“Imagine there's no countries.... Imagine all the people living life in peace. You may say I'm a dreamer, but I'm not the only one.” - John Lennon.
Last week, I prepared a special final lesson for my third year students. Although they graduate in February and are officially graduates in March, it was my last lesson with them for the school year. The night before, I wrote each one a short “good luck” letter. For the quieter students, I had to think back to a prior lesson where I had them write about themselves, and remember what kind of plans they had for the future. For the outgoing students, it was easy to fill the note with some inside jokes that we came to share during the past six months. In addition to giving them letters, I wanted to prepare an interesting lesson with a video clip or song. I couldn't think of any appropriate songs that weren't too hard to understand, but finally, I found a Glee cover of John Lennon's “Imagine”. I thought that the students would enjoy it, and I also hoped that it would evoke a positive message about internationalization, which is one of the JET Program's goals after all.
Before showing them Glee's interpretation of “Imagine”, I showed them clips and pictures of a typical American graduation ceremony. I mostly emphasized the cap and gown, the token graduation speech, and the overall less solemn mood of the American graduation. (Japanese ceremonies tend to be a lot more formal and serious than American ones.) After I finished this introductory portion, the teacher I work with asked me to sit in the back of the classroom. He wanted the students to write me individual messages. I wasn't supposed to pay attention to what they were doing, but I couldn't help but peek at the board. I saw that the teacher had written helpful phrases, such as, “thank you for teaching us English.” I figured that I would receive sixteen cards with the same message. When the time limit was up, the teacher had each student walk to the back of the room and hand me my note.
The messages were not all the same. Each student added his or her own touch. Some of the students that consistently wore convincing looks of boredom wrote that they really enjoyed the class. I wonder if they were being sincere, but I appreciate the sentiment anyhow. I also thought it was cute that many of the students wrote “I love you” or “I love Kelly” in their note. One of the students wrote that she'll never forget me. I'll never forget her either. She's the type of girl that I always wished I was more like in high school. She's confident enough to have a unique haircut. In a place like Japan, where individualism isn't necessarily applauded, this is confidence. She wears no makeup, likes rock music, and says that she wants to own a motorcycle one day. Cool and confident, something I never mastered when I was her age. (And something I'm still having trouble with :p). I was pleasantly surprised when the “pretty girl” of the class (think American cheerleader) wrote about something that I had once said in class. I didn't think she was listening, since she was always picking her nails or doodling on her paper, but I guess underneath that “too cool for school” façade, she really did care about the class. In fact, she cared about many things other than looking her best everyday, and I started to notice this about her after I read her New Year's resolution. She had written that she wanted to have her own will. I think the message was changed a bit in translation, but I think she's aiming for her decisions, not others', to control her life. As a response to this resolution, I wrote in her card that she should always believe in herself.
I had one student in the class that always struggled to stay awake. But one day, I noticed that he was very peppy and awake. I mentioned this observation to him, and he said that he had slept through all of his earlier classes, in order to be awake for mine. I hate to admit that I was pleased, YET I was not comfortable with the idea of him sleeping through all of his other classes. I had to be very tactful in asking him to stay awake in all of his other classes, because I didn't want him to think that I didn't appreciate the effort...nor did I want him to be sleepy for mine. This student is a real character and the only one willing to risk politeness. Example, he never hesitated to tell me that my Japanese pronunciation of certain words is absolutely wrong. We had a lot of fun while he corrected my Japanese pronunciation. The funniest moment came from him trying to teach me the correct pronunciation of butatama during a food lesson. (Butatama is a type of okonomiyaki, or savory pancake.) When he handed his note to me during this last class, it was really funny to see that he had written butatama in it. Especially, because I had done the same in his letter.
One of the students was always quiet and serious in class, but every time I saw him in the hallway and waved, he would smile. I guess you can crack the really quiet ones. In his note, he said he wanted me to learn more about Japanese culture. No worries, I'm already well on my way...
Just as there is the “cool girl”, the “class clown”, and the “pretty girl” in every class, there's the “class flirt.” In my class, it was a male student and he always flirted with all of the girls, and one day even decided to blow kisses at me (which I stopped immediately). Well, this “class flirt” didn't spare me his charm on the last day. He wrote in his card, “Kelly is a very beautiful teacher” and signed his name in cursive. I guess he has a reputation to preserve.
I have a student that is very skilled in English conversation, my "star student" in English so to speak. His hobby is to watch You Tube videos, in order to learn English. In his message, he told me that his plan is to go to Los Angeles when he's twenty-four years old, and therefore he'll see me again. He signed the note with an “I love you.” I always told this student that he should study abroad one day, and that he'll excel at the university level. In fact, I tell all of my students that they can study abroad, but I think this student is more motivated to sign up for a program. My students are always quick to tell me that they love me, and I'm not sure what they mean by it, but I know that love comes in many shapes and forms. I love my students (even the loud and obnoxious ones, though I won't hesitate to give them attitude from time to time). O_o
After receiving my notes, we had about ten minutes left, within which I showed the class the “Imagine” video. With the help of a dictionary and the teacher, I translated some of the key words. I wanted the students to understand the message of love and unity, despite differences. I was pleasantly surprised to hear one student sing along, though I wasn't surprised that it was my "star student." In a way, those lyrics represent how I live in Japan. I overlook the fact that we look different, that we think differently, that we are from different countries, and that we practice different religions. Instead, I see us as “one”, the human race. Some people wonder how I can live in such a homogeneous society, void of all of the different ethnic groups we find in the United States. But I don't let it bother me, because we can all look different or we can all look the same, but it doesn't change that we are all “one people.”
So I handed my students their notes and left them with a message of living as “one”. They'll probably forget all of the English I taught them if they don't continue to study English. Even if they continue to study English, I only taught them for six months, so they'll probably still forget everything I taught them. If there's one thing I do want them to remember, it's this optimistic message I shared with them all term.
“Imagine all the people, sharing all the world. You may say I'm a dreamer, but I'm not the only one. I hope some day you will join us, and the world will be as one.”
Saturday, January 29, 2011
Thursday, January 13, 2011
New Year’s Resolution: Don’t Make Any...d’oh!
2011: the year of the rabbit. I’d like to think that it’s my year, since it fits my nickname, but I was actually born in the year of the dragon, which could prove to be a good match. Dragons are stronger than rabbits, and according to one of my coworkers, this year will be a lucky one for the dragons. So far, so good. Not yet a full two weeks into the year, and I’ve already had two of my closest friends visit, traveled to some new places, seen old friends, and have made new ones. After an eventful and testing, but amazing 2010, it’s nice to refresh and set the tone for what I hope will be another great year. And this month, in a few days actually, I’ll have to make a big decision, which will probably not seem so large some years from now. But for now, it’s 2011 and it’s time to do some serious thinking.
On January 3rd, I took an overnight bus to Tokyo. The bus ride took about eight hours. Overnight bus rides are interesting; I feel as if I don’t sleep, yet every time I wake up, it’s three hours later from the last time I was awake, and time passes dully, but quickly. I don’t get quality sleep, but it’s a way to save on transportation and accommodation. Overnight buses usually arrive sometime between 5am and 9am. This one arrived at Shinjuku station, in Tokyo, at 6:30AM. The plan was to have an early breakfast, go to an onsen, meet my friend Yoko for lunch, check in at the hostel, and then meet my friends Rachel and Stephanie at the airport. Most of everything went according to plan, except for the morning. I wanted to settle down at a nice place for breakfast, yet the first recognizable place I could find was McDonalds. A blessing and a curse, those golden arches are all over the world.
