In the summer of 1995, I had finished 2nd grade. I spent most of the summer holidays at my grandparents', who liked to take me on trips to nearby castles and other touristy destinations, of which the Rhine region has plenty.
One day, we boarded a sightseeing boat that went by the Lorelei rock, among other points of interest (I remember the Lorelei in particular, because the Lorelei song was played on the ship as we passed by).
On this ship, on which there were plenty of tourists, we met a Japanese lady, Hasegawa-san, travelling Europe with a friend (she's the one in the middle of the photo, I'm the kid with sunglasses to her left, and my grandparents are the two people to her right). I can't really recall what started the conversation, but I very clearly remember her using a digital pocket translator device that was so advanced that it somehow made it possible for two Japanese, neither of which spoke a word of English or German, to have a conversation with three Germans, neither of which spoke a word of English or Japanese.
Before we all had to disembark again, we learned that she and her friend were elementary school teachers from Tokyo, and we exchanged addresses. A couple of weeks later, 8-year-old me received a letter from Japan.
Besides a couple of paragraphs in both Japanese and translated German, the letter contained an origami crane that Hasegawa-san had folded for me, as well as some sheets of origami paper in traditional Japanese patterns. I remember how unbelievably precious those looked to 8-year-old me, with their fine paper structure and gold metallic details. It was unlike anything I had ever seen before, and I've kept them to this very day.
The Japanese teacher and I kept exchanging letters and little presents over many years. At one point, I sent her a German Schwarzwaldpuppe (a little doll wearing a traditional costume from the Black Forest), and when I became obsessed with Sailor Moon, she sent me an original Japanese volume of Sailor V - again, something that, at the time, I could never have gotten my hands on any other way, and that felt unbelievably precious to me.
At some point, I thought it would be fun to find some international pen pals that were my own age, and my teacher friend was happy to introduce me to two of her students. At that point, I felt confident enough in my second language skills to write simple letters in English. However, those Japanese girls did not, so I now had the task of finding a way to translate their letters, which proved to be an adventure all of its own.
This was still the 90s, so the only way of finding someone capable of translating a then very rare language like Japanese in a German small town was through word of mouth. Luckily, my grandpa, who was very supportive of me having pen pals abroad, was of great help in this. Back in his day, he had worked at Schneider, a manufacturer of industrial and photographic optics, who frequently partnered with Japanese brands. He remembered one of his former colleagues being married to a Japanese woman and contacted them. While his wife didn't feel up to the task, they in turn referred us to another acquaintance of theirs, a German lady called Barbara, who had studied the language and spent some years in Japan. So, some phone calls were made, a meeting was scheduled, and a couple days later, my grandpa and I met Barbara, who was able to translate my letters for me.
While my correspondence with those two new pen pals wasn't as long-lived as the one with Hasegawa-san - the language barrier being too big, and Barbara understandably not always being available to translate a little kid's letters - I can't describe the whole experience as anything other than magical. It provided a tiny peek into the world of two girls my age, living at the opposite side of the planet, using the most kawaii novelty stationery, sending me stickers found in Japanese candy, adding little drawings in a style that was completely different from the way kids in my class would draw, or photos taken with Purikura machines - something completely unheard of in the West at that time.
I would eventually get more pen pals my own age, though. It must have been around that same time, during the height of my Sailor Moon obsession, that I replied to some pen pal ads in magazines I read, and started exchanging letters with some girls from all over Germany that shared my passion for said magical girl anime. And while these didn't involve the same kind of peeks into a different culture, I couldn't say that they were any less special. They provided a platform for fandom discourse before the internet made that way more accessible, and, of course, we exchanged things like photocopies of pictures and magazine articles, or, most importantly, hand-drawn fan art. At the time, I might not even have realised how special it was to regularly create and receive original drawings, made exclusively for one individual, never to be shared anywhere else.
Looking back, I wonder how big a part the advance of the world wide web played, both in my own pen pal correspondence slowly fading at some point, and in pen pals in general not being a common thing anymore - and how much of it was just kids growing up, having other responsibilities, and simply not having the time to draw several fan arts for your long-distance friends every week anymore. What is obvious, though, is that, at a time when it only takes a click to access all the fan art and fandom discourse in the world, to catch up with the latest trends from Japan, or to order all the origami paper, mangas and kawaii stationery you can imagine online, having a pen pal may never feel as special again as it did back then.
Anyway, I am unbelievably thankful for the memories I made having my own pen pals, and I like to think that some of them even played a big role in making me who I am today. Who knows, if it hadn't been for that random encounter on a random sightseeing boat back in 1995, I may never have developed as much of an interest in Japanese culture as I did, and possibly wouldn't be doing what I do for a living today (which is creating art with heavy Japanese pop culture influences). Even Barbara, that lady who translated my letters, would make a return into my life at a later point, when I attended a Japanese language course she taught at the local Volkshochschule (a non-formal education centre found in most German cities). And little did I know that my future girlfriend took that same language course, although at a different point in time.
