it is sinking in a little

It is very warm today in Tokyo. I had come to expect something different, and did not pack for it. Still, my coat makes me feel safe, even while it is waiting on its hanger. There is a demon coming in the winter but I am steeling myself against it.

I have been walking into stores and buying small items just to practice interacting with people with whom I have only a vague concept of how to communicate. The bowing in 7-Elevens is strange, but I haven't had to take my shoes off yet, except at the guest house. Though I have gone by a few restaurants where I can see rows of shoes on shelves near the entrance. I think of an eclectic bowling alley.

I know I will feel like an outsider for quite some time, but I shall try to just go with it. I am not even at a point where I can identify street names. It's all just squiggly to me. And there is something both comforting and disconcerting about what promises to be a prolonged period of forced quietness (silence didn't seem right). This will likely be good for writing, and so I will not struggle too hard.

Tomorrow I am headed to Kitanomaru-Koen Park, where the National Museum of Modern Art, Imperial Palace, and the Outer Garden are. I should finally have some pictures worth posting. There's also a museum called Idemitsu Museum of Arts nearby, about which I know almost nothing, and I'll probably check it out. Was going to head in to Tokyo Station tonight and poke around, try to get a little lost, but the jet-lag continues to suck.

I'm in Tokyo now, but have no pictures yet

After staring at the GPS screen on the airplane for 12 hours, I finally got a glimpse of Japan through the window. It was as should be expected: lots of beach, lots of tall trees, lots of rice. Even so, it seemed an alien world, and this impression continued as I rode the train into Tokyo (or very near it), as I noted all the fun little cartoon characters in all the ads and on the sides of buildings, the lack of frequently placed trash receptacles juxtaposed against the pristine streets and sidewalks, the beautiful young women, hipster-punk teenagers, proper men, the odd tourist, the bicycle parking-lots packed with little seven-speeders with large bells and over-sized wheel guards. I thought, this will eventually all feel familiar to me. And then I was filled with my first full jolt of real excitement about what I am doing here. In the final weeks in SA, I probably said it hundreds of times, Yes I'm really excited, but I did not mean it. I wasn't lying, because I knew that I would eventually be excited, and I did not want to worry folks that I was second-guessing. I was not.

Since I arrived a little early, I get the weekend to poke around the city. I'm not sure what I will do yet but there's already a few things that are peaking my interest. I also got my choice of rooms in the "guest house" and took the bigger one with the DVD player and the balcony.

I don't have photos yet, so I'm posting some that I took during my run up to leaving:

All the Best (saying one's farewells before a long journey)

I was unable to locate the words and so must remain hopeful that the moment spoke for me. It is not always best to trust that what is unspoken has still been said. Sometimes, however, it is all that is possible.

I learned something I didn't know before. It is my secret to keep safe, so you cannot hear it.

Very soon I will be writing about funny little people, and small camping chairs I can sit on and look down at their faces as they diagram sentences and curse my name in a language I have yet to learn well. (try diagramming that one and see what you get, by the way)


But I am not there yet. And so off goes the unknown island, in search of itself.

I Gave My Things to Jesus

Two soldiers from some sort of army showed up at my door this morning and carted away my remaining furniture and all of the boxes that contained the woman's things.

There is dust everywhere.

It is nearly time to leave.

38° 34' 18" North, 140° 57' 20" East

a tradition of mine

"To the attentive eye, each moment of the year has its own beauty, and in the same field it beholds, every hour, a picture which was never seen before, and which shall never be seen again...but...the beauty that shimmers in the yellow afternoons of October, whoever could clutch it?... 'tis only a mirage as you look from the windows of diligence."

--R.W.Emerson

I: an introduction

Hello students. It seems I am going to be joining you soon. I am looking forward to getting to know all of you and, before I arrive, I would like to let you know a little bit about myself. I am originally from Los Angeles, California, though I have spent the last several years living in San Antonio, Texas, where I received my B.A. in English Literature. I have actually lived in just about every region of the United States, and have developed a deep appreciation for the various peoples and distinct beauties of my home country.

I love music, and I am excited to spend some time getting to know the pop-music scene in Japan, as well as exploring the more traditional sounds. I play guitar and sing a little, but I am not bringing my guitar with me. Perhaps someone will show me where to get one in Furukawa.

I have been looking at pictures of the city, and the whole Tohoku region, and it is beautiful. But, being from Texas, I am used to a much warmer climate, and I'm certain you will see me shivering like crazy until I get used to your winters.

I am spending a lot of time these days thinking of fun and interesting ways to approach our English classes. We are going to learn a lot together, and I hope we will also have a good time.

I will see you all soon.

Warmest Regards,

I

Dates and Places

On November third my training will commence in Tokyo. I will be given curricula, practice sessions, contracts to sign, insurance papers, train schedules, vacation procedures, recruitment strategies, and a place to lay my head.

From there I will make my way to Furukawa, in the Tohoku region of Japan, known for good rice and bad winters. And I will teach.

I expect to be overwhelmed. I even welcome it. By the end, it will feel like home.

I have a little time left to say goodbye to the people I have come to love here in San Antonio, but as I have considered it, I have come to realize that I do not know which words to say. I'm certain I will be forgiven this silence, but I'd like to go out with spectacular theatrical speeches, always recalled for their particular poignancies, that personal touch, a few words, the true meanings of which can only be detected by their intimate audiences, all waiting for my return...

More likely, I will just go. And after I arrive, all my hesitancies will be forgotten.