I meant to only spend an hour or so at McDonalds, but two coffees, one hashbrown, an egg sandwich, and four hours later, I was barely leaving McDonalds. Kind of like the overnight bus, I’m not sure how the time passed by so quickly, but it did pass. After eating, I flipped through my guidebook, watched a movie on my ipod, messaged my family, wrote some thoughts on scratch paper, did a lot of thinking, and people watched. (The most entertaining was this girl with greasy hair that smelled like alcohol, and had her head down on the table. She was fast asleep, with a tray of two untouched meals in front of her. She was already there when I sat down, and she slept for about an hour, until the third incoming call in a row woke her. She answered, mumbled something into the phone, stood up and walked out, leaving the tray of food on the table. It was then, as she walked past, that I smelled the alcohol. I guess Ms.In-need-of-a-shampooing had had a long night, and was left hanging at McDonalds. Ouch.)
After the morning crowd had rushed in and out of McDonalds, the place got relatively quiet. I started to think about possibility. The possibility of certain things happening (or not) in the future, the possibilities for humanity, the possibility of success and failure, and the possibility of having more possibilities. O_o Though I didn’t want to, I started focusing on unchangeable circumstances, rather than focusing on choice. I know, it’s an uncertain and slippery slope once you start thinking about things you can’t control, and I found myself sliding. But, realizing that you have to deal with inevitable situations can make you aware of the value of choice. And while that may cause us to worry about the weight of our choices, it can eliminate the unnecessary stress of trying to change the things we cannot change. And, most people I know have a plethora of good things to choose from. Let’s never forget how blessed we are.
So, I talk about choice and circumstances, but what of fate? This past weekend, after my (amazing! fabulous!) trip to Tokyo and Nikko, I took my guests to Nara. We entered Todai-ji, a famous temple, and Stephanie and I decided to buy a fortune. For those of you outside of Japan, this is how it works: you either pick a small slip of paper out of a box, or you shake a container and lean it to the side, until a stick comes out of the small opening. The paper or stick will have a number printed on it, and that is the number of your fortune. You take your number to the temple employee, and he or she hands you a fortune. There might be more ways to get a fortune, but those two are the ones that I’ve noticed. My number was five, so the temple employee handed me the designated fortune for that number. I received my fortune after Stephanie, and she said that I had a horrible expression on my face as I read it.
Here is the gist of my fortune, recreated from memory:
Health: if you have a health problem, it will get worse.
Personal: the person you are waiting for will not come.
Travel: inadvisable.
Competition: you will lose.
Now you understand why I was horrified. If you get a bad fortune, you tie it to a tree or another designated area. The belief is that you won’t take the bad luck with you. I am not superstitious, but just to be on the safe side, I tied it next to the other bad fortunes. The fortune slip predicted misfortune, and even though I didn’t take the fortune to heart, it still revealed some of the insecurities and questions lurking in my subconscious. I forgot about it for the rest of the day, but I did think about it on the train ride back home. I linked the travel portion of the fortune to the decision that I alluded to earlier, which some of you already know of. That is, the need to decide whether I should stay in Japan for another year, or go home. Although I don’t believe that the fortune predicts the outcome of my decision, it did make me worry. It goes back to worrying about the weight of our decisions... Regarding the fortune, I realized how ambiguous it was, since “travel” is vague word, and I would technically travel back to the U.S. . But, if you think about it, even though I am living in Japan, I am still a traveler in this foreign country. Instead of taking the fortune as something likely to happen, I considered it a word to the wise. Time to check my expectations: when I think about going back home or about staying, are my expectations realistic? My fortune made me realize that some of them may not be. Evaluating expectations can be a helpful approach to decision making.
We may give fate more credit than she deserves, or we might not respect her enough. Just remember, “You can't leave everything up to fate...she has a lot to do! Sometimes, you must give her a hand.” Sounds like all women, real or personified, have a lot on their plate. :p
Earlier, I mentioned that a teacher told me that 2011 will be a lucky year for dragons. What I neglected to mention was that she also said that the following year will be an unlucky one for the dragon. She suggested that I go to the shrine and pray, in order for it to not affect me. What I don’t understand is, if next year will be the year of the dragon, why would it be unlucky for us? Well, whatever the case, luckily I can breathe fire and burn down anything that stands in my way ;).
The first lesson of the year in all my classes will be a New Year's lesson. In this lesson, we speak about the fortunes that Japanese people buy from the temples or shrines on New Year's day. I brought up the contents of my fortune while conversing with the teacher that helped me prepare the lesson. She surprised me when she said that sometimes bad fortunes are better than good ones. Her reasoning: when you are presented with the worst kind of news, figuratively speaking, there’s no direction that you can go, but up. She even said that some people are happy to receive bad fortunes, because it symbolizes the ability to raise yourself out of any negative circumstance; things can only get better. Bad fortune or not, we all have those from time to time, and we are faced with choices to make. Again, how much are we relying on fate? How can we be more proactive in creating the changes we want to see?
So, while I told myself that I wouldn’t make any New Year’s resolutions this year, I find myself with a long mental list, ready to exchange dreams for plans.
On January 3rd, I took an overnight bus to Tokyo. The bus ride took about eight hours. Overnight bus rides are interesting; I feel as if I don’t sleep, yet every time I wake up, it’s three hours later from the last time I was awake, and time passes dully, but quickly. I don’t get quality sleep, but it’s a way to save on transportation and accommodation. Overnight buses usually arrive sometime between 5am and 9am. This one arrived at Shinjuku station, in Tokyo, at 6:30AM. The plan was to have an early breakfast, go to an onsen, meet my friend Yoko for lunch, check in at the hostel, and then meet my friends Rachel and Stephanie at the airport. Most of everything went according to plan, except for the morning. I wanted to settle down at a nice place for breakfast, yet the first recognizable place I could find was McDonalds. A blessing and a curse, those golden arches are all over the world.
I meant to only spend an hour or so at McDonalds, but two coffees, one hashbrown, an egg sandwich, and four hours later, I was barely leaving McDonalds. Kind of like the overnight bus, I’m not sure how the time passed by so quickly, but it did pass. After eating, I flipped through my guidebook, watched a movie on my ipod, messaged my family, wrote some thoughts on scratch paper, did a lot of thinking, and people watched. (The most entertaining was this girl with greasy hair that smelled like alcohol, and had her head down on the table. She was fast asleep, with a tray of two untouched meals in front of her. She was already there when I sat down, and she slept for about an hour, until the third incoming call in a row woke her. She answered, mumbled something into the phone, stood up and walked out, leaving the tray of food on the table. It was then, as she walked past, that I smelled the alcohol. I guess Ms.In-need-of-a-shampooing had had a long night, and was left hanging at McDonalds. Ouch.)
After the morning crowd had rushed in and out of McDonalds, the place got relatively quiet. I started to think about possibility. The possibility of certain things happening (or not) in the future, the possibilities for humanity, the possibility of success and failure, and the possibility of having more possibilities. O_o Though I didn’t want to, I started focusing on unchangeable circumstances, rather than focusing on choice. I know, it’s an uncertain and slippery slope once you start thinking about things you can’t control, and I found myself sliding. But, realizing that you have to deal with inevitable situations can make you aware of the value of choice. And while that may cause us to worry about the weight of our choices, it can eliminate the unnecessary stress of trying to change the things we cannot change. And, most people I know have a plethora of good things to choose from. Let’s never forget how blessed we are.
