I like to keep up with my friends blogs that are also here in Japan. I find it interesting to learn about how they are experiencing their Japan. But recently, while I was reading one in particular, I connected to what he was feeling and became more aware of the scrutiny one gets when making a move such as this.
In the first two weeks or so that I was here, everyone (well, mostly everyone) was very understanding and supportive of my transition. I heard kind words such as "Its normal that you miss home", "This sounds very difficult", or "It can be painful."
After a while though, people expect you to just...adjust. What if you never "adjust"?
Then the conversations begins to turn another way.
"You'll stop missing home", "Really? You are still feeling sad?", or "It will be great".
And those are the polite comments. You may also get: "What is the matter with you, you're in frickin Japan!" or "Why did you bother going then". And these comments come from all social facets; family, friends, fellow people living abroad...
I think what I have found, and what I had written about in a previous entry, is that many people move abroad because "home" was not "home". Some come because they are running away from feelings or are seeking out something greater. Some are a combination of those things. The source of your journey is relative to where you are personally in life, and so that dictates the level of adjustment you feel. Clearly, not everyone is the same.
What begins to happen is, some of the people who have adapted and integrated Japan as a part of "home", cant really understand why it is so difficult for you not to. Some of the people that you spent months back home boasting to about moving to Japan, cant understand why you aren't climbing Mount Fuji and eating weird things everyday. And some of your family and friends just don't know what to say because they miss you too.
It becomes so difficult to explain how you feel. It becomes so hard to get anyone to understand. And the truth is, no one really will. They are not you.
But I think for me, when reading my friends blog, it was the first person that was connecting to the same words in my heart and head. It is not that we are not happy or excited to be here. Yes, it will get better, Yes, we will do cool things, Yes, we are grateful for this experience, But also, Yes, we are excited to return home to our loving families and friends, and Yes, we will never fully adjust to living here, not because it is so culturally different, but because this isn't our home. We already made one in the hearts of our loved ones, and for us, they are not in Japan. It can be hurtful to hear condescending remarks like "Oh, it will be great, just relax, I know" or patronizing ones like "Your okay". It makes us feel as though there is something wrong with us for feeling this way because we aren't doing a dance everyday that we are here. Something happens when you move to a foreign country: Life. You encounter the same routines as home. Go to work everyday, go shopping, cook dinner, clean your house, have drinks with friends.... You don't just wake up in the morning and start doing Calligraphy or Ken do. (Well, I suppose some people do...) And those are the differences... If everyday you are climbing Mount Fuji, learning calligraphy, and practicing Ken do, your probably on vacation, and you will going home in a short time. It seems though, that to truly immerse in another culture, you must move through the doldrums just like anyone else, and just like home, you take vacation to climb Mount Fuji, sign up for a calligraphy class on Thursdays after work, and compete in Ken do matches on the weekend. The only difference for us is proximity, and yeah, I know, make the most of it while I can. Well, I have to say, it is not that easy, especially, if like some of my friends here, you are placed in the middle of nowhere in a house all alone with no hot water. Taking classes and climbing mountains takes connections, knowing where and when those things are available, if at all to foreigners, and money, a car, gas, the ability to understand where the hell you are going. Its real life.
But one thing is true; it is exciting. It is challenging. These are reasons that everyone who moves abroad share. And perhaps, for someone like me, those are the reasons that make me quietly excited to be here, grateful for this opportunity, and blessed that I can climb Mount Fuji just a few hours away.
But please, understand that people like my friend and myself are thankful for our position, we want to make the most out of this opportunity, and always handle our feelings in an optimistic way. Just because we miss our families, just because we haven't climbed Mount Fuji yet, or just because we may wake up in tears some mornings, doesn't mean that there is something wrong with us.
For friends and family back home: The solid foundation of love that you have given us, and continue to give us, is the greatest source of strength.
For new friends: Just your presence and kindness is enough to help us through any of our bad days.
I am sure that in the near future we will have tantalizing stories of how we traveled through foreign lands or ate cod sperm, but for now, we are just learning how to live in our own way.
Monday, August 24, 2009
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Im not ok, youre not ok...
Is this the beginning stages of culture shock? Now don't answer that. I'm gonna figure this one out on my own...
What has been occurring to me lately, is the recognition of the uncanny ability that we humans have, when dealing with that big, bad word: Flexibility. Sure, sure, some of us are extremely adaptable, I for one, pride myself on roughly twenty-four moves in my life time (whoops, make that twenty-five!). But here is what has begun to haunt me, linger in my thoughts and makes me question my idea of comfort.
I consider myself to be a Lady. What do I mean by that? At the risk of sounding geeky, when I hear the term lady or gentleman, I always think of a quote from the movie Blast from the past with Brendan Frasier (Hey, a good quote is a good quote no matter where the source). In the movie, Dave Foley is explaining why Bredan Fraiser is so affable and polite. He points out the characters definition of a gentleman or lady as "...someone who always tries to make sure the people around him or her are as comfortable as possible."
Bingo.
In total agreement, I believe that we, as human beings, should be dedicated to the idea that we are all diplomats, perhaps not of a cause outside of our own, but a diplomat of self. We should all consider at the very least the level of comfort other people feel in our presence and act accordingly, within healthy self-preservational limits, of course. I believe that we share some small amount of moral responsibility to one another, and particularly in our own communities and families, we should at times be willing to "bend", in order to aid in someone else's comfort.
So does the rest of Japan.
When I first arrived I found that most everyone was willing to help me. There were people that, I didn't have a clue who they were, and here they are, moving a 60 lb. box of sweaters up three floors. Office staff were connecting my utilities, calling banks, hooking up a cell phone, without ever being able to talk about their hobbies with me, show me pictures of their kids, or find some common ground to like me on. It was quite nice. Not the feeling of being helpless, no that I didn't enjoy, but the feeling of other people going on good faith to increase my level of comfort. Real ladies and gentleman.
