2 months later...

I just finished reacquainting myself with my previous blogs, reminding myself that it's probably a good idea to continue blogging. I miss the thoughtful, self-reflective moments I created when writing up posts abroad. It might have been easier to think of topics in Japan as I faced cultural dissidence on a daily basis, but I have no excuse not to blog as I settle into my new life in Minnesota.  My life is still filled with adjustments and learning experiences.  Self reflection and education doesn't stop.  Ever.

I stepped onto Minnesotan soil after a year abroad in Japan on June 1st.  Yes, it's now August 31, so make that nearly three months later.  My last blog in Japan concerned my commitment to purchasing only secondhand clothing from June 1, 2011 to June 1, 2012, so I thought I would provide a little update.

To be perfectly honest, I broke the rule. Once. There was an event that required the proper apparel, and seeing as it was a last-minute event, I bought a black dress. I did, however, stop at a number of consignment shops on the way to the store I purchased the dress.  Other than the dress, things have been going pleasantly well.  I'm currently wearing a top and belt I recently purchased at Everyday People on Hennepin in Minneapolis, each for $5.  It's a great little consignment shop.  I would also recommend Buffalo Exchange on Lyndale and Everyday People's second location off Snelling in St. Paul.

I'll continue to work on my secondhand clothing commitment and, more importantly, my blogging commitment.  Tom's mentor in college, Father Renee, continues to urge Tom to both read and write every day.  I have to say that Tom is much better at this than I am, but maybe now that he's around (back from Japan, too), he might rub off on me.

As I go along working, blogging, and buying used clothing, I will continue to reacquaint myself with the state I love.  This weekend will be adventure-packed as Tom and I head north to the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness for a long weekend of canoeing and camping.  It's been a while since I've paid my respects to the beautiful north country; I'm practically giddy with excitement.  By next week I should have another post up with trip details and lots of photos (I apologize for the lack thereof in this post).  Until then, sayonara!

New Adventures, New Challenges

As one adventure is about to end I am ready to start preparing for a new one back in Minnesota.  This past year has been full of challenges, be it language barriers, new places, language barriers, new people, and well, language barriers.  I'll be returning to my home state in less than two weeks.  Yes, a new job awaits me at the University of Minnesota, which will be an adventure and challenge on its own, but I would love some personal challenges to tackle on the side.  That brings me to the following:

I have been extremely aware of my personal belongings the past few days as I've started to eye my closet with a discerning gaze... "Is all of this worth a $75 oversize baggage fee?"  I'll be getting rid of a few loyal, but rather tattered, pieces of clothing and needing a few "new" pieces for my new job back home.  That said, I don't have any money.  Like, none at all.  Juuuust enough to cover another month's worth of loan payments and maybe a sandwich or two on my 18-hour journey home.

My luggage allows me to smuggle a 12-year old child

My awareness and fear of a large amount of personal belongings combined with a lack of money have helped me create my goal for this next year.  And when I say year, I mean starting June 1st, 2011, the day I step a foot back on U.S. soil, through June 1st 2012.  For this next year, I will only purchase used clothing (sans bras, shoes, socks, and underwear).

I've already had a little taste of what Minneapolis has to offer in the realm of thrift shops, and I am thoroughly impressed.  In fact, the pieces of used clothing I own from Buffalo Exchange (and a garbage bag of old clothes my mom's co-worker didn't want anymore) are some of my favorite pieces.  I know I'll be in good hands in Minneapolis, especially with Uptown and its trendiness only a bike ride away.

So, to those of you who have that bag of old clothes sitting in your trunk with a 'Goodwill' label on it, sit back, think if there might be a piece or two I'd like, and send them my way.  Used clothing is even better when it's free!

Anticipation

I'm on my final countdown in Japan.  Fifteen days, three plane rides totaling 18 hours, and only 14,584 km separate me from life back in Minnesota, where in which I will move to a new city and start a new job only five days after stepping off the plane.

Currently, my days consist of... Oh, let's see... knitting, reading, walks, photography, cooking, traveling and cleaning.  In hindsight, my domesticity makes me queasy, but it's rather quite enjoyable.  My current laid-back lifestyle will be contrasted with a new daily life consisting of a REAL job, whatever that means, and the creation of a life of my own. I will be reunited with friends and family; heck, interactions with them alone could fill my schedule.  I have been looking forward to starting a life in the wonderful state of Minnesota for long enough to make me seem incredibly obsessive (just ask Tom).  I dream of Trader Joe's, seeing my niece and nephew, Trader Joe's, meeting with friends at coffee shops (Isles Bun & Coffee!), biking on Minneapolis' excellent bike trails, cashing my first semi-substantial paycheck, etc.

