Chapter 1

My name is Lori Janus. I just turned twenty years of age, grew up in a suburb of St. Louis, MO and usually attend St. Louis University where I recently completed my second year of study. I say usually because this summer, and for the next semester as well, I am taking part in a "study abroad' program in which I get to live, study, and work in Japan. My excitement level for this is about as high as anything that I have experienced so far in my life. It wouldn't take much to make that claim, however, because I have been raised in a very strict Catholic family, attended parochial school from kindergarten on, was never allowed to date until I turned 16, and even then, only if we "double dated" with another couple.

Growing up in my family was about as rigid and strict as you can imagine. My parents were determined that classroom and physical education were the only two categories of learning that really matter today, and that the development of social skills and interaction with others, especially members of the opposite sex, took a far distant third to the others. Much of this stems, I believe, from the fact that my mother is Japanese, one hundred per cent pure blood Japanese. She was born there, was raised there, and learned the subservient and obedient role that a woman plays in a Japanese household. It was that culture and those ideals that directed and formed the basis of our family environment. My sisters and I learned never to argue with a man, to listen carefully and to obey his directions and decisions. With this background, it was very difficult to be competitive in anything in school. The sports that I really enjoyed, skating and gymnastics, were more or less out of the question because of my height. When other girls began to develop, it was the only thing about my body that changed. Over the summer of my twelfth year, I shot up to almost five feet ten inches tall, making the tumbling and bars in gymnastics an impossibility, and the precision moves required on the ice impossible to accomplish. I was left with running track, especially the hurdles, a sport that I participated in but hated. Thus I was very, very surprised when my father, at dinner one evening, told me that he had entered my name for the opportunity to study in Japan for six months as a part of his employer's family member, student exchange program. Never in my wildest dreams had I ever imagined that my parents would allow me such an opportunity, especially considering that it would be the first time that I had been out of their immediate control.

My application was enhanced by the fact that I already speak fluent Japanese. It is the only language spoken in our home, because it's the only one that my mother knows. This gave me a significant advantage over the other applicants, and allowed the company to consider me as an advanced student in their program. Excited is not an adequate word to describe my feelings. I could not wait for the semester to end and summer to arrive. Everything except our clothing would be furnished to each participant, so I spent the two weeks before my departure shopping furiously for clothing suitable and appropriate for the role of corporate intern. At the company's suggestion, I postponed buying most of my student wear until my arrival, to assure that the styles and colors would be current to the area. That was the best suggestion I had heard in a long time. Skirts on college age girls in Tokyo are much shorter than in St. Louis, Missouri. My parents would never have allowed me to purchase anything like what the girls are wearing here.

I should back up a minute. There are six girls in the program this summer. We stay in a fairly nice apartment across the street and down the block from the company headquarters. Each apartment has three bedrooms (which are tiny) and a small kitchen. They are furnished in western style furniture so it's not a difficult adjustment to be here. The college campus, however, is no where near the apartment. In fact, it is on the far side of the city, and Tokyo, believe me, is one heck of a big city. To get to the campus for our classes, we must ride the subway. For the most part, Tokyo has a fabulous subway system. It moves a lot of people quickly, and the trains and the stations are usually pretty clean. The biggest thing about the subways is that during commuter rush hours, they are so crowded that the stations actually have people employed as "pushers" that push on the backs of riders to compress them tighter so that more people can get on the train. If you ride the subway at commuter time, you are packed into the train like a sardine in a can, only tighter. It is nearly impossible to move or even turn around in between stations. What ever way that a person gets "packed" into the car is the way he/she stays until the next stop.

One of the girls sharing my apartment is also an advanced student, but not quite as fluent in the language. We attend the same classes two days a week, but on three days my class schedule is different enough that I must ride during rush hours. The most maddening thing is that on these days, there is one stretch of the route where we are underground and our train must wait for another train to cross our tracks. Sometimes the delay can be almost twenty minutes, and during that time, we are all forced to stand in the darkened train, just waiting patiently for the other train to go past. I am not sure why they turn the lights off, but I heard that it was a train rule. Everyone just stands there in the dark, packed in, going no where, with the only sounds being that of the train equipment and the air conditioner running, and some minor conversations between riders.

On our first day in Tokyo, a female instructor, Mrs. Tanaka, came to our building to acquaint us with certain female issues that we would encounter. Most of the morning was spent by her talking about the obedient, subservient philosophy and was directed to the four first year girls. The last portion was for all six of us. The subject centered around social mistakes that we could make, such as bringing embarrassment or shame to someone, especially a male, bringing discredit to a man or any elder, and similar errors of judgment that when collectively thought of meant "You're young, therefore you are mistaken." She also talked briefly about our schedules, routes and the subway.

"In all of Japan, our personal space is very important, nearly sacred. We do not like to be crowded. We do not enjoy being physically close to a stranger. If you crowd into the personal space of another, especially an older male, you will offend that personal greatly--EXCEPT in the subway. Personal space in the subway is non existent. Everyone knows that and if you ride it, you acknowledge that. People are literally pushed together, bodies touching. There is no way to avoid it. It is important, therefore, to keep your purse up tight against your body, against your chest, with at least one arm covering it at all times. If you forget to do this, the likelihood of you owning that purse for the duration of your subway ride decreases quickly. One other thing. You can pretty much count on feeling "mauled" by strange hands while you ride. You will feel hands on your breasts and buttocks. You will feel people with their body entwined against yours. Ninety per cent of these touches and feelings will be completely innocent and caused strictly by the movement of the train. The other ten percent will be made by lecherous men and older boys who take advantage of the situation, groping women whenever and where ever they can. In most cases, the train car will be so crowded that you won't even be able to identify just who it is that is groping you. There is nothing a girl can do, really, because without substantial proof, the man would be found innocent and by accusing him, you will have ruined his reputation. So if it happens to you, just grin and bear it."