What this generosity actually is, is a nationally breed Good Samaritan tradition. Everyone here is raised to invest in the greater good. To share and share alike. To bend until you break if it means you are making someone else comfortable. And this goes across the board in homes, offices, schools, konbini (convenient stores)... Seriously, the Japanese have a wonderful way of making you feel like the Queen of England just for buying a pack of smokes and a hot dog.
But having said all of this, and after two weeks of kindness, someone such as myself, a lady of course, begins to feel like a burden instead of a new guest. I find that part of the eagerness to be accommodating for the Japanese is part of their job. It is expected of them to go out of their way, and through centuries of tradition, doing this is supposed to be a great honor. I respect that. But what I do not believe is that deep down inside the guy who carried my ridiculously heavy box up the stairs isn't cursing me out. I refuse to buy that it was a pleasurable experience for him, and for all of the coddling that newbies like me need in a foreign country, at some point people have to say "THIS SUCKS".
Have we got to the culture shock yet, No, but here it comes...
So all of this I can respect; the running around, holding my hand, renegotiating, carrying heavy things...but what I don't understand is the retroversion of this ideal. When I am successful at handling daily life, I am able to accomplish small tasks on my own, then I feel that it should be my turn to make things comfortable for others, by not having people go out of their way. If this shoe were on the other foot, I would be thankful when someone who I have been helping can finally handle things and ceases to inconvenience me any longer. So I am having a hard time comprehending why when I suggest an alternative to an issue in which I would be able to be self-sufficient, it is basically rude. Huh? I feel like I am being polite and respectful. And apparently, for all of you who want to comment on and answer this entry, I know; that is how it is in Japan.
I suppose that a portion of this necessity to continue doing everything against personal comfort is also a formality. Everything in Japan has a formality; paperwork, pre-arranged pre- arrangements, notifying every last person of an intention or decision... So to some extent it must be a bigger pain in the ass to change what has already been decided. Wheres the flexibility?
In the very least, we can be mutually uncomfortable in trying to make each other comfortable.
What?
At the risk of sounding like someone who is entering stage 2 of culture shock; it frustrates me.
Culture shock is drilled into your brain here...
Culture shock is inevitable.
Culture shock is experienced in 4 steps.
Blech. Basically, step 1 is the honeymoon stage, step 2 is the "I hate this frickin place", step 3 is depression, and step 4 is the equilibrium. I never really experienced or will probably find step 1. Im not the overly elated type. I really don't think I will hit stage 2 either, only because I anticipated the backward bullshit of daily life, and hell, there is plenty of things that I hate, I don't need to discriminate. As for step 3, I don't want to talk about it. But what I am thinking is that the idea of culture shock, which I thought was going to be something I just ricocheted around, could be happening to me right now, I just don't even know it . Or, is it just my random perception of things? Regardless, it amazes me just how many ways there are to feel uncomfortable. People, no matter how easy going you are, all have a delicate and distinct mix of multidimensional events that make them feel totally at ease.
The civility game that is being played between myself and Japan is touching on one of the peculiar and precise components that attributes to my comfort. Culture shock? I guess you can call it whatever you want.
What has been occurring to me lately, is the recognition of the uncanny ability that we humans have, when dealing with that big, bad word: Flexibility. Sure, sure, some of us are extremely adaptable, I for one, pride myself on roughly twenty-four moves in my life time (whoops, make that twenty-five!). But here is what has begun to haunt me, linger in my thoughts and makes me question my idea of comfort.
I consider myself to be a Lady. What do I mean by that? At the risk of sounding geeky, when I hear the term lady or gentleman, I always think of a quote from the movie Blast from the past with Brendan Frasier (Hey, a good quote is a good quote no matter where the source). In the movie, Dave Foley is explaining why Bredan Fraiser is so affable and polite. He points out the characters definition of a gentleman or lady as "...someone who always tries to make sure the people around him or her are as comfortable as possible."
Bingo.
In total agreement, I believe that we, as human beings, should be dedicated to the idea that we are all diplomats, perhaps not of a cause outside of our own, but a diplomat of self. We should all consider at the very least the level of comfort other people feel in our presence and act accordingly, within healthy self-preservational limits, of course. I believe that we share some small amount of moral responsibility to one another, and particularly in our own communities and families, we should at times be willing to "bend", in order to aid in someone else's comfort.
So does the rest of Japan.
When I first arrived I found that most everyone was willing to help me. There were people that, I didn't have a clue who they were, and here they are, moving a 60 lb. box of sweaters up three floors. Office staff were connecting my utilities, calling banks, hooking up a cell phone, without ever being able to talk about their hobbies with me, show me pictures of their kids, or find some common ground to like me on. It was quite nice. Not the feeling of being helpless, no that I didn't enjoy, but the feeling of other people going on good faith to increase my level of comfort. Real ladies and gentleman.
What this generosity actually is, is a nationally breed Good Samaritan tradition. Everyone here is raised to invest in the greater good. To share and share alike. To bend until you break if it means you are making someone else comfortable. And this goes across the board in homes, offices, schools, konbini (convenient stores)... Seriously, the Japanese have a wonderful way of making you feel like the Queen of England just for buying a pack of smokes and a hot dog.
But having said all of this, and after two weeks of kindness, someone such as myself, a lady of course, begins to feel like a burden instead of a new guest. I find that part of the eagerness to be accommodating for the Japanese is part of their job. It is expected of them to go out of their way, and through centuries of tradition, doing this is supposed to be a great honor. I respect that. But what I do not believe is that deep down inside the guy who carried my ridiculously heavy box up the stairs isn't cursing me out. I refuse to buy that it was a pleasurable experience for him, and for all of the coddling that newbies like me need in a foreign country, at some point people have to say "THIS SUCKS".
Have we got to the culture shock yet, No, but here it comes...