So, I talk about choice and circumstances, but what of fate? This past weekend, after my (amazing! fabulous!) trip to Tokyo and Nikko, I took my guests to Nara. We entered Todai-ji, a famous temple, and Stephanie and I decided to buy a fortune. For those of you outside of Japan, this is how it works: you either pick a small slip of paper out of a box, or you shake a container and lean it to the side, until a stick comes out of the small opening. The paper or stick will have a number printed on it, and that is the number of your fortune. You take your number to the temple employee, and he or she hands you a fortune. There might be more ways to get a fortune, but those two are the ones that I’ve noticed. My number was five, so the temple employee handed me the designated fortune for that number. I received my fortune after Stephanie, and she said that I had a horrible expression on my face as I read it.
Here is the gist of my fortune, recreated from memory:
Health: if you have a health problem, it will get worse.
Personal: the person you are waiting for will not come.
Travel: inadvisable.
Competition: you will lose.
Now you understand why I was horrified. If you get a bad fortune, you tie it to a tree or another designated area. The belief is that you won’t take the bad luck with you. I am not superstitious, but just to be on the safe side, I tied it next to the other bad fortunes. The fortune slip predicted misfortune, and even though I didn’t take the fortune to heart, it still revealed some of the insecurities and questions lurking in my subconscious. I forgot about it for the rest of the day, but I did think about it on the train ride back home. I linked the travel portion of the fortune to the decision that I alluded to earlier, which some of you already know of. That is, the need to decide whether I should stay in Japan for another year, or go home. Although I don’t believe that the fortune predicts the outcome of my decision, it did make me worry. It goes back to worrying about the weight of our decisions... Regarding the fortune, I realized how ambiguous it was, since “travel” is vague word, and I would technically travel back to the U.S. . But, if you think about it, even though I am living in Japan, I am still a traveler in this foreign country. Instead of taking the fortune as something likely to happen, I considered it a word to the wise. Time to check my expectations: when I think about going back home or about staying, are my expectations realistic? My fortune made me realize that some of them may not be. Evaluating expectations can be a helpful approach to decision making.
We may give fate more credit than she deserves, or we might not respect her enough. Just remember, “You can't leave everything up to fate...she has a lot to do! Sometimes, you must give her a hand.” Sounds like all women, real or personified, have a lot on their plate. :p
Earlier, I mentioned that a teacher told me that 2011 will be a lucky year for dragons. What I neglected to mention was that she also said that the following year will be an unlucky one for the dragon. She suggested that I go to the shrine and pray, in order for it to not affect me. What I don’t understand is, if next year will be the year of the dragon, why would it be unlucky for us? Well, whatever the case, luckily I can breathe fire and burn down anything that stands in my way ;).
The first lesson of the year in all my classes will be a New Year's lesson. In this lesson, we speak about the fortunes that Japanese people buy from the temples or shrines on New Year's day. I brought up the contents of my fortune while conversing with the teacher that helped me prepare the lesson. She surprised me when she said that sometimes bad fortunes are better than good ones. Her reasoning: when you are presented with the worst kind of news, figuratively speaking, there’s no direction that you can go, but up. She even said that some people are happy to receive bad fortunes, because it symbolizes the ability to raise yourself out of any negative circumstance; things can only get better. Bad fortune or not, we all have those from time to time, and we are faced with choices to make. Again, how much are we relying on fate? How can we be more proactive in creating the changes we want to see?
So, while I told myself that I wouldn’t make any New Year’s resolutions this year, I find myself with a long mental list, ready to exchange dreams for plans.
Sunday, January 2, 2011
"Mr. Intentional"
So here's a less upbeat post that was inspired by an insightful Lauryn Hill song, and provoked by a recent situation, though not limited to said scenario. I write about those that have hurt me or others, and that will never learn to respect others. I will call you “Mr. Intentional.” Also, I share my thoughts for all of you that show compassion and love, despite the wrongdoing and corruption that may surround you. I want you to know that you don't need to degrade yourself, and you shouldn't be pressured into exchanging your kindness for malice, even in a world where it seems that everyone else does. Simply, be careful, don't let anyone bring you down; you are worth more than you know, and you need to start believing it. I believe it. And for those that are guilty of initiating deceit, realize that it's not too late to change who you are, but the real question is, are you brave enough to?
So, I begin by saying to the wrongdoers that have inspired this blog, don't feel special because I am taking the time to write about you. I write about things that impact me, and it's not rocket science to see that your repulsive acts have impacted me.... I've learned a lesson, and I have made a promise to myself that I will be more careful about who I give my time to. And even though you are a part of my narrative, you should know, “Mr. Intentional”, that you're only worth the thirty or so minutes that it will take me to write this blog. I may even be giving you more than you're worth, but don't overestimate its value. I'm only giving you a miniscule fraction of the time and energy that I have to give, that I've ever given, and that I will continue to give. Thirty minutes compared to a lifetime, is nothing. And I'll even be dramatic to emphasize my point – thirty minutes compared to the age of our earth and universe is but a mere speck in time. And don't you dare compare the nature of these words to the words I dedicate to others. I'll have you know that in regards to others that I write positively about, the time I spend writing about them is only a sparkle of the love, affection and gratitude that I feel for them.
Alright, now that I've made myself clear, I'll continue. I don't want to extend my generosity a minute more.
I know that we are all a little messed up at times. I know that we all come with baggage. And I KNOW that we are all immature at times. But when you find yourself trying to mask that part of you by lying, you're worse than the person who shows his or her ugly truth from the beginning. Because the ugly truth, I can deal with, and I have dealt with. See, by showing your ugly side, you are at least being brave enough to risk the possibility of others walking away from you. And usually, most people stick around to see you through. But the beautiful lies, no one likes to be played for a fool. So, keep your beautiful lies in your museum of deceit. As old as the practice may be, take your innovative set of lies home; I'm into the simple and classic practice of honesty. Don't be afraid to show others that you're only human and that you make mistakes. We all do. Mine was believing you and being mislead by you. And I can admit that, because I'm no coward. And for that reason, I've never had sympathy for cowards. Everyone deserves a second chance at redemption, but cowards never claim it. They ignore the opportunity to come clean, again and again. There is no good time to admit the ugly truth, so you just have to find the courage to unleash it. Cowards never do. And when the truth is found out (not directly from the coward, of course), it's funny how quickly they hide that “sweet” face of theirs. Yeah. I can tell that cowards are scared of me, because they always avoid confrontation.
I can move on from a negative situation. But I don't need to tell you that, “Mr. Intentional” ; you realized that when I stopped allowing you to take advantage of the situation. For me, it was a lesson learned. As for you, you might never learn. For the sake of others, I hope that you do. But even if you don't, I am unaffected. I'll continue living my life.
So, please, if you find yourself in a situation where a “Mr. Intentional” is taking advantage of you, don't allow it. Don't fill your head with others' lies. The only person you can rely on one-hundred percent, twenty-four hours a day, is yourself, so protect your well-being. Value yourself and be good to others. People come and go, so focus on your positive dreams. Don't be scared of being alone, because you won't have to: positive people find positive people. If you realize this, then anytime that someone hurts you, those feelings of hurt will eventually fade. Mind you, “Mr. Intentional” will never apologize or have the courage to face you, so force yourself to move on without a sincere apology. Usually, only those that have taken precautions from the beginning to not hurt you are the type to offer a sincere apology.
