Kyoto’s Beauty Endures: Memories of the Pandemic Beneath the Cherry Blossoms

Text & Photos / Linda Yang  Editor / Jingying Zhang from Travel Site
 
On March 18, when Taiwan announced that COVID-19 cases had exceeded 100, I had arrived in Kyoto, Japan, on the morning of March 17, planning to study abroad as an exchange student for a year.

Before coming to Japan, I had heard that many Japanese people believed COVID-19 was just a type of flu with a very low fatality rate and that recovery was likely. To Taiwanese ears, this might sound unbelievable, given that Taiwan had experienced SARS and understood the power of viral transmission better than most countries.

On the second day in Japan, in the morning we followed a teacher from the school’s international office to the ward office to apply for a residence certificate and health insurance, and in the afternoon we visited the school, which happened to be holding its graduation ceremony.

In Taiwan, everyone wears masks, and even when someone coughs, people nearby tend to step away. Psychologically, the difference is quite significant (of course, there are also less fearful people in Taiwan, just as there are compared to Japan).

The inherent characteristics of the Japanese people (keeping a distance of more than a meter from others) seem to have also become a form of pandemic defense. It wasn’t until the first week at the supermarket that I realized the Japanese here are careful not to touch each other, and when passing by others, they say “sumimasen” before moving past, ensuring they don’t make contact. This made me feel that Japan has a lot of space for epidemic prevention and a high degree of openness.

After all, Taiwan is an island nation. When something happens, we not only lack international support but also have nowhere to escape to. So as a Taiwanese person, I understand that I must be self-reliant. Although everyone practices precautions similarly, it seems that Japanese people have more of a sense of “remaining ease” (a feeling of having leeway), and their sense of crisis is relatively lower. This is probably the biggest cultural contrast I felt upon arriving in Kyoto.

On March 21, the dormitory supervisor (administrator) where I live took us international students for a walk in Kyoto Imperial Park. Along the way, we passed by the newly opened UNIQLO. When we entered the department store, the Italian student who was with us finally put on a mask. He had been in Kyoto for half a year, had finished his courses, and chose to stay in Japan for another one or two months due to the outbreak. During this hanami (cherry blossom viewing) event, it was mandatory to wear masks. Before departure and before meals, the supervisor prepared alcohol for us to disinfect our hands (there was also always a bottle of disinfectant placed at the entrance of the dormitory).

As for those of us who had just arrived at the dormitory, we were prohibited from entering the common area for the first 14 days. As the situation in Tokyo worsened on the 26th, Japan raised its alert level nationwide, and our school announced that the start of face-to-face classes, originally scheduled for April 10, would be postponed to April 24, with online classes being conducted during the interim period.

Those suffering from COVID-19 could not escape the risk of potential death. On March 29, 2020, the Japanese comedy legend Ken Shimura passed away due to COVID-19. The live news broadcast on March 30, which I watched right after waking up, made me wish I could go back to sleep, hoping it was all just a bad dream.