So all of this I can respect; the running around, holding my hand, renegotiating, carrying heavy things...but what I don't understand is the retroversion of this ideal. When I am successful at handling daily life, I am able to accomplish small tasks on my own, then I feel that it should be my turn to make things comfortable for others, by not having people go out of their way. If this shoe were on the other foot, I would be thankful when someone who I have been helping can finally handle things and ceases to inconvenience me any longer. So I am having a hard time comprehending why when I suggest an alternative to an issue in which I would be able to be self-sufficient, it is basically rude. Huh? I feel like I am being polite and respectful. And apparently, for all of you who want to comment on and answer this entry, I know; that is how it is in Japan.
I suppose that a portion of this necessity to continue doing everything against personal comfort is also a formality. Everything in Japan has a formality; paperwork, pre-arranged pre- arrangements, notifying every last person of an intention or decision... So to some extent it must be a bigger pain in the ass to change what has already been decided. Wheres the flexibility?
In the very least, we can be mutually uncomfortable in trying to make each other comfortable.
What?
At the risk of sounding like someone who is entering stage 2 of culture shock; it frustrates me.
Culture shock is drilled into your brain here...
Culture shock is inevitable.
Culture shock is experienced in 4 steps.
Blech. Basically, step 1 is the honeymoon stage, step 2 is the "I hate this frickin place", step 3 is depression, and step 4 is the equilibrium. I never really experienced or will probably find step 1. Im not the overly elated type. I really don't think I will hit stage 2 either, only because I anticipated the backward bullshit of daily life, and hell, there is plenty of things that I hate, I don't need to discriminate. As for step 3, I don't want to talk about it. But what I am thinking is that the idea of culture shock, which I thought was going to be something I just ricocheted around, could be happening to me right now, I just don't even know it . Or, is it just my random perception of things? Regardless, it amazes me just how many ways there are to feel uncomfortable. People, no matter how easy going you are, all have a delicate and distinct mix of multidimensional events that make them feel totally at ease.
The civility game that is being played between myself and Japan is touching on one of the peculiar and precise components that attributes to my comfort. Culture shock? I guess you can call it whatever you want.
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Reflections on the soul...
I have been asking myself lately one of those existential questions that many people ask at some point in their lives:
"Why am I here?".
Now, I have asked this question many times before in different fashions. Questions like; "Why am I in Japan?" , "Why am I a teacher?", or "Why am I with this idiot?". But today I have been asking with the depth of mind that would lead me to understand what my purpose is in this life. I suppose that we, as people, are all searching for those answers or at the very least are searching for something that validates who we are. The real quandary then becomes what am I searching for? When looked at this way, we all have been suffering from existential crisis since birth. As life advances, and experience sets in, so does the search, and the complexity of self with it. It becomes a "medieval mess" as Merlin would say, and can seem virtually impossible to figure out. I have always believed that the answers lie within us all, and that as we grow, the path is illuminated by an innate sense of direction.
I have come to find that people will go to great lengths to either discover or avoid the answer. And that some, unknowingly, simply navigate life by their own personal compass, and stumble upon the answers. The wonderful thing about displacing yourself is the people that you meet. Sometimes, in order to hear someone else's message you must absolve your own haven to let others in. When you leave that cozy and secure place, you have a better chance of encountering the like. When you are surrounded by others who have also left in search of those answers, whether blindly or by personal conviction, you may find something synonymous in spirit.
I have begun to question the question. "What are we searching for and why?" and "How do we find it?". I think of my own situation. If I had come to Japan 10 years ago I would have stayed to make a life here. Why? Because 10 years ago I was running from something: Myself. I was searching for that answer diligently, lost in my own translation. I had been transient for most of my life; running, moving, aspiring to be a better me. My entire life had led up to now: being here in Japan. This was supposed to be my ultimate escape. It wasn't until this Houdini pulled the rabbit out of the hat that I became conscious of the trick. I wasn't running anymore. When did I stop running? It was in this revelation that I discovered the answer.
Sitting in the courtyard of one of the favorite watering holes in Aomori, one will see an interesting conglomerate. Lots of Japanese people and a decent size group of gajin (foreigners). What I love most about this is that each person in this group has been cast into a league of players without a coherent script. Totally random people from all over the world, all with different beliefs and motives, who would probably never know each other otherwise. And so naturally, what do you think I ask? "Why are we all here?". As I was talking with a new friend, I proposed my question. He explained how he loved it here, he had intentions of visiting other countries, some he had, but here, in Aomori, he had a home. His native land was not his home; it was here in Japan. As we continued on in our discussion, he concluded that it wasn't so much the country or the culture that made Japan a home, but what he had found here in his heart.
Ah yes, it's true Dorothy, there really is no place like home...
And then it hit me. In his case, like many others, he was running from something too. He had visited many other countries, seeking, searching for home. The entire time uncovering a little bit more of self. In this exploration we call life, there are pieces of our soul, that although we are born with in entirety, fragment into the ether. It is our purpose to put them back together again. I liken this to J.K. Rowling and the tale of Harry Potter. In the books, Harry's nemesis Voldemort, places seven parts of his soul into seven horcruxes. Each horcrux is an object that is linked to Voldemort; a locket, a diary... but one horcrux is reflected in Harry's soul. To destroy Voldemort, Harry must destroy each part of Volsemort's soul. Now clearly, the idea is for good to overcome evil here, but what I see is, in order for Voldemort to become a whole man again, he must replace all seven parts of his soul. I believe it is the same for us. I am not suggesting that we are all inherently evil, to the contrary. I believe that we are all inherently good, and that is why we have the power to ask ourselves "Why are we here?" and the ability to go out and find it. We place fragments of our soul in horcruxes as well. For me, and my friends that are sharing this journey, I believe that we have all placed a horcrux in Japan. There is a piece of our soul waiting to be rediscovered and reintegrated into our being. What that piece represents can only be answered by us. I also believe that we have placed fragments of our souls elsewhere; be it other countries, or other people. My friend so happened to find a horcrux here in Japan in others, and that has made this home. I, on the other hand, had placed a horcrux in America, not the country, but the love I have found there in others. We are all in search of the horcrux that represents home, and some of us have placed it off in distant lands, while others never let it get that far away, but either way, when seeking it out, we all must have a sense of adventure. Home, is where the heart is.
