My Japanese History

When I was a little girl my mother introduced me to a Japanese woman who showed me kimono and some Japanese things.  I really don't remember this meeting.  But, I do remember the impact it had on me.  From that moment on I loved traditional Japanese culture.  I was fascinated by it.  I know that I even begged to go to summer school that year between second and third grade because they offered Japanese. 

Unfortunately, I didn't have many opportunities to study the language growing up (and I didn't have a lot of self discipline to do it on my own), but the love of the culture remained.  As I was wrapping up my college career, I applied to teach English in Japan.  I was working at an intensive English school as an activities assistant and my boss at the time was very helpful in securing me an interview.  At the crack of dawn the morning after graduation, I flew to Japan to start my new job.  It was the scariest thing I have ever done.

I arrived in Osaka, not knowing the language but filled with excitement.  I already had an apartment set up for me and a neighbor/co-worker that I had met twice before that taught me the ropes.  Everyday I was going on adventures, seeing and doing as much as I could.  Everything was new and exciting.  I'd take photos of anything that was new to me - toilets, grassless parks, and blossoming trees that were canopies of petals.  Living in Japan was a dream come true.  But I always felt like I was missing an important piece - the home life. 

No matter how much I immersed myself in the culture, I lived like an American in my home because I didn't have anyone to teach me.  My Japanese boyfriend (who later became my husband) worked 7 days a week.  Our time together was spent exploring and having fun, not discussing how to do laundry "the right way."

After my contract was up, I went back to the US.  My fiancé would follow later after we got married.  We lived in the US, happily merging our two styles of living.  We built a life together - growing our careers, buying a house, and having a baby.  After that special bundle of joy entered our lives, we worked hard to introduce him to Japanese culture.  We sent him to a Japanese daycare/preschool.  We attended Japanese events.  We ate Japanese food in our home and even celebrated Japanese holidays.  But the feeling lingered.  I was not done learning.

So, when the opportunity arose for us to come "back," we jumped.  Sometimes the realization of what we have done makes me beam with enthusiasm.  We are living our life and making our own path.  We are teaching our son to live fearlessly and follow his dreams.  And we have come to a place that we love and feel comfortable in.  There is constantly a mixture of pleasure, challenge, and comfort for me here.  Then, sometimes, I think "What the hell was I thinking moving here???"  I left the friends, family, home, school, garden, language, ease of everything, and so much more.  But then again would it be worth it if I wasn't a little scared?  Is it really an adventure if there wasn't some growth involved?  And if there ever was a place I wanted to be other than my comfort zone, it is Japan.

Today was a pretty laid back day.  My son and I chatted with some friends via Skype.  We wandered down some streets we haven't wandered down before.  We stopped by a beautiful Buddhist temple.  My son played at a park.  My husband took our son to the top of his office building to see the skyline (and the Tokyo Tower from a different view).  It was comfortable.

Tomorrow will be a new day.  It might be filled with adventure, or it might be laid back once again.  But no matter what, we will be living our life, our way, in Japan.  I'll learn something else about running a Japanese household.  And the little girl from so long ago will be smiling.