There is so much to write about. I have had so many first impressions, so many questions, and have made so many exciting discoveries, that I don't know where to start, and once I do, I can't bring myself to stop. But, if I had to choose one aspect of my life here that represents most of those emotions, it would have to be cycling. Yes, riding my bike compares to riding the emotional roller coaster of living abroad: the normality of it, the excitement of it, the obstacle courses, and sometimes, the outright panic and doubt.
A couple of weeks ago, I realized that it was raining as I hurried over from my apartment to the bike shed. I was running late, so I didn't rush back upstairs to grab an umbrella or a poncho. Either way, it wasn't raining too hard.
That didn't last too long. The rain started picking up, and I had to keep blinking in order to keep the rain out of my eyes. It made for such unsafe riding, since I couldn't really see the pavement in front of me. I pulled over – aware that I could run into something or someone – and considered going back to grab my rain gear, or even stop by a shop to buy an umbrella. Both of those options would be time consuming, so I simply pulled out my lightly tinted sunglasses and put them on. I started cycling, and the rain drops started collecting on the lens, but it was easier to wipe the drops off of those, than to blink really, really fast and still have obscured vision. I was aware of the fact that I looked ridiculous, but I didn't care. As a non-Japanese coworker pointed out, people here will notice that you're different, they might point, or even ridicule, but you shouldn't compromise all level of comfort to change who you are. I agree. As long as I acknowledge and do my best to respect Japanese customs, I won't be apologetic for the things that make me different from them. Thankfully, Japanese people are understanding of foreigners, but it doesn't exempt you from the stares...
The bike ride was going well for a good while, until I got stuck riding behind a young girl that was pedaling slower than I was. I wanted to pass her, but the bike path was too narrow. We went along that way for another minute or so, when I noticed a fellow teacher waiting at the bus stop ahead. The sidewalk started to widen, and because I did not want to look like such an amateur – riding slowly behind a child – I sped up, passed the girl, and continued at that fast speed. By the next block, I was going so fast that the bike was almost gliding. I should learn to take my time. That applies to everything here, from chores to business. For example, the ATMs apply an extra fee to evening transactions, and are shut down after a certain hour. I should plan ahead when needing cash. As for laundry, I don't have a dryer, so I can't put in a load at midnight to wash a shirt that I need for work the next day. (Besides, making that much noise at night would be rude). And as for cooking, I have one stovetop, so I must learn to cook efficiently and patiently with my single unit. (Thank goodness for that rice cooker! It still hasn't launched itself into space, but it sure makes some yummy rice with little to no supervision).
After “racing” with the girl, I almost got to school without further ado. I was about a block away, when a crow sprang out of the tree branches and nearly scared me to death. I say to death, because it made me swerve into the street. Ok, I exaggerate... that street rarely has traffic, but still, I don't like that bird.
Cycling to work that morning was like an obstacle course. In the evening, when I got off of work, it was a glorious ride, until it got worse. Much worse.
I needed to go to the Amagasaki City Hall to pick up a receipt for my alien registration card. The teachers let me leave early to make it there before closing time. I felt so free, leaving work early and not having to worry about the rain ruining my hair, or about my work clothes getting sweaty or wet. (I now change when I get to school, since I either get too sweaty or rained on, depending on the weather.) I was cycling along pretty fast, feeling like a student after the last day of school. I don't know what it was, but I felt so invincible. There weren't many people riding their bikes, so the sidewalk was mostly mine and I zoomed past houses and fields. Most of the traffic lights I approached were green, so nothing was slowing my rhythm. This is how I feel sometimes, when I feel the thrill and rush of living in a new country. I feel enabled and empowered to have a job that allows me to meet people I wouldn't have otherwise met, and where almost everything is a new experience. I can travel, and see sights and colors found nowhere else in the world. Thrilling.
It's called a rush, because it doesn't last very long. About twenty minutes later, I noticed that I was soaked, and I figured that it would be best to change my clothes. I did not want to drip my way into the city hall. I was close to home, so I dashed in to change into a dry set of clothes, and grab a poncho. Woe is me. Five minutes after leaving my apartment, it was only drizzling. Instead of being dry under my heavy duty poncho, I was damp with perspiration.
I had a map to the city hall, but I could not find a certain street that I needed to turn left on. I realized that I had gone too far, so I pulled over to ask for directions. I waited for someone to pass by to ask for help, but everyone was cycling fast. Finally, there was a woman on a bike who was approaching me pretty slowly. Maybe I should have seen this as a sign that she was not at complete ease on her bike, but at the moment, it seemed like the perfect person to ask for help. I signaled to her and said “sumimasen” or “excuse me/I'm sorry”, and she slowed down even more, stopping her bike right next to me. The next thing I knew, the woman's bike was falling over to the side, and she was falling with it. It all happened so fast, yet I saw it all in slow motion.