I ran all the way to Japan to discover that I wasn't running anymore. I stopped running when I found my horcrux a long time ago, and my quest for the next one reminded me of it.
"Why am I here?".
Now, I have asked this question many times before in different fashions. Questions like; "Why am I in Japan?" , "Why am I a teacher?", or "Why am I with this idiot?". But today I have been asking with the depth of mind that would lead me to understand what my purpose is in this life. I suppose that we, as people, are all searching for those answers or at the very least are searching for something that validates who we are. The real quandary then becomes what am I searching for? When looked at this way, we all have been suffering from existential crisis since birth. As life advances, and experience sets in, so does the search, and the complexity of self with it. It becomes a "medieval mess" as Merlin would say, and can seem virtually impossible to figure out. I have always believed that the answers lie within us all, and that as we grow, the path is illuminated by an innate sense of direction.
I have come to find that people will go to great lengths to either discover or avoid the answer. And that some, unknowingly, simply navigate life by their own personal compass, and stumble upon the answers. The wonderful thing about displacing yourself is the people that you meet. Sometimes, in order to hear someone else's message you must absolve your own haven to let others in. When you leave that cozy and secure place, you have a better chance of encountering the like. When you are surrounded by others who have also left in search of those answers, whether blindly or by personal conviction, you may find something synonymous in spirit.
I have begun to question the question. "What are we searching for and why?" and "How do we find it?". I think of my own situation. If I had come to Japan 10 years ago I would have stayed to make a life here. Why? Because 10 years ago I was running from something: Myself. I was searching for that answer diligently, lost in my own translation. I had been transient for most of my life; running, moving, aspiring to be a better me. My entire life had led up to now: being here in Japan. This was supposed to be my ultimate escape. It wasn't until this Houdini pulled the rabbit out of the hat that I became conscious of the trick. I wasn't running anymore. When did I stop running? It was in this revelation that I discovered the answer.
Sitting in the courtyard of one of the favorite watering holes in Aomori, one will see an interesting conglomerate. Lots of Japanese people and a decent size group of gajin (foreigners). What I love most about this is that each person in this group has been cast into a league of players without a coherent script. Totally random people from all over the world, all with different beliefs and motives, who would probably never know each other otherwise. And so naturally, what do you think I ask? "Why are we all here?". As I was talking with a new friend, I proposed my question. He explained how he loved it here, he had intentions of visiting other countries, some he had, but here, in Aomori, he had a home. His native land was not his home; it was here in Japan. As we continued on in our discussion, he concluded that it wasn't so much the country or the culture that made Japan a home, but what he had found here in his heart.
Ah yes, it's true Dorothy, there really is no place like home...
And then it hit me. In his case, like many others, he was running from something too. He had visited many other countries, seeking, searching for home. The entire time uncovering a little bit more of self. In this exploration we call life, there are pieces of our soul, that although we are born with in entirety, fragment into the ether. It is our purpose to put them back together again. I liken this to J.K. Rowling and the tale of Harry Potter. In the books, Harry's nemesis Voldemort, places seven parts of his soul into seven horcruxes. Each horcrux is an object that is linked to Voldemort; a locket, a diary... but one horcrux is reflected in Harry's soul. To destroy Voldemort, Harry must destroy each part of Volsemort's soul. Now clearly, the idea is for good to overcome evil here, but what I see is, in order for Voldemort to become a whole man again, he must replace all seven parts of his soul. I believe it is the same for us. I am not suggesting that we are all inherently evil, to the contrary. I believe that we are all inherently good, and that is why we have the power to ask ourselves "Why are we here?" and the ability to go out and find it. We place fragments of our soul in horcruxes as well. For me, and my friends that are sharing this journey, I believe that we have all placed a horcrux in Japan. There is a piece of our soul waiting to be rediscovered and reintegrated into our being. What that piece represents can only be answered by us. I also believe that we have placed fragments of our souls elsewhere; be it other countries, or other people. My friend so happened to find a horcrux here in Japan in others, and that has made this home. I, on the other hand, had placed a horcrux in America, not the country, but the love I have found there in others. We are all in search of the horcrux that represents home, and some of us have placed it off in distant lands, while others never let it get that far away, but either way, when seeking it out, we all must have a sense of adventure. Home, is where the heart is.
I ran all the way to Japan to discover that I wasn't running anymore. I stopped running when I found my horcrux a long time ago, and my quest for the next one reminded me of it.
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
"Her scary flu" and other mild heart palpitations...
Today's entry is unavoidable. I suppose I had pretended long enough that the language barrier really didn't exist. Of course, in my artsy fartsy bohemian creative mind, I just figured I could pictionary and charades my ass straight through to comprehensible conversation.
Shame on me.
Now don't get me wrong. For everyone that is gasping "Who the hell moves to Japan and doesn't study the language!", I studied before I left! I tried at the very least to self educate through a variety of programs; Rosetta Stone, crash courses, channel 10. But the lack of immersion and/or well organized and tedious semester long courses only left me with the ability to introduce myself and ask what and where things are. Which has been helpful. Except I don't understand anyone when they actually answer me. (bearnt)
So what I am about to discuss here should come as no surprise. Clearly, if not sooner or later, I was to meet my doom. That happened to be today, when I finally met my Kyoto-Sensei (vice-principal) , in one of those socially awkward moments by the water cooler that can make or break you.
This week almost all of the teachers are absent for the Obon Holiday. Obon, just to brief, is a holiday in which the Japanese gather with their families to welcome back their dead ancestors. As a result, many people travel back to their hometowns for a week or so. This includes my supervisor and all 10 of the English teachers. Who are the only people that speak English. See where this is going?
I walked into school this morning at 9am sharp as always, put on my indoor shoes from my locker, and greeted the office staff. ( I pride myself on my accurately gleeful good mornings to the staff: "Ohayo Gozaimasu!", its the best thing I got going for me).