Finding the strength to move past a situation reminds me of one of Rocío Dúrcal's songs, “Caray.” Dúrcal sings about someone that has hurt her: “despues, despues yo te olvide, y te perdone, y no puedo hacer ya nada por ti.” Basically, she sings that after everything was said and done, she forgot him, she forgave him, and that's all that she can do for him. So, if you've been hurt, just remember that you should offer forgiveness. In the large scheme of things, and in a world with larger problems, it's a minor situation, so don't blow it out of proportion by allowing yourself to become a bitter person.
So, my dear friends, “Mr. Intentional” knows what he has done to you, and the person will do it again if you let him or her. I would hate to see you cry, twice. Keep this saying in mind, “fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me.” You don't need to be in a situation where people are using you. Don't be in denial, and don't make excuses for people: “Fantasy is what people want, but reality is what they need.” The reality is that you need to get away, and stay away. You might walk away with hurt feelings, but you'll walk away with the ability to heal. And as for them, they'll have their conscience to answer to, and their denial to keep them company.
And “don't (you dare) worship my hurt feelings, Mr. Intentional.” Yet, I can't guarantee that you won't, because as it has been written, when it's all said and done, I will forgive you, I will forget you, and that's all I can do for you.
So, I begin by saying to the wrongdoers that have inspired this blog, don't feel special because I am taking the time to write about you. I write about things that impact me, and it's not rocket science to see that your repulsive acts have impacted me.... I've learned a lesson, and I have made a promise to myself that I will be more careful about who I give my time to. And even though you are a part of my narrative, you should know, “Mr. Intentional”, that you're only worth the thirty or so minutes that it will take me to write this blog. I may even be giving you more than you're worth, but don't overestimate its value. I'm only giving you a miniscule fraction of the time and energy that I have to give, that I've ever given, and that I will continue to give. Thirty minutes compared to a lifetime, is nothing. And I'll even be dramatic to emphasize my point – thirty minutes compared to the age of our earth and universe is but a mere speck in time. And don't you dare compare the nature of these words to the words I dedicate to others. I'll have you know that in regards to others that I write positively about, the time I spend writing about them is only a sparkle of the love, affection and gratitude that I feel for them.
Alright, now that I've made myself clear, I'll continue. I don't want to extend my generosity a minute more.
I know that we are all a little messed up at times. I know that we all come with baggage. And I KNOW that we are all immature at times. But when you find yourself trying to mask that part of you by lying, you're worse than the person who shows his or her ugly truth from the beginning. Because the ugly truth, I can deal with, and I have dealt with. See, by showing your ugly side, you are at least being brave enough to risk the possibility of others walking away from you. And usually, most people stick around to see you through. But the beautiful lies, no one likes to be played for a fool. So, keep your beautiful lies in your museum of deceit. As old as the practice may be, take your innovative set of lies home; I'm into the simple and classic practice of honesty. Don't be afraid to show others that you're only human and that you make mistakes. We all do. Mine was believing you and being mislead by you. And I can admit that, because I'm no coward. And for that reason, I've never had sympathy for cowards. Everyone deserves a second chance at redemption, but cowards never claim it. They ignore the opportunity to come clean, again and again. There is no good time to admit the ugly truth, so you just have to find the courage to unleash it. Cowards never do. And when the truth is found out (not directly from the coward, of course), it's funny how quickly they hide that “sweet” face of theirs. Yeah. I can tell that cowards are scared of me, because they always avoid confrontation.
I can move on from a negative situation. But I don't need to tell you that, “Mr. Intentional” ; you realized that when I stopped allowing you to take advantage of the situation. For me, it was a lesson learned. As for you, you might never learn. For the sake of others, I hope that you do. But even if you don't, I am unaffected. I'll continue living my life.
So, please, if you find yourself in a situation where a “Mr. Intentional” is taking advantage of you, don't allow it. Don't fill your head with others' lies. The only person you can rely on one-hundred percent, twenty-four hours a day, is yourself, so protect your well-being. Value yourself and be good to others. People come and go, so focus on your positive dreams. Don't be scared of being alone, because you won't have to: positive people find positive people. If you realize this, then anytime that someone hurts you, those feelings of hurt will eventually fade. Mind you, “Mr. Intentional” will never apologize or have the courage to face you, so force yourself to move on without a sincere apology. Usually, only those that have taken precautions from the beginning to not hurt you are the type to offer a sincere apology.
Finding the strength to move past a situation reminds me of one of Rocío Dúrcal's songs, “Caray.” Dúrcal sings about someone that has hurt her: “despues, despues yo te olvide, y te perdone, y no puedo hacer ya nada por ti.” Basically, she sings that after everything was said and done, she forgot him, she forgave him, and that's all that she can do for him. So, if you've been hurt, just remember that you should offer forgiveness. In the large scheme of things, and in a world with larger problems, it's a minor situation, so don't blow it out of proportion by allowing yourself to become a bitter person.
So, my dear friends, “Mr. Intentional” knows what he has done to you, and the person will do it again if you let him or her. I would hate to see you cry, twice. Keep this saying in mind, “fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me.” You don't need to be in a situation where people are using you. Don't be in denial, and don't make excuses for people: “Fantasy is what people want, but reality is what they need.” The reality is that you need to get away, and stay away. You might walk away with hurt feelings, but you'll walk away with the ability to heal. And as for them, they'll have their conscience to answer to, and their denial to keep them company.
And “don't (you dare) worship my hurt feelings, Mr. Intentional.” Yet, I can't guarantee that you won't, because as it has been written, when it's all said and done, I will forgive you, I will forget you, and that's all I can do for you.
Monday, December 13, 2010
Letters from Abroad, “Through Distance and Time I'll Be Waiting”
“You are always on my mind. All I do is count the days. Where are you now?”
Lately, I can really relate to those three lines of Alicia Keys's song “Distance and Time”. Though Miss Keys dedicates it to all the lovers separated by distance and time, I dedicate it to all my loved ones far away. I wish I could be in so many places at once, and with so many people at the same time. That's not necessarily a bad thing, but sometimes it distracts me from living in the present time, moment and place. All desires aside, the fact is that I cannot be everywhere at once. So instead of mourning the impossible, I write to connect with people and places. I write messages and emails to people at home, I write on this blog, and I write letters.
Some people have commented on how slow and old-fashioned snail mail is. I half agree with that statement; some letters I've sent have arrived in a week. And maybe they are a bit old-fashioned, but the handwritten letter has personality. My letters have personality: mine and yours. To begin with, choosing the perfect card and stationary takes time. I love it when I glance at a card display and know within seconds that a certain card belongs in the hands of a special person on my list. However, more often than not, I have a hard time choosing. There are just sooo many cards and stationary sets that could make someone on my list very happy. I wish I could buy them all, but for the sake of the trees, I don't. Well, not really.... I'd trade my post-it obsession for a card obsession if that were the case. (Just to clarify though, I am pretty adamant about recycling and such. :p ) Rather, I'd question my budgeting skills if I spent too much money on cards.
