the day i didn't leave

Well, this is a strange and rather embarrassing story. Where to begin?


I am not a graceful person. I can appear graceful in certain still-life environments – photographs, words on the screen – but in real life, I am about as graceless as they come. There is always some food spilling off my plate and I’m always breaking something that doesn’t belong to me. I want to be a puma, but I am an elephant.

I had every intention of leaving Japan gracefully. I said goodbyes to my friends, my students, to the place I lived and to the person who gives my heart the hiccups. I even took 30 photos and did 30 little write-ups, so that I could remember my last few days in Japan. And, because I really felt strongly about the work I was doing on my project, I posted my last goodbye as it was, as I wrote it, in the morning, on the bus, on the way to the airport.

Man, is it a good thing I finished that project on that bus. Because, well, after that, in my signature clunky, clumsy, grace-vacuum style, everything sort of fell in on itself.

I didn’t leave Japan yesterday, like I was supposed to. Oops. The details are boring. I can give you an idea of it, but the whole story, well, it’s just so boring to tell a story outright, you know? I’ll use third person, just because I’m sick of so many I, I, I’s.

Of course there are many tears. Many, many tears. These are not unjustified, as the American elephant in question is sitting alone in a dark room that smells like cigarettes, with four immigration officers, and the officers are wearing dark blue and light blue uniforms, and they are angry. Probably it is the tears that makes them angry, maybe they aren’t used to being questioned. There is ten yen on the table and one of the officers asks the crying girl if it’s hers, and the big, fat, mean immigration officer yells at the smaller officer and says NO, IT’S NOT. (she wasn’t going to claim the 10 yen anyway, please). The mean fat one says he is going to take her to the police and he shows her his handcuffs. This does not help with the crying, also, she is hoping the crying will somehow get her on the plane she needs to catch. Well, anyway, it didn’t.

This is a horrendous scene. She has the feeling most people in Asia don’t show these kinds of emotions when they are so pissed off. Actually she knows people don’t show this kind of emotion, but whatever, she just wants to go home and she is smoking mad. At some point there is a very nice man with a very strange story about how in September he was drugged and robbed in Manila, how the robbers said they were immigration officers but they weren’t, and how they put a gun to his back and said they would kill him if he didn’t pay. “So actually your situation is not so bad,” he tells her, and she is a rational crying elephant, she can understand this. Yes, it’s not so bad, but actually, it is bad.

Many, many hours spent back in the city at the immigration office, a cheeseburger set because the last thing she wants is to eat Japanese food at that moment, some much needed love, hours and hours of sleep and then some house cleaning to calm the nerves and back on the bus and back to immigration. Streams of official documents that she must sign and fingerprint, and, wow, she thinks, I really know how to make an exit. Detained and deported – on paper, at least – and then an accepted appeal and 15 days to leave the country. There will be no further consequences, but the whole thing just isn’t a good feeling.

Of course, in the end, the only feelings left are of utter gratitude to all the people who helped her get through this goopy situation. The travel agent; the boss; the one who made her a grilled cheese sandwich; and especially the strange man with the gun to his back; she is in awe of the kindness given and accepted all around her.

So, yes, there is no grace in my life, but there are a lot of people who don’t seem to care much about that, and for this, I am endlessly thankful. This wasn’t the way I wanted to leave Japan, certainly, but I’m definitely packing it away in my backpack of adventures in Asia. I wish this could be my last goodbye – to that oafish girl who is always making mistakes – but, honestly, if I were to say sayonara to her, my life would be so boring.

goodbye 30 of 30

Of course, my last goodbye is to you, Love.


There was never any other option.


This goodbye is only for you, but it’s not really a goodbye, is it? More of a, see you soon; a, so long; a, good luck with the spiders and the horrible middle school students. It’s not a goodbye, but even so, this not-goodbye weighs me down, sits dripping and heavy in my chest. Soaked sand, something like that.

This goodbye is only for you from me, and I would be a fool to let anyone else in on it. I am clumsy an careless at times; I know I need to watch my step more and I didn’t mean to leave the orange juice glass where the ants could go in. I am graceless and I am lazy, but I am no fool. I am for you, and what’s here with us will stay here.

I’m all feelings right now with no structure, and this can only lead to that sad, sappy sort of writing that generally turns my stomach. This time we’ve had here in this tiny nutty country, in this lovely, ash-caked, sumi-yasui city, this time has not been sad. Sappy, well, you know I have my moments, but certainly sadness has not come into play.

It is wrong, then, to end with sadness. A kind of disrespect to that time and that place. So, because I am not myself right now, because that heavy heart-sack-sand is threatening to reveal the loss I’m feeling, let me let my notebook take over. The thin crinkled brown one I keep in my bag, let it speak my goodbyes for me, memories recorded, lines on recycled paper that are so much better at this than I am.

Businessmen in businessman-white collard shirts, picking up park trash with pointed metal sticks.

Old women with painted faces and mis-matched prints waiting for buses holding frail arm-fuls of flowers.
(they look scared)

Early morning sunlight strong enough to sting your skin pink.

Suffocating humidity.

Soft, whipped potato clouds resting on the top of the volcano.

A dirty beach. Tires, driftwood, plastic bags, trash. Why is it not dirty during swimming season? Is the water showing its loneliness? – heaving debris up from the bay like some great, lost child? Or is it just that no one comes to clean it during the off season?
That’s probably it.

The fish market doesn’t smell of fish yet, this early in the morning. But it does smell of the anticipation of fish.

A row of thin houses by the train tracks. Here it smells like China, like food and exposed plumbing. Laundry hangs outside, and I wonder if people really wear that underwear.

No one talks to me. But I am afraid they will.

Giant birds. They look edible.

Giant insects. Also look edible. You first. No, I’ll try.

This canned coffee is bottomless.

Mio cried last week because she colored the PINK balloon orange. I know this feeling of failure.

Kids with mochi faces and no teeth who can’t pronounce Thursday.

Adults who can’t pronounce Thursday.

People in uniforms, just for the sake of uniforms? I wonder.

Cold noodles dipped in sour sauce with something fried on the side.

I am the only one in line who shows any sign of impatience. But I know you feel it too.

Floral prints.

Rabbits everywhere. I prefer the owls.

Is that the bus? Concentrate. Don’t miss it. Look hard.

People in pajamas sitting on the ground, waiting for the pachinko parlor to open. Smoking cigarettes and looking lucky or not.

Scooters with day-glo flags, ridden by the old and the weak.

How I have to wonder, where are all the people still outraged about the bomb?

The biggest tire I’ve ever seen.

A chipped-paint love hotel shaped like a castle. Only 3500 yen to be a 90 minute queen.

A river that once overflowed. Now it is dry and low.

Concrete factories that make sacred things for graveyards, and the signs that advertise for this.

Narrow, twisted roads.

The smelly man didn’t pay to take the bus.
(neither will I)

Schools that look like prisons.

Where are the prisons?

Car dealerships with English names and petite Japanese models.

Akebono, outside, inside, where the bulk is.

