Ohayo!
The past few days have been extremely eventful and eye-opening! I’d rather not elaborate on our traumatic venture from the Tokyo to Nagoya train station after we landed, but I will say that the overnight sleeper bus was sold out, and you should never attempt to transport five huge (one 73 lbs) luggage bags onto a bullet train and expect not to experience humiliation in the crowded midst of stoic Japanese as you try, sweating and apologizing in a language foreign to those around you, to haul your bags down the narrow aisle and completely disrupt the flow of traffic. When we finally arrived in Nagoya (this is after 24 hours of straight travel without sleep) with our obese American bags we had to find a place to stay the night (we were planning on the sleeper bus to save money on a hostel—unfortunately these tickets cannot be purchased online) while speaking no Japanese. Mistake number one. I have never been so ready and excited to learn a language. Once we finally found accommodation, we fell into a stunned sleep and woke up five hours later.
The next day our positive attitudes were fully renewed. Our helpful Canadian landlord, Bruce, picked us up in his van and introduced us to our surprisingly spacious apartment that is well-equipped with kitchen aids, a comfortable bed, a TV/DVD player and beautiful Japanese sliding glass doors. We have a large balcony (where our washing machine is located), a deep bathtub with circulation to maintain a nice temperature, and a lot of storage space. We are coincidentally located directly above an Italian restaurant (harr harr) and next door is a small English pub as well as a fresh fruit and vegetable stand. We are located around the corner from a few coffee shops, two large supermarkets, and the subway line.
On Saturday Bruce arranged for us to meet up with Anne, another ECC teacher from Iowa, whom he also helped move in. Anne has been to Japan five times, speaks Japanese and has a Japanese boyfriend. She took us to her favorite curry restaurant for our first ever meal in Japan and taught us a few useful phrases. I’m sure we’ll all become good friends and it’s very helpful to know someone who speaks Japanese (don’t worry, we start our lessons soon). This morning we’re all meeting up for sushi and she’s showing us the ward where we’ll officially register in the neighborhood (this will enable us to get cellphones and internet—I’m currently using the internet I bought from a Wi-Fi spot at our place for a day).
We probably spent three hours total doing our grocery shopping yesterday. It was an experience (trying to determine what everything was) and our fridge and cupboards are stocked with Japanese food and fresh fruits and veggies. We made miso soup for dinner last night and had chocolate pockys for dessert. I am already loving this Japanese diet (especially the rice and seaweed).
Right now it’s pouring rain—a change from the warm tee-shirt weather we’ve had thus far. I woke up at 4:30 this morning and couldn’t fall back asleep so was making coffee in the kitchen by 5:00. It’s now 7:30 and I’ve managed to write this blog, in my journal, and send some e-mails. We love hearing from everyone back home and will post photos and hopefully have regular Internet access soon! Thanks for reading ☺
Claire
Sunday, November 28, 2010
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Awake
The air is so crisp today.
This morning I made the brief walk from my house to Robertino's cafe in Ballard- a venture I've made regularly from the time I was fifteen (and secretly in love with the Italian boys who worked the espresso machine), through my sophomore year of college when I was the one serving Ballardites their lattes and gelato on rainy days. Now the cafe is my home away from home; a sweet touchstone that I visit occasionally to practice my Italian with Alfonso (Roberto's elderly father who opened the cafe over twenty years ago) or catch up with long-time friends and customers.
The walk down 80th avenue has not changed much over the past fifteen years- the road still rolls over the same hills and past the same houses. Yet now the walk stirs a sense of nostalgia for the lost familiar, the gap between what has changed within me and the unchanged world. A simple road, the same destination for a cup of coffee (now lacking the milk and white chocolate) and a time's bittersweet coming of age. Things aren't so simple anymore.
This summer has been a whirlwind of transitions for myself and those I love. My friends all seem to be affected, as of late, by paramount life-changes; some extremely painful, some exhilarating, all frightening. The truth of, "things really change a lot in your twenties," is now gloweringly obvious with a new, personal twinge. I'm seeing people I care about face massive life-decisions, moves out of state, heartbreak, and even physical pain (Stephen's kidneys are mercilessly neglecting their duties lately). Turbulent events and unexpected repercussions of minor and major decisions are falling from the sky like sharp chop-sticks, jabbing people's sensitive areas, tossing around hearts and limbs. With the future stretched out before us, all we can do is close our eyes, open our arms, and embrace the unknown with blind positivity as we walk forward and possibly trip (over life, or perhaps our own stupidity) and fall on our asses.
Stephen and I are leaving for Japan from San Francisco (where we're first spending some time with his brother) on November 19th. My last day working at LA Fitness is November 5th, and the following weeks are full of trips to Spokane, early-Thanksgiving celebrations and undoubtedly tear-ridden goodbye sessions with family and friends. My life is about to undergo enormous reconstruction and I am stunned with excitement and by my total, presently un-curable naïveté. I've leaving behind everything and everyone I know for a new world. Claire in Japan... and all over Asia, with Stephen and a load to learn.