A big reason I'm super duper excited to go home.  She'll have a  little brother, too.  Any day now!

The anticipation comes into play quite obviously when I remind myself how quick I will have to do a 180.  I'm currently writing this entry while sitting in the same clothes I wore yesterday, sipping tea and creating a little 'to do' list in my head (a 'list' that only consists of making hummus and hopping on the bike to the local tourist office to ask a question).  Maybe later I'll make myself some lunch, possibly hummus and veggie sandwich (I have all day to think of these things), knit while watching a documentary on Nepal, and do some laundry.  Sounds like heaven, yes, but I have occasional lapses into restlessness where I wish I could enjoy these things as a reward for being busy instead of having all day to enjoy things I might take for granted.

So maybe I'll flourish as a returnee to the familiar feeling of being busy.   I sure hope so.  I also hope I'm not glorifying life of a Minneapolisian, conjuring up an exciting yet unrealistic image of my life in the big city.  Will it be all I hoped for?  Hope hope hope.  I hope for a lot.

While I think about what's ahead, I'll also try to get the most out of my short two weeks left in Hokkaido.  We'll rent a car this weekend, eat lots of Japanese food, and simply enjoy one another as we prepare for another two months apart (again?  really?).  I've acquired so much enjoyment out of simply living in a foreign country that I could go without these last few hoorahs if needed, but they'll be a nice topper on a fantastic year abroad.

We'll also most likely revisit the local karaoke joint for one last all-you-can-drink fiasco

So where am I going with this post?  It's a bit stream-of-consciousy, just thoughts on a page, but it helps puts things into perspective.  A new job means a large learning curve.   I'll be back to paying rent and upping my loan payments.  I won't be able to travel like I have the past five years.  But, I'll have my family and friends and a life in a city and state that I revere so highly.  This last year was a great experiment; I had time to learn about myself, Japan, and I ate a lot of great food.  Now it's time to go home.

Coddling

As I mentally prepare myself for a trip to Malaysia and Thailand, I have brought myself to a sense of awareness in Japan I haven't reached before.

On my to-do list today is to buy a few locks so we can safely store our luggage at hostels.  Last night Tom and I estimated how to best pack our luggage so as to avoid any issues like pick pocketing.  I spent a good amount of time researching effective bargaining techniques to avoid getting cheated on taxi fares in Thailand.  Just thinking about bartering for a taxi fare makes me sweat.

Japan has coddled and cosseted me.  There is no bargaining when I enter a store or hop in a taxi.  Almost every person and situation I've encountered here has been "fair."  My cell phone has been left at 7-11s and promptly returned.  A friend's wallet has been forgotten on a train and returned safely.  The streets of Mantorville, my hometown in rural Minnesota, is probably more dangerous crime rate-wise, than the streets of my current residence in Tomakomai, Japan.

Cue my note of thanks.  Japan has let me relax in a foreign country for the first time in my life.  My first trip abroad was with an overprotective (but well-meaning) teacher in Spain, who convinced us (a bunch of high school students) that we were representing the United States as ambassadors and were required to be extremely aware of our surroundings at all times.  Bold "REQUIRED" and "ALL."  It was a great lesson learned, but I feel I am too guarded and introverted because of this.  I later studied abroad in South Africa, where I was advised to never go outside at night without at least one male in tow.  After a trip to Uganda this past year which came with lengthy lectures on safety, it is safe to say that I have trained myself to be uptight in foreign countries.  I cringe at the thought of going out for a beer for the fear of making myself seem obnoxious and/or culturally insensitive.  Take public transport?  Be careful!  To make it short: I'm not much fun (just ask Tom).  Or at least I wasn't before getting to Tomakomai.

Japan has offered me the chance to let my guard down a bit.  Tom will tell you otherwise, but I feel myself being a little more outgoing lately.  Karaoke with people I just met?  Sure!  Dinner at a mom & pop restaurant with owners that only speak Japanese?  You bet!  During my time in Thailand and Malaysia I'll need to stay extremely aware of my surroundings, keep an eye on my belongings, and barter more than I'd prefer.  That also comes with more forward, lively and colorful cultures, but I won't get into that now.  I'll use this opportunity to say thank you to Japan and appreciate the coddling before returning to Minnesota in June.

Back in Japan

On the 18th, Tom and I decided to take a little break and spend a week in Seoul.  There were a multitude of factors that brought us to purchase tickets including concerns from family, a deteriorating Fukushima power plant, and a great opportunity to travel to South Korea.  It turned out to be a wonderful trip, including cathartic time with family members (we stayed with Tom's cousin and his family).