Goo means good.

Old men who wear American navy ship names stitched onto their baseball caps.

Big gold-spray-painted buddas for sale.

Layered, lacquered rooftops layered on with meaning.

That ice-breath feeling of a hot outdoor bath on a hot day.

This is other people’s garbage.

How “earth” and “ass” sound the same when spoken in a Japanese accent.

Falling asleep with my legs left under the kotatsu and waking up with red skin and a sore throat. The feeling of winter.

New rice ready.

Ancient bamboo forests and space-age shopping malls. Toilets like rocket ships. I am an alien. So are they.

Hills like hedgehogs. New growth.

Fires burning in tea fields.

And I haven't even left yet.

i caught you

Meg Ryan.

Another celeb cashing in on the Japanese love affair with Hollywood stars.

But come on, Meg Ryan, Nescafe? I hope they paid you good.

goodbye 29 of 30

Goodbye to the sea and to the life I built beside it.


I grew up in the mountains. In a green valley that burns red and yellow and orange all autumn long, surrounded by smooth, seamless hills that sleep white and sparkling through the long winter. I am in love with these mountains, and I miss these mountains when I am gone for too long. But sometimes you have to leave a place to really be able to see it.

I’ve always wanted to live near the ocean. My grandmas are from a fishing town and I was always able to visit the sea, but could never really stay. The mountains are my home but the sea is an adventure I’ve always wanted to have.

So I did it. I moved to a place near the sea, though actually it’s actually more of a bay, and I wouldn’t call it tropical, but more like sweltering, and no it’s never been a paradise, but there’s always been this big, black volcano, that sometimes burns red at sunset, and even today, on my last day, I am in awe of that.

It’s been fun. I’ve eaten what I wanted to eat and seen what I wanted to see, and I’ve eaten what I never knew I’d want to eat, and I’ve seen what I never knew I wanted to see. The beach is cool now and filled with morning people, with old women walking dogs and their husbands walking beside them, but backwards, which has always been something that’s fascinated me in Asia. People walk backwards, slowly, and usually in the early morning, for exercise, for something, and I say, why not? I tried it once but I lack their grace, and I tripped over my own big feet.

I’m not ready to go home. And I’m ready to go home.

goodbye 28 of 30

Today I had to say goodbye to Kagoshima.


Today was the first day the sadness broke through the barrier of all the lunches and classes and parties and walks to the video store and cleaning, through the barrier of busy.

Today I woke up. I rode the bus for an hour and wrote for most of the ride. Got to Kagoshima and went to my old apartment. Threw all the cleaning supplies away, as these are usually the last things left in an empty apartment. Took the toilet paper with me. Waited for the gomi guys to come to take away my big wooden dresser. They are late and I am agitated and I ask them to take away another small bookcase for my troubles. How could they say no? We use a fire extinguisher to prop open the door, but I don’t know the word for fire extinguisher in Japanese. Ride my bicycle to the bank and thankfully there is a nice woman with a well of patience who walks me through the forms and signatures. Close one account and keep the other, and then back on the bike and to a friend’s English school to drop off a forgotten key. Good thing I remembered. I just remembered I never told Mr. Nosse about the toothbrush in the sink. Shit. Ride back to the apartment and find Mr. Nosse and we do a quick apartment check. All he really looks at is the tatami and me, and he says, “I am sad.” And I am also sad, Mr. Nosse is my landlord and my student and my friend, and last week I just found out he’s been recovering from cancer. But we talk about the deposit and he tells me to come back soon and we shake hands and hug and that’s it, the apartment is finished. Go downstairs and teach one class, helping a student with a presentation she will give in Paris in two weeks. Say goodbye to my student, to the school, to my boss, who thinks that Japanese women paint their faces too much, who I will miss most of all. Back on the bike and I’m teary-eyed and the sky is so blue and bright so I take this photo and I’m teary-eyed and ride fast to the video store, return the movie, riding fast again because I’m late for lunch and teary-eyed, stop by the supermarket for hot pot dinner items and I’m breathing deep and teary-eyed and I park my bike in the pachinko lot and go to meet my friend. We walk to the Owl place for lunch since it’s my favorite and lucky, the lunch special is mushroom rice and tenpura, I like that lunch. We laugh and eat and gossip and after lunch it’s time to say goodbye. She tells me to have a happy life and I laugh and tell her it’s too dramatic. We laugh and she tells me what you’d say in Japanese in this situation and we both decide that instead of goodbye, we’ll keep it to a “so long,” a “またね.” I ride away and buy some meat on the way back to the old apartment, and as I’m bringing my key to the office I run into the mother of one of my 6-year-old students and we say some goodbyes and her belly is huge so I ask when she is due and she says, “いつでもいい、”the baby could come anytime. Return the key, abandon my bicycle, grab my bags and wait for the bus. I am teary-eyed and lonely but it’s only 3:47 and there’s plenty more to do today.

goodbye 27 of 30

Goodbye to fun snapshots with good friends who would otherwise never have been.


Life is too busy with life to take much time for writing and taking photos. All the goodbyes are piling up but it’s the end now, and I’ve got two more days, and I mountain of treasures to bury in two suitcases.

I can’t say enough goodbyes to my friends. I can’t get enough last snapshots together, I can’t believe two years has gone by, more than two years, gone and the only thing I never got to do was ride my bicycle all the way around Sakurajima. That and a million other things, but of course this is true for everyone.

One thing I absolutely was able to do during my time in Japan was to make friends with people who I never would have had the chance to get to know in the U.S. At home, my friends are mostly, more or less, like me. My age, my sense of humor, my style, my history. In Japan, most of my friends are very different from me. My friends in Japan have babies and husbands and wives and motorcycles and they run their own businesses. They win kimono fashion shows and go on group tours to foreign countries, where they wear bright yellow hats for safety and eat miso soup. Some of my friends are grown-ups with families; they have grown-up lives that I can only think about vaguely, with nagging feelings of curiosity and terror. Some of my friends are adults who still share sleeping rooms with their mother and father, and though I know it’s normal for them, this just gives me the creeps.

I’ve really enjoyed getting to know so many different kids of people. I think I’ve learned that it’s actually not so different, being me and being a grown-up me. Or rather, should I say, I think I’m learning that I’ve been growing up. That I grew up. That I’m a grown-up. And that it’s not nearly as awful as I had thought it would be.

goodbye 26 of 30

Goodbye to the me that is for you.


I genuinely love the job I’ve had here in Kagoshima, and because of that, every day it was my genuine self who went into the classroom. Every day it was a pleasure for me to talk with my students, to hear about their lives and their culture and to share some of myself with them. I built many relationships with people – from children to salarymen – that I sincerely hope will make it over the Pacific Ocean and through customs.

That being said, there is a certain amount of performance involved when you are an English conversation teacher. As with any job, it’s just not appropriate to bring your worries and personal problems to work with you. The thing with English teaching, is that all day long you are asking people, “how are you?” and they, in turn, are asking you, “how are you?” Which then, of course, raises the eternal question, do I tell the truth or tell the not-truth?