So far I've had a brief mouth-full of the Japanese language, sampled from the "ultimate" phrase-book I ordered (complete with an audio-cd), and finished an interesting book on contemporary Japanese culture. I've read all of ECC's informative documents on Japan, our employment, and am trying to watch every Bourdain episode based anywhere on the largest continent. I am in no way whatsoever prepared. All I am is blindly open and completely mind-boggled with excitement. People keep asking if I'm scared. To my own surprise, I'm not. I'm just positive.
As the summer says its swift goodbye (after a brief and somewhat non-climactic appearance,) I'll give a loving squeeze to all my familiar touchstones. The way my house looks, with its ivory paint and wooden door, in a frame of fallen leaves and rustling braches, Seattle's busy marketplaces and streets, and of course the puffy clouds drifting across Robertino's ceiling in white and pink hues. Slowly saying goodbye to friends has already proven difficult- my brief, two-day tease of a Spokane visit was bittersweet. I'm already restless to go back for an extended trip in November, pretend I'm a carefree college student, and surround myself with the friends who always infuse me with so much light and joy.
The air is definitely crisp this morning- it enlivens every pore. I've never felt so awake, so aware of what's passed and what's to to come, so sensitive to every movement. I'm ambitious as hell and in my suspenseful, prickling twenties... ready to close my eyes and make the next jump.
This morning I made the brief walk from my house to Robertino's cafe in Ballard- a venture I've made regularly from the time I was fifteen (and secretly in love with the Italian boys who worked the espresso machine), through my sophomore year of college when I was the one serving Ballardites their lattes and gelato on rainy days. Now the cafe is my home away from home; a sweet touchstone that I visit occasionally to practice my Italian with Alfonso (Roberto's elderly father who opened the cafe over twenty years ago) or catch up with long-time friends and customers.
The walk down 80th avenue has not changed much over the past fifteen years- the road still rolls over the same hills and past the same houses. Yet now the walk stirs a sense of nostalgia for the lost familiar, the gap between what has changed within me and the unchanged world. A simple road, the same destination for a cup of coffee (now lacking the milk and white chocolate) and a time's bittersweet coming of age. Things aren't so simple anymore.
This summer has been a whirlwind of transitions for myself and those I love. My friends all seem to be affected, as of late, by paramount life-changes; some extremely painful, some exhilarating, all frightening. The truth of, "things really change a lot in your twenties," is now gloweringly obvious with a new, personal twinge. I'm seeing people I care about face massive life-decisions, moves out of state, heartbreak, and even physical pain (Stephen's kidneys are mercilessly neglecting their duties lately). Turbulent events and unexpected repercussions of minor and major decisions are falling from the sky like sharp chop-sticks, jabbing people's sensitive areas, tossing around hearts and limbs. With the future stretched out before us, all we can do is close our eyes, open our arms, and embrace the unknown with blind positivity as we walk forward and possibly trip (over life, or perhaps our own stupidity) and fall on our asses.
Stephen and I are leaving for Japan from San Francisco (where we're first spending some time with his brother) on November 19th. My last day working at LA Fitness is November 5th, and the following weeks are full of trips to Spokane, early-Thanksgiving celebrations and undoubtedly tear-ridden goodbye sessions with family and friends. My life is about to undergo enormous reconstruction and I am stunned with excitement and by my total, presently un-curable naïveté. I've leaving behind everything and everyone I know for a new world. Claire in Japan... and all over Asia, with Stephen and a load to learn.
So far I've had a brief mouth-full of the Japanese language, sampled from the "ultimate" phrase-book I ordered (complete with an audio-cd), and finished an interesting book on contemporary Japanese culture. I've read all of ECC's informative documents on Japan, our employment, and am trying to watch every Bourdain episode based anywhere on the largest continent. I am in no way whatsoever prepared. All I am is blindly open and completely mind-boggled with excitement. People keep asking if I'm scared. To my own surprise, I'm not. I'm just positive.
As the summer says its swift goodbye (after a brief and somewhat non-climactic appearance,) I'll give a loving squeeze to all my familiar touchstones. The way my house looks, with its ivory paint and wooden door, in a frame of fallen leaves and rustling braches, Seattle's busy marketplaces and streets, and of course the puffy clouds drifting across Robertino's ceiling in white and pink hues. Slowly saying goodbye to friends has already proven difficult- my brief, two-day tease of a Spokane visit was bittersweet. I'm already restless to go back for an extended trip in November, pretend I'm a carefree college student, and surround myself with the friends who always infuse me with so much light and joy.
