Life at Waseda
Chris Goring
It’s 8.48am on Friday the 12th May, 2023. A curly-haired 20-something Brit –sweaty after dashing from the nearest metro stop – walks hurriedly throughWaseda University’s main campus. I am en route to my first class of the day at
Waseda’s Center for Japanese Language. As is too often the case, I am cutting itgirigiri.1 I have adjusted to most things at Waseda over the course of the past 8months, but 8.50am starts remain one of the more challenging parts of university
life.
It helps, then, that the campus through which I’m rushing is quite sopleasant. Its spacious roads are lined with trees and greenery, and dotted withinteresting landmarks and quiet corners (where I spend a lot of my non-hurryingto-class time). The Waseda House of International Literature – a striking, brightwhite building – is surrounded with lush flowerbeds. Its spacious, modern interior
is stuffed to the brim with books and exhibitions: currently, there is one looking at
how novelist Haruki Murakami’s creations have travelled the world in translation.
Downstairs is The Orange Cat, a café frequented by students and academics andfrom whose speakers flows an endless stream of jazz so soothing that you hardly
even notice that you’re actually studying. Whenever I need to wrap my headaround some new kanji characters or memorise a hefty vocab list, I hunker downin The Orange Cat and balance the stresses of work against the pleasure of a matcha
latte. It’s not uncommon to run into another Daiwa Scholar there, one of thoselittle joys which brightens up your day.

The Tsubouchi Memorial Theatre Museum

1 i.e., very fine indeed.

The Waseda International House of LiteratureAs you head out the door from the House of Literature, your eye will likely
be drawn to the Tsubouchi Memorial Theatre Museum. Its façade makes for amarked contrast with much of the rest of the campus, emblazoned as it is with a
Latin motto and covered in mock Tudor beams. I’ve only visited once, but there
was an eclectic array of exhibitions on offer – one on adaptations of Murakami’s
works to film; another on traditional forms of Japanese theatre; a third in which
visitors were invited to watch a selection of Akira Kurosawa’s greatest hits, free ofcharge.
I was particularly drawn to the exhibition on traditional Japanese theatre.
Since our arrival back in September, I have made a point of trying to see as muchtraditional Japanese theatre as possible. While on a brief jaunt to Osaka with
Gareth and Victoria, I had the privilege of watching some 文楽 (Bunraku), a formof puppet theatre. I was struck by the ornateness of the puppets’ costuming andthe careful modulation of pace and tone throughout the performance. Long
periods of almost excruciating calm would give way in an instant to flurries ofmovement, sudden overwhelming rushes of dialogue and noise. I was enamoured
and intrigued, even if I didn’t manage to make out quite what the archaic Japanesedialogue was getting at. The 能 (Noh) performance I saw at the National Noh
Theatre in Tokyo had a similar effect (though I was immensely grateful for theinclusion of English subtitles). And, then, just recently, fellow Daiwa Scholar
Gareth kindly bought me tickets to see a full 歌舞伎 (Kabuki) performance. Thewhole thing was remarkable: gorgeous backdrops and eye-catching costumes andspinning stages, married to fight sequences rendered in dance and characters
striking iconic poses to the rapturous applause of the audience.

A Bunraku puppet

The backdrop at the National Bunraku Theatre in OsakaBut my mind is wandering, and I have a class to get to, after all. So, Waseda.
My favourite spot on campus is just opposite the imposing Okuma Memorial
Auditorium, whose clock tower is nearly always being photographed by one tourist
or another. Just across the way is where Waseda’s two resident cats can be mostfrequently seen. Cared for by one of Waseda’s ‘circles’ – a kind of student clubwhich foreign students are welcome to join – the rotund felines spend most of
their time luxuriating in the sun and accepting pets from besotted students.
Whenever I need a brief break from the stresses of student life, I hurry over to givethem a visit. They’re kind of snooty, though: being the objects of quite so muchaffection from quite so many students, they often pretend not to notice when
you’re patting them on the head. I’m sure I’m their favourite, all the same.

The Okuma Memorial Auditorium (Iam also one of those shutterbug tourists
apparently)

The real reason I came to Japan was tomeet the campus cats

To be fair to those snooty furballs, there are a lot of students at Waseda. I
only really noticed it at the beginning of this semester, back in April.2 Lastsemester, a large number of classes were held online due to the lingering effects ofCovid. This semester, however, almost everything is in person again and that shift
has made a world of difference. While it can be a pain navigating the crowds on
the way to class, the presence of so many rucksack-lugging young people has reallybrought the Waseda area to life. The streets are filled with excited conversation(snippets of which I even manage to understand from time to time) and queues
stretch round the corner from popular restaurants (of which there are many). It’s abuzzy, vibrant area, and the vitality of the campus population spills out into thesurrounding streets. On sunny days, it can even be beautiful, especially if you headthrough the torii gate of the nearby Ana Hachimangu Shrine.

2 And I’m noticing it again now, at 8.49am on Friday the 12 th May, 2023, as I weave through the crowd and into thebuilding where my class is taking place.

Views of Ana Hachimangu Shrine, Waseda

What I’ve really valued from my time at Waseda has been the opportunity toget to know some of the Japanese students here. Last semester I signed up to alanguage exchange programme, which matches Japanese students learning English
with foreign students learning Japanese. The courses themselves are exacting.
Homework is in ample supply. There’s always more words to learn andgrammatical forms to master and an essay due tomorrow and a sheet to fill out anda test to prepare for and, and, and –But when you’re speaking with a fellow student – applying the Japanese
you’ve learnt in a real conversation – the whole thing begins to click into place.
You make connections between abstract words and real experiences, and come toappreciate the value of all the learning you’ve been doing without even realising it.
What’s more, you get to build a connection with someone you would neverotherwise have met, and learn about life experiences at once similar and dissimilarfrom your own. The students I was partnered with talked to me about theirstruggles learning English (with which I could relate) but also showed me photosof their 成人式 (seijin shiki, a coming of age ceremony). This semester, meanwhile,
I have joined a speaking club where, once a week, you are put in a mixed group offoreign students and Japanese helpers. Some of the speaking prompts can be alittle silly, but it’s a lot of fun and great practice, bringing the language fromclassroom theory to practical reality.

For now, it’s classroom time, however. It’s 8.50am on Friday the 12th May,
2023, and a curly-haired 20-something Brit – a tad sweaty after hurrying up thestaircase of the Center for Japanese Language – arrives in his classroom just intime for first period. As I take my seat next to Hannah, a fellow Scholar, I reflect
on my time at Waseda so far. There have been many difficulties and things towhich I’ve needed to adjust. But as time has gone on, I have managed to chart myown course here and find ways to connect with Japanese students at this bigstrange institution. There’s a long way to go yet, both with the Scholarship andwith learning Japanese. But if what’s to come is as fun, strange, and exciting as
what’s gone before, then it’s something to look forward to. With that thought inmind, I take out my Japanese language textbook and get stuck in.