Sure there weren't many cars in the parking lot, but I knew some of the teachers were going to be out, that's cool, I still got my supervisor, and we are gonna see about the Internet today, and Oh, maybe he will let me go home early since not many people are here, and...wait a second. As I make my way down the hall to his office and turn the corner, his desk is still nice and neat. I ask the reference librarian next to his desk "Maejima sensei doko wa desuka?".
He replies.
Okay, what the hell does that mean.
Let me try this again, and in my mind, the fact that I asked in decent Japanese and couldn't understand the answer must be remedied by asking in a mixture of broken English and Japanese. Surely, he will answer me in words I can understand. (Hey, some people just talk really loud). "Maejima sensei, kare wa here today or no?". This poor guy. I can see now I am just stressing him out, either he is gonna cry or get up and run. However, he mutters out "Vacation". HEY!! I know that word. Okay. Phew! I didn't know he was leaving yet, but hey, dodged that bullet... so off to my office.
Perhaps the elation of getting an accurate answer distracted me initially when I arrived at my desk. I sat down happy with my conquest when I realized that the only two people in the entire office was me, (gulp) and the Kyoto-sensei. Now, for those who dont know, Kyoto-sensei is very important. He basically runs the show here, calls all the shots, and my supervisor answers to him. I had met him before, but always with a buffer of an English translator.
Wait a second. Stop here. There is also a side note that should be known.
This morning, I intentionally did not pack a lunch, with the hopes that since the cafeteria was locked for summer break, and many teachers were out, I could pull the old "I have no lunch" bit, and be told I could just go home earlier. hehe. Its worked before. Can you say "Karma".
So, yes, here I am in the Clint Eastwood lock down between my desk and his. (Just picture the whistling). Now I realize that I could avoid him at all costs today, and just say two words I know well, "Ohayo Gozaimasu" and "Sayonara". Alright. Crisis averted.
My desk is right next to the drink and goodies area.
Surely this guy is a camel.
Immediately I start busting out all of my Japanese texts; Dictionaries, grammar books, notes, handbooks, hello kitty stickers...
Safe.
DO YOU REALIZE how difficult it is to look up words while someone is talking at a normal speed?!
Okay, Okay, well I think we all know what happens next. Here I am sitting at my desk, minding my own business, when he mossies on over for a drink.
The break through: "Kohii? somethin, somethin, in Japanese"
Me: "Oh, coffee, Hai".
What in the world! I cant have any caffeine! Caffeine gives me frickin heart palpitations! Sure, hai, give me some, because even though I know how to say no, I don't know how to explain why, and being that you are the most important guy in the school, I don't want to look like a dick, although I'm headin down that road already.
He pours the coffee in my cup, but as he is doing so, I realize it is not only coffee, but iced espresso, and he is just goin to town.
Me: "Ah, Ah, arigato, thank you, that's good, yeah, that's good. GOOD!"
Now I have 3/4 of a coffee mug filled with espresso, and this guy wants to Kampai. (cheers and drink together).
And since I am instantaneously hopped up on liquid crack, he wants to chat.
Him: "Something, something in Japanese: Influenza"
Me: "Oh, yes, swine flu"
Him: "Something, something, two students"
Me: "Oh, --I-- he-ard-- there-- were-- stu-de-nts-- from-- this-- sc-hool-- who-- have-- the-- flu"
Him: "Hai, something, something, something, something, something: Two (with fingers).
Me: "Are--they--o-k?" (two fingers)
Him: "Something, something, something, something. Something?"
Me: "That--must--be,--how--do--you--say,--Kowai."
(And this is one of those words where you say it one way and it means the opposite thing, I did it once and vowed to never do it again, so I was confident in my choice. I once told a woman that her toddler was Kowai= scary, instead of Kawaii= cute. The look on her face was like I farted in church.
Him: "Kowai?"
Me: (Two fingers, then pause, sip more coffee)
Him: "Something, something, Amerika, wear... (gestures to his face)
Me: "Oh, masks! Iie, no, we don't wear masks in Amerika, we (start rubbing my hands together like a chipmunk eating a acorn)
Him: (rubs his hands like a chipmunk eating an acorn, and now we are doing this in unison like a wild pack of acorn eaters)
(Awkward silence)
Me: "Ahhhhh.."
Him: "Ahhhhh..."
Phone rings and he goes to answer it. Phewwww....
Lets just say I won't be going home early today. I should have brought my frickin lunch. That might have taken the edge off the jitters.
Shame on me.
Now don't get me wrong. For everyone that is gasping "Who the hell moves to Japan and doesn't study the language!", I studied before I left! I tried at the very least to self educate through a variety of programs; Rosetta Stone, crash courses, channel 10. But the lack of immersion and/or well organized and tedious semester long courses only left me with the ability to introduce myself and ask what and where things are. Which has been helpful. Except I don't understand anyone when they actually answer me. (bearnt)
So what I am about to discuss here should come as no surprise. Clearly, if not sooner or later, I was to meet my doom. That happened to be today, when I finally met my Kyoto-Sensei (vice-principal) , in one of those socially awkward moments by the water cooler that can make or break you.
This week almost all of the teachers are absent for the Obon Holiday. Obon, just to brief, is a holiday in which the Japanese gather with their families to welcome back their dead ancestors. As a result, many people travel back to their hometowns for a week or so. This includes my supervisor and all 10 of the English teachers. Who are the only people that speak English. See where this is going?
I walked into school this morning at 9am sharp as always, put on my indoor shoes from my locker, and greeted the office staff. ( I pride myself on my accurately gleeful good mornings to the staff: "Ohayo Gozaimasu!", its the best thing I got going for me).
Sure there weren't many cars in the parking lot, but I knew some of the teachers were going to be out, that's cool, I still got my supervisor, and we are gonna see about the Internet today, and Oh, maybe he will let me go home early since not many people are here, and...wait a second. As I make my way down the hall to his office and turn the corner, his desk is still nice and neat. I ask the reference librarian next to his desk "Maejima sensei doko wa desuka?".
