by Ioana Lee
He took my hands and put them in his. There was another James sitting in front of me. That second version scared me. He continued to talk but I couldn’t hear him… My head started spinning, my sight got blurry and I felt like throwing up. I pulled my hands out of his and started running, just like a white shadow in the dark evening. I ran as fast as my legs could take me. I ran away from James but most of all I was trying to run away from me. I bumped against people who were coming home late from work. James was yelling after me to stop running. The scene was embarrassing but nonetheless real. Two emotional strangers were upsetting a quiet evening in Tokyo, a city that never understood what feelings, impulses and emotions are.
James caught me from behind. He harshly took hold of my arm. I pushed him away, saying:
“Leave me alone! You disgust me. You took advantage of our friendship James. You took advantage of my honesty and naïveté. You’ve been hunting for my weaknesses, thinking that I’d fall in your arms at the first fight with my husband. You are very stupid if you didn’t get to know me by now or if you imagined that I could feel something more for you than just friendship. I always saw myself as your older sister. You’ve lost everything now. I hope you think it was worth it. You know very well that I’m married and that the last thing I need right now is to dig my own hole or cut the branch from underneath my feet. I have more than enough problems than to add this one to my arsenal.”
“Iona, keep quiet and listen to me! You’re either naïve or you’re a very good actress. Do you really want to tell me that you think that a man, regardless of his age, could spend time with you without having feelings for you? Ever? You hate me now? Very well! I hate you too. You’re evil. You stole my heart and mind forever… and we both know that I’m not the only one who got mesmerized by you. Do I disgust you? I understand that but you must know that you’re disgusting me too. I’m thinking way too much of you… of your girlish figure with big, manipulative eyes. I know that you’re aware of your ability to seduce people. I’m tired of your insecurities and behavior. Why do you always try to surprise everyone? You’re too playful or too serious, too feminine or too tough… I wanted to get bored with you over time. There are so many other beautiful girls in this city. Why you? I never know what to expect from you because you seem to be fragile while being strong at the same time. You use your beauty by turning it into a weapon to hurt people…”
“You’re crazy! You’re out of your mind…”
“You must remember Iona how many times I encouraged you to stay with your husband. I told you countless times how hard it must be for him to be with a foreigner like you. Yes, it’s true, that I told you this because I was afraid of losing you. I was afraid that you’d leave Tokyo and return back to Romania. But at least I was honest. I understand your husband. He’s totally mesmerized by you. He’s hypnotized by your behavior. You’re saying that I’m dishonest… Oh well, I think you are the one who’s dishonest. You can’t tell me that you’ve never guessed that I had feelings for you. I don’t believe you when you say that you “don’t know who you are.” You know the power you have on people… Right now… you know the power that you have on me. Your eyes are filled with anger and passion at the same time. You like to enslave the men that you work with and you don’t only use your beauty… the way you talk, behave and act. You emanate passion and vitality every time you glance at someone. You should know that the weakest of us would take anything from you just to be able to breathe the same air. I wonder if all Romanians are like you or if you were born to be different. Evil innocence! You can go now. Pride yourself in having another victim. Be happy in your well hidden vanity…”
I left him standing there. I ran away. I was afraid of what I would find at home. I was confused and agitated. Ken was upset that I came later than I promised but didn’t say anything. I apologized for being late and told him that I couldn’t tell him what James had told me. I promised to tell him some other time.
I went to take a shower. I starred at myself in the mirror. It wasn’t true. James wasn’t right. I wasn’t evil and bad and didn’t know how I could be even if I tried. I was tired. I tried to go back in time to remember what I had said or done but it was useless. I wanted to understand if it was my fault… I slept a lot that night and had some really bad nightmares.
James and I started speaking again a long time after that scene. He apologized. We both agreed that it was better not to see each other anymore. We rarely talked on the phone and when we did, we kept our conversations brief.
The Japanese and the ghosts
After working through my fear of earthquakes, tsunamis and typhoons, there was another fear which was forming in my mind. It was very embarrassing. It was frightening to realize that I wasn’t as strong as I thought and that I allowed my life to be affected and controlled by fear. My new-formed fear was driving me crazy. I couldn’t forgive myself for being so emotional and really believing in… ghosts. I was terrified of ghosts!
Yes, you read that correctly—GHOSTS! On a rational, logical level I know that they don’t exist and that it’s plain stupidity to believe that they do. I always knew that people with strong religious beliefs couldn’t take such things seriously. I liked to believe that I fit in that category. If you came to know the Japanese culture fairly well, you’d discover that believing in the reality of ghosts is one of their cultural elements. You would automatically be included in the “uneducated” category if you dared contradict their firm belief in ghosts.