It was always important for me to convey a positive image of foreigners to my student. I think many foreign people who visit or live in Asia often take advantage of certain aspects of the culture. There are so many differences between American and Japanese culture, and it was always my aim to encourage myself and my students to look around or through or over those differences.

People come to English conversation class for many different reasons, and improving their spoken English is just one of them. Some people are lonely, and just want someone to talk to. Many Japanese people I’ve met have told me that they can express deep feelings much easier in English, because they feel like English is more open and accepting of their ideas. Sometimes people are just looking to be entertained; in Japan, English is as much a hobby as it is a full-on language.

People come for many reasons, with many different aims and intentions, and as their teacher, I wanted to be flexible enough to meet these various expectations. One minute I’d be having a discussion about the war in Iraq and fifty minutes later I might be talking about how to cook Thanksgiving dinner and a few minutes after that maybe I’d be playing an animal guessing game and the next hour the topic would be drugs and love and prostitution.

So, there was always that me who could bounce between topics and themes, who could give opinions without offending, who could ask questions without prying. She was charming and polite and didn’t tell anyone when her throat hurt or she felt homesick. I think she is a better me, in many ways. Like the real me but just more put-together, more interesting, less anxious. I like her and I’d like to keep her with me, but the truth is, she can be unbelievably exhausting.

Tonight was the official goodbye party for my students and me. The better me was there with me, of course, and she drank a bit too much. She laughed and she smiled for photographs and hugged each person goodbye and I could feel the deep sadness even though she did her best not to show it. She and I are so sad these days, but nobody really knows about that, because it’s just easier to tuck it away.

I’m not going to leave that better-than-me me in Japan. She’s already stuffed in my suitcase between the gifts from my students and the funny English t-shirts I’ve collected during the past two years. I’ll let her out soon enough, but for now, we’re both in desperate need of some quiet time, some sleep, an American cup of coffee and a visit to mom and dad.

goodbye 25 of 30

Goodbye to our home.


The furniture has gone to good homes and the gomi has gone back to the universe. I scrubbed down through layers of grease in the kitchen where we made dumplings and stir fried things and that time I made applesauce and used the salt instead of the sugar. The floors have been cleaned of dust and I dug down deep in the drains. I just remembered I dropped a toothbrush down the sink, I'll have to tell someone about that.

Goodbye to this apartment, which I've loved so much. There is no view and the water pressure is laughable; it's hot in summer and cold in winter; there are sometimes cockroaches, and do you remember that time we saw two of them together, and I said they were big as cats, and you said it's rare to see a duo like that.

The days are too busy right now for me to think in straight lines. It's all just happening, and my natural inclination is to make lists, and cross things off of lists, and today I crossed the apartment off of the list. Gomi gone. Floors clean. Shower scrubbed. Tatami swept.

Goodbye to our apartment, which was always full of sinfully good food and lazy Sundays spent on the sofa and warm winter cups of coffee, full of Japanese textbooks and towels thrown on bar stools, full of stories of the day and so much love.

goodbye 24 of 30

Goodbye to all those questions I could never answer.


I am always asked, "why did you go/come to Japan?" I am asked this by old Japanese women in elevators, by strangers on the Internet, and by my family.

I am exhausted right now. My hands are swollen and chapped from scrubbing and they smell like bleach and maybe vaguely of mildew. I have a lot more work to do and a goal to finish by noon.

So I'm going to answer this question as truthfully as I can.

I don't know why I came to Japan. I have no reason and I don't think I need a reason. I just felt like it. The food seemed more interesting than food in the U.S. and I like the look of smoky rice fields early in the morning. I had been living in China with no good reason, and China was exceptionally dirty, so I figured, yeah, sure, Japan. I just want to try lots of things before my body begins to break down. I figured, why not?

So, that's it. Nothing more, nothing less. Just a decision, like which socks and how many spoonfuls of sugar. An adventure, a chance to see another place from the inside and my own place from the outside.

Sometimes here, sometimes there. Most times, somewhere in the middle. A somewhat-American living in a somewhat-Americanized country, eating cold, creamy sashimi and hot, gooey mochi cakes. Enjoying those precious few days of sun during rainy season and thinking how badass it is to go swimming in the great big stomach of a volcano.

It's been a lot of fun. But the mold beckons.

seasonal weirdness

I read an article once about how Pepsi always releases seasonal specialties that they think will sell in Asia.

Last night, in the convenience store near my house, I found this season's.

ugh.

But I want to try it.

goodbye 23 of 30

Goodbye to good friends and laughs over baked goods.


Of course I will miss the food in Japan. All the strange, alien-shaped vegetables and textures of the sea. And of course I will miss my job, and my students, because every day they taught me something. I will miss my little Japanese apartment with the sliding doors and tatami room. Of course I will miss impeccable shopping mall toilets and all the dirty comics. I will miss the tea and the service and the cherry blossoms, and of course I will miss Sakurajima.

Who I will really miss, are my friends.

It's never been easy for me to make real friends in Japan. I have many, many acquaintances, people I am friendly with or people who want to practice English, people who are looking for something from me or maybe people who I am looking to get something from; this is life, after all. But finding real friends has proved to be difficult.

After these two years, I can honestly say that I think that, for me anyway, it was often cultural differences that kept many of my acquaintance-ships from turning into real friendships. There are many aspects of Japanese culture that I have a difficult time relating to - the role of work and duty; women's roles; the Japanese education system; the peer pressure - there are just so many ways in which my thoughts and experiences vastly differ from those of the people around me.

Idealists would say that this shouldn't hinder relationships, but I know it does. And this isn't a negative, it isn't positive. It's just been a reality for me.

The true friends I've found in Japan don't share the same opinions or experiences of me; I would never expect that from anyone. It would be so boring. Instead, the friendships I've formed are with people who are willing and eager to share whatever's going on in their world with me. They aren't afraid of me and they challenge me. We can eat good food and laugh and they tell me when what I'm doing goes against the Japanese style and I tell them openly when I don't care if what I'm doing isn't Japanese style.

And we can sit on the grass, on a man-made island, in the shadow of a blackened volcano, eating spicy wiener supermarket sandwiches under an almost-rainy sky, and just talk about nothing and enjoy the day. And I will miss that so much.

goodbye 22 of 30

Goodbye to ridiculous feats of strength and balance conducted aboard a small, red, foldable bicycle.


Ugh. Yes, so, goodbye to my bicycle. I have put so many kilometers on this little red bicycle, I can't even estimate. It has taken me to the beach, the supermarket, the hospital, Toys 'R Us, around a volcano. The first time I moved to a new apartment, I carried giant loads of things on my bicycle. I've ridden it out to clubs and home from clubs, so blind-drunk I hit a utility pole and fell off; woke up the next morning bruised and flat tired. I got in a fight with an old man who tried to charge me 200 yen for air and I remember feeling really proud when I could finally speak enough Japanese to go on my own for a tune up.