He replies.
Okay, what the hell does that mean.
Let me try this again, and in my mind, the fact that I asked in decent Japanese and couldn't understand the answer must be remedied by asking in a mixture of broken English and Japanese. Surely, he will answer me in words I can understand. (Hey, some people just talk really loud). "Maejima sensei, kare wa here today or no?". This poor guy. I can see now I am just stressing him out, either he is gonna cry or get up and run. However, he mutters out "Vacation". HEY!! I know that word. Okay. Phew! I didn't know he was leaving yet, but hey, dodged that bullet... so off to my office.
Perhaps the elation of getting an accurate answer distracted me initially when I arrived at my desk. I sat down happy with my conquest when I realized that the only two people in the entire office was me, (gulp) and the Kyoto-sensei. Now, for those who dont know, Kyoto-sensei is very important. He basically runs the show here, calls all the shots, and my supervisor answers to him. I had met him before, but always with a buffer of an English translator.
Wait a second. Stop here. There is also a side note that should be known.
This morning, I intentionally did not pack a lunch, with the hopes that since the cafeteria was locked for summer break, and many teachers were out, I could pull the old "I have no lunch" bit, and be told I could just go home earlier. hehe. Its worked before. Can you say "Karma".
So, yes, here I am in the Clint Eastwood lock down between my desk and his. (Just picture the whistling). Now I realize that I could avoid him at all costs today, and just say two words I know well, "Ohayo Gozaimasu" and "Sayonara". Alright. Crisis averted.
My desk is right next to the drink and goodies area.
Surely this guy is a camel.
Immediately I start busting out all of my Japanese texts; Dictionaries, grammar books, notes, handbooks, hello kitty stickers...
Safe.
DO YOU REALIZE how difficult it is to look up words while someone is talking at a normal speed?!
Okay, Okay, well I think we all know what happens next. Here I am sitting at my desk, minding my own business, when he mossies on over for a drink.
The break through: "Kohii? somethin, somethin, in Japanese"
Me: "Oh, coffee, Hai".
What in the world! I cant have any caffeine! Caffeine gives me frickin heart palpitations! Sure, hai, give me some, because even though I know how to say no, I don't know how to explain why, and being that you are the most important guy in the school, I don't want to look like a dick, although I'm headin down that road already.
He pours the coffee in my cup, but as he is doing so, I realize it is not only coffee, but iced espresso, and he is just goin to town.
Me: "Ah, Ah, arigato, thank you, that's good, yeah, that's good. GOOD!"
Now I have 3/4 of a coffee mug filled with espresso, and this guy wants to Kampai. (cheers and drink together).
And since I am instantaneously hopped up on liquid crack, he wants to chat.
Him: "Something, something in Japanese: Influenza"
Me: "Oh, yes, swine flu"
Him: "Something, something, two students"
Me: "Oh, --I-- he-ard-- there-- were-- stu-de-nts-- from-- this-- sc-hool-- who-- have-- the-- flu"
Him: "Hai, something, something, something, something, something: Two (with fingers).
Me: "Are--they--o-k?" (two fingers)
Him: "Something, something, something, something. Something?"
Me: "That--must--be,--how--do--you--say,--Kowai."
(And this is one of those words where you say it one way and it means the opposite thing, I did it once and vowed to never do it again, so I was confident in my choice. I once told a woman that her toddler was Kowai= scary, instead of Kawaii= cute. The look on her face was like I farted in church.
Him: "Kowai?"
Me: (Two fingers, then pause, sip more coffee)
Him: "Something, something, Amerika, wear... (gestures to his face)
Me: "Oh, masks! Iie, no, we don't wear masks in Amerika, we (start rubbing my hands together like a chipmunk eating a acorn)
Him: (rubs his hands like a chipmunk eating an acorn, and now we are doing this in unison like a wild pack of acorn eaters)
(Awkward silence)
Me: "Ahhhhh.."
Him: "Ahhhhh..."
Phone rings and he goes to answer it. Phewwww....
Lets just say I won't be going home early today. I should have brought my frickin lunch. That might have taken the edge off the jitters.
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
The search is on...
So after the hard revelation of my last emotional kick in the ass I had resigned myself to a little soul searching. Having acknowledged my feelings of self-worth, there was nothing much left to do but recall why I had come to Japan. Where did all that excitement go? (frankly, I never did back flips, although that isn't in my nature, except for the little things, like when Phil got to see really big boobs). I spent the next few days, after my apex of emotional disarray in which I was crying hysterically while cleaning my shower, forcing myself to do things that replenished my sense of self sufficiency. Luckily for me, being the head strong "Me do it" that I am, I often found myself biking or walking home alone when I felt an iota of boredom in the crowd. This was the magic. In these bikes and walks, I had found quiet within myself; something
necessary when asking yourself questions like "Why am I really here?". And this is where a person like me is quietly amused by the charm of Japan: like a little girl who has just indulged in her first lick of a cherry flavored lollipop. I realized in the stillness of the night, with street lights shone against the trusses and roof tops of simplistic architecture, that a duality was shaping.
The first aspect was the solemn comfort of being alone. The opportunity to reflect on myself, not just with feelings or thoughts, but to let the energy of these buildings, people, and landscapes reflect unto me as well. The second, was the chance at a real exploration into ideas and beliefs that grant me great interest. This was not a book checked out from my local library, no discovery channel here, and certainly more than just the photography and advice I received from previous visitors. This was my Japan, a place seen with my own eyes and felt with my own heart.
I have been taking that notion and letting it lead me, and slowly, a new dimension has reveled itself. This is why I came to Japan. I have been seeking out the sacred and peaceful. Now don't get me wrong, I could write a list of things that are far from sacred and peaceful here, for real, some shit is just ass backwards; to me. But I didn't come here to let the daily frustrations of life eat at me. I didn't come here to tickle culture shocks fancy. I came to seek balance in the sacred and profane, and so that is what I have set out to do.
