One Year in Japan
Yesterday was our one-year anniversary of arriving in Japan.
A few caveats. It is not the anniversary of when I officially became a resident of Japan. It is not the anniversary of when we got our apartment.
T is all about the qualifiers.
We've been to the point in Key West that is said to be the most southern point in the continental United States. T will point out that it is not. There is a qualifier. It is the most southern point of the incorporated area in the continental United States.
We recently have been to the most Northern point of Japan.T will point out that there was an uninhabited Japanese land mass visible from the monument that was indeed more Northern than this tourist destination.
Back to trying to reflect on our one-year stint. I had lost awareness that this was an anniversary to celebrate. I recently saw someone on social media photographing their anniversary of arrival in Japan. I hadn't thought to think of my own.
T even brought it up last week. "Our anniversary is coming up."
Me, confused, "In December? Or do you mean when we started 'dating?' That was August, and we missed it. Ohhhhh, when we came to Japan?"
It was a different world a year ago. The agent flipped through my US passport when we checked into our flight from South Bend. He was looking for something. We knew what he wanted - the golden ticket to enter the locked-