When I came to Tokyo, I felt like a curiosity. I remember early days standing in front of the traffic lights close to our apartment, waiting for green; often times there would be mothers with babies in strollers or in child carriers also standing there waiting. And more often than not, the little babies could not stop staring at my face. This was before the pandemic, so I was not wearing a mask, and while standing there trying not to stare back, trying to hide my smile awaken by seeing these adorable baby eyes, I was thinking that maybe I was one of the first non-Asian looking faces these little ones had ever seen. Such curiosity, such bewilderment – I imagine I would have that reaction if I today was waiting at a crossing and suddenly saw a green alien standing next to me.
That was Tokyo; since I came to Fukuoka, I have started to feel like a local eccentric instead. Today at the shopping center for example, with our son sleeping in his baby car and me and my wife discussing what plastic drawers would be good for our little walk-in-closet, I felt observed. I turn around and see a little girl, maybe just around the age of starting school, looking straight at me. I turn back to my wife, continuing the plastic-drawers-conversation, and when I once again look in the direction of the girl, she is still staring at me. My mask is covering most of my face, I am wearing a cap, and if that adds to the intriguing image or not I do not know, but I could not help but thinking that she has not come across so many people looking like me in her life. Or maybe I just look like someone famous?
In Tokyo it was easy to blend in – there are many non-Asian foreigners walking the streets. In our part of Fukuoka it is quite different. My wife is afraid I will feel lonely; I feel like I am kind of happy being the outsider – no reason to pretend or hide who I am to fit in, like I had so easy to find myself doing in Sweden. Now I can instead hide behind who I am – already different from the first look. And when I meet those curious non-judging eyes that I saw today, I cannot help but smiling big behind the mask, thinking that the way a child sees the world is so beautiful. Just as my son reminds me every day.
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