9/23/10

It is rare to find other people here that are willing to use their day off as a way to explore any sort of outdoor activity. I understand why, the heat here is miserable! There are moments I feel an urge to throw a full blown temper tantrum but refrain, not because it would make me look childish, but because I would break even more of a sweat moving around. 

When a girl from my training group suggested going on a hike at Mt. Takao, I jumped at the opportunity. A handful of us from training all decided this was what we would do on our first holiday off. Today, we met up to take on Mt. Takao.

I was warned there was 100% chance of rain, but I was too optimistic and too eager to care. Having felt a bit down and out that I don’t have a solid group of runners, bikers, or an outdoorsy community to belong too like I did in Seattle, I desperately wanted to create that here.  So, when waking this morning, I walked out onto my balcony, stood there staring at the overcast and said to myself, “No big! Nothing an umbrella can’t handle!” So I grabbed my umbrella, packed some snacks, and met up with my one friend here.  We traveled the hour or so toward the meeting spot we all agreed on.

There were seven of us. We were all dressed in our best hiking gear; tee-shirts/tank tops, shorts and sneakers. By the time we had made it to the train, it was pouring bucket of rain. Still optimistic, we caught the train toward Mt. Takao. I could sense no one wanted to be Debbie Downer and say, “Hey guys, you think the torrential downpour will affect our hike? Shouldn’t we rethink this?” Most of us had traveled well over an hour to get there. Nothing could stop our motivation to hike the mountain.

After another 15 minutes of train travel, we arrived at Mt. Takao. Luckily, there was a shop that was stocked with cheap waterproof (-ish, being the keyword) ponchos. We each purchased a poncho, geared up and…stood there. No one moved.

By this point our optimism became, more of a requirement. We traveled this far, there is no turning back….”come on guys! Let’s go!” One of the girls in our group yelled. I have to admit, her determination was quite  endearing. I wanted so badly to try and convince the group this was a bad idea, but I didn’t want to squash anyone’s ambition. Seeing the streets starting to flood caused me to reconsider ever calling myself the ‘outdoorsy type.’  We all marched to the cable car that was to take us to our hiking route. I was surprised there were enough people to fill the cable car. At least we weren’t the only ones trying to make the best of our day off.

We rode the cable car up the mountain to the trailhead. Still a downpour, we hopped off the cable car and eagerly ran to the area that was known as having an amazing view of both Yokohama and Tokyo. The best view we got was a cloudy, grey mess. We could see nothing amid the stormy clouds. And by this point, it was a full-blown thunderstorm with lightning that felt dangerously close. After the heat wave we’ve endured since landing in Japan, the extreme wind and rain made us feel beyond frozen. Shivering wearing only our tank-tops, shorts and a semi-waterproof poncho, the trek began.

We started walking up the hill. I have to pause and point something out here. The ‘hike’ we were about to take was a paved road. This was a first for me. I laughed thinking, only in Japan would a hike be this clean and organized. “Okay,” I thought to myself, “We’ve got ourselves a paved route to hike on so the Japanese can still look fashionable while ‘climbing’ a mountain.” And if you wonder whether I saw girls wearing high heels, to trek the mountain during a thunderstorm, the answer is, yes.

After only about 20 feet up the mountain, the thunder and lightning became too intense. Our ponchos were not strong enough to keep us semi-dry, and the wind made it tough to hold the umbrellas. Conversation was impossible over the swaying trees, the crack of the thunder and the pounding rain. “Ladies and gentlemen, looks like we got ourselves one hell of a storm!” I yelled in a southern accent, with my hand in a fist as if it were a mic, pretending to be a weather forecaster. Finally, one of the guys in our group stopped and said, “Guys, really? Shouldn’t we turn around? I mean, it’s getting worse and I’m completely soaked!” You could hear the relief in our voices as we agreed with him and practically sprinted back down the mountain. I was thankful he had the guts to point out the obvious. I was over being outdoorsy.

