It's getting cold in here
Okay, I’ll admit it. The Japanese winter is getting to me. Even though the traditionally coldest time of year, Daikan, has officially ended, it is still friggin’ cold. Cold, grey, and quiet.
I’d been warned about this—winter is the hardest time in Japan for us English teachers. It’s bitterly cold, the euphoria of being in a new country—however charming it may be—has worn away, and you’re left with navigating between your apartment and school, and between classrooms and the staff room, in a country that doesn’t have central heating.
It really bites.The funny thing is, though, that I don’t really miss America, in that I don’t find myself wishing I were there. I just wish I was more comfortable here, in Japan. I miss people in America. I miss my dogs, I miss my car, and of course I miss being fluent and literate in the local language (also, I could really use an In ’n’ Out Burger one of these days), but America also feels very far away. It’s hard to imagine living there right now—and I don’t mean this in a superior, anti-America way, but in a mental way; I’ve been away for long enough in such a different and, at times, bewildering place that it really is hard for me to picture how my life was like in the United States.I’ve lived abroad before—a year in Oxford, as a university student. That was different, though. It wasn’t as big of a break from how I lived my life (also, it helps that people speak English in England). It felt like less of a shift, since I knew I’d be returning to California after one tidy year. I wasn’t quite an adult yet, with all the messiness and freedom that comes with adulthood.
This time, the shift is bigger. I left a corporate career in Silicon Valley for travel, exploring, passion—the cynic in me cringes when I use the word “passion,” but that is, yes, the right word. All of this has been a huge change for historically overachieving, straight-and-narrow me (fine, I’m still overachieving, but not, I hope, so straight-and-narrow). Often, I get frustrated with myself for not feeling 100% adjusted yet. And then I remind myself that I've only been here six months so far, which isn't really that long—although, good god, it feels much longer—and there are so many subtle and not-so-subtle strains to living here as an expat. It all adds up.Sometimes, I feel like I’m in a self-imposed socio-psychological experiment—how long can I last in a place where I am scrambling to learn the language, where all the people I interact with are new to me, and where I’m not literate enough to read my own mail? Where the general mindset and manners of people I encounter often seem really different from what I’m used to, and silence often seems to be the preferred mode of communication? (Cue the not-so-subtle sense of strain.)
It will get better. Spring will come, and I’ll meet more people, explore more of Japan and the rest of Asia. It still feels right for me to be here, even when I feel cranky or gloomy or dazed about how, exactly, I ended up living in Japan.
And I will head back to America when the time is right, but for now, it feels far, far away.--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
In the meantime, I want to do something outrageously fun. Think salsa, hip hop, gangsta rap. Any suggestions?
Below: I have a huge backlog of pictures that I haven’t posted yet. Here are some from Kyoto in December, during a fun day of Christmas shopping with a friend in the charming, winding streets near Kiyomizu-dera temple. The day included a spontaneous stop at a temple, and a delicious lunch at a hole-in-the-wall vegetarian place off of Shijo-dori in downtown Kyoto. It was so hole-in-the-wall that it was located at the very back of an alley, and the place doubles as the restaurant owner’s house, complete with cat figurines and actual sleeping cats. Note: The geishas we saw were probably fakes.

































































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