Once I got hit by a guy on a motor scooter pulling out of a pachinko parking garage. I called him a f--king a--hole and I think he understood, because Japanese people watch a lot of Hollywood movies.

Once I hit an old lady riding a bicycle. I felt like a f--king a--hole but she was very graceful about the whole thing.

I bought this bike because it folds. I thought that was cool, to own a bike that could fold in half. It can be made small enough to fit in a bag that you can easily carry on a train.

I have never, not even one time, not even just to try it, folded this bicycle. And now it's rusty, and I suspect it's too late.

Over the past two years, I've become a pro at commuting by bike. I can carry anything on a bicycle. Today, I was taking bags of clothes to the thrift store to try and sell them back. I have to ride a little slower than normal, but if I balance just right, I can turn my little red bike into quite the workhorse.

I don't know if I'm sad to leave my bicycle or not. We'll see. It's been fun, it's been hellish. Fun to get some fresh air and avoid the gas pump, but truly grueling on humid summer days and during rainy season.

I'm all for using your body to get done whatever you can get done, but seriously, come on. I miss my car like mint without chocolate.

goodbye 21 of 30

You can barely see me, because I'm barely here. Goodbye to a life that never quite felt here or there, real or unreal.


Moved out to the countryside for a week, to where YC will be living. Giant spiders and little spiders, girl soccer players everywhere and more mold than my rag can handle. But I like it all, I don't mind. Because he's there and we can play tetris on the big screen.

Goodbye to bus commutes and early mornings. To the 8AM October sun burning hot and cold on my neck. To the giggles of schoolgirls and the sideways glances of gas station workers. Goodbye to white running shoes with jeans, because, really, you're gonna take the shoes off anyway, so who cares what they look like. Goodbye to orange mailboxes and clear blue Kyushu skies.

Too many goodbyes, too many goodbyes. It's happy and it's sad, but mostly it's busy, and sometimes the only time to think is on a long wooden bench, while you wait for your bus to come.

goodbye 20 of 30

Goodbye to my gomi.


Gomi means "trash" in Japanese.

Today was moving day, and all that's left now of my beloved Japanese apartment is my gomi.

The truth is, the apartment itself was made from gomi. We always knew this time in Japan would be limited, so we never wanted to invest much in furniture and appliances. I have a friend with a great gomi hookup, so I was literally able to go to a Japanese dump and pick and choose stuff that I thought I could use. I got a big wooden table, a sofa, a washing machine, a small glass table, even an oven, all from the dump.

These gomi items were added to gomi items that I myself found while out and about exploring. For whatever reasons, I've always enjoyed looking through the trash. Not the dirty, stinky, food trash -- I'm not that brave -- but the dry, forgotten trash. The things that people have decided, for whatever reason, to discard from their lives. I like looking at what people have owned and I also like re-using stuff that I feel is still viable. My friends think this is gross and a bit annoying, but they really can't complain when they come into my house and relax on a nice leather chair I picked up off the street.

Of course I clean the gomi. And, I should also point out, I'm very lucky here in Japan, because Japanese people tend to be really clean. They take care of their things well and they usually throw them out before they are truly old. Hey, even my camera is sort of gomi - I bought it used.

So, goodbye to my gomi. It's all that's left in the place where I used to live.

goodbye 19 of 30

I'm writing this in the midst of suitcases and boxes, old birthday cards and last year's Halloween costume. It's moving day - or, rather, the night before moving day - and I have so much to do I really shouldn't be writing this at all.

Which is why it's a good thing I think today's goodbye speaks for itself.


This is my Saturday, and today I'm saying farewell to it. Saturdays are packed full of students, but I love every class.

My job is what's kept me in Japan for so long, I think. I really love it. Of course there have been long days and sore throats and boys who won't stop shouting "penis," but there has never been even one day when I've wanted any other job here in Kagoshima.

I got this e-mail today, from my 7-year-old student:

>Thankyou for your e-mail.
>I liked your photo.
>I will give the photo.
>It was so much fun to me to see you every saturday.
>I love you so much.

I feel so lucky to have found this job, and to have had this opportunity to meet so many different kinds of people. I'm sure this sentiment will show up in my final goodbyes some more, and rightly so. I'm really proud of my students. I'll miss them, but, like Yukako says, I will definitely keep in touch.

goodbye 18 of 30

Goodbye, omiyage. Though I suppose I'm taking most of you with me, so this is not a true goodbye.


Omiyage is the Japanese word for "souvenir." When someone goes on a trip, the custom is to buy a little gift for their friends, family, coworkers, the dog, that little girl in the apartment down the hall and also for that slightly off woman in the giant hat who's sits in the park with the birds all day.

What I'm saying here is, WOAH, omiyage is serious business. It's this complicated, expensive system of give and take that I quite honestly just don't have the money or patience to buy into.

Sure, when I travel, if I see something I know someone from home might like, I buy it for them. I do not, however, follow the Japanese tradition of buying a little something for EVERYONE. The way I see it, being a foreigner, I sort of get a free pass out of the omiyage obligation.

Over the past two years, however, I have managed to amass a sizable omiyage haul. Usually it's food, which is nice, and usually I eat it, although it usually tastes pretty awful. Lately, however, because I'm leaving Japan soon, I've been receiving some truly awesome gifts from friends and students. I'm just not sure how it's all going to make it back to the U.S.

I must say, though, that some of my favorite omiyage was stuff that I bought for myself. Like the t-shirt I'm wearing here, the one that says うんこ, which means, "poop." So it says "poop" and underneath it is a pink poop man (which is, oddly enough, a common sight in Japan), with two cute pink poop hands.

I am 100% sure no Japanese person who I know would ever buy a shirt like that for me. Which just goes to show you that there are some things you've just gotta do for yourself.

moving

I'm bored. Spent all night and day packing. The movers just left and now I'm on a bus on my way to Kushkino, where YC will live.
I miss my car. I miss borrowing my dad's pickup truck.
They are burning dead leaves in the fields outside the window. The smell is like home.
I wonder if poetry is still poetry if it's pecked out on a cell phone keypad.
At least on the bus I can sit down.

goodbye 17 of 30

Today’s goodbye is to ritual, for better or worse.


Every society has ritual. It may be obvious or hidden, active or latent, but I believe that every culture indulges in certain familiar, timeless acts that link people to people and past and place. In the U.S., we bargain hunt and make aimless treks to the shopping mall and say, “god bless you.” Our rituals are varied and contain many variables, but still, they are there.

In Japan, rituals are far more obvious and strictly followed. When you enter a house, you say something. When you leave a house, you say something else. Before you eat, you say something. After you eat, you say something else. Beyond these many, many rituals of language, there are bodily rituals. There is the ritual of visiting a shrine or temple. There is the ritual of removing your shoes when entering a room. Of course, there is the ritual of the shopping mall. There are rituals regarding gift giving and receiving, and there are the sacred rituals of tea.