The air is definitely crisp this morning- it enlivens every pore. I've never felt so awake, so aware of what's passed and what's to to come, so sensitive to every movement. I'm ambitious as hell and in my suspenseful, prickling twenties... ready to close my eyes and make the next jump.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
It's already mid-August
and life seems to blend effortlessly with work and sun. The past two weeks have been surprisingly relaxing and liberating as I've managed to "let go" some of the energy sappers that were clouding my mind and depleting my body. Facing outward and embracing the people and things I love has been truly energizing and allowed my summer to adopt a new spectrum of color.
This month has been full of inspiring friends. I can't even count the number of rejuvenating conversations I've had with people about the staples of the post-graduation present: mainly career dreams, independent living, future qualms and love. Many of these exchanges have occurred over tall glasses of red wine, on sunny evening walks, or in newly-discovered restaurants. My friends continue to surprise and inspire me with their ambitions and stirring philosophies.
Coupled with looking outward, I've also started journaling again and wonder how I've lived without it (or so sparingly with it) over the past year. By the time I was 14 I'd filled over twenty journals- throughout college I filled maybe three. Taking personal time to write has always been an indispensable part of who I am and awakened my deepest understandings of life. Re-embracing my love for introspective writing has helped release some of those negative emotions previously left to fester unexamined. It seems to be essential to my sanity.
This summer has been about both letting go and re-claiming the necessities. Surrounding myself with the people and things I love has allowed me to realize what it is I truly value in both friends and my own identity. I haven't seen Stephen for about a month and two weeks (I finally will this weekend), and this distance has truly helped me recognize how much joy and inspiration he brings to my life. Cultivating love inward and outward makes everything understandable.
This month has been full of inspiring friends. I can't even count the number of rejuvenating conversations I've had with people about the staples of the post-graduation present: mainly career dreams, independent living, future qualms and love. Many of these exchanges have occurred over tall glasses of red wine, on sunny evening walks, or in newly-discovered restaurants. My friends continue to surprise and inspire me with their ambitions and stirring philosophies.
Coupled with looking outward, I've also started journaling again and wonder how I've lived without it (or so sparingly with it) over the past year. By the time I was 14 I'd filled over twenty journals- throughout college I filled maybe three. Taking personal time to write has always been an indispensable part of who I am and awakened my deepest understandings of life. Re-embracing my love for introspective writing has helped release some of those negative emotions previously left to fester unexamined. It seems to be essential to my sanity.
This summer has been about both letting go and re-claiming the necessities. Surrounding myself with the people and things I love has allowed me to realize what it is I truly value in both friends and my own identity. I haven't seen Stephen for about a month and two weeks (I finally will this weekend), and this distance has truly helped me recognize how much joy and inspiration he brings to my life. Cultivating love inward and outward makes everything understandable.
Sunday, August 1, 2010
August 1st
"Stop focusing on tiny things that don't matter."
This is the best piece of advice I've received lately. I've always been a person brimming with dreams, motivation, creative passion and emotion. Yet while I've been good at "living big," lately I've been all too good at living small.
The past month I've found myself constantly distracted by the miniscule details of the day-to-day, frustrated by tiny endeavors and personal failings, stagnated in a seemingly endless routine that blinds me from what's important and inspiring. While I want so badly to live solely in life's greater picture, to develop the wisdom and ability to focus on its beauty and possibilities, on meaningful relationships, and those philosophies that make everything seem clear and significant- I can't. At least not lately. I'm living at home this summer, working at LA Fitness (I'm there from 11 am to 8 pm most days), and frequently feel restless and irritated. I haven't been writing or creating anything. While I've been making money and working out like crazy, these things don't truly lift or inspire my creative spirit. My mom deserves none of my moodiness and handles it with impressive grace and patience- I want to change my bad attitude.
Stephen and I leave for Japan likely within the next two months. By November I should be living in Osaka or Tokyo, absorbing a new perspective, feasting on delicious sushi and sake, traveling throughout Asia, and living in a tiny (but endearing) Japanese apartment. I want to learn Japanese, make friends from all over, try and soak up everything I can. I also want to write and get back into photography. The world is stretched before me yet I can hardly see it.
I hate feeling trapped within myself, suffocated by my own negative thoughts, preoccupied by things that don't matter. I think the seemingly mundane quality of this "limbo" period is driving me deeper into my obsession with perfection. I've always expected a lot from myself. Who says I need to be productive, loving, creatively active, skinny, interesting, globally aware? Me. I need to allow myself the privilege of just "being" and this fruitfulness and joy will naturally manifest in my summer life. I am these things to a degree, yet self-induced pressure takes a counter-productive effect.
It's time to indulge in the things that free my spirit: reading, writing, crafting, and good conversation. These activities refresh my vision, give me perspective. I stayed up till 1 am last night reading I'm Not Scared and it was so relaxing to get lost in the pages. Upon finishing I felt more creative energy than I have in a long time. Just taking the time to write this morning has made me feel more like myself than I have in a while. It's a new month and it's time to start seeing again.
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