Tom and I with our wonderful hosts in Seoul

We're midway through the week back in Japan, still keeping a close eye on the nuclear plant down south. Even though we keep a close eye on the radiation levels, my concerns for personal safety are decreasing at a rapid rate.  I'll occasionally check U.S. news sources to see what they've been saying, and every time becomes a frustrating experience.  If I turn on the news in Japan, a majority of stories are dedicated to those who were hardest hit, the people of Miyagi prefecture and surrounding areas.  Rarely do I see CNN covering a story on the people of the disaster.  What about the death toll that has skyrocketed to over 10,000? What about those still missing?  How are those remaining surviving?  What conditions are they living in?

The 24-hour news networks in the States need to discuss more than alarmist, generalized stories on radiation.  

How about the conditions in the rest of Japan?  Hokkaido, to my knowledge, is doing fine. Other than supermarkets being short on canned items because they've been shipped to shelters in Honshu, I haven't seen or felt any affects post-earthquake.  Fox, MSNBC, and CNN can make all of Japan out to be a disaster zone, while in fact, people have been back to work for weeks.  That's not to say that Japan is fine.  Thousands of people need help, and will be getting help.  As I mentioned, canned goods and some fresh food from supermarkets in Hokkaido have been shipped to affected areas.   Same with the Tokyo area.  Many people are helping in their own way, by persevering.  Japan has been hit by disasters, man-made and natural, so many times in the past century that if they were unable to pick themselves up and return to work, the country would not exist today.

As for donations, aid organizations are going crazy over Japan.  Japan is a developed country and has the resources to help its people, unlike Haiti, who experienced a horrible earthquake only three years ago.  Education prior to donating is key here.  There's a variety of websites out there dedicated to making a wise decision when deciding where to put your money.  I've listed a few below that concern Japan:

Aid Watchers
Reuters
Stratosphere International

For now, Tom and I will keep updated with radiation levels, but our thoughts will stay with those in and around Fukushima and Miyagi prefectures.  We hope Japan can do what it does best: focus on the community, pick itself up, and persevere.

The earthquake

It still amazes me how quick things can change.  One second I'm at my desk checking my email, and the next I'm running outside with my co-workers, watching as buildings around us shake and sway.  I remember feeling the onset of the quake, what I thought was going to be like others I've felt: minor and short.  I saw my computer monitor start to move.  We stopped working.  I looked to a co-worker and said "Jishin?"  She nodded and repeated "jishin" as it began to grow a little stronger.  Andrea grabbed her desk like she was ready to run out of the building, and soon the office started to make noise.  We ran out the door into the open courtyard that connects the university offices.

As the earthquake gained in strength, everyone turned their head in the same direction, to the largest building directly opposite the courtyard.  It began to sway and shake, making the most horrid of noises, rocking back and forth on its foundation.  I turned around, looking at all of the neighboring buildings, wondering if where we were was actually a safe place to be.  Some people had crouched down to support themselves, screaming at the violent shaking. I don't even remember feeling the earth; I was mesmerized by the haunting movement of the buildings. 

Within twenty seconds, it was all over.  Everyone immediately reached for their phones, pulling up news sources and calling family and friends.  We were told to stay outside, to wait until we had more information.  We knew there could be an aftershock that had the possibility of rivaling the power of the original quake, so Andrea and I stared blankly at each other and our surroundings for a while.  We could still feel the earth move underneath us.  Being the only two foreigners, a few people approached us asking if it was our first 'big one' and that it was the largest they've felt in years.  I don't think anyone would have guessed at that moment Japan had just experienced one of the biggest earthquakes in its recorded history and that a tsunami was on its way towards the shores of Japan, one so destructive that it would take thousands of lives and leave thousands more without homes.

Crack in the foundation at Bunkyo Gakuin University

I soon began to feel the need to get in contact with Tom.  I had no idea where the epicenter was, how big the earthquake was, and if it had reached Hokkaido.  After about thirty minutes of waiting, I asked a co-worker if I could run back inside to grab my cell phone.  People were going in and out, grabbing their coats and other personal items.  I was given the OK as our office is easily reached from the outside.  As soon as I reached for my phone on my desk, I heard the shelves in the office make noise and felt the ground beneath me shift.  I ran outside as the M 7+ aftershock rocked Tokyo.  I soon found out that trying to contact Tom via cell phone was futile as cell phone services were down. 