An American friend of mine visited me in Kagoshima, and during that time, he learned some of the phrases associated with language rituals. Before memorizing them, he asked me, “but, do people really mean this, or is it just ritual for ritual’s sake?” I think this is a typical, understandable American reaction. Often, in American culture, we look down on ritual as something safe and cliché; as if rituals were excuses for avoiding creativity or genuine expression. I don’t think this is totally right, but I don’t think it’s exactly wrong, either.

I do think one of the most appealing qualities of ritual revolves around feelings of safety. When one is performing a ritual, there are feelings of expectation and there is the fulfillment of that expectation. The completion of this cycle is inherently satisfying; how often do we find our expectations actually, fully and completely, realized? In life, there are unfulfilled wishes and areas of gray and unrequited love and half truths. In ritual, there is the request and the return. In ritual, there is no rejection.

So, when my friend asked me that question, “do people really mean this?,” I said, yes, I believe they do. The fact that a fixed vessel for certain feelings of gratitude exists does not mean that those feelings themselves are not genuine or do not exist. It just means that people are free to express that gratitude, because the words are already there.

How many times have I found myself searching for the right words? And how many times, when I fail in my search, have I chosen to retreat to the isolation of silence?

There are some Japanese rituals that I enjoy. There are some that really rub me the wrong way. Some will stay with me, and others I will forget. Regardless, I’m grateful I’ve had the chance to make that decision.

goodbye 16 of 30

Goodbye to taking chances and sporadic acts of fleeting friendship.


My dad told me that at one point in time in his life, he made a conscious decision to say “yes” to everything. Meaning that if he received any sort of invitation or opportunity, he would say “yes” to it, and follow wherever that “yes” took him.

I think this is a great idea, and, though I can’t say I’m always able to follow it, I do my best to grab at any chances thrown my way. For many reasons, this is probably what brought me to Asia in the first place.

Now, the question is, what exactly did I say “yes” to today to get this photograph?

I don’t know. I was walking to the park with my camera and jump rope, planning something different, and at some point during that five minute walk, my plans changed.

My apartment building sits shoulder-to-shoulder with a rehabilitation clinic. This clinic and I have a nervous relationship; meaning that, every time I take the back way to get to my apartment, I can see into the sleeping rooms at the clinic, and it makes me nervous. I’m not yet accustomed to sickness.

To get to the park, I must pass by the clinic’s rear entrance. There are almost always people out there – patients, nurses, doctors, family members – smoking cigarettes and just generally taking a break from the bleakness inside. For whatever reason, every time I pass by, I have a strong urge to ask the people to take a photo with me. Just one of those nagging thoughts, like how I really, really want to ride the trans-Siberian railroad someday. I don’t know why.

Today, as I passed by, this little group was out smoking, and the man in the wheelchair yelled out, “Halloo” to me. This is a pretty common occurrence at this location, and depending on my mood, I usually say “konnichiwa,” sometimes give a quiet, “hello,” and sometimes just ignore it.

But today, this man’s “Halloo,” for some reason struck me as genuine. I felt that I was sincerely being greeted, and decided that I had no choice but to say “yes” to that. So, I forgot about the jump roping for a while, and instead stopped to talk to the clinic people.

As much as I might complain about xenophobia in Asia, I must say that, once the initial barrier has been broken, I find that I am able to have a lot of fun with complete strangers. I can’t say what it is, exactly, but I think that while my different-ness might make someone uncomfortable at first, as soon as that initial fear is gone, that same different-ness makes me a fast friend. I think that many Japanese people feel confined by the social rules and restrictions of their own society. Because I’m not really a part of that society, with me, those social anxieties are often forgotten. Many of my students have told me this – that one of the big reasons they want to study English is because they feel that they can express certain parts of their lives more fully in English, with foreign people.

So, this is the position I’ve found myself in for the past two years. Neither in nor out; not totally accepted by Japanese society but not exactly shunned, either. It’s not a yes, but it’s not a no, either. I’m somewhere in the middle as far as the group goes, so all I can do is keep saying “yes,” “yes,” “yes” as much as my American bones will allow me. Any other option would just be so boring.

And, luckily enough, these nice people outside the clinic said “yes” to my request for a photo, and, because it was just one of those great autumn days when the sun is out but the air is cold, they also said “yes” to my request for a funny face. I think it’s a perfect example of where just a few yeses can get you.

goodbye 15 of 30

Farewell, natto. Never let the sour words of others get you down. You are wonderful.


Natto, natto, natto. How can I explain natto? Are there words? Surely not. There is the dictionary, of course – “a traditional Japanese food product made from fermented soybeans.” But what does this say? What does this tell us about your secrets, your bottomless depths of flavor and style? Surely, there are no words.

There is taste. Oh, man, there is taste. Like eating fallen autumn leaves found deep on a late afternoon walk. That taste of not quite this, not quite that; not quite bean, not quite nut. But certainly, there is a nuttiness. There is a beaniness. There is even a hint of one of those expensive stinky cheeses that you scorned as a child and now can’t afford.

There is texture. Neba neba. The Japanese describe natto’s texture as neba neba. Neba soft neba firm. Neba sticky neba stringy. Neba long neba short neba gooey neba slimy neba mush neba squish. Neba neba. I think this is the best way.

There is smell. Rot and almost-rot and something earthy or bodily. Something you’d want to keep secret, if you were the source. I don’t like it. But I don’t mind it.

There is versatility, there is potential. Natto toast and natto fried rice. Natto okonomiyaki, natto hamburger, natto pasta with cheese. Natto over white rice, natto with a rice ball; natto in the morning, noon, and night. Natto with egg, plain natto, dried natto in a foil bag. And, of course, my own invention, natto nachos.

This is for you, natto. Many thanks and warm regards. Though it may be in America, in the back aisles of some Asian market, though you may be over-priced and under-fresh, though my friends and family may rally against your very existence in my refrigerator, may we meet again, fair natto. With love, from Lauren.

goodbye 14 of 30

Goodbye to you, tatami.


Goodbye to you which has caused me such pleasure, and such pain. Goodbye to your rough, smooth edges. To your surfaces that scrape and sting when you rub one way and soothe and delight when brushed the other. Goodbye to your smell, that smell of Japan, of home, that smell that causes that tickle in my throat that I just can't shake. Goodbye to your rumored ticks and your phantom bedbugs. Goodbye to early morning stretches and aching hands-and-knees scrubbing. Goodbye to you, that has held me each night as I've slept, that has warmed me in summer and cooled me in winter, that has thrilled and enraged and frustrated and soothed me.

I'm not going to miss you, tatami. And I'm not going to not miss you. I'm going to think of you both fondly and blandly, because isn't this the relationship we've always had? My knees are American knees. They're made for shaving knicks and knee braces at the gym. They're made for wide-open spaces and plump mattresses. I can't make my knees do what they do not want to do, and I am positive - it is without a doubt - that they do not wish to kneel to you.

So, goodbye, tatami. Thank you for you for what you've given me, for the backaches and foot rubs. Thank you for Japan, for this tiny country all bound up in invisible invaders and silky mats of course, dried straw.

goodbye 13 of 30

A very sad goodbye to onsen. Ahhh, say it ain't so.