When reaching the trains, we were a collection of drenched individuals.  A poncho torn, hair matted to our heads, shoes filled with water and our optimism deflated, we decided to go to the nearest mall. There we could find food, shopping and hot beverages.

We looked like untamed plastic beasts, walking through Christian Dior and Channel. It is normal to get stared at, being that we are foreigners, but at this moment in particular, the Japanese glared at us. The Japanese would never be caught dead wearing a cheap plastic poncho, it’s just unfathomable! Tracking water through the perfume isles, we unintentionally, but obnoxiously rallied together to organize a plan. We were all grumpy, loud and hungry. After wandering around in our squeaking wet shoes, for about an hour, we found a café that was able to accommodate all our desires; food, hot beverages and snacks. Everyone was satisfied…finally!

Sitting at the café, we laughed about our attempt to hike Mt. Takao. We were all a bit disappointed in the day, but it was consensual that we were happy to spend a little time with one another. We are spread out, living in various areas of Japan.  It was comforting to know we were all dealing with the same frustrations and troubles of adapting to a new environment. It was clear none of us were alone in our feelings. During this conversation, I was reminded how lucky I am to have found such a solid group of individuals that would make this much of an effort to try and tackle a mountain during one of mother nature’s fits. To me, this was proof I could always call them friends.   Now I can say I have more than one friend here in Japan. Maybe I am building a community here. It’s not the same as Seattle, but I wouldn’t want it any other way.

9/13/10

My dreams haunt me. They are filled with unresolved emotions I desperately tried leaving in Seattle before coming to Japan. Without the luxury of internet, a phone and the constant connection to supportive people in my life, I am forced to face my feelings alone. During my downtime, my mind continuously tries to solve the mysteries of my emotions. Before going to sleep, there is always a slight panic, not knowing what will happen when I close my eyes and allow myself to fall deep into sleep. I know as soon as I enter REM, my mind will attempt to sort through the feelings I have tried to box up and put into storage somewhere in the crevices of my brain, in hopes it will never be seen again. But my brain won’t allow me to forget. My entire being yells at me understand my issues.

Mornings are the toughest because I awake with the disturbed feelings vaguely resembling post-traumatic stress-disorder. Thankfully, I’ve realized I am not the only one suffering from night terrors. My one and only friend I’ve made here so far has had said the same experience. Whenever I see her, she recaps her dreams from the night before. As she replays every disturbing detail, I can see the deep-rooted pain she has also tried leaving in her hometown, but just like me, our unresolved feelings follow us both to Japan.

This makes me wonder why is it so difficult to start over? Before leaving Seattle, with a vulnerable honesty, I addressed those in my life I care deeply for.  My intention was to close the chapters of my life that needed closing and seek comfort in knowing I didn’t run away from it all. But maybe I did run from my problems.

I am a Pisces. We are known for swimming away from hurt we feel. We are overly sensitive individuals that are in constant battle not to lose ourselves in relationships with others. I look back on my life at all the running I’ve done. And it’s a lot more than I’d care to admit. I ran from TN at eighteen to get away from the ordinary. I wanted to find something that gave myself meaning in the world. I ended up in NY. After four years of struggling in NY, I couldn’t handle the intensity of day to day living, so I ran from NY, back into Tennessee’s arms. While there, I married a man I thought would be my savior, a man I could relax with, thinking he would nourish and care for me. But that is a lot of responsibility for one person. Placing that much weight on another individual is bound to cause the relationship to crumble. The relationship brought me to Seattle.  When my marriage ended, I attempted to try the dating world again. I was quickly reminded how brutal the dating world can be.

Feeling an overwhelming sense of hurt and confusion, I tied the laces of my running shoes and jumped at the first opportunity to get the hell out of dodge. Now I am here, with nowhere to run. I am forced to reconcile every ounce of emotion I’ve pushed away over the years. This is no surprise to me. I expected this. So, I awake every morning dissecting the heaviness felt for clues on how to create a new beginning. This is painfully uncomfortable. But I am aware it is the only way I can mature. With change comes growth, and I’m nearly thirty. I think it’s about time.  