Once I have chosen my paper and pen, the writing process begins. This takes longer than everything else put together. Maybe it's because I type on a keyboard and phone pad more than I handwrite, but writing by hand takes so long....more than I remember! I've tried to write all letters at one time, but I can't get past seven letters at a time. The letter writing happens in waves. Finally, taking the letters to the post office requires planning ahead, or sometimes means going during my lunch break and returning to the staffroom soaked in rain (like today).
“I know I'll never let you down. I will never go away.”
I always promise the people I love that I will stand by them, and yet it seems that I always go away. (Classic struggle of physical vs. emotional). I know that my friends and family want me to be happy, and sometimes that requires leaving on an adventure. I love to see new places. I love to meet new people. I love to experience something different. And, distance is a state of mind after all. Yes it is, but sometimes we can trick ourselves into being distant when the physical distance is great. This usually starts with failing to keep in touch. I haven't figured out how to avoid this dilemma, but I can feel my heart trying to when my daily choices are affected by someone far away, or when the slightest detail reminds me of someone special. I love it when thinking of someone at home makes a bad day better. Just knowing that the person would know exactly what to say reassures me. I hope I return the favor in some way. So, please know that I write to reassure you that I will never go away, contrary to how you may feel.
“I really wish that you would stay but what can we do, all the days that you've been gone I dream about you, and I anticipate the day that you will come home, home, home.”
Yes, home is California. But home is also two cities in California: Reseda and Los Angeles. Home is also France. And home is now also Japan. Home is mainly where my heart is, or has been, or continues to intersect with my experiences. So how do I deal with these feelings of belonging? You know those cards and letters you send me through the mail? Or those messages that you send to me online? Opening them feels like home. When you take the time to write to me, it's like I'm home. And when we see each other after a long time, it's like I never left home. So you see, I will never go away =)
That is why I love writing to people, and why it's a horrible feeling to lose touch with someone. Sometimes you let distance affect you. You may go from seeing a person everyday to seeing them once a year, or once every two years. You go so long without talking to him or her, and the more time that passes, the harder it is to get back into the same groove. The longer the delay, the more you fear that you will not be compatible with that person. So, you might distance yourself to create a buffer between incompatibility. The distance protects you from having to redefine a relationship. The distance allows you to hold on to what the relationship was like. And if you do manage to reconnect with someone special, there are usually two outcomes. IF you're lucky, you realize that regardless of any changes, you are still compatible in your desire to care for each other. Sadly, we sometimes find that we have grown too far apart from the other person. While it is wonderful to discover mutual love, it is scary to not recognize someone you once knew so well. Thus, I prefer to never lose touch at all. I have never been perfect at it, so I am trying to improve. If we lost contact a while ago, please write to me. I promise that I'll write back...
“No matter how far you are, no matter how long it takes him[/her], through distance and time I'll be waiting.”
I write because that's all I can offer you at the moment. I can't give you a hug when you're feeling blue, nor a pat on the back when you make me proud, nor a playful punch when you make a joke... nor can I give your hand a gentle squeeze to comfort you, nor a live smile or laugh. My letter is the only physical thing carrying those across the ocean to you, so please accept it wholeheartedly.
Here's to wishing that no letter of mine will sit in a mailbox, collecting dust. Because waiting in vain, that's a whole different song...
“And if you have to walk a million miles, I'll wait a million days to see you smile. Distance and time, I'll be waiting.”
“Distance and time, I'll be waiting.”
Lately, I can really relate to those three lines of Alicia Keys's song “Distance and Time”. Though Miss Keys dedicates it to all the lovers separated by distance and time, I dedicate it to all my loved ones far away. I wish I could be in so many places at once, and with so many people at the same time. That's not necessarily a bad thing, but sometimes it distracts me from living in the present time, moment and place. All desires aside, the fact is that I cannot be everywhere at once. So instead of mourning the impossible, I write to connect with people and places. I write messages and emails to people at home, I write on this blog, and I write letters.
Some people have commented on how slow and old-fashioned snail mail is. I half agree with that statement; some letters I've sent have arrived in a week. And maybe they are a bit old-fashioned, but the handwritten letter has personality. My letters have personality: mine and yours. To begin with, choosing the perfect card and stationary takes time. I love it when I glance at a card display and know within seconds that a certain card belongs in the hands of a special person on my list. However, more often than not, I have a hard time choosing. There are just sooo many cards and stationary sets that could make someone on my list very happy. I wish I could buy them all, but for the sake of the trees, I don't. Well, not really.... I'd trade my post-it obsession for a card obsession if that were the case. (Just to clarify though, I am pretty adamant about recycling and such. :p ) Rather, I'd question my budgeting skills if I spent too much money on cards.
Once I have chosen my paper and pen, the writing process begins. This takes longer than everything else put together. Maybe it's because I type on a keyboard and phone pad more than I handwrite, but writing by hand takes so long....more than I remember! I've tried to write all letters at one time, but I can't get past seven letters at a time. The letter writing happens in waves. Finally, taking the letters to the post office requires planning ahead, or sometimes means going during my lunch break and returning to the staffroom soaked in rain (like today).
“I know I'll never let you down. I will never go away.”
I always promise the people I love that I will stand by them, and yet it seems that I always go away. (Classic struggle of physical vs. emotional). I know that my friends and family want me to be happy, and sometimes that requires leaving on an adventure. I love to see new places. I love to meet new people. I love to experience something different. And, distance is a state of mind after all. Yes it is, but sometimes we can trick ourselves into being distant when the physical distance is great. This usually starts with failing to keep in touch. I haven't figured out how to avoid this dilemma, but I can feel my heart trying to when my daily choices are affected by someone far away, or when the slightest detail reminds me of someone special. I love it when thinking of someone at home makes a bad day better. Just knowing that the person would know exactly what to say reassures me. I hope I return the favor in some way. So, please know that I write to reassure you that I will never go away, contrary to how you may feel.
“I really wish that you would stay but what can we do, all the days that you've been gone I dream about you, and I anticipate the day that you will come home, home, home.”
Yes, home is California. But home is also two cities in California: Reseda and Los Angeles. Home is also France. And home is now also Japan. Home is mainly where my heart is, or has been, or continues to intersect with my experiences. So how do I deal with these feelings of belonging? You know those cards and letters you send me through the mail? Or those messages that you send to me online? Opening them feels like home. When you take the time to write to me, it's like I'm home. And when we see each other after a long time, it's like I never left home. So you see, I will never go away =)
That is why I love writing to people, and why it's a horrible feeling to lose touch with someone. Sometimes you let distance affect you. You may go from seeing a person everyday to seeing them once a year, or once every two years. You go so long without talking to him or her, and the more time that passes, the harder it is to get back into the same groove. The longer the delay, the more you fear that you will not be compatible with that person. So, you might distance yourself to create a buffer between incompatibility. The distance protects you from having to redefine a relationship. The distance allows you to hold on to what the relationship was like. And if you do manage to reconnect with someone special, there are usually two outcomes. IF you're lucky, you realize that regardless of any changes, you are still compatible in your desire to care for each other. Sadly, we sometimes find that we have grown too far apart from the other person. While it is wonderful to discover mutual love, it is scary to not recognize someone you once knew so well. Thus, I prefer to never lose touch at all. I have never been perfect at it, so I am trying to improve. If we lost contact a while ago, please write to me. I promise that I'll write back...
“No matter how far you are, no matter how long it takes him[/her], through distance and time I'll be waiting.”
