Unbelievable

hearing this word tumble out of elementary school kids’ mouths – hilarious, impressive, and highly preferable to the ubiquitous “Oh my GOD!” I blame the Home Alone movies for popularizing

how little I know about the many places I’ve travelled to versus how much my students know about the many places they may never go

how often I enthuse, “Please! Please come to Canada.”

the prevalent attitude of “I am Japanese, I don’t/can’t speak English” among even my most academically excellent junior high school students

praise for my “jouzu Nihongo” (skillful/good Japanese) when I still can’t remember my hiragana and katakana alphabets (to say nothing of kanji) or string together more than five word sentences

hiragana

katakana

the distracted hunger before and disgusting fullness after eating kyuushoku (a generous, generally delicious school lunch consisting of soup, salad, some sort of – often fish – main course, cold rice or bread, and a carton of milk delivered in classroom-sized portions and then dished up and distributed by the students)

monkey see, monkey do; if my students don't eat the head,
neither do I

a classroom of 9-year-olds coring pears with massive knives and a dexterity that makes me blush

the liters of water an elementary school student uses to wash a bowl...or cup...or spoon

the indifference towards hand soap and hot water

the practice of wearing surgical masks suddenly making perfect sense after getting coughed on wetly while riding a crowded morning train

the size and industriousness of the spiders outside my apartment door, and the likelihood of unintentionally walking through a web just about anywhere in Tottori 

salarymen on bikes in three-piece suits in late afternoon 30+ degree heat

my increasingly shoganai (“nothing can be done about it”) attitude towards an apartment like an oven in the summer and a freezer in the winter and shivery/sweaty workplaces due to nation-wide power conservation initiatives

getting goosebumps after walking into what feels like a freezer (staffroom air con set at 26 degrees) after three back-to-back classes in the swimmingly suffocating heat

believing I will use my weekends to catch up on sleep, then staying out late and waking up at 7 am

sweaty dance trumps sleep, rom-com movies, and chocolate combined

our adaptability as human beings -- whether it be shouting at wait staff (“Sumimasen!”) in restaurants to order, eating onigiri (rice balls) for breakfast, munching anko (sugar-rush red bean paste) enveloped in mochi  (gooey, gelatinous white rice), being bowed to at the gas station, carrying one’s trash around until disposing of it at home, or mastering the art of squatty potties in traditional restaurants, train stations, and sea-side toilets

Mochi...

in the making!

boiled in a bamboo leaf
(i.e. au natural)

fried with butter and a
sweet nut powder

flavoured with green tea and
sandwiched between anko
and flaky pastry

my iPhone dependence – a technology I hadn’t used prior to Japan, yet which hasn’t really caught on in my current hometown

the ease with which I justify my social media addiction as essential to keeping in touch with the world’s happenings and humanity

the expense and enormity of an apple

the number of conversations I’ve had about ice hockey, ice wine, and aurora (don’t get me started on maple syrup)

the amazement of locals to learn that Canada also experiences four seasons, and that some Canadians eat rice, watermelon, and sashimi (very fresh raw fish), too

although it may not be as plentiful,
accessible, or delicious as this

the wary, piercing stares of little old Japanese obaasans (grandmothers) and ojiisans (grandfathers) that almost always give way to wide, white grins after my aisatsu (greeting) offering

walking around with hundreds, even thousands of dollars’ worth of yen in my purse, and not feeling the least bit apprehensive  

my inability to take decent photos or draw discernible pictures (a personal and a professional problem, respectively)

how little I practice violin versus how often I perform

I haven’t been to church since I sang in the choir on Easter Sunday, I don’t miss it, but I love listening to Downhere and Michael W. Smith while walking in the woods

my new-found pride and protectiveness toward even the most mainstream and mediocre of Canadian music (I blame karaoke)

certain people (whose identities will remain anonymous) worried that I would return home glowing and with a tail when this is the worst I’ve encountered

Thumbs up for opposable digits!

the growing array of dichotomies I continue to notice in this weird and wonderful place both similar yet so different from my Canada

I wake up. It’s Monday. I sleep. It’s Friday. I blink. It’s Monday again.

