Finding Furusato

The photo studio is the tall grey building on the right.

A few days ago I went into the local photographer's studio to get passport photos taken of Yana. Her passport expires in December, so I wanted to get things taken care of well in advance.
I was nervous about going in. Even though I know the head photographer and even though his son is in Yana's class and even though his daughter is my number one fan at the elementary school. To be honest, I was kind of dreading the awkwardness and I was concerned about them being able to properly take a Canadian passport photo.

After I finished work, I headed towards Yana's school and met her and Justin there. The photo studio is just around the corner from her school, so we walked there. The shop is typically Japanese and packs a lot into a small area. The building is taller than it is wide. Inside were two older ladies. The head photographer was absent, but I was pretty sure these two ladies must be family members of some kind. One was busy editing photos on a computer and the other came behind the front desk to help us. I handed her a translation of the photo requirements and she seemed confident enough and went about setting up the background and lighting. Yana and I stepped up behind the desk, leaving our shoes behind. After some fiddling, we managed to get a good photo. Then came the difficult part - cropping to the correct dimensions. Meanwhile, Yana was curious about everything in the shop, but the ladies were completely unfazed - and even welcomed her to try reeling the white background up and down and check out the flash and reflectors.

While we were trying to get the photos to the right size, in came the head photographer, A (his son), N (his daughter), his wife, their new baby, and an old man (the grandfather?). N's eyes lit up when she saw me and Yana, and the three kids quickly went to the table and began playing with little bear figurines. The photographer came behind the counter and helped with the photo sizing. Then we painstakingly translated his address, to be written on the back on the photos.

And at that moment, there was something so warm and comforting inside the tiny photo studio. All of us squeezed inside the small room - the grandparents watching on; the kids playing together; me, Justin, and the photographer trying to write a Japanese address in English...And I thought to myself, this is Chizu. Warmth, community, and kindness. People here are so friendly and welcoming. Though I may at times complain about the stifling feeling of living in a close-knit, tiny town - my students living below me and everyone knowing what I'm doing - the truth is, I really love this part of Chizu.

I thought of it also, when I discovered that the local bakery makes fresh bread for the school children to eat as lunches or snacks. The wonderful thing about Chizu is that people stick together. It may be a small town and the population literally dwindles every day as the elderly pass on. But it is a town with a mighty heart. In another town, a small independent bakery might flounder into bankruptcy. But here the life of the bakery has been ensured.

Here in little Chizu, I've learnt the word furusato. It can be translated as "hometown" or "old home". But it carries a deeper connotation, a longing for warmth and refuge, a place that recalls nostalgia and childhood memories. Furusato is connected to the rural past of Japan, one that references countryside communities. And I feel that now, I'm finally beginning to find furusato.

I chased after rabbits on that mountain.

I fished for minnow in that river.

I still dream of those days even now

Oh, how I miss my old country home.

Father and mother―are they doing well?

Is everything well with my old friends?

When the rain falls, when the wind blows,

I stop and recall of my old country home.

Some day when I have done what I set out to do,

I'll return home one of these days

Where the mountains are green, my old country home,

Where the waters are clear, my old country home.

- English translation of Furusato, composed 1914