News anchors experiencing aftershocks

 The Bunkyo staff was moved to different location outdoors, and there we waited for another twenty minutes.  We watched lamps in the cafeteria swing as aftershocks rolled through.  I remember feeling like I was trying to keep my balance on a bus.  We caught pieces of information from office workers on mega phones: the subway lines are closed, it's still not safe to go indoors.  I tried multiple times to reach Tom, but had no luck.  Eventually we were able to turn on the TV to find out what was going on beyond the walls of Bunkyo Gakuin University.  We soon learned that we were so very, very lucky.  What we saw was devastating.  We watched from an aerial view the tsunami sweeping over Sendai, cars trying to escape, houses being washed away. By now, most of those who have access to TV and the internet have now seen footage of this tsunami.  My boss watched on in awe as her home prefecture was mutilated by the earthquake and tsunami.  Others tried to email their friends and family in the Sendai area.  I was able to get through to Tom to find out he was fine.  Soon news networks around the world were covering the earthquake in Japan.

Where the water used to be at a convenience store

Three days later, we are still feeling aftershocks (Japan has felt over 300 aftershocks in total since Friday).  They are enough alone to make me want to throw down two grand for a ticket home.  One minute you focus your attention on something other than the quake, and then with a jolt, you're reminded that you've successfully located yourself on the volatile Ring of Fire.  Japan has also implemented rolling blackouts, the first in history, to help ease the strain on power plants.  My day is spent on the computer, trying to keep myself updated. I have an irrational fear that I won't get some piece of imperative information and put myself in danger.  The stores are being drained of food, as shipments haven't come in since Friday. To say I'm stressing myself out would be an understatement.

After talking with friends in Japan, people are surprised at how fast the Japanese have transitioned back to daily life.  So far it's been difficult for me to transition from survival mode back to living-my-life mode.  It seems like my co-workers have been more successful at this transition.  I have no "lesson learned" final statement after this whole ordeal.  Life throws you curve balls, and I have no idea how to deal with this one quite yet other than just learning how to move on.

Packing Light

My time in Tokyo is coming to a close.  Within the next two weeks, I’ll be moving to Hokkaido for a few months with Tom, temporarily amending our seemingly endless long-distance relationship.  These two months of what we like to call “normal” time together cannot come soon enough.  

Before I can let my mind settle on daydreams about Hokkaido, I have to first finish a few errands.  On my ever-growing to-do list is to practice packing my belongings into the two pieces of luggage that carried my material possessions to Japan.  Granted, I can fit in one of those pieces if I’m feeling agile, but it’s still a relatively small amount of space to carry a year’s worth of necessities, memories, and souvenirs.  I’m always keeping myself in-check, and often not having enough luggage space gives me enough motivation to not buy a new souvenir and save my money.  I’ve begun to think of this initially nagging thought as more of a blessing, as I realize how burdensome material possessions can be.  

Grant, my cousin, ventured to see if I could smuggle him to Japan

I’ve traveled before, and I’ve kicked myself for not bringing home more souvenirs.  After two weeks in Spain, I have only a key chain to prove I spent two tiring weeks speaking poor Spanish.  A week in Ireland left me with a small drunken trinket that says “I got pissed in Ireland.”  I imagine myself in a future apartment or home, delicately placing a set of prized Japanese pottery back in their rightful place in the china cabinet, but yet I can’t get myself to buy that set of Japanese pottery for the fear of it breaking in-transit (a lack of cash may also play a part in this issue).  

Considering my circumstances, I have spent a lot of time realizing that what I’ll bring home will be far more valuable than a Japanese kimono or sake.  I have gigs of pictures, a plethora of memories, and a basic understanding of Japanese culture to share with Tom.  It may seem obvious and a tad cliché, but it’s surprising how consuming the process of buying souvenirs can be.   

As I prepare for the move up north, I’ll be sure to keep my expenditures down and my baggage weight down these next few weeks, remembering that even more important than avoiding overweight baggage fees is to understand that the souvenirs that will last the longest won’t need to be physically packed away.

Life vs Adventure in Japan

Last week I was busy teaching Survival English to ten students who are leaving for New Zealand at the end of March for four months of studying abroad.  It would be safe to say that  I am thoroughly jealous of their impending adventure. I asked them repeatedly what they were hoping to do when they arrived, with thoughts of my own dream vacation in NZ floating around in my head. 

Have you thought about bungee jumping? 
Backpacking? 
Maybe some mountain biking? 