I rushed off of my bike and ran over to see if the woman was injured. She had fallen onto the traffic lane, landed on her stomach, face and arms. Her ankles looked a bit twisted, and my first instinct was that they might have been sprained. I tried to help her up, but she wouldn't move. She just laid there, as I went between lightly squeezing her shoulder as reassurance, and diverting traffic from the left lane to the right lane. (Note: Cars drive on the other side of the road, like in the UK.) It felt like an eternity, but eventually she unfroze and started sitting up. I helped her up, and she sat on the edge of the sidewalk. I was so nervous the whole time, since she was still so close to the cars zooming by. I wanted to sit next to her, but instead I continued standing so that we would be visible to traffic. I think that ugly, sticky poncho helped. I looked closely at her face, and I noticed two things: she was an elderly woman, and she had a big bruise on her left cheek. I felt so horrible, and even though I did not physically make her fall, I felt responsible for the accident. If I wouldn't have tried asking for directions, she would not have fallen.
All I could mutter throughout the whole incident was “sumimasen.” Over and over again. I was so apologetic and appalled at the people that passed by. Her bike was still where it had fallen, and mine was also laying close by, since I had thrown it aside when I rushed over to help her. It clearly looked like an accident of some sort, but no one stopped to help. I looked distressed, and there was a woman on the floor. Still, all I got was glances and apologetic expressions, and no one bothered to stop and see if she was alright. After a while, the situation was under control, but I still needed a translator to see if the woman felt fine, or felt severe pain or dizziness. Yet, no one stopped.
After she had sat down, I had picked up our bikes and set them upright on the sidewalk. After about ten minutes, she got up to stand by her bike. I remembered that my JET Diary was in my bag. It is a planner that they gave us at Tokyo orientation. It has an index with useful phrases for all kinds of situations. I found the list of medical terms and started to ask the woman if she felt dizzy, faint or any sharp pain. She shook her head to all, glanced at my list, and pointed to “dull pain” or “nibui itami”. Right after, she beckoned for me to leave, but I didn't want to leave until I knew that she was completely alright. She kept pressing her bruise lightly, and she looked a bit disoriented. I found the word for family, trying to figure out if she lived close by. She just nodded her head. After about five minutes of silence, and me trying to figure out what to do next, she hopped on her bike and beckoned for me to do the same. I was hesitant, but got on my bike. Yet, I could tell that she wasn't going anywhere. I finally understood that she wasn't going to leave until I left. I rode off reluctantly. I was still worried, I felt so horrible, and I still didn't know which street to take. At least it had stopped raining.
I stopped at a Yoshinoya restaurant to ask for directions. I wasn't about to ask anyone else on the street. A female employee circled the street I needed on my map, and drew arrows for which path to take. I wish I would have stopped there in the first place. I was still a bit shaky and nervous on my bike, so I rode slowly. I finally got to the city hall, and I realized that it was 5pm, closing time. I almost didn't want to walk in, ready to give up and get the whole thing right the next day. However, I decided to give it a try, because the teachers had been kind in letting me leave early, and after all, the woman had stopped to help me. I did not want that fiasco to be in vain. I am glad I went in, because I got the document I needed. That document was my passport to getting a phone and the internet setup.
I can't stand myself when I sulk. Some bouts last longer than others, but I eventually pull myself out of the pit of self pity. I'd rather end a day on a good note (I don't know anyone who prefers otherwise, really), so I decided to try and get a cellphone. I biked over to the Softbank company shop (Verizon equivalent, more or less) and asked if anyone spoke English. I was delighted when one of the employees replied with a “yes.” Although they did not have the IPhone 3 in stock, he made a few calls and confirmed that they had a phone for me in Kobe, and that one of the staff members spoke English. I thanked the employee for his help, picked up a quick dinner by the station (fries and a biscuit from KFC – I thought that my college diet days would be over by now, guess not haha), and hopped on the train to Kobe. Two hours later, I was back home, with a brand new addition to my Apple family. I know you can't buy happiness, but sometimes I feel as if I can. My phone allowed me to connect to the internet and browse through emails, facebook pages, and pictures that made me feel better.
Luckily, I don't always have such chaotic experiences while cycling. I think I would throw my bike in the nearest gutter if that were the case. I also don't have that many peaks and lows as I am adjusting to life in Japan. Instead, it's a pleasant line that leans towards the peaks. I am starting to feel at home here, and while I still get homesick as I prepare pictures and maps for my self-introduction, I know that I have to enjoy being in this country while it lasts. The JET program is not forever, and I intend to make the best of it...
2 comments:
Wow sister!! Sounds like an adventure with that bicycle of yours!!!! I miss you!
<3
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