The weather was beautiful today, so we took the ferry to Sakurajima (the giant volcano) for one last dip in the Furusato onsen.

This onsen is a shrine, so you have to wear a yukata (the white robe) when you go in. I've written about it before. It's outside, and men and women can bathe together. I've been to some really nice onsen in Japan - including one where you get buried up to your head in hot sand - but this is my favorite. The bath is hot, and when you want to cool down, it's just a few steps to the sea.

Before I came to Japan, I was one of those girls who didn't even want to change with the other girls in the locker room. After experiencing my first onsen, however, everything changed.

I went from being the shy girl who changes under a towel to being the freaky girl who walks all around and obviously (as Charlotte would say) grew up in a naked house.

In a society which can otherwise feel pretty stiff, cold, and way, way, way too polite, communal bathing is a welcome exception to the rule. It's relaxing, it's great for your skin, and it's so much fun.

I will miss the bubbling hot waters of volcano hell so much. I'll miss all the little old Japanese ladies who sidle up close to me for a little bath chat. I will miss the unique social equalizing power of the bath -- once you're out of your designer clothes and your shiny shoes, everybody's the same. So long as you don't go in the bath without a proper rinse first, people are accepted purely, and simply, as they are. Even me.

goodbye 12 of 30

Goodbye to the wisdom of children.


I've never thought of myself as a real kid-person, you know? I've never been one to get gushy over cute kids or want to hold babies; working in Gap Kids was a sincerely painful experience for me.

And yet, somehow, I keep ending up in these jobs where I'm with kids. I've taught at lots of different schools and summer programs, and, shockingly enough, somewhere along the way I realized that kids can often be a lot smarter, funnier, and more sincere than adults.

I love teaching English to kids for one simple reason. I love the look they give me, each week, this look that's always the same, this look that's like, woah, what kind of alien are you, anyway? Kids tend to see the world as a pretty clean division of monsters and fairies, and I like this. I like that they all want to be race car drivers and comic book artists. I like how girls think boys are nuts and boys think girls are gross. I like when they laugh at my jokes because kids only laugh at things that are truly, unpretentiously funny.

The girl in this photo is Nodoka, my 7-year-old student who can read English more fluently than an American first grader. No one is quite sure where this English comes from, but my guess is, it comes from Space. She wants to be a stationary designer or a ballet teacher when she grows up, and she once drank so much soda at a steak restaurant that she had to go to the bathroom 14 times (!!!!!!). She says she'll write me letters when I go back to the U.S., and she wants to send me a present everyday. Usually her presents are fake tattoos of butterflies and monsters, so I figure, it's do-able.

goodbye 11 of 30

Goodbye to early morning errands and incomprehensible foodstuffs.


I teach at an English conversation school, so most of my classes are in the afternoon or evening. Most days, the only free time I have is early in the morning, so I try to make the most of it -- drink some coffee, take a photo, play some space invaders, the kind of stuff that makes life good.

I also usually use this time to run errands, because early in the morning is relatively cool in Kagoshima. Japan is a little stingy when it comes to opening and closing times; or, Kagoshima is, anyway. Most places open at 11AM and close by 9PM, which is wholly inconvenient for my schedule.

So, I usually end up coming to this place, Akebono, because it's the only place open (we're talking 7:30AM here), it's cheap, and they sell tons of weird stuff. I sometimes wash my face and brush my teeth, sometimes don't, grab my little eco bag, roll up my chain-side pant leg, hop on my bike, and pedal over to a world of nonsense.

It's a lot better, now, but over the past two years, I cannot express to you how much time I have spent staring perplexedly at packages of food in supermarkets. Sometimes I find myself looking at unidentifiable sea creatures; sometimes it's some funky seasoning-type mush; sometimes it's vegetables I've never seen before. And sometimes I don't look perplexed, but rather stare at something with a death-rage-evil eye, like when I see $5 cans of Capmbell's soup or $80 mangoes.

I love the supermarkets of the world; even American supermarkets amaze me. There's so much to look at and touch, so many colors and lights and potential. I don't hunt and I don't gather. I pedal a little red bicycle to and from an overstuffed supermarket and pay my respects somewhere along the way.

I will really, really miss these strange and wonderful supermarkets of Japan. Back in the U.S., I know I won't be able to buy fresh tofu or little koala bear cookies or a giant bag of lotus root for $3. So, I'm enjoying it while I'm still here, doing my best to figure out what the hell is inside that package.

goodbye 10 of 30

I rode my bike down to Iso beach today to say goodbye to my favorite (a.k.a. the only) swimming spot in Kagoshima city.


It's a pretty decent beach, not so beautiful but with a great view of Sakurajima. I would often ride my bike out here on hot summer mornings to cool off. One time, what, a year and half ago, we even got to go kayaking for a full day for free - I just happened to notice an ad in the paper. We kayaked all around the bay, and a flying fish even jumped up and hit my arm, causing me to FREAK OUT and freak everybody else out. Oh, and, of course, how could I forget? We went to the beach at night, sometime around my 25th birthday, and set off fireworks.

Today I was also trying to work on a first draft of a card to give to my (adult) students when I leave. I want to write a short thank you note to each student, so I figured I'd make some sort of card to give them.

I really do feel so thankful for all the people who I've been lucky enough to get to know here in Kagoshima. I've seen all of my students once a week for the past two years -- that's more than I see some of my friends. Most of the things I've learned about Japan, I've learned from the hours and hours of conversations I've had with people... in English conversation class. I am really appreciative of the time we've spent together.

I think that feeling is what I will remember most about my time in Japan. That and the giant ice cream sundae in Miyazaki.

goodbye 9 of 30

Goodbye sweat. And good riddance.


Man.

I chose this particularly unflattering shot for today's goodbye, because I think it really says a lot about the majority of my time in Kagoshima. For most of the time I've been here, I've been sweating.

I have nothing against the act of sweating. In general, I think it's a good thing; it means my body is working hard. Or, it used to mean my body was working hard. In Kagoshima, it's just a fact of everyday life.

Summer runs from about the end of April all the way through to the beginning of November. During that time, I sweat nonstop. I sweat when I do dishes. I sweat while I'm sleeping. I sweat as soon as I wake up and I sweat in the shower.

I come from a small mountain town in Western Massachusetts. There, sometimes, in the winter, it gets so cold they close the schools because the toilets freeze. I am a creature of cold, not heat. And yet somehow I have survived, and I feel stronger because of it.

Or, if not stronger, then at least sweatier.

Goodbye sweat. Goodbye always looking like some creature that's just crawled out of a pus pod. I think, dear heat and humidity, that you have made me more resilient. For that, I am grateful.

Bring it, snow.

goodbye 8 of 30.

Goodbye to all the toilets of Asia!


Or should I say, goodbye, and thank you!

I've lived in Japan for just over two years, and before that, I was in China for a while. I've seen just about every kind of toilet known to mankind. I've seen toilets that treat you like a Queen and toilets that could probably kill you if you hovered around for too long. I am well traveled, I am well toileted.