I expected murmurs of excitement, but all I got were blank stares.  They were travelling to NZ for different reasons other than sightseeing.  After some poking and prodding, I found out that their wish was not to solely experience NZs array of adventure sports, but to live with a family, learn English, and experience life as a New Zealander.  It seems like a simple request, but it's more difficult than any adventure sport I'll ever encounter.

I spent my time abroad in South Africa taking classes about everything South African, traveling, and volunteering.  Homestays weren't common, and none of us learned more than a few words of IsiXhosa, IsiZulu, or Afrikaans, three of the 11 national languages of South Africa.  Our study abroad wish was to travel to try to begin to understand South Africa's tumultuous history and how it has affected the present situation through different lenses including literature, politics, health, music, and education.

I often compare my experience in South Africa with my college roommates' experiences in Guatemala.  Courses were focused on learning Spanish, and they stayed with host families.  We had vastly different experiences simply because of our living accommodations and purpose, nevermind the obvious differences between Guatemala and South Africa as nations.  Despite this, I feel like neither experience was better than the other; they are simply incomparable.

I like to think that Japan has given me the chance to sample different abroad experiences - initially I was the typical tourist, always moving around the city in an effort to cover that Lonely Planet Top 10 Places To See in Tokyo list.  Now, I'm still a tourist, but I have "reduced" my Japan experience to going to the grocery store, cleaning my apartment, hanging out with friends on weekends, and going to work during the week.  I'm attempting to learn basic Japanese, and even though I'm not living with a host family, I get to experience Japan' second home: the work environment.

The past few weeks I've been especially restless. I've hit that moment where I'm tired of touring Tokyo; I want to experience familiarity, yet there's this little slice of guilt that haunts me, reminding me that I have yet to see so many places in Japan.  I have resorted to reminding myself of the NZ study abroad group - focus on life in Japan.  Be thankful for the every day situations and relationships.  Revel in your trips to the grocery store.  Study the language.  Enjoy life as a Japanese would. 

It's time when things start blooming in Tokyo - soon the cherry blossoms will be a big attraction

Things I'll miss... or not.

I just purchased a plane ticket to Hokkaido (Japan's northernmost island) today.  My contract with Bunkyo Gakuin University is up come March 24, and the plan now is to move up to Hokkaido to hang out and travel with Tom for a few months.  That means I have only about a month left in Tokyo, which has made me particularly reflective. 

Hokkaido, specifically Tomakomai, is much different than Tokyo as requires a little more work to be comfortable.  I was just in Hokkaido last weekend for the Sapporo Snow Festival, and during my stay I was reminded of the differences in living situations between Tom and I.  I have a convenient little apartment in the middle of Tokyo, which was built only a few years ago so the appliances are new and efficient.  I can easily rely on trains and buses to get me around, as the train station is a 3 minute walk from my front door and the a bus stop is even closer.  Tokyo has little to no snowfall (last night's inch of snow was the exception), so staying dry and warm is usually not an issue in the winter.  Let's just say I'm really comfortable in Tokyo, and frankly, a little bored.

A mini-convenience store located on the subway platform with more things than I could ever want

Hokkaido was an experience this last weekend.  It was filled with snow and ice festivals, skiing, mountains, and trips to coastal cities.  It was also filled with cold showers, old apartments, kerosene heaters, icy sidewalks, and long walks.  Tom's apartment is far from new and has experienced years of misuse.  The shower is a crank-and-light, gas-heated, piece-of-crap that has a less than desirable water pressure.  The kerosene heater heats one out of the five main rooms in the apartment, so everything has been centralized in one room including the bed, mini-couch, washer, kotatsu (heated coffee table), and TV.  The local train station is a 25-minute walk in the snow and ice-covered sidewalks, and the trains leave half as frequently and are about twice as expensive than Tokyo.  The temperature fluctuated last weekend between -5-10 C and required a lot of gear to stay warm at the many festivals and outdoor activities.  Everything that is avoidable or a non-issue in Tokyo became a challenge in Hokkaido.  Despite all of these frustrations, I found myself happier there. 

The main living space in Tom's apartment

Convenience is nice, but it leaves something to be desired.  When daily life is easy, it leaves little for you to work for.  Working and waiting for the apartment to warm up made me appreciate the heater.  Same with a warm shower.  Trips to the grocery store became more meaningful and rewarding.  There's something especially satisfying as you defrost from a long day skiing over a hot bowl of ramen or dry off after a cold shower in front of the heater.

Tom and I on Mount Isola at the Rusutsu Ski Resort in Hokkaido

Sure, I'll miss the 7-11 around the corner from my apartment and the temperate Tokyo climate, but I more look forward to face little challenges in life to make life more meaningful in Hokkaido.