I’ve never met a Japanese that didn’t tell me at least one story about their encounter with ghosts. What was even more aggravating than their stories was that the Japanese usually don’t lie, especially about things that are a part of their culture and faith. My husband was terrified of ghosts too, because, as he said, he had had numerous encounters with them. I tried to convince him that this was only part of his imagination, that it couldn’t be true. I reminded him that being a Christian it was sinful to believe in them, that they were just superstitions… Unfortunately, instead of bringing everyone onto the fearless side I advocated, their collective fear instead gained ground on me.
One evening a guy told me that he had gone with a group of friends to a car race. He was driving his car and had another friend with him, while two other friends drove in a separate car behind them. The guys behind thought that the guys in the first car had also taken a girl with them to the race, without letting them know. When they saw the girl from behind, they called the other friends to make fun of them, teasing that they thought this was just a guy’s night out. The guys in the first car insisted that they never had a girl in the car. The guys in the car behind answered laughing: “It can’t be true. The girl is looking at us through the back window. She’s waving at us. Why are you saying that you are alone?” After they had said that the girl suddenly disappeared. I’ve heard many other similar spooky stories.
I talked to other foreigners to find out if they were also dealing with the same ghost issues I was. I found out that they had never seen ghosts before, but they’ve heard stories. Many of those stories had to do with hospitals… Whenever people visited their friends or relatives at the hospital, they saw ghosts on walls, ceilings or in bathrooms. I became very intrigued with this ghost phenomenon. I doubted that it came only from their religious beliefs. There were multiple television shows on the subject. Supposedly, the stories presented were real. Some of the stories were about people who would wake up in the morning with bruises and cuts, others who would call 911 claiming that someone was trying to strangle them. By the time the ambulance showed up at their door, the paramedics would find these people passed out, with visible marks on their necks.
In the beginning the whole ghost idea was amusing to me, but the more I immersed myself in Japanese culture the more it stopped being that way. I avoided going out during the evening or going for romantic walks by the water. I was mad at myself. I was embarrassed to admit in front of my family that I was afraid of ghosts.
Tokyo was at that time one of the safest cities in the world. I could safely walk at night with my purse, wearing fine jewelry. I never felt in any danger. I gave up my freedom of going out by myself during the evening because of my new fear ghosts.
Often times I’d come late from castings or shopping and was actually afraid to walk back home from the subway station. My walk was only 6 minutes long. I had to walk on a narrow, dark street lined with old houses. The quietness was unsettling and scary. I could feel something diabolical in the air. My heart beat faster and my head got heavier. It looked like there was fog ahead. I was so scared. I somehow knew that it was stupid. By the time I got home I was shaking uncontrollably. I couldn’t stop. I was terrified, especially when Ken asked me questions like, “Do you think that there has ever been someone who died in this house?” He fueled my fear by saying “I wouldn’t be surprised if we would have ghosts in our house. They are everywhere.” He was dead serious.
I remember watching a new series about ghosts. It was called “Incredible.” The title was written with blood-colored letters, trickling down the television screen. I watched the show every Thursday at 7 p.m. religiously! I found the show funny in the beginning, yet after a while my smile faded away. They were interviewing medical doctors, policemen, professors and lawyers about their ghost experiences. Even though it was scary and I knew that I should avoid watching it, most Thursday nights Kiku and I were sitting in front of the television, covered with a thick blanket. The blanket somehow gave me the feeling that I was protected. Silly, I know!
In the first five minutes they had warning messages on the screen telling us not to watch the show, especially if we had certain fears and phobias. Kiku and I didn’t listen and kept on watching. They showed original, uncensored tapings with ghosts. Slowly but surely the thick blankets made its way over my legs, chest and neck until I looked like a mummy. By the end of the show I had covered my head with the blanket. I’d stay wrapped like that until Ken would come home.
One day, I decided to ask Otoosan his opinion on ghosts. I trusted him implicitly and knew that his answer would reveal the truth. I wasn’t quite ready to discover it though.
“I have never seen ghosts. Of course they exist, yet I’m not afraid of the dead. I’m most afraid of those who are alive. They are the ones who are to be feared. They are the ones who could hurt you, not the dead. You should protect yourself from them wherever you are!”
A few years after my experiences with the ghosts I shared some of my stories with people in Romania. They all made fun of me, thinking that it was impossible for the Japanese to be so evolved and yet still believe in such silly things. I felt so embarrassed I decided to invite a Japanese man who was working for the embassy onto my television show. I asked him live on the show:
“How about ghosts. Do they exist or not?”
His answer was clear and direct:
“Of course they exist.”
“Mr. X… have you ever seen a ghost?”
“Yes, of course. Even now, Miss Kurosawa-san… there’s a ghost right behind you.”
Everyone who had made fun of me was watching the show.
I never found out if the ghosts were haunting Japan or just the minds of the Japanese, but I knew for sure that Japan haunted me wherever I went.
Raw or cooked? Raw!