Like, remember this toilet?


Craziest. Toilet. Ever.

I like to think of today's goodbye photo as the light side and the dark side of toilets. On the one hand, you've got your Asian style squat toilet; very basic, very practical. Not somewhere you want to be for a long time, but, honestly, in a very public place I prefer this type of toilet. But, again, not the best place for an extended conversation or a dinner party.

But then there's the light side. The super, mega, amazing, crazy, multi-faceted, multi-tasking, luxury toilet of Japan. These things have so many settings, I'm actually scared of them. You can get rinsed, you can get washed, you can get dried, who knows what else you can get. I'm waiting for the day when I find a toilet with a button that will get me a nice piece of strawberry cheesecake. 'Cuz I know it's out there.

So, goodbye, dear toilets. People may laugh, people may wonder, why talk about the toilet so much, but I know why. The toilet is one of the single most important things to be acquainted with, no matter where you're living. You better get your angles right and you better know your from 男 your 女. Goodbye, fair toilets of the East. It is time for me to return to the much more mundane American Standard of the West. I will think of you fondly.

I will think of most of you fondly.

goodbye 7 of 30

Today's goodbye is to concrete buildings and loneliness.


I've had a lot of fun in Japan; in general, I'm determined to enjoy myself wherever I am. But, in my reality, anyway, living so far away from home, in a country where I stick out like a pig at a dinner party, there has always been a very real loneliness.

Xenophobia is alive and well and it isn't just a countryside reality. If it's a good day, the pointing, the whispering, the startled looks and the "Halloo's" aimed at my back don't phase me one bit. If it's a bad day, however, watch out. I've been known to shed a frustrated tear or two at the grocery store or in the shopping mall, when all I want to do is slip by unnoticed like everyone else. There is a certain loneliness that comes from an ongoing inability to be alone.

I grew up in Western Massachusetts, among trees and waterfalls and the same graceful slope of Mt. Greylock that inspired Moby Dick. I've loved these past two years in Kagoshima, but I have never, ever been able to get used to the bleak, somber quality of a country covered in concrete, glass, metal and price tags. I miss the woods. I miss having windows that look out over something other than other windows.

This sounds like a sad goodbye but it certainly isn't. I'm thankful that I've had time to experience the life of the city, but I'm ready to get back to real life.

goodbye 6 of 30

Goodbye Sundays at home. I will truly, truly, truly miss you.


Sunday is my only day off, and, maybe for that reason, I very often spend Sunday at home doing relatively nothing. I say relatively nothing because I do read, watch movies, play video games and occasionally take a walk to buy toilet paper or something, but aside from that, Sundays are all about nothingness.

The thing is, for me, in Kagoshima, it's not always easy to find things to do that aren't ridiculously expensive. Today we tried to play basketball, but couldn't find anywhere to play - there just isn't much free stuff to do in Japan, aside from walking around and window shopping. In the city, anyway.

So, today, we officially started what will hopefully be a long tradition (well, for the next 24 days, anyway) of WiiFit Olympics. We each picked 3 events - from hula hooping to ski jump to bubble river - and competed to see who could win the most events.

Ahem, yes, I won.

I lost at hula hooping and forearm endurance stand, but I won at ski jumping, fish catching in a penguin suit, bubble river, and skiing.

I will really miss my apartment and my lazy Sundays. And I'll miss the Wii and WiiFit, though hopefully I'll be able to get my own in the U.S. I'll miss good competition and trash talk. And as for the guy, what can I say? There are no words.

goodbye 5 of 30

Goodbye, Amu! Goodbye, Chuo station!

Here I am, again, trying to get my jump right. Let me tell you, it hurts.

What you can see in this photo - the giant building with a ferris wheel sticking out of it - is Amu, the upscale shopping mall attached to the central (Chuo) train station. I used to go to the gym here (it's right below my right foot), and this is pretty much the only place I buy clothes, if ever I am forced to buy clothes in Japan. It's been a major part of my life for the past two years... catching trains and waiting for sales, seeing ridiculously overpriced movies and buying weird delights from the supermarket. I've ridden the ferris wheel two times, once in a typhoon and once on Christmas day with my dad and my brother. Wow, I've even been doing mystery shopping here for the past two years - can't tell you where, but I've gotten a lot of really nice, free clothes. Score!

So, Goodbye to Amu and Hello to getting better at these jumping photos. I'm starting to get the hang of it, I think. It's important to wear sneakers.

But, the best part of my morning was that while I was taking photos, trying to get a good jumping pose, I met two really nice people visiting from Shikoku.

I offered to take their photo (in front of the statue I was jumping off) and the man asked if he could take a picture with me. He told me, in Japanese, "because I like women." Haha, I guess it's a good enough reason as any.


This has been a strange recurring thing throughout my time in Asia. Very often, tourists want to take pictures with me. I guess I used to feel like a freak, but now, I don't care, I think it's all good fun. Sometimes it amuses me to think about the random Japanese and Chinese tourists who have these weird pictures with me. I like to think of it as a nice way to be connected to the universe, you know?

So, yes, it was lots of fun meeting these two. I even gave them some Kagoshima tips, since it was their first time visiting. I guess when it comes down to it, this is the reason I spent all those hours with Hirata sensei - so that I can recommend good ramen to strangers I meet in front of the train station.

goodbye 4 of 30

Goodbye to the Japanese language!


Today I am saying a great big goodbye, or rather, さようなら to the Japanese language.

This is both a happy goodbye and a sad goodbye.

I strongly believe that if you're going to live in another country, you really should make an effort to learn and use the language and customs.

When I first came to Japan, I studied Japanese like crazy. Most of my Japanese studying has been with Hirata Sensei, my teacher, who is in this photo with me. She's been the absolute best person to learn Japanese from, because she is the most Japanese person I've ever met. I have never, in the more than two years I've been studying with Hirata Sensei, seen her wearing pants. She is extremely polite and proper, gentle and kind. If I use impolite Japanese or men's Japanese, she corrects me immediately. I feel like I've learned a lot more than language from her. One of the most surreal experiences of this past year was going to see the Sex and the City movie with Hirata Sensei... let's just say, Samantha, naked, covered in sushi, that's just not my Japanese teacher's cup of macha.

I will definitely miss Hirata Sensei, and I will certainly, at some point, miss speaking and studying Japanese, but right now, honestly, I miss fluent English. I truly love the English language; I love its sound and I love the unbelievable variety of words and accents and dialects that are out there.

I can't wait to go to the supermarket and tell someone, "Thank you."

Goodbye, Japanese. Goodbye to your relatively manageable pronunciation and absolutely nonsensical grammar. Goodbye to all those times when I said buy instead of sell, got instead of gave, do instead of did. Goodbye to the verbal life of a five-year-old.

I'll miss you, but not right away.

goodbye 3 of 30

Goodbye Danken!!


Today's goodbye is to Bakery Danken. Danken is a German bakery in downtown Kagoshima, close to the central train station. I think it was discovered because YC's old office is located nearby. My favorite part of Danken, aside from the food, is, of course, the logo:

We're making bread hard.

tee hee.