Culinary Creativity

I've always thought myself to be inventive (or at least flexible) when it comes to cooking thanks to years of Food Network conditioning and food "experiments," but after five months in a foreign country where I don't speak the language, I can now be confident in my culinary creativity.

After my arrival five months ago, I quickly found that unless I wanted to spend a fortune on groceries every week buying food that's easily recognizable and Western like cheese, butter, meat, cereal, peanut butter, etc. (things that are not-so-coincidentally unhealthy), I had to adapt and start cooking food that's popular in Japan.  That means venturing into the grocery store with an open mind and a good dose of patience.  That's an interesting box of... green stuff.  I wonder what it is...? 
  
My grocery runs have become more of a guessing game than anything, so I've now begun researching recipes and writing down the Japanese kanji for the item to try to find in the store.  It makes for long trips, scanning the isles for those two kanji written on the back of my hand, but I don't mind.  This method has allowed me to learn some kanji and to leave the store confidently knowing that I indeed bought rice wine vinegar, or at least something similar with vinegar, not cooking sake.
  

  
Japanese curry complete with a cute Pooh and Piglet

As long as there are pictures, I usually do OK.


The WORST is when a Japanese label is slapped over English instructions; I usually allow myself a few minutes to attempt to remove the label before relenting.


Some foods I've been able to latch on quite fast because it's cheap and fairly healthy (and easily identifiable in the store).  This would be true with curry.  I'd compare Japan's fascination with curry to the State's fascination with Mexican food.  Japan has taken curry and made it its own, found in the plethora of curry options in the isles of the supermarket, similar to the U.S.'s Taco Bells.  Japan's curry is sweeter and milder than Indian or Thai curry, and definitely not as spicy.  Despite this, I'm still able to find Thai and Indian spices for curry.  My new obsession is to make a red Thai curry with Japanese vegetables like lotus root and Japanese sweet potatoes, which are much more affordable and accessible than some of the familiar vegetables like bell peppers or vegetables that are popular in true Thai/Indian curries like peas and lemongrass.  When I say obsession, I mean obsession; curry has been my meal of choice for the past two days and there is still some waiting for me in the fridge for lunch and dinner.
 

The makings for a Japanese-Thai curry: Japanese sweet potato, carrot, potatoes, onion, green beans, ginger, lotus root, coconut milk, sesame oil, and red curry paste

All of these culinary excursions have exercised my creativity and made me a little more outgoing, both concerning food and socially.  I'm not afraid to ask for help in the supermarket, I have been trying new restaurants and foods, and I'm excited to share my new meals with friends.  The one downside is my need to counter my eating with some exercise.  That's what the walk to the store is for, right?

Homemade red curry, mango lassi (to cut the heat), and naan. Om nom nom.

Side Street Adventures

This weekend I don't have anything planned.  Last weekend I remedied an open schedule with a solo adventure to Enoshima Island south of Tokyo which was a success.  Despite it being a day trip, expenses quickly mount up in Japan, especially when you are near Tokyo. I spent $35 just in train tickets, plus $20 for food and $25 in souvenirs; a day trip cost me $80.


View from West side of Enoshima Island

 It's about time for my loan payments to be deducted from my bank account, so I'm looking for a cheaper entertainment option this weekend in Tokyo.  My number one cheap choice: going on a walk around my neighborhood.

It sounds simple, and it is, but I get more out of these side street walks than many other excursions I make around the city.  Plus, you get the added bonus of exercise if you make it long enough (another thing that's expensive in Tokyo are gym memberships).  Tokyo is an old city, old enough to be developed before grid-patterned city planning was popular.  The result is a maze of streets, both large and small.  I'm always discovering new ways to get to my favorite grocery store, and I usually encounter something new and fascinating on these adventures. 

I have yet to get my bearings in Tokyo; I have no idea where north is, and I don't know if it would be useful to know.  I get turned around when I enter a new alley, but that makes the adventure that much more exciting.  I do stay around my neighborhood, so when I pop out of the maze work of alleys, I can identify where I am rather than becoming completely lost in a new area.  I make sure to wear comfortable shoes and to bring along my camera, and then I see what I can find.  In the past I've come across interesting architecture, interesting stores, a hidden pond, beautiful gardens, a park, a great restaurant, a tea shop, a handful of shrines, friendly cats, English-speaking natives, and great views of the area I've called home for five months. 