I write because that's all I can offer you at the moment. I can't give you a hug when you're feeling blue, nor a pat on the back when you make me proud, nor a playful punch when you make a joke... nor can I give your hand a gentle squeeze to comfort you, nor a live smile or laugh. My letter is the only physical thing carrying those across the ocean to you, so please accept it wholeheartedly.
Here's to wishing that no letter of mine will sit in a mailbox, collecting dust. Because waiting in vain, that's a whole different song...
“And if you have to walk a million miles, I'll wait a million days to see you smile. Distance and time, I'll be waiting.”
“Distance and time, I'll be waiting.”
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Bajo La Misma Luna, Luna de Octubre
Every night, I receive an email from my parents. My mom sends me a text before she starts getting ready for work, and my dad sends me an email from his workplace. So, every night at around 10:30pm, my phone rings or vibrates and lets me know that I have mail. The time difference between California and Japan is sixteen hours, so this is one of the few time windows where the three of us are in sync and able to talk. My parents send me a brief message before they start their busy days, and I am able to read it as my busy day comes to an end. It's a rare, quiet time in our schedules that we can make up for the distance between us and the responsibilities that occupy our time.
One night, I received an email from my dad with an attachment. He had attached a song to the email. He explained that the song, “Juan el Pescador”, was recorded in Mexico in 1968 by the musical group las Estrellas de Plata. He was twelve years old when the song was released, and when he was fourteen or fifteen years old, his older sister and her husband took him to buy the song. The single was on a two-song 45 rpm record. After having saved up his money for a long time, he was the proud owner of the vinyl record. He doesn't remember why he was drawn to that particular song, and even forgot about the song until he rediscovered it three years ago. And through that email, I discovered a moment in my dad's childhood. For the next four nights, I played that song while writing back to my dad's emails.
Five nights later, my dad sent me another song. This one was titled “Luna de Octubre.” The email was mostly blank, so I simply listened to the song and appreciated the traditional style of the trio. The next night, he sent another email where he quoted the song, “De las lunas, la de Octubre es más hermosa.” Roughly translated, “Of all the moons, October's moon is the loveliest.” He then asked me if I had had a chance to look up at the moon. He hadn't seen the moon lately, but he wondered if I could see it, since it was nighttime in Japan. It was October 9th and all I could see was a thin crescent. It was barely visible, but it was lovely.
Every night after, it became a friendly challenge to see who remembered to look for the moon. Sometimes it would slip my mind, but sometimes I would look for it as I biked home from the gym. We would share our “moon story” every night. One night, we had both seen the same moon. My dad had seen the moon as he drove to work in the early hours of the morning, before the sun fully rose. I had seen it on my way home from a late workout. Although we know that we see the same moon, it had really felt like we were under the same one.
It's harder for my dad and I to look out for each other with the distance and time difference. Yet, my dad felt that the moon was a way for us to make amends with both. When the sun is rising in California, and the moon camouflages itself into the daylight, the moon is still shining in Japan. So in a way, while I sleep and my dad goes about his daily obligations, the moon looks after me from the moment I make my way home every night. Reversely, as I teach and am occupied with work, the moon appears in California and watches over my family. Although we're living in different parts of the day and do not share the same time zone, we share the same moon. We are under the same moon. Estamos bajo la misma luna.
Bajo la misma luna. I borrowed the phrase from the title of a film that my brother once suggested we watch as a family. The film is about a Mexican mother who leaves her son in the care of his grandmother, in order to work in the United States and provide for her mother and son. Every week, she calls her son and tells him that they are under the same moon, and that it looks after him since she is so far away. When the grandmother passes away, the boy decides to enter the United States and look for his mother. He has no address and no proper documentation to enter the United States, and his journey is a dangerous one. However, he finds comfort in the moon, and sees it as a sign that his mother is watching over him. I won't spoil the movie for you, but the essential point is that the moon has symbolic value, and that regardless where they are geographically, they are under the same moon.
When I replied to my dad's insight about the moon, I included the phrase “bajo la misma luna.” He immediately understood where the phrase came from and what it meant.
On October 23rd, there was a full moon, and though it was a bit cloudy, it was still radiant in all its glory.
One night, I received an email from my dad with an attachment. He had attached a song to the email. He explained that the song, “Juan el Pescador”, was recorded in Mexico in 1968 by the musical group las Estrellas de Plata. He was twelve years old when the song was released, and when he was fourteen or fifteen years old, his older sister and her husband took him to buy the song. The single was on a two-song 45 rpm record. After having saved up his money for a long time, he was the proud owner of the vinyl record. He doesn't remember why he was drawn to that particular song, and even forgot about the song until he rediscovered it three years ago. And through that email, I discovered a moment in my dad's childhood. For the next four nights, I played that song while writing back to my dad's emails.
Five nights later, my dad sent me another song. This one was titled “Luna de Octubre.” The email was mostly blank, so I simply listened to the song and appreciated the traditional style of the trio. The next night, he sent another email where he quoted the song, “De las lunas, la de Octubre es más hermosa.” Roughly translated, “Of all the moons, October's moon is the loveliest.” He then asked me if I had had a chance to look up at the moon. He hadn't seen the moon lately, but he wondered if I could see it, since it was nighttime in Japan. It was October 9th and all I could see was a thin crescent. It was barely visible, but it was lovely.
Every night after, it became a friendly challenge to see who remembered to look for the moon. Sometimes it would slip my mind, but sometimes I would look for it as I biked home from the gym. We would share our “moon story” every night. One night, we had both seen the same moon. My dad had seen the moon as he drove to work in the early hours of the morning, before the sun fully rose. I had seen it on my way home from a late workout. Although we know that we see the same moon, it had really felt like we were under the same one.
It's harder for my dad and I to look out for each other with the distance and time difference. Yet, my dad felt that the moon was a way for us to make amends with both. When the sun is rising in California, and the moon camouflages itself into the daylight, the moon is still shining in Japan. So in a way, while I sleep and my dad goes about his daily obligations, the moon looks after me from the moment I make my way home every night. Reversely, as I teach and am occupied with work, the moon appears in California and watches over my family. Although we're living in different parts of the day and do not share the same time zone, we share the same moon. We are under the same moon. Estamos bajo la misma luna.
Bajo la misma luna. I borrowed the phrase from the title of a film that my brother once suggested we watch as a family. The film is about a Mexican mother who leaves her son in the care of his grandmother, in order to work in the United States and provide for her mother and son. Every week, she calls her son and tells him that they are under the same moon, and that it looks after him since she is so far away. When the grandmother passes away, the boy decides to enter the United States and look for his mother. He has no address and no proper documentation to enter the United States, and his journey is a dangerous one. However, he finds comfort in the moon, and sees it as a sign that his mother is watching over him. I won't spoil the movie for you, but the essential point is that the moon has symbolic value, and that regardless where they are geographically, they are under the same moon.
When I replied to my dad's insight about the moon, I included the phrase “bajo la misma luna.” He immediately understood where the phrase came from and what it meant.
On October 23rd, there was a full moon, and though it was a bit cloudy, it was still radiant in all its glory.
Saturday, September 25, 2010
Sexy "Joba" Time
I joined a gym! Last month, a Japanese teacher invited me to the gym to try out an easy aerobics class and a Zumba class. I had been wanting to try out the gyms in my area, so this was the ideal situation; a Japanese person would walk me through a gym. It saved me from entering a local gym and having what could have been a painful conversation with a gym employee.