9/8/10

Japan is known for the advanced electronics, having a variety of eccentric foods, and its unique fashion, which is not limited to the people, but shared among pets. Yes, I see many pets with outfits that could compete in New York’s fashion week. The most recent couture, was a Golden Retriever decked out in a full-blown tracksuit, leggings and all. But fashion, technology, and food, isn’t what has impacted my opinion of Japan. It’s the conservative nature this country has that bleeds into the sex culture.

Many people told me Japan was conservative and I brushed off the warning, having been raised in the Bible belt of the South. But what most people didn’t reference is Japan’s sex culture from a woman’s perspective. I will preface everything I am about to say by reminding you this perspective is strictly based on my own liberal ideas of sexuality. Needless to say, my opinions are probably overly biased.

Many foreign (English speaking) men who come to Japan for any period of time seem to relish the fact they will without a doubt have no problem picking up a cute, little Japanese girl who will gladly date them because they are an English speaking foreigner. I will compare this to the foreign men who come to the States. Many women, myself included, will rank a man higher on the attractiveness scale because he has an accent. Japan seems to work in favor for the foreign men who come here with high hopes of finding a teeny Japanese lover. I, however, did not come to Japan to find a lover. In fact, I came to Japan for the complete opposite reason. I do not want to find a lover. I do not want to be in a relationship, and I have no desire for a fling. Seeing that this country works in favor for the foreign men, Japan seems to be the right place for me to be…at this moment, in my non-sexually driven life.  

As I mentioned this to someone, I realized that maybe, somewhere deep inside, I realized Japan was the perfect country for me to observe life as a single, independent woman. If I had gone to France, like originally planned, it would have been so easy for me to fall into yet another obsessive infatuation with a tall, sexy, Frenchman. Obsessive infatuation, especially with men I can’t have, seems to be my modus operandi, I will shamefully admit.  

 I’ve been observing the advertisements and ads on the trains. I’ve also paid a lot of attention to social interactions between the men and women during my commute time. People watching never lets me down when it comes to entertainment. One noticeable distinction with the single women of Japan is, in general, they dress to impress. Or should I say, dress to undress? Many girls have no problem wearing skirts that should easily pass as a belt, shorts that would make daisy dukes look like capri pants, and shirts that leave nothing for the imagination. I will not disagree that this is also a trend seen in the states, but the reaction of the men in toward the women in Japan is distinctly different from the men in the states. What do the Japanese men do? They just glance, but only so subtly, that if you weren’t watching their every move, you would have no idea they even noticed Candy’s body was on display.

American culture is completely driven by sex. A commercial for something as simple as a stick of gum reminds you of the oral stimulation given during four-play. Suddenly, you forget about the gum and the mind goes immediately to a sexual encounter that happened last weekend. The body never forgets and sometimes you wish it would.

Observations I’ve made about my own body awareness in Japan, is I feel completely asexual.  This is a damn shame thinking I’m at the age where I should be at my sexual peak. This is probably be the best I will ever look or feel. Isn’t it 30 when the ass drops and the tits start to sag? Thirty is only five months away. Needless to say, I do feel some anxiety hearing other women warn me, “Wait till your 30! Shit hits the fan and gravity catches up to you!” If I’m not embracing my sexuality in my prime, I feel a bit ‘fucked,’ hypothetically.   

I’ve asked a fellow foreign girl friend of mine I met here in Japan who considers herself a highly sexual person how she felt, sexually, in Japan. She agreed, saying the same thing. In this culture, we feel unattractive, as if we are forced to tuck away our sexuality in hopes that one day we will find it again. Maybe after leaving the country. My friend happens to be a tall, slender beautiful woman who would normally have no problem attracting any man she wants. But here, her sexual energy has become deflated and I couldn’t agree more.