I rode my bike yesterday to a place called Gappo Park here in the city. I sat down over a cigarette after work and mapped out my course. Letting the fear of getting lost go to the wayside, I hopped on my bike and leisurely rode. The park is lined with windy paths, Japanese buildings, small gardens of various flowers, and tall beech trees. At the edge of the tree line is a beach that runs along the Mutsu Bay. I ambled along the paths until I reached the beach, parked my bike, and rolled up my pant legs. When I emerged onto the sand the view captivated me. To the right of me was a gorgeous mountain line with precipitous slopes and hues of blue and green. I was so enthralled by the majesty of these peaks, (hey, peaks, synonymous with boobs), and realized how peaceful I felt. It was easy to see how belief systems like Shinto evolved here.
I spent some more time strolling around the park, watching young boys catch massive cray fish from one of the ponds, trying to talk to them about it and embarrassed by my lack of coherent Japanese. I took some pictures of the pergola's and bamboo structures, and then I headed back home, this time confident in my path.
I can recall now why I came to Japan for a year. I remember my axiom that the universe will provide.
Tonight I am heading out to the Shinto shrine in the city. On my bike. Maybe the universe has the next clue hidden there.
necessary when asking yourself questions like "Why am I really here?". And this is where a person like me is quietly amused by the charm of Japan: like a little girl who has just indulged in her first lick of a cherry flavored lollipop. I realized in the stillness of the night, with street lights shone against the trusses and roof tops of simplistic architecture, that a duality was shaping.
The first aspect was the solemn comfort of being alone. The opportunity to reflect on myself, not just with feelings or thoughts, but to let the energy of these buildings, people, and landscapes reflect unto me as well. The second, was the chance at a real exploration into ideas and beliefs that grant me great interest. This was not a book checked out from my local library, no discovery channel here, and certainly more than just the photography and advice I received from previous visitors. This was my Japan, a place seen with my own eyes and felt with my own heart.
I have been taking that notion and letting it lead me, and slowly, a new dimension has reveled itself. This is why I came to Japan. I have been seeking out the sacred and peaceful. Now don't get me wrong, I could write a list of things that are far from sacred and peaceful here, for real, some shit is just ass backwards; to me. But I didn't come here to let the daily frustrations of life eat at me. I didn't come here to tickle culture shocks fancy. I came to seek balance in the sacred and profane, and so that is what I have set out to do.
I rode my bike yesterday to a place called Gappo Park here in the city. I sat down over a cigarette after work and mapped out my course. Letting the fear of getting lost go to the wayside, I hopped on my bike and leisurely rode. The park is lined with windy paths, Japanese buildings, small gardens of various flowers, and tall beech trees. At the edge of the tree line is a beach that runs along the Mutsu Bay. I ambled along the paths until I reached the beach, parked my bike, and rolled up my pant legs. When I emerged onto the sand the view captivated me. To the right of me was a gorgeous mountain line with precipitous slopes and hues of blue and green. I was so enthralled by the majesty of these peaks, (hey, peaks, synonymous with boobs), and realized how peaceful I felt. It was easy to see how belief systems like Shinto evolved here.
I spent some more time strolling around the park, watching young boys catch massive cray fish from one of the ponds, trying to talk to them about it and embarrassed by my lack of coherent Japanese. I took some pictures of the pergola's and bamboo structures, and then I headed back home, this time confident in my path.
I can recall now why I came to Japan for a year. I remember my axiom that the universe will provide.
Tonight I am heading out to the Shinto shrine in the city. On my bike. Maybe the universe has the next clue hidden there.
Monday, August 10, 2009
How it really feels to be in Japan...
The whole year before I left for Aomori I felt more prepared than ever.
I had spent my whole life in a self-sufficient upbringing. Coming from a broken home, I experienced wander lust very early on. I had managed to raise myself, live like a rock star, drop out of high school, put myself through a bachelors and masters program, become a successful teacher, and experience many unorthodox relationships by time I was 30. What got me there? Self love, Self preservation, Support, Spirit. So, when I found that I had an opportunity to come to Japan and teach (one of my top five on my bucket list) I was ready.
Ok.
Maybe.
I didn't record my feelings the first few days I was here. It was too painful to purge just then. When I look back in retrospect and ask "Was I truly ready?", the answer is "Yes". But nothing in life completely prepares you for moving half way around the world to a foreign country alone. NOTHING. I thought my experience was in the bag. To reiterate; Broken Family = Weaker familial bond, emotional isolation, lack of support. I figured this was a piece of cake. I have spent most of my life feeling like I was on the outside. I would share experiences with my surrogate families and still leave feeling that I didn't really belong, I wasn't really blood, and if push came to shove I would always be overlooked for the real members of the family. No matter what others said or did I couldn't get rid of the feelings of alienation.
Then I came to Japan.
When I came here I expected things like culture shock. I knew things would be different. Different food, language, customs, traffic formats... the list goes on, but what I didn't expect was the pain of feeling so cut off from love. Me, the usually aloof spouse, allusive friend, and cold daughter, was feeling the weight of not being able to simply linger in an embrace. The pain was immense. Now, wait, wait, wait a minute. Don't get me wrong, those who do know me well know that I have a deep capacity to love, the problem here is that I didn't have a deep capacity to be loved. I have spent much of my life taking care of others, even with a broken family I still would never alienate them; their well being was as equally important as my own self preservation. But despite my ability to love deeply, I never felt that I was worth much to be loved. And so funny thing. Here I am miss self-help, miss spiritual the universe will provide blah blah, thinking the whole time that I got this, and boom, it hits me like a ton of bricks. Here I am in a foreign country, away from everyone I love, and why am I crying? I am crying because I have cut off the physical capability to be loved. Am I crying because I cant show these people how much I love them? Am I crying because I am not there to take care of their needs? Nope. I am crying because they are not here to love me. And so, is this the true desire to be loved deeply, and the reaction the ability to accept?