We met on a Tuesday night for my gym tour. I was pleasantly surprised by the Japanese gym. Normally, I associate gyms with sweaty people, but this gym, like everything else in Japan, was absolutely pristine. I assure you, there was plenty of sweaty people, but everything else was just so clean. To start, you take your outdoor shoes off at the entrance and put them in a mini locker, turn the little knob, and take the small locker key with you. After, you walk over to the front desk and show the receptionist your membership card. On my first visit, I had to sign some liability papers. I guess safety hazards and law suits also exist in Japan :p When you finish that process, you make your way to the locker rooms. In my gym, the locker room is on the second floor. Of course, the female locker rooms have a pink curtain in the entryway, and the male locker rooms have a blue curtain in the entrance -_-. In Japan, my gender is pink. Not female or woman, but pink. I'm not thrilled about that, but it's getting engrained in my head. I have become so “cutesy” obsessed, and am so attracted to the color pink. Darn you socialization...! Still, the attention to detail in Japan is just so darn cute.... ugh.
Anyways, I digress. Back to my locker discussion. The lockers are for day use, so you can't leave anything in them overnight. However, there are smaller lockers that you can rent for an additional monthly cost. I'm considering renting one. Either that, or getting a larger gym bag to fit my shoes, clothes, toiletries, and a change of clothes. The first time I visited, I didn't have any brand new, clean gym shoes, so I had to rent some from the front desk for 200 yen. Luckily they had my size! For some reason, my “American size” in Japan is 8.5, which doesn't make sense, because I am a 9.5 in women sizes and a 7.5 in men sizes. Regardless, they had shoes that I could wear!
One of the group exercise studios is on the same floor as the locker room, and the other one is on the third floor. The cardio machines, the weight room, the stretching room and the massage chair room are also on the third floor. Yes, they have a massaging chair room. I'll get back to that in a moment... For now, let me tell you about the Easy Aerobics and Zumba class.
Easy Aerobics was not so easy... I'll explain. I enjoy exercise, and I love aerobics, but I am not very athletic. My life is full of contradictions. (Haha) I have bad reflexes, my hand-eye coordination is oh-so limited, and I'm clumsy. With that in mind, you can imagine what I look like in an aerobics class. Now, picture me in a class with instructions spoken in Japanese and really flexible and fit Japanese people, and there is potential for a seriously funny image. If you know me well, you're probably laughing now, and if you're not, you would have been laughing if you could have seen me in my first exercise class in Japan. I was always one tempo behind everyone, since I had to imitate the steps instead of listening for directions, and I couldn't keep up with the sequences. They were too complex for me haha. Everyone else though, was following along perfectly and doing it so gracefully. Japanese people bounce gracefully when they do aerobics. In California, I have done aerobics classes, and I find that aerobic moves are more mechanical. In Japan, people's feet glide...
In the last ten minutes of the class, the instructor dims the lights and guides the class through some simple stretches. The instructor is this young-looking Japanese woman, who is probably 50 for all I know, and the participants are usually older than me, way older. In Japan, age is really nothing but a number when it comes to athleticism and appearance. They age so well, and they are still so active when they are older. The easy aerobics course is popular among the older crowd, and while the level is easier than kickboxing, I am still impressed at their performance. They have no problems with the stretches she proposes. One of the stretches in the first class was a hip stretch, and the instructor approached me to correct my form, but when she tried to adjust my position, she realized why I wasn't doing it correctly. I simply can't. Let's just put it this way, a yoga instructor at UCLA once approached me during a yoga course, and tried to correct my hip stretch, but when she saw that I couldn't, she told me I had stiff hips. Another yoga instructor advised me to bend more into child's pose, and when I couldn't do it on my own, she said that I must spend a lot of time sitting and studying. I'm not sure what the health hazards of “stiff hips” are, but the description doesn't sound pretty and the “condition” is pitiful in a room full of old people that don't seem to suffer from “stiff hips.” So yes, it was a problem in California, and it continues to be a problem in Japan. But wait, there is hope...
There are certain machines in the gym that look funny, and people that ride them also look funny. Yes, I did just use the verb “ride”, and that's because that is exactly what people do on these machines. The machines are called “joba” machines, which I understand is also the word for horseback riding. They were first introduced in Japan, and apparently have been a hit in some American gyms. The machines were inspired by the benefits of horseback riding as physical therapy. The joba machines are not an excellent source of cardio, but they strengthen the core, thighs, and lower back muscles as the rider makes an effort to stay on the machine while it rocks back and forth. In addition, a friend of mine suspects that they are part of the reason why Japanese people are so flexible. I see the old folk on them, and they are soooo flexible, so I believe it!!! So, this is why I say there is hope for me and my hips. I have incorporated “sexy” joba time into my gym routine. Oh, and I describe it as “sexy”, because the circular motions are pretty provocative. I blame places like Saddle Ranch and their bull riding entertainment for that thought...
After the aerobics class, the real fun began! Zumba is led by this muscular Japanese man, who knows how to move! I appreciate the fact that there are no instructions in this class, and that you simply follow his lead. It sounds chaotic, but it works. In the beginning of the class, my teacher friend introduced me to the instructor, and mentioned that I was of Mexican heritage. I wanted to shout out, Noooooo!, People assume that my Latin roots mean that I can dance salsa, merengue, bachata or mambo really well. Not only are those not primarily Mexican, but I can't dance. Again, I enjoy it, but I am not good with coordination! So, I bet that he expected me to be really good, and I caught him looking my way during class. Sorry to disappoint you, Zumba instructor. Actually, it wasn't so bad, because we would laugh together when I couldn't get a step right. All in all, the class was great, and I plan on going every week!!! The music is so good! (Think anything from Lady Gaga to salsa to quebraditas!) I'm definitely looking into Zumba classes when I get back to the States, especially if they play songs like “Mi Dulce Niña” by the Kumbia Kings. Hehe. Oh, and in case you're wondering, Japanese people can also dance very well, and boy, can they move! Puts me to shame (again). Haha.
After those two classes (which I'm now turning into a weekly routine), I got my purse from the locker room. The locker room is such a relaxing place, and a perfect place for socializing. First off, they are pleasantly warm and the showering system is amazing. They have individual showers and Japanese style communal showers, where you sit on a plastic stool, and wash as you chat with your gym buddies. They also have cold baths, hot baths, and a sauna. After showering, you can sit in this mirror room and blow dry your hair, while a fan blows cool air towards you so that you don't break a sweat. I find that women use this time to chat some more. I can't understand what they're talking about, but I still enjoy sitting there and blow-drying my hair. When I finish all of that and leave the locker room, it feels like I have left a mini spa. I kid you not. I feel even more relaxed if I head to the massage chairs after. The massage chairs are incredible. First of all, it's incredible that they even have them! Second of all, they are so efficient. They have features that massage your back, your neck, your buttocks, your legs, your feet, and your arms, all simultaneously. Perfection!
When I do finally decide to leave the gym :p , I head downstairs to the front desk, hand them my card for them to scan, and then grab my shoes from the small locker. Of course, they thank you for visiting and say goodbye to you as you leave. I especially love hearing the polite goodbye after a therapeutic gym session!
I said I wanted to be more active this year, but let's hope I don't turn into a gym rat. If you can't reach me, at least you know where to find me :p.