I could blame this on the fact that in general I am not attracted to men smaller than me, but I feel it has something to do with the Japanese sex culture. Japan feels sexually repressed, or maybe it’s just extremely sexually conservative. Usually, sexual repression creates a build up of angst, where it eventually explodes in other ways, usually not so pleasant. So, I would not be surprised to find an entire culture built on extreme fetishes and porn. Although I’m sure I would find this entertaining to some degree, I don’t feel the need to explore this venue much. As for now, I will only observe my day-to-day life and assume Japan’s sex industry is an underground operation that is too complex for me to understand.

As for now, dealing with my need to be alone and my mixed feelings about love and relationships, I feel I should find some comfort in knowing, I chose a place to focus on myself without the confusion of sex and the ‘dating game.’ There is a common denominator in all my relationships with men that has become unhealthy for my self-esteem. Until I can figure out to overcome this pattern, I would much rather stay single than continuously repeat my mistakes. I can only blame myself for the choices I’ve made.

So for now, I choose not to continue dating until it becomes clear how I can break the self-destructive cycle. Sleeping alone feels much more comfortable than seeking comfort in the arms of a man who will easily walk away when I need him the most.

9/5/10

It has been many years since I’ve been able to recall my most embarrassing moment. I expected living here there would be many times I would feel humiliated. I expected humiliation whey trying to speak a new language, standing in front of a classroom in attempt to teaching through a puddle of nervous sweat, or accidentally committing a cultural ‘faux paux.’ I didn’t expect all my embarrassing moments in Japan so far, to involve the bathroom.

Today just so happens to be the day that goes down in history as my most embarrassing moment…thus far.

It was my last day of training and the night of the departing teacher’s Farewell Party. Everyone was rushed to go to the Pub for drinks and dinner. I was behind in getting my materials together and the staff and students were eagerly awaiting the party. I didn’t want to make others late, so I quickly threw my teaching tools in my bag and rushed to meet the others. I really had to go to the bathroom, but I knew the bar wasn’t far, so I decided to wait until I get there.

As soon as we arrived, I rushed to the bathroom. Such sweet relief! Because Japanese toilets are so high tech, I was surprised it didn’t flush before I stood up.  I tried standing then sitting, standing then sitting. Opening then closing the lid. Nothing seemed to work. The toilet wasn’t flushing. I knew from experience which buttons were designated for ‘cleaning’ so I didn’t want to try that again. The only button I saw that could possibly be a flush was a burnt orange button on the right hand side of the wall, labeled, of course, in Japanese. It was the only button without a picture to demonstrate its purpose. Not wanting to leave a gift for the next person and assuming this must be the flusher, I pulled up my pants and pushed the button. Just then, a loud alarm went off. Think, fire drill.

Yes, I pushed the emergency button that triggered a bathroom alarm. To make things worse, the sound of the alarm bled through the entire front hallway and into the entrance of the pub. “Is this really necessary?” I thought. “An emergency button by the toilet?!” Turning bright red, I ran past people standing in the hallway who were looking at the flashing orange lights with a blank stare wondering what the alarm was for. Of course the flashing lights would match the color of the button I pushed. Even emergencies have fashion sense in Japan.

I sped walked into the pub to find someone who could help me explain to the staff what happened. I didn’t want to draw more attention to myself by running into the bar like an obnoxious American yelling, “Excuse me! My poo is a sudden cause for an emergency evacuation!” For a split second, I seriously contemplated pretending I had no idea what was going on, but being afraid they would evacuate the building made me rethink pleading the fifth.

I found a coworker I had connected with earlier and told her about my problem. She laughed at me and walked with me to the bartender to explain in Japanese why the alarm was going off. He looked at her, then toward me and giggled. The only way I can think to describe Japanese laughter is to call it ‘a very loud giggle.’ I am getting very accustomed to this giggle.

The bartender then turns to his coworker and tells him in Japanese what happened. They giggle loudly together. The waitress hears what he says… well, you know what’s next…they all giggle together and then look at me, speaking in Japanese to each other. Now beet red, I attempt to justify why one could easily make the mistake of pushing the orange button, positioned on the right side of the toilet, NOT knowing it was for emergencies. Then I stopped mid defense, realizing they weren’t listening to me over their loud giggle. The bartender said he would make sure someone would go into the bathroom to check things out. “Great,’ I thought. “Here’s a gift from me to you. With love, xoxo.”

