To Love, To Live Japan
Erich Makarov (Staten Island Technical High School)
I had never been enchanted with a culture before. That is, until I stumbled upon a simple, yet
absolutely beautiful, piece of music. The piece was Koto Funk by Minoru Muraoka. Utilizing almost every
traditional Japanese instrument, the Shakuhachi master created more than a euphonic beat: he captured my
heart. I listened to the vast array of sounds, the combinations of low and high, new and old, soft and
booming, surrounded by an aura of complete tranquility, enveloped in emotions and desires I could not yet
comprehend. This was my first touch of Japan.

With every new piece of Japanese music I listened to, no consumed, my desire to uncover the full
culture that lay behind these masterpieces became ever keener. Beginning with Japan’s history, I learned of
the great wars which engulfed the three islands, and the intermittent peace which fathered the beauty I was
falling in love with. I studied in great detail the wars of the Taira and Minamoto clans, the cunning and
brilliance of Oda Nobunaga, and the betrayal and insatiable desire of Ieyasu Tokugawa. I delved in delicate
poetry and yamato-e drawings of the peaceful Fujiwara period, the ukiyo (floating worlds) of the Edo
period, the westernization of Japan after the Meiji Restoration, and the revival of the 1960s that only a
people as industrious and dedicated as the Japanese could ever bring about. Nothing was quite as dramatic,
suspenseful, and motivational as the history of such a small group of islands off the coast of Asia. I was
intrigued, I wanted to know everything.

I gazed at a paper filled with hundreds of characters. By now I had learned the hiragana and katakana
systems of writing, but before me lay the greatest obstacle: kanji. I knew very well that this was not an easy
journey, but language was my bridge to the unobstructed beauty of Japan. I needed to cross it as quickly as
I could to enjoy the treasures that waited me on the other side. Many nights, I ploughed through the rows
and columns of characters, connecting images with words, sharpening my pronunciation, and practicing the
subtle strokes which produced these miniscule symbols – symbols which alone radiated with history and
aestheticism. To continue with such a difficult endeavor, I needed motivation, and what better motivation is
there than food.

“Kyō wa niwatori no kara age o junbi shimasu” (today we will be preparing chicken karaage) said
the grinning lady on my computer screen. My hands were washed, the chicken lay in front of me, and the
other ingredients were neatly positioned around the table. I was ready.

One hour later.

Flour was everywhere, speckles of oil covered the stove, all the plates were smothered in soy sauce,
but my prize was radiating in the pan. There they were, golden brown, sizzling in the heat, twenty pieces of
delicious chicken karaage. I stood smiling at my creation, until my mother came down and saw the
condition I left the kitchen in. True, it looked like a tornado had just passed, but I couldn’t care less. I had
done it: I made my first Japanese meal. That was only the beginning. In the next months I created a vast
array of Japanese dishes. I did not cook simply for the enjoyment of the meal. No, cooking was something
else: it was a way to discover Japan that no other medium could provide. Aromas, precise hand motions, the
calming music of the shakuhachi playing in the background – united, these factors brought a culture to life.

I was no longer studying the history, or observing the customs, I was living them.

As I sit today, writing this essay on a cold, rainy December morning, I cannot help but picture the
people of Tokyo gathered in the night, celebrating the Chichibu festival. How I would love to see those
magnificent fireworks, and the splendid Chichibu floats, decorated in shining lanterns. How I would love to
transport to Sekigahara, and witness one of the greatest battles in the history of the world. What I would do
to see the hills dotted with the rosy blossoms of the sakura. What I would give to meet the hundreds of
valorous men who built the nation of Japan, who created this unique world. People tell me I cannot do it,
but they are wrong. I can do it. I do it every day. Even as I am telling you of my dreams, I am living them.

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