I love that. Love it so much, back in the day I made it a personal quest to buy a Danken t-shirt. I succeeded.

I don't know what it is that makes Danken so good. Part of it is the occasional odd yet delicious combination of ingredients; one of our staples from Danken is the sweet sesame bread - sweet potato and sesame. I think what it is about Danken is that it's just always good. I've never had a bad piece of bread from this place. What's supposed to be soft is soft and what's supposed to be hard is hard. It's just so good.

I'm also saying goodbye today to canned coffee, which I hate. It's just not at all satisfying to get your coffee fix from a little tin can. Ugh. I am really looking forward to some good take-out/drive-thru coffee from home. Donut Man, here I come!!!

So, yes, Goodbye, Danken. Thank you for so many delicious bread products over the years. May you keep making bread -- and bread-lovers -- hard for many years to come.

goodbye 2 of 30

The typhoon passed through Kagoshima, so this morning I went out to say goodbye to Dolphin Port.
Dolphin Port is the area around Kinko Bay's main port; it has shopping, eating, a foot bath, giant beetles with kids chasing after them in summer, and a big Christmas tree in winter. Every year there's a big fireworks festival, and on that night, this area is packed with people eating bentos and taking photos with their cell phones. Last year YC and I watched a lunar eclipse from this point, since it has one of the best views of the sky in Kagoshima. And, of course, Dolphin Port has a great view of Sakurajima.

I'm just not ready to say goodbye to Sakurajima yet; the volcano is so prominent in Kagoshima that it'll definitely pop up again.

It's been so awesome living next to a volcano for these past years. It never really erupted, but some days Sakurajima would spurt out a pretty impressive giant cloud of ash. I will really miss it.

Today was also my first attempt at taking a jumping photo. It's hard! I couldn't quite get the timing right. And, of course, there was this...


Haha, oh man. I purposefully went early - around 7:30AM - to take this photo, hoping that there wouldn't be too many people around. It was definitely less crowded than usual, but not exactly empty. Lots of businessmen walking to work.

One thing I won't miss about Japan is constantly looking like a freak. Though, okay, when you're jumping many, many times in front of a camera in public, people are gonna stare no matter where you are.

My feet got really muddy so I washed them off in the little fake river that runs through Dolphin Port. I hope that was okay; I figure I'm good since nobody told me to stop.

All photos can also be viewed here.

30 days, 30 goodbyes

Seeing as how I'm now down to my last 30 days in Japan, I've decided to use my next 30 days of photos as a way of helping me say goodbye to Kagoshima.

There are so many people and places, so much food, so many things that I will miss once I leave. And, there are also many, many things that I will definitely NOT miss. Thus, I'm going to do my best to pay tribute to all of this in the next 30 days, because after that, it's sayonara, baby.

So, Goodbye 1 of 30.


Today I'm saying goodbye to the pretty dismal view from my apartment building. I love my apartment, and it's really in a great location - right downtown, close to the main station, etc. - but I've never had much affection for the view. In fact, most places in Kagoshima give you a rather mediocre view - I think it's because, in very typical Asian style, all the buildings are about the same height. You know, nobody wants to rise too far above anybody else.

zing!

I'm also saying goodbye and good riddance to Kagoshima's horrible weather. The past few weeks have been constant rain and gray skies. In summer, and actually, also in spring and fall, it's exceptionally hot and humid. Actually there is no spring or fall, it's all summer. What Kagoshima does have is a rainy season, which is just so awful it's not even worth mentioning. So, goodbye heat and humidity, hello cold and snow. I'll take a sweater over sweat anyday.

And, yeah, I look a little sad because, well, I'm a little sad. And I'm also being pummled by rain, which has been a relatively common experience during my two years in Japan.

More goodbyes to come...

the big project, the big ice cream, the big news

Well, if I haven't written in my blog for almost a month, it isn't necessarily for lack of creativity, shenanigans, or nonsense; it's just that lately I've been drawn more toward images than words.

I've been working on a 365 Days photo project which you can check out here, if you feel so inclined. I am still absolutely smitten with my camera, and doing this project is really helping me to learn the ropes of photography. Every day I challenge myself to come up with new ideas, and new ways of looking at myself, my life, and my surroundings. Some days I succeed, I think, and some days I fail.

Here are some of my favorite recent photos.






I think this project has really helped me explore lots of areas - both real and unreal - that I've never even considered before. I've gotten out into Kagoshima, scouted out every inch of my apartment, and have learned how to look at myself in different ways. Every day I'm learning something new.

In other news, YC and I recently took a really nice, really short getaway to Aoshima in Miyazaki (near Kagoshima). It's a beach resort town, but right now is the off season, so it was very quiet and peaceful. It rained the whole time we were there, but we had a great time just walking around, using the indoor and outdoor bath at our hotel, and eating some craaaaaaazy good food.




Perhaps the highlight of the trip, however, happened on our way to Aoshima.

We had to wait a little over an hour for a train, so to kill time, we walked over to a local shopping center and started browsing. Naturally, we were browsing for food.

And man, did we find food. We found the most amazing food I've ever seen in my life. And I've seen some pretty astounding stuff pass over my plate. But this thing was just awesome. Check it out.



IT'S THE BIGGEST ICE CREAM YOU'VE EVER SEEN!

Seriously, the biggest.

No, like, really. This parfait was so huge, I couldn't get over it. And now, weeks later, I still can't believe we did this. We ate the whole thing. THE WHOLE THING. It had pieces of cake and cookies on top; two full bananas; sprinkles; strawberry ice cream; whipped cream; vanilla ice cream; corn flakes; strawberries; coffee jelly.... And probably some other stuff I can't even remember.

This eating experience will truly go down in the history of my history.

So, that's probably the best thing I've done lately, but now for the biggest decision I've made.

At the end of October, on the 29th, I will leave Kagoshima and move back to the U.S. We'll be moving out of our apartment sometime in mid-October, and I will finish working around October 25th. YC will move closer to the school where he teaches, and I'll board a plane that will take me from Kagoshima to Seoul, and from Seoul to New York. And after that, I won't live in Japan anymore.

I have very mixed feelings, most of which I don't feel inclined to discuss on the Internet. Mostly, I'm sad about leaving the life I've had here, because I have absolutely loved my time in Kagoshima. It's been fantastic, and delicious, and I've shared the whole experience with someone who I love more than I love honey mustard chicken sandwiches. I am unendingly thankful that I was able to spend this time in Japan.

But, the time has come to get back home. I am so excited and happy to come back to the U.S. and figure out just what's been going on there during the past, what, three years or so. I want to look at celebrity gossip magazines and go to dance clubs with my friends and eat real pizza. I want to buy some pants that fit and go walking in the woods in the winter and climb Mt. Greylock and speak English and see some snow. I want to see my family and eat mashed potatoes and get tipsy on too much wine drunk before Thanksgiving dinner.

It's tough to leave Japan, but home is where I need to be.