Later, I realized there is no flush button. To flush, you wave your hand over a sensor by the toilet paper. The picture of the big hand waving wasn’t enough of a clue for me? Who’d have thought? 

9/1/10

Meltdown #6 million and something….(at least that’s the way it feels).

I decided to go for a run. The teacher I am replacing lived in the apartment I am currently in and she recommended a nice running route 10 minutes from my house near a river that provides a cool breeze at night. I was so excited to find out there is a running route near water. I had high hopes it would feel a little like home. With the intense heat and humidity here, it is nearly impossible to run before 10pm without dizzy spells and nausea. So, after work, I eagerly put on my running shoes and turned up my Ipod to a fun hip-hop mix. As I am running, I smiling to myself thinking how lucky I am to have this route so close to me, a *Burk Gilman-esque trail in Japan!

The path circles the river. Each time you reach a cross street, there sits a bridge crossing over the river to the other side. I counted about 5 bridges before deciding to cross a bridge and run the opposite direction. Note to self; just because there is a running path that circles a river, it does not mean it actually makes a complete circle, from start to finish. I ended up in an industrial area that looked nothing like home. By this point, I had been running nearly an hour and was starting to feel fairly dehydrated. The most frustrating part, was I kept passing vending machines stocked with bottled water reminding me how stupid I was not to bring water on my run. I was completely lost.

I kept envisioning myself passing out in the middle of the street right before a car could come squealing around the corner just in time to use me as a speed bump. The driver, not realizing he rolled over me, would continue driving home, arriving in time for his favorite T.V. show, sitting in his air-conditioned house, drinking his tall glass of iced water. It sounds funny saying this now, but at the time that visual felt so realistic. I nearly hyperventilated thinking I was going to die in the middle of a street in Japan without anyone knowing.

Eventually, I found a bus stop and attempted to ask a driver where Okurayama was. Okurayama is where I live and I have the most difficult time pronouncing the name of the city. Sweating furiously, I ran up to him attempting to ask for help. He spoke to me in Japanese while I desperately tried to use hand gestures and facial expressions to find a common ground of communication. I’m sure I looked a mess, saturated in my own sweat, with blood shot eyes from my meltdown a few seconds earlier. I knew only about four Japanese words, “Sumimasen (Excuse Me!), Ok-i-yer-ama, (my attempt at saying Okurayama, the neighborhood where I live) Kudasai (please), Hai (yes), and arigato (thank you).” All he could say in English was, “right…straight.” That was good enough for me. I go right, and then I go straight..I think?? So that’s what I did.

Right and straight didn’t take me to Okurayama, but it did take me back the river. Luckily, I remembered landmarks by which side they were on when I was running past them earlier. That big tower thingy was on my right, so I will run the opposite direction and backtrack. After backtracking another 20 minutes, I finally came to semi-familiar ground. At this point I couldn’t run anymore, for fear if I expend too much energy, I really would pass out and act as a speed bump.

I was somewhere near my apartment but still lost. My neighborhood is built on dead ends. There are few streets that follow a continuous path through the city. At least I was in the general neighborhood. I found the train track and decided following the tracks would help. If I could find the Okurayama train stop near my home, I would be fine. At this point, I had been out nearly two hours soaked in my own sweaty filth. Near the point I was about to have another emotional tantrum, I saw familiar parking lot I knew was about 5 minutes from home. Bingo!

I ran as fast as I could home. I was never so happy to see home in my life. I chugged 4 tall glasses of ice water, tore off my sweaty clothes and sat in a cold shower. There were a few lessons learned that night. When venturing out on my own, always take money to buy water, never assume a running path around a river makes a complete circle, and learn more Japanese! 

