、日本では手を振るだけで良いということでした。　それでも僕は弟に過大な期待はしない方が良いよと言っていました。　なぜならば僕たちは小汚い外国人のバックパッカーでしたから。　“エリック、もしお前が日本人だったら俺たちを拾う？”　

ところが驚いたことに、このヒッチハイクは全ての場所で成功したのでした。　しかも一台目かニ台目の車が必ず止まってくれたのです。　それも大体の場合、乗せてくれるだけでなく、観光地の案内もしてくれたのです。　自分たちが目指していた場所ではない場合でも、現地の人が多分僕たちがここに行きたいのだろうと思う場所に案内してくれました。

事前に日本語を全く勉強していかなかったのですが、現地で日本語はだんだん分かってくるだろうと思っていたのは大間違いでした。　弟もガイドブックの日本語を、発音もでたらめに発音していたのですが、日本語はそんな生易しいものではありません。　

ある時、支笏湖にあるユースホステルに向かう途中で、女の人が車に乗せてくれました。　女の人は英語を全く話しませんでしたが、明るくて、きっと外人の若い僕たち二人を乗せたので少しあがっているようにも見えました。　弁解する訳ではありませんが、彼女の日本語は早かった。　息を吸う間もなく、僕達に質問してきました。　僕は笑いながら、“はい、はい”　と言っていました。　

弟が　“彼女はユースホステルの場所、知ってるの” と聞いてきましたので、僕は “多分” と答えました。　ところが彼女が車を止めたところはどう見てもユースホステルではありません。　実はその女性は僕たちを観光に連れて行ってくれたのでした。　支笏湖の岸辺に近い小高い丘で、そこは神秘的な苔に覆われた岩に囲まれた小道でした。　ものすごく静かな、まるで夢のようなその場所は、僕が今まで見たことのないような素晴らしい所でした。　

彼女はさらに、湖の対岸にある場所に僕たちを案内しようとしましたが、これ以上、見ず知らずの女の人にご迷惑もかけられないと思い、お断りしました。　ユースホステルまで送ってくれた後でも、彼女はおせんべいの箱を二つ、車のトランクから出してきて僕たちにくれました。

ユースホステルの夕食の時、僕と弟はこんな見知らぬ外国人二人に、このような親切なことをしてくれた人に驚くと共に、こんな人々はそうはいないでしょうと語りあいました。　でも次の日からその考えは間違っていたことが次々と証明されたのです。　実を言うとヒッチハイクが一度だけうまくいかなかった事がありました。　でもそれは車が一台も来なかったからなのです。

最後のヒッチハイクは若いビジネスマンでした。　彼は英語を少し話しました。　僕たちの目的地を告げたところ、彼は即座に連れていってくれることになりました。　彼は車をもと来た道に戻して運転しはじめたので、悪いので遠慮したところ、彼は “ドンマイ、ドンマイ“ と言って英語の練習ができて嬉しいと言うのです。　それでも少なくとも一時間はロスしたのではないでしょうか。　

結論を言うと、僕たちは日本を旅行して、何か文化的な知識を得たとか、特別なことを学んだという意識はありません。　でも代わりに強く印象に残ったのは、日本の人に共通の親切心や、寛容な心でした。　それ以来、何年も経ちますが、その印象は益々強くなりました。　でも今でも最も強烈に覚えているのは、あの初めての日本の旅の、思いもかけない北海道での出会いの数々です。


<原　文>
I was told that the common theme of these columns is to reflect on some important cultural breakthrough or experience. In the summer of 1997, my younger brother, Eric, and I took a trip to Northern Japan. Eric had read in a guide book that hitchhiking in Japan was safe, easy, and a great way to meet people. It also turned out to be a way to experience many cultural breakthroughs, (or maybe breakdowns is the better term), and the experience left my brother and I truly amazed by the generosity and kindness of Japanese people.
According to the guidebook, the only difference between hitchhiking in Japan and the U.S. was that one should wave one’s hand, instead of holding out one’s thumb, to get a ride. On the Shinkansen ride up to Hokkaido, I told my brother not to get his hopes up. After all, we were two young, slightly scruffy looking foreigners with backpacks.
“If you were Japanese, would you pick us up?” I asked him.
But to our surprise, it worked every single time.
Every time we stood by the side of the road and waved for a ride, the first or second car that passed us slowed down and offered us a ride. In most cases, they didn’t just offer us a ride, they took us places, or asked us where we wanted to go, and took us there, instead of where they were originally going. Or at least, if it wasn’t where we wanted to go, it was where they thought we wanted to go.
The problem was, I had received no formal Japanese language training when I came to Japan. My plan had been to absorb the language through an osmosis-like process that was complicated and basically nuts. Granted, I was better off than my brother, who could only mispronounce a few phrases from his phrase book, so I was sort of the interpreter of our expedition by default. But our cluelessness was profound.
One woman picked us up as we were on our way to Lake Shikotsuko, where we read there was a youth hostel where we could stay. She spoke almost no English, but I remember telling my brother to let me do the talking, when we climbed into the back seat. The woman was very cheerful, and, probably somewhat unbalanced to be picking up two foreign men on a deserted stretch of Hokkaido highway.
As for communication, in my defense, she talked very fast. Her Japanese came out in a torrent, such that when she paused to catch her breath and ask us questions, rather than admit to my brother that I didn’t understand, I said, “Hai, hai,” while smiling.
“Does she know where the youth hostel is?” my brother asked.
“She thinks so,” I said, nodding sagely. “She’s not sure.”
But when she parked the car and we got out, my brother started to get suspicious, “This doesn’t look like a youth hostel.”
I was forced to agree with him.
In fact, the woman had offered (and I had unwittingly accepted) to take us sightseeing. It was a place near the lakeshore with a high bluff and a trail that wound between exotic, moss covered rocks. There was a quiet and dreamlike quality to the trail, and it was one of the most amazing places we’d ever been. Our self-appointed tour guide spent at least an hour leading us up the trail and back.
By then, I had pretty firmly established that she knew where the youth hostel was, and would take us there. But as we got back in the car, she said (or, I believe she said) there was another place she wanted to show us, except, unfortunately, it was on the other side of the lake and would take an hour or two to get there and did we have time?
We declined, as were tired and felt like we’d already imposed on this woman more than we had any right to. Even so, when she dropped us off at the youth hostel, she opened her trunk and produced two boxes of souvenir rice cakes, obviously intended for someone else, and offered them to us. We didn’t have any way of carrying those cookies, but she made it impossible to refuse.
Over dinner, my brother and I talked about how amazed we were by her kindness towards two complete strangers, but we decided that this woman must have been an anomaly. In the following days, however, our theory was proven wrong again and again.
In fact, we only had trouble getting a ride once, and in that case, it was because no cars came by. Finally, a young, professional man who spoke some English picked us up. We told him our destination and he cheerfully agreed to take us there. Then he turned around and headed back in the direction he’d just come from. Feeling guilty, my brother and I told him we didn’t want to cause any trouble. He finally admitted he’d been on his way to a sales meeting, in the other direction, but kept saying, “Don’t worry! Don’t worry!” and told us he was happy for the chance to practice his English. Even so, it must have been at least an hour out of his way.
In conclusion, I don’t know that I can point to a specific lesson learned, or insight into Japanese culture that I gained. Instead, what we felt was more of an overall sense of the kindness and generosity of the people in Japan. In the years since then, that impression has only strengthened, but it is those first, clueless encounters I remember most.