In Japan, it’s fairly common to see huge packs of elementary school kids stomping about in waves of little matching yellow hats and loud yelling. The other day, my JR train was hit with such an attack, filling almost all 6 cars. Despite how adorable and precious kids are, I went out of my way to pick the one least swarming with the tiny little hooligans.

As luck would have it, I picked the train car with the bathroom, which is apparently a course of neverending amusement to kids that age who are on a fieldtrip, but still, only 15 or so kids were in the car, I assumed I could deal. I stood by the doors, reading away, but the second to last stop before my own ended up emptying out the seats nearby. The children rushed to grab them before I did, leaving me standing behind a seat of 4 kids attempting to get into a seat meant for two, and even more tiny bodies crowded around me. All of them were starting to give me curious looks.

Eventually, two girls in the seat were bold enough to catch my eye. Both bowed their head in greeting, and I returned the gesture with a smile. They continue staring, leaning in as close as the back of a train seat would allow. Finally, I say hello, earning a gasp from both of them, the shyer one muttering “Oh, she can speak Japanese…?”

The tide was broken. The unspoken rule of not speaking to the foreigner smashed. The gaggle of boys joined in the conversation, as did the students seated across from me. Where are you from? How long have you been here? They threw out all the American phrases they knew (which, for I’m sorry, thank you, hello, how are you, and it’s nice to meet you, wasn’t half bad. I told them as such.) I threw some back: what year are you guys, are you guys going to school? How’re your English studies coming along?

The rest of the passengers of the train are actually watching me, listening and half-smiling to themselves as I’m bantering with the kids. I still can’t tell if they were testing me or simply amused.

One particular boy was particularly sure of himself, walking up to me to ask me my favorite and least favorite foods.

“Ramen.”
“Hmm. And least favorite?”
“Natto.” “Natto?! I. Love. Natto.”

To which I protested that it was terrible amongst the laughter of his friends. They were excited when we reach the final station and I tell them I’m getting off as well. As I finally turn, they see some of the One Piece keychains on my bag. The same Nattoboy is apparently a fan as well. As his peers start tugging curiously at parts of my bag, he asks me who my favorite character is. Turns out we like the same guy; he was pretty excited about that.

As we walked through the ticket booths at Kozoji, I turned to go my own way, seeing the childrens’ teachers and not wanting to be a bother. Immediately, a roar of “BYE BYE” washes over me as I walk off. I’m half-way down the station and they’re still yelling my way. It seemed that everyone wanted me to turn around and wave at them. I certainly gave it my best.

It was this sort of curious, inquisitive attitude of children that, in all honesty, is saving Japan. You see many older folks glare foreigners down, half-wishing you weren’t there. Then you have kids, who are bursting with questions, wondering where you’re from, excited to use the handful of English they know on you.

If they can keep that sort of attitude into the next generation, and the next, then Japan surely has a chance of finally opening up and remembering that the rest of the world is not as monogamous as theirs. While at the same time, with a smile and a friendly conversation, one can see that perhaps we’re not so different after all.

Location: Kasugai, Aichi Prefecture, Japan