*The Burke-Gilman Trail is a popular recreational trail for walkers, runners, cyclists, skaters and commuters. The trail is jointly maintained by Seattle Department of Transportation and Seattle Parks and Recreation.

8/31/10

I’m sitting in my new apartment, by myself. I’m surprised I don’t feel lonely. There were moments I would think of something and turn to say it aloud to my roommate, then realizing I was alone. At the moment, I decided it was okay to say what I needed to say out loud anyway. This made unpacking somewhat entertaining, although I probably shouldn’t get into the habit of talking to myself. I already feel crazy at times, analyzing situations to the point of exhaustion, so I don’t want to reinforce the harassing psychoanalytical side of myself by having imaginary conversations with no one next to me!

I stood in my apartment, knowing from here on out, I will stand on my own and start over (sigh) again. This is what I’ve wanted. Deep down I’ve had a desire to find out if I can remove myself from my comfort zone and just live life moment to moment, not knowing what will happen next. To step up the challenge, I decided try this in a new country. Really, what was I thinking? France was my first choice, but Japan had the job offer. So here I am, in Japan, not able to speak the language, adapting to a completely different culture, and figuring out how to process it all.

First things first, I wanted to know what my neighborhood is like, so I took a walk. There is a tiny park across the street from my building so I brought my camera with me and allowed the mosquitoes to feast on my legs while I explored. There is a cute historical building with an art gallery and small library in the center of the park. It was closed so I couldn’t go inside.  The park is pretty small, so my adventures in the neighborhood park only lasted a few minutes. Plus, the mosquitoes were really beginning to agitate me.

 I then, walked down my hill into the heart of town to pick up anti-itch ointment for all the bites I collected from the exploration. Inside the supermarket is a 100-yen store, which is like Dollar General in the States, so I decided to check it out and see if there was anything I could pick up for my new place. It was fun cruising around the 100-yen store, looking at the cheap house ware items and planning in my head how to decorate my apartment. I don’t have much space to work with being my apartment is roughly 300 square feet, but I relished in knowing I could say to myself, “I need to get this for my apartment up the hill…”

I also found out I could wear nail polish at work, which really excited me, because painting my nails is something I enjoy doing as a way to self-pamper. So, I picked out a professional pink with slight glitter, for flair. Then I picked out a new cutting board, some index cards to practice Japanese, and a hair towel. Leaving, I walked past a produce stand that was just about to close. I quickly decided on some apples. It had already been a long day, so I figured the produce market closing was my cue to go home and finish unpacking.

The rest of the night was spent rearranging, cleaning and figuring out how to fit the sheets on my bed. I still didn’t figure it out, but I somehow made it work. Everything is so tightly fitted; I ended up ripping one of the sheets, trying to stretch it in ways that it was not meant to be stretched. At least sheets aren’t multi-purpose! If that were the case, I’d have an even harder time figuring out what sheet goes where. Before you ask, “How could you possibly get sheets confused?” I will defend myself in saying; everything in Japan is neatly packaged, including beds. The box springs have a cover, the mattress has a cover, and the covers have covers! So I spent most of that time asking, “Where the hell does this go?”

 Then there’s my pillow….keep in mind, everything was delivered to my apartment, brand new, so there should be no mistake in what I’ve received. My fluffy, brand new pillow smells like dog breath. Yes, dog breath. For a second I had stopped and sniffed around, trying to figure out where the ‘dog breath’ smell came from. Then I smelled my pillow. Hmmm….I may just skip the pillow for tonight. It’s pretty bad! Although, I really miss my dog, so whenever I feel sad, I can count on my pillow reminding me of her breathing in my face.  Finally, the bed is dressed, my apartment is mostly situated and I was beginning to feel past the point of exhausted. It was time for bed.

To end the evening, I decided to walk around my apartment butt naked, just because I could. I have always lived with someone else, so I never had the freedom to hang out in my home ‘just as I am.’ It was very freeing. I truly felt empowered knowing I was on my own, doing what I wanted to do, in a foreign country, butt naked.