We met on a Tuesday night for my gym tour. I was pleasantly surprised by the Japanese gym. Normally, I associate gyms with sweaty people, but this gym, like everything else in Japan, was absolutely pristine. I assure you, there was plenty of sweaty people, but everything else was just so clean. To start, you take your outdoor shoes off at the entrance and put them in a mini locker, turn the little knob, and take the small locker key with you. After, you walk over to the front desk and show the receptionist your membership card. On my first visit, I had to sign some liability papers. I guess safety hazards and law suits also exist in Japan :p When you finish that process, you make your way to the locker rooms. In my gym, the locker room is on the second floor. Of course, the female locker rooms have a pink curtain in the entryway, and the male locker rooms have a blue curtain in the entrance -_-. In Japan, my gender is pink. Not female or woman, but pink. I'm not thrilled about that, but it's getting engrained in my head. I have become so “cutesy” obsessed, and am so attracted to the color pink. Darn you socialization...! Still, the attention to detail in Japan is just so darn cute.... ugh.
Anyways, I digress. Back to my locker discussion. The lockers are for day use, so you can't leave anything in them overnight. However, there are smaller lockers that you can rent for an additional monthly cost. I'm considering renting one. Either that, or getting a larger gym bag to fit my shoes, clothes, toiletries, and a change of clothes. The first time I visited, I didn't have any brand new, clean gym shoes, so I had to rent some from the front desk for 200 yen. Luckily they had my size! For some reason, my “American size” in Japan is 8.5, which doesn't make sense, because I am a 9.5 in women sizes and a 7.5 in men sizes. Regardless, they had shoes that I could wear!
One of the group exercise studios is on the same floor as the locker room, and the other one is on the third floor. The cardio machines, the weight room, the stretching room and the massage chair room are also on the third floor. Yes, they have a massaging chair room. I'll get back to that in a moment... For now, let me tell you about the Easy Aerobics and Zumba class.
Easy Aerobics was not so easy... I'll explain. I enjoy exercise, and I love aerobics, but I am not very athletic. My life is full of contradictions. (Haha) I have bad reflexes, my hand-eye coordination is oh-so limited, and I'm clumsy. With that in mind, you can imagine what I look like in an aerobics class. Now, picture me in a class with instructions spoken in Japanese and really flexible and fit Japanese people, and there is potential for a seriously funny image. If you know me well, you're probably laughing now, and if you're not, you would have been laughing if you could have seen me in my first exercise class in Japan. I was always one tempo behind everyone, since I had to imitate the steps instead of listening for directions, and I couldn't keep up with the sequences. They were too complex for me haha. Everyone else though, was following along perfectly and doing it so gracefully. Japanese people bounce gracefully when they do aerobics. In California, I have done aerobics classes, and I find that aerobic moves are more mechanical. In Japan, people's feet glide...
In the last ten minutes of the class, the instructor dims the lights and guides the class through some simple stretches. The instructor is this young-looking Japanese woman, who is probably 50 for all I know, and the participants are usually older than me, way older. In Japan, age is really nothing but a number when it comes to athleticism and appearance. They age so well, and they are still so active when they are older. The easy aerobics course is popular among the older crowd, and while the level is easier than kickboxing, I am still impressed at their performance. They have no problems with the stretches she proposes. One of the stretches in the first class was a hip stretch, and the instructor approached me to correct my form, but when she tried to adjust my position, she realized why I wasn't doing it correctly. I simply can't. Let's just put it this way, a yoga instructor at UCLA once approached me during a yoga course, and tried to correct my hip stretch, but when she saw that I couldn't, she told me I had stiff hips. Another yoga instructor advised me to bend more into child's pose, and when I couldn't do it on my own, she said that I must spend a lot of time sitting and studying. I'm not sure what the health hazards of “stiff hips” are, but the description doesn't sound pretty and the “condition” is pitiful in a room full of old people that don't seem to suffer from “stiff hips.” So yes, it was a problem in California, and it continues to be a problem in Japan. But wait, there is hope...
There are certain machines in the gym that look funny, and people that ride them also look funny. Yes, I did just use the verb “ride”, and that's because that is exactly what people do on these machines. The machines are called “joba” machines, which I understand is also the word for horseback riding. They were first introduced in Japan, and apparently have been a hit in some American gyms. The machines were inspired by the benefits of horseback riding as physical therapy. The joba machines are not an excellent source of cardio, but they strengthen the core, thighs, and lower back muscles as the rider makes an effort to stay on the machine while it rocks back and forth. In addition, a friend of mine suspects that they are part of the reason why Japanese people are so flexible. I see the old folk on them, and they are soooo flexible, so I believe it!!! So, this is why I say there is hope for me and my hips. I have incorporated “sexy” joba time into my gym routine. Oh, and I describe it as “sexy”, because the circular motions are pretty provocative. I blame places like Saddle Ranch and their bull riding entertainment for that thought...
After the aerobics class, the real fun began! Zumba is led by this muscular Japanese man, who knows how to move! I appreciate the fact that there are no instructions in this class, and that you simply follow his lead. It sounds chaotic, but it works. In the beginning of the class, my teacher friend introduced me to the instructor, and mentioned that I was of Mexican heritage. I wanted to shout out, Noooooo!, People assume that my Latin roots mean that I can dance salsa, merengue, bachata or mambo really well. Not only are those not primarily Mexican, but I can't dance. Again, I enjoy it, but I am not good with coordination! So, I bet that he expected me to be really good, and I caught him looking my way during class. Sorry to disappoint you, Zumba instructor. Actually, it wasn't so bad, because we would laugh together when I couldn't get a step right. All in all, the class was great, and I plan on going every week!!! The music is so good! (Think anything from Lady Gaga to salsa to quebraditas!) I'm definitely looking into Zumba classes when I get back to the States, especially if they play songs like “Mi Dulce Niña” by the Kumbia Kings. Hehe. Oh, and in case you're wondering, Japanese people can also dance very well, and boy, can they move! Puts me to shame (again). Haha.
After those two classes (which I'm now turning into a weekly routine), I got my purse from the locker room. The locker room is such a relaxing place, and a perfect place for socializing. First off, they are pleasantly warm and the showering system is amazing. They have individual showers and Japanese style communal showers, where you sit on a plastic stool, and wash as you chat with your gym buddies. They also have cold baths, hot baths, and a sauna. After showering, you can sit in this mirror room and blow dry your hair, while a fan blows cool air towards you so that you don't break a sweat. I find that women use this time to chat some more. I can't understand what they're talking about, but I still enjoy sitting there and blow-drying my hair. When I finish all of that and leave the locker room, it feels like I have left a mini spa. I kid you not. I feel even more relaxed if I head to the massage chairs after. The massage chairs are incredible. First of all, it's incredible that they even have them! Second of all, they are so efficient. They have features that massage your back, your neck, your buttocks, your legs, your feet, and your arms, all simultaneously. Perfection!
When I do finally decide to leave the gym :p , I head downstairs to the front desk, hand them my card for them to scan, and then grab my shoes from the small locker. Of course, they thank you for visiting and say goodbye to you as you leave. I especially love hearing the polite goodbye after a therapeutic gym session!
I said I wanted to be more active this year, but let's hope I don't turn into a gym rat. If you can't reach me, at least you know where to find me :p.
Friday, August 27, 2010
"...Ain't no mountain high enough, ain't no valley low enough...to keep me from [loving you, Japan]"
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...
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...
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