April in Japan means two things: cherry blossoms and a new school year. If only they could be matched for brevity.
As an English teacher in a high school in Osaka, one of my first duties is to introduce myself to the first-year students – fresh-faced 15- and 16-year-olds. My introduction to them will lead to their introduction to what I teach: the idea is we will all become fluent together in the Queen’s English, or President Obama’s. Or Jackie Healy Rae’s.
I have ditched fancy – or more likely crushingly boring – power point presentations about myself and Ireland in favour of letting the students do all the work: I give them my name and then I ask them to ask me questions.
The result is nearly always awkward silence. Forty nervous faces stare before eventually some brave student ventures forth with a timid hand. The class breathes a sigh and waits. I already know what the question will be: “Where are you from?”
Now I could be smart and answer Kyoto, which is where I live. But it’s a bit cute that, the teacher coming over all smartarse on day one.
Instead I throw the answer back in the poor student’s face: “Where do you think I’m from?” What follows is nearly always amusing. (Bear in mind that my title is Native English Teacher.)
First up are the usual suspects: America. England. UK. Australia. Canada. Followed by the not unusual suspects: France. Germany. Austria. Sweden. Spain. Finland. Russia. USA a couple of more times.
And finally there’s the he-asked-so-give-him-any-answer-at-all answers: Mexico. Madagascar. Egypt. Space. As well as the USA a couple of more times.
You should see their faces when I eventually say “China”. No one gets the “joke” and then I say Ireland and the class goes “Ahhhhhhhhh.” Really, they do – in chorus.
Because in Japan everyone knows Iceland. Ireland, however, is more of a known unknown.
In Japanese, the pronunciation of the names of the two countries is quite close, so when I tell people I am from Ireland the standard response I get is “so cold” .
It was only after figuring out that they were confusing Iceland and Ireland that I understood the “cold” inference. It has happened so often now that I have begun to embrace the mistaken identity. I have taken to becoming Icelandic.
Firstly, Iceland is one of those countries that does what it says on the tin, as opposed to, say, Wales or Turkey. (Global warming could present a problem to my countrymen a bit down the line - Meltland is maybe not going to be so appealing.)
Also because Iceland, like Japan, is renowned for its hot springs it is regularly featured on TV here. Tourism Ireland – if you are reading this – build natural hot springs and the Japanese will come. In their millions.
There's also the pride that comes with the territory. Iceland has given the world Bjork, Icelandic jumpers, an excellent stopover for Santa en route to America, tax rebates to major film and television networks to film in our country ( Game of Thrones , Batman , Thor ), and fish. And there's the fact that we let banks fail and we didn't fall off the face of the Earth despite everyone in the whole wide word saying we would.
But mostly my Icelandic adoption is a way to escape talking in clichés and stereotypes about my real home country, in favour of doing so for another country.
In Japan I am a foreigner first and foremost – and always. That’s just the way it is and will be. The Japanese have an “innate” way of making divisions – I don’t mean they are unwelcoming . Far from it.
Rather their division between inside (Japan) and outside (foreign) is as logical as taking off your (outside) shoes when you come inside.
And because I am different I thought why not be a little bit more different? Personally, I think the world needs more Icelanders.