So here is another round of questions. Do I feel that these people love me deeply while I am here? Did this arrant experience begin a healing process in self worth? I suppose so, in the very least it has certainly made me appreciate the wonderful people in my life. It has made me realize that the only alienation being served was coming from my own menu. It has also reinforced something I already knew through other experiences and karma: Love is everything. It is all, the only thing that really matters. It is not to be taken for granted, judged, or mistreated. Your opinion of love should be based on yourself not others. And that has so many meanings.
But back to the issue of my self worth. Yes, this move has sparked a new process of learning and healing in my self worth. And I know this because of how painful it has been. Do I feel deeply loved by these people? Yes, I think I do. I still struggle with some things. But people have lives and life goes on without me. It is not wise to put your worth in the hands of others, and feel that their response and interest in you is a reflection of how they feel.
So, no matter how prepared one thinks they are, a move like this will certainly incite some sort of internal quest. Was I prepared? In retrospect, yes. I had a great set of coping skills and self preservation to hold my sadness back from self destructing. I am able to accept and embrace these feelings so that I can enjoy this next year and work on other lessons. I suppose though, that a lesson in the ability to be loved was not one I anticipated. But then again those are the most valuable.
I had spent my whole life in a self-sufficient upbringing. Coming from a broken home, I experienced wander lust very early on. I had managed to raise myself, live like a rock star, drop out of high school, put myself through a bachelors and masters program, become a successful teacher, and experience many unorthodox relationships by time I was 30. What got me there? Self love, Self preservation, Support, Spirit. So, when I found that I had an opportunity to come to Japan and teach (one of my top five on my bucket list) I was ready.
Ok.
Maybe.
I didn't record my feelings the first few days I was here. It was too painful to purge just then. When I look back in retrospect and ask "Was I truly ready?", the answer is "Yes". But nothing in life completely prepares you for moving half way around the world to a foreign country alone. NOTHING. I thought my experience was in the bag. To reiterate; Broken Family = Weaker familial bond, emotional isolation, lack of support. I figured this was a piece of cake. I have spent most of my life feeling like I was on the outside. I would share experiences with my surrogate families and still leave feeling that I didn't really belong, I wasn't really blood, and if push came to shove I would always be overlooked for the real members of the family. No matter what others said or did I couldn't get rid of the feelings of alienation.
Then I came to Japan.
When I came here I expected things like culture shock. I knew things would be different. Different food, language, customs, traffic formats... the list goes on, but what I didn't expect was the pain of feeling so cut off from love. Me, the usually aloof spouse, allusive friend, and cold daughter, was feeling the weight of not being able to simply linger in an embrace. The pain was immense. Now, wait, wait, wait a minute. Don't get me wrong, those who do know me well know that I have a deep capacity to love, the problem here is that I didn't have a deep capacity to be loved. I have spent much of my life taking care of others, even with a broken family I still would never alienate them; their well being was as equally important as my own self preservation. But despite my ability to love deeply, I never felt that I was worth much to be loved. And so funny thing. Here I am miss self-help, miss spiritual the universe will provide blah blah, thinking the whole time that I got this, and boom, it hits me like a ton of bricks. Here I am in a foreign country, away from everyone I love, and why am I crying? I am crying because I have cut off the physical capability to be loved. Am I crying because I cant show these people how much I love them? Am I crying because I am not there to take care of their needs? Nope. I am crying because they are not here to love me. And so, is this the true desire to be loved deeply, and the reaction the ability to accept?
So here is another round of questions. Do I feel that these people love me deeply while I am here? Did this arrant experience begin a healing process in self worth? I suppose so, in the very least it has certainly made me appreciate the wonderful people in my life. It has made me realize that the only alienation being served was coming from my own menu. It has also reinforced something I already knew through other experiences and karma: Love is everything. It is all, the only thing that really matters. It is not to be taken for granted, judged, or mistreated. Your opinion of love should be based on yourself not others. And that has so many meanings.
But back to the issue of my self worth. Yes, this move has sparked a new process of learning and healing in my self worth. And I know this because of how painful it has been. Do I feel deeply loved by these people? Yes, I think I do. I still struggle with some things. But people have lives and life goes on without me. It is not wise to put your worth in the hands of others, and feel that their response and interest in you is a reflection of how they feel.
So, no matter how prepared one thinks they are, a move like this will certainly incite some sort of internal quest. Was I prepared? In retrospect, yes. I had a great set of coping skills and self preservation to hold my sadness back from self destructing. I am able to accept and embrace these feelings so that I can enjoy this next year and work on other lessons. I suppose though, that a lesson in the ability to be loved was not one I anticipated. But then again those are the most valuable.
I have always been intrigued with the idea of a diary. It has been a double edged sword for me because in one way there is a record of your most intimate feelings and thoughts, and in another way, there is a record of your most intimate feelings and thoughts. Yet, the latter holds an intrigue beyond possible blackmail or extortion; it holds the idea of being immortalized. I think of it as this: I see my grandmother for instance, a woman I have only known for roughly a third of her life. What I know of her is a small portion of who she really is. I see pictures of her in frames on the old antique buffet table in her dining room, and I don't recognize that woman. The truth is though, that she is a woman, a woman who lived a full life before I was even born, and a woman who has secrets in her heart just as anyone of us. She too was once 30 years old like me, feeling, loving, struggling to find her way through life. Sure, I can ask her questions about her life, but would I ever really know? Would she really offer up the stories of how she cried herself to sleep at night when my grandpa was in World War II? Would she confide in me secrets about infidelity, violence, inadequacy? And so here in lies my interest in the art of a diary. When you grow old, it is my perception that your mind and your heart stay young. Granted, life may make some people colder, wiser, or more cautious, but, it is only your body that creates a dual identity. To be able to leave an imprint on the world, to be able to show my lineage that I was a real person with feelings and thoughts, and to offer a connection of my spirit; this is the essence of a diary. One day, I too will be wrinkled and frail, with grandchildren at my knee, and I hope that through my oral and written history, they will find a deep connection in our kindred souls, while also carrying on the legacy that "LISA WAS HERE".
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