Many adventures can be lived in a foreign country, especially in one where the language, culture, religion and mindset are totally different than yours. On one hand, Ken and I had a lot of fun whenever I made small mistakes or had certain arguments. On the other hand, he was very strict with the littlest of things—the ones that he considered serious. Thinking of our life back in Romania, he realized the enormous differences between our countries and us. Those differences were continuously grinding away at our international marriage.
The first time we noticed our culinary differences was when we first went to a traditional Japanese restaurant. This particular restaurant was best known for serving raw (and cooked) horsemeat. They brought us the sliced horsemeat, vegetables and some kitchen aprons. I didn’t know what to expect or what to do. It took me a while until I finally understood that we were paying such a high price for dinner just to be able to prepare the food ourselves. I saw two cooking stoves right next to our table. Really! I thought to myself. What was the purpose of going out to eat if we were the ones preparing our food?! Plus, on top of this, our clothes were going to smell like food. I later found out that the Japanese are very happy to prepare their food, even when they dine out. Very different!
Another different restaurant experience was when Ken, Uncle Koji and I went to dine out.
We got seated at a table with a cooking stove attached to it. I found out that the chef was going to cook everything in front of us. The chef welcomed us with a big smile on his face. He enjoyed hearing me speak Japanese. Then he asked me what my favorite fish was in the tank. The fish tank was situated close to our table. I looked at all of them. They were so beautiful. It was hard to pick one considering that there were so many—different sizes, colors and shapes. I pointed towards one that seemed more alive and colorful.
“Perfect!” the chef said.
In the blink of an eye, he took the fish out of the tank, hit its head on the table and killed it right in front of us. His dexterity and rapidity was similar to the one of a samurai. I was terrified. I started crying. Ken and Uncle Koji started laughing and the chef kept on asking me if he picked the wrong fish by mistake. What in the world is happening? I thought to myself.
Only after he killed the fish did I realize that his question meant which fish I wanted to eat, not which fish looked more beautiful or was my favorite. I couldn’t eat anything that evening and left the restaurant totally disgusted. Uncle Koji couldn’t stop laughing at my reaction. Ken was trying to explain to me that it was all a misunderstanding. I was upset with him because he hadn’t told me what to expect. I told him that I never wanted to see anything like that again. Never!
The Eternal Separation
In the meantime, my dreams of becoming a star in Japan were grand. I managed to audition, with Ken’s help, with the talent advisory board in Japan, also known as the Hollywood of Japan. A few meetings and some photo shoot sessions were already scheduled at their headquarters. At that time, I didn’t know that my beloved husband had narrowly directed my dreams towards the cultural department, priming everyone by saying that I only wished to focus on Japanese culture… Somehow it was better that I didn’t know what was going on behind the scenes… Sometimes it’s good to go through life as an ingénue, to go through challenges and experiences that life throws your way without knowing what’s on the other side, without knowing what will happen… Other times, it’s beneficial to go through sufferance, thoughtfully learning its lessons. You become a much stronger person, and if I could say so, a more pure soul.
As the day when the final decision from the talent advisory board was approaching, Ken became more agitated and quarrelsome. He would yell at me for no reason and I was paying him back with the same coin (as we say in Romania), as I couldn’t understand what was happening to him. I blamed all this tension born between us on him. I needed him to be next to me in this very important moment in my career and I wanted him to understand that I had to be in my best shape to be able to cope with all the upcoming challenges.
I started having many sleepless nights due to my nervousness, so I went to the doctor to have him prescribe some sleeping pills. After I picked up the prescription from the pharmacy I came back home. I remember that day, as being an ordinary one, yet there was some underlying tension between Ken and me, which I felt as I put my medication on the table in the living room. I left him in the living room and went into the bedroom. I wanted to talk to my father. I needed to hear him. I needed to talk to someone in Romanian, someone mature enough who would be able to be objective. I needed an impartial judge as well as a father. I picked up the phone and began dialing my home number back in Romania. Suddenly, Ken grabbed
the phone out of my hands and nervously asked me “What are you doing?”
“I want to talk to my father,” I tell him.
“Why?”
“What do you mean, why? Why do I have to tell you what I want to talk to my father about? I really feel the need to talk to him.”
“You want to tell him about me, don’t you? You want to ask him about our divorce. You think I don’t understand, do you?”
“Ken are you crazy? I want to tell him about the talent agency, about the fact that we are both under pressure, about what is smarter to do in this situation. I really want to hear my father’s voice.”
“No!... You’re not calling anyone. He’ll know from your voice that you aren’t happy and he’ll tell you to leave me and go back to your country”.
“Ken, that’s why I want to talk to my father… He is a wise and balanced man, plus I need to hear his voice without a clear reason…” I could tell from the look on his face that there would be no reasoning with him. “Then, please let me call my brother in law, Emil. He is like your real brother and I highly value his way of thinking. He won’t be on my side or yours, he’ll just give his advice as to what we could do to let go of the tension between us.”