Just one of the thousands of alleyways in Tokyo, and a happy fat cat enjoying the sun in Ueno Park

I've discovered how fun it is to look at something like you've never seen it before; it's difficult to disassociate yourself, but once you get past the familiarity it works wonders.  Soon you notice things you've never 'seen' before.  Even though Enoshima Island was new and exciting, I'm just as anxious to step out of my apartment for an affordable adventure around Bunkyo-ku.

What is American culture?

I've been busy preparing lesson plans for a few groups of students who will be studying abroad in the United States and Canada.  It's more difficult than I had imagined.  We (my co-worker and I) will be teaching the students 'Airport English' (i.e. how to get through customs), how to introduce themselves with a little more fluidity than taught in the average Japanese high school (Hello. How are you? I'm fine.), and how to interact with a host family.  I asked another co-worker, a Japan native who studied abroad in Australia, what information she might have wished she had when she first went abroad.  The first thing she said was, 'How to explain Japanese culture.'

Funny, isn't it? 

I'm biased and naïve, but I think Americans have a particularly difficult situation.  At least that's what I felt the first few weeks in the chat lounge after trying to answer an American culture-related question.  The United States is a relatively new country; only about 300 years old.  It's made up of a conglomeration of cultures and traditions and is consistently morphing into something new.  In contrast, Japan is a nearly homogeneous nation (over 90% Japanese) that is well over 2,000 years old.  I could probably give a more thorough overview of Japanese culture than American right now if I was asked, and that's precisely because we're never asked to explain our culture when we're living it every day.

When immigrants arrive in the United States, whether it be Hmong in the 80s and 90s, the Irish and German in the 1700s, or the Latinos today, people come to the United States with the idea that things will be better in the U.S.  I'm currently reading a book about a displaced Hmong family that fled from the war from Laos to Thailand, and when the refugee camp closed down in Thailand, to St. Paul, Minnesota.  They came to Minnesota to begin a life filled with hope.  Parents wanted their children to assimilate and get an education to have a better future than they did; it was difficult to maintain Hmong traditions while working graveyard shifts and taking care of children.  They assimilate, but to what?

My great-grandmother and family on a farm in Iowa

I've been asked to explain American culture before.  Usually it comes down to being loud in public and not being afraid to hug someone.  The geographical scale of the U.S. creates more issues. I'm often asked what people are like in the United States, and I start talking about 'Minnesota Nice.'  The entire land mass of Japan can fit into the state of Montana, so maybe it's better to think locally. 

I've heard about the 'melting pot' theory.  It sounds nice, but doesn't sound so believable when broken down: people come from all corners of the earth to the U.S., leave their traditions and heritage behind, and melt into one big, steaming pot of American-nes.  I wonder what kind of melty blob we create...?  A college professor opened me up to the 'salad bowl' metaphor; I'm a tomato, you're lettuce, we're individuals but we complement one another.  I prefer this allegory as it acknowledges that we may all be living in the same serving container, and we may all be covered with the same salad dressing (take that as you will), but we still have individual mannerisms, beliefs, and traditions.  Sure, there are probably quite a few generalizations to make about American culture.  We favor individualism, low power distance relationships, straight-forwardness, and the avoidance of personal questions (don't you DARE ask me how old I am).  Beyond that, we're just a cucumber here, an onion there. 

The W-Curve

I've found myself a bit lost lately.  Lost in the sense that I don't know what I should do with myself. 

It's now been a little over five months since I arrived in Japan.  The first four were filled with trips to Hokkaido, the exchange students were a daily challenge, and graduate school was always on my mind.  Then December 23rd hit, I said goodbye to the exchange students and my old apartment, and Tom and I were on a plane back to Minnesota for a 10-day holiday to celebrate Christmas with our friends and family.  Despite the seemingly short time at home, I came back to Japan refreshed and ready to start a new year that was to be filled with free time and hobbies that have been placed on the back burner for months and years. I stocked up on painting supplies, I bought a Japanese language book, I was armed with new books on my Kindle, I was in a new apartment, I was ready to enjoy myself! 

Flash forward to today, January 26.  It hasn't been a month since our return from the States and I'm already frustrated with my empty calendar.  What was once used hourly, my planner has just become another forlorn object in my bag.  There aren't daily 'to do' lists, my graduate school applications are filled out and sent in, the University I work at has cleared out for spring vacation and assignments are getting thin. 

I'm not bored.  I still have my paints, my books, my T.V. shows. After frustrating nights of idleness and contemplating reasons why I don't have any interest in painting or reading for hours on end like I had dreamed of only a month ago, I learned something about myself.  I need to read as a reward, to paint as an escape.  I need companionship, old friends that I've known for years to spend time with.  My first five months in Japan were distracted.  It felt like I was studying abroad for a few months, not living here for a year.  If I would have known better, I would have prepared myself and contacted a group of expatriates that gather on a weekly or monthly basis. 

