If you had told me before going abroad that one of my most memorable conversations would be with a deer, I probably would’ve believed you, but only halfway. During our field trip to Nara as part of the Japan Center for Michigan Universities (JCMU) study abroad program in the Spring Semester, I had the chance to visit the famous Nara Park and Todaiji Temple with my classmates.
I’d heard all about the friendly, free-roaming deer who bow to visitors, and how you can feed them deer crackers, or shika senbei. What I wasn’t prepared for was how much I’d enjoy just being around them, even without food in hand, and how oddly understood I’d feel in their presence.
Let me be honest: I was scared at first. I’d seen videos online of aggressive deer in Nara chasing tourists down for crackers or giving little kicks if you’re too slow to share. When I got there in person, I saw it happen… Some deers really don’t like to wait for snacks. But as someone who didn’t buy senbei (I was too nervous to even hold any), I figured I’d be safe observing from a distance.
Except… They were so cute. Too cute.
Despite my lack of offerings, a few deer came up to me gently, without any of the pushy behavior I had feared. They let me pat them. They stood calmly by my side. I felt strangely accepted. There was one deer in particular, lounging peacefully on a wooden bridge, that I felt especially drawn to. I knelt beside it and, without thinking, asked, “Do you want to learn some English?” The deer blinked slowly, then shook its head as if to say, “Nah.” It even closed its eyes. But the moment I switched to Japanese, asking if it’d be interested in being my private tour guide, it reopened its eyes, as if vaguely intrigued by the familiarity of the language. I laughed to myself. It was silly, but in that moment, it felt like we shared a quiet understanding.
Visiting Todaiji afterward and seeing the Daibutsu (Great Buddha) was breathtaking, but what I’ll remember most, what will stick with me years from now, are those few minutes spent with deer who didn’t ask anything of me. As a first-generation Chinese-American student studying abroad, I often felt pressure to make the experience “worth it,” which at the end it was, and to be productive, to document, to learn. But those deer reminded me that just existing in a space, quietly, curiously, is sometimes more than enough.
When you’re first-gen, everything feels a little more unknown. I didn’t grow up knowing anyone who had studied abroad. I worried about whether I belonged, whether I’d be prepared, whether I’d be accepted, both by my classmates and the country I was stepping into. But Nara taught me something surprising: sometimes, when you stop trying to do everything “right,” when you stop chasing the perfect moment, the best moments find you.
Advice for Future Students:
You don’t need senbei to connect with the world around you. Let go of the pressure to do everything a certain way, especially if you’re navigating it all for the first time. Show up with openness. Speak from your heart, even to animals. And don’t be afraid to bow first, someone, or some deer, might bow back.