I’ve lived in Japan for almost a year and, as a result, am already halfway through yet another chapter in my beautifully hodgepodge book of life

I’ll be home in less than a week!

With a little help from my friends

We are Frisbears!

I’m not big on goodbyes. In my experience, they’re melodramatic, messy, and emotionally exhausting. As a result, I prefer “take care”, or “see you later”, or, as one (privately-tutored) elementary school student is fond of stating, in a slightly robotic, no nonsense international-businesswoman-to-be drone, “see you again.”

That said, over the next few weeks, I will be giving heartfelt hugs and handshakes to a number of people moving on to new and exciting challenges as they return to respective homes worldwide. These individuals, along with others who are (thankfully) sticking around, have been essential not only in my adjustment to life in Japan, but also in my decision to re-contract for another year. Individually and collectively, they have helped me more over the past eleven months than I can ever hope to pay forward. So, instead, I’ll say “thank you.”

To angels who order at restaurants, sort out Softbank cell phone plans, and provide all sorts of translation and counseling services with a smile and a generosity that boggles the mind.

To mommies who unclog drains, offer unsolicited advice, and try to fatten me up with continual gifts of food and dinner invitations. (And who may or may not have twisted my rubber arm into breaking Lent in Osaka.)

The trip was in March, but I can still taste these treats.
(Clockwise from top left: an apple bread baked in crunchy bitter
caramel, a white chocolate and cream-filled roll,
a dark chocolate and walnut bun, and an egg tart.) 

To long-time enthusiasts and recent converts to the awe (both “some” and “ful”) that is karaoke. And for not groaning when I choose Adele’s “Someone like You” or Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah” for the umpteenth time.

To brave gaijin (foreigner) drivers who aren’t chicken like me. (Although, with the near-illiteracy, inherent lack of direction, and the driving on the opposite side of the road, my not being behind the wheel is for the best.)

To the big brother and sister living upstairs who not only put up with my periodic screechy-cat violin (the result of a few fast and furious practices before another “concert” at a school or community gathering after weeks of not touching the thing), but who are gracious enough to offer compliments when next our busy paths cross.

To anyone who’s left some little surprise (a sweet treat, a promised book, a sheet of stickers) hanging on my apartment’s doorknob or in my mailbox. Little gestures go a long way.

Choco-pan (a sweet bread filled
with chocolate pudding)

and thoughtfulness never fail
to make my day!

To the faithful FaceBookers whose detailed posts about daily life never fail to amuse, to enlighten, or to brighten my day!

This wordsmith has a gift for twisting sunshine into even the most
tiresome events of everyday life. 

To writers around the world who’ve kept in touch through snail mail and electronic means. Your words of encouragement and curiosity over that long, dreary winter kept me warm when I couldn’t feel my fingers.

These are coming home with me this summer,
so please, send more!

To my hometown (home continent – same thing!) crowd here in Japan for understanding my point of view when no one else is able or willing. And for feeding me comfort food

like mac and cheese

and homeade apple pie!

To all of the lovely Japanese co-workers who do their best to communicate with the slightly odd foreigner girl who shows up every week with a freshly sunburnt nose, increasingly Einstein hair, and who can still only follow the most basic of conversation.

To my international Japanese friends (i.e. those who’ve spent time working or studying overseas, thus having acquired a much broader view of the world than the average rural Japanese person) for your patience ears, your careful consideration, and your thoughtful explanations. Your insights into this weird and wonderful world I’ve been calling home for the past year have been indispensable!

To those special few who possess the ability to see things from a different perspective and who take time to hear out my frustration and confusion before offering some small nugget of wisdom to consider.

 To anyone who makes me laugh until I cry.

THANK YOU!

I am so grateful to have met you all. I wouldn’t have made it this far without you. Take care, and see you again, okay?