This comes with the territory.  I'm living in the most expensive city in the world and probably the most over-stimulating city in the world.  I've never lived abroad for more than 4 1/2 months before, and I'm just hitting 5 in Japan.  And what's funny about this is that I learned about this transition period in college as a Resident Assistant training to help us deal with the incoming, soon-to-be temperamental  freshmen - it's called the W Curve.  First you have your first high, the honeymoon stage!  Life is wonderful!  You're living abroad! And then you crash, culture shock!  Then you assimilate, a little bit, get the hang of things; you're at the initial adjustment stage.  Just as I started to feel like Tokyo was familiar (yes, this is about me now), I hit mental isolation.  It's the worst stage of all, or so I think.  This is a time of feeling caught between two worlds.  My new environment is still not as comfortable as home used to be, and home is now not as familiar as it once was. I don't feel like I completely belonging in either place.

I need to bring myself back to RA training and be honest with myself.  This will be a tough time in my life. My future is as certain as... well, something that's not certain at all (I tried to find a Japanese example, but 90% of life in Japan is certain).  I should have prepared myself for this moment, but instead I'm trying to catch up and learn how to be an involved and healthy expat in Tokyo.  With just a little bit of searching, I have found two gathering locations in the city for people just like me needing some companionship.  Next Tuesday an English comedian will be at the Pink Cow, a popular expat hangout, so I've invited my co-worker to go along.  I'm making more efforts to schedule hangouts with Japanese friends who aren't going away for Spring Vacation. 

I'm at a low point, but what's getting me through is the simple knowledge that it won't last forever.  I'm in a developed country, living comfortably, but just more isolated than I hoped.  I can change that.  Soon enough I'll come out of the W-curve on top, at the final stage, acceptance and integration.

To understand or not to understand

I now know a few words I should have picked up months ago.  Wakarimashita (分かりました。), I understand, and wakarimasen (分かりません。), I don't understand.  Nihon-go wa wakarimasen = I don't understand Japanese.  Wakarimashita ka? = Do you understand?  I kick myself whenever I pick up something I should have known from the start.  Knowing these few combinations would have gotten me out of confusing situations more elegantly and, more importantly, a lot faster.  Instead of pretending I understood the Subway sandwich artist's questions and therefore unwillingly getting an entirely different sandwich than I had premeditated, I could have stood tall, said I didn't understand, and finished the sandwich-building process with dignity as I pointed and gestured towards the tomatoes and pickles. 

I see and hear updates from colleagues stationed around Japan.  Some know quite a few kanji, and most at least know hiragana and katakana (if you want to understand what hiragana, katakana, and kanji consist of, check out this website).  I, however, produce giggles from co-workers with my workbook spread out, engulfed in concentration as I practice writing 'apple' in hiragana. 

a glimpse of my hiragana workbook



I don't want to place blame when it comes to my lack of Japanese speaking and writing abilities; the blame should be placed on me, but I'm going to go ahead and point my finger at the GRE. 

This past August through December was filled with study sessions at Starbucks (I need incentives, OK?), graduate school applications, and a preoccupation with the future.  I turned down invitations to socialize, and felt guilt-ridden when I was doing something other than studying.  I could have been anywhere in the world those few months and wouldn't have noticed.  I would be reminded of my international status when arriving at work on Mondays and not understanding 80% of what was transpiring.  Preparing myself for the GRE and applications felt like a full-time job.

At this point I wonder if it's worth it, to put my nose to the grindstone and learn more Japanese.  I'll be finished with my job at the end of March, and I may leave only a few months after that.  Learning hirigana is useful to an extent, but I will need to learn the Japanese meanings in addition to this new phonetic alphabet if I want to make the most of it.  The thing that keeps me going is a recent memory of Tom gleefully reading hiragana at a train station.  Like me, he has an ample amount of time at work to do what he likes (to an extent), and part of that time this new year has been spent learning written Japanese.
His joy found when sounding out a station name has led me to the conclusion that I will continue to work on my Japanese writing and speaking abilities.  Two months is short in the scheme of things, but when I consider how many interactions I will have with Japanese-speaking persons at the grocery store, restaurants, and school, it's a long time.  Maybe I'll only ever use Japanese at Fuji Ya in Uptown, but that's beside the point.  The studying exercises my mind and prepares me for a future filled with at least another two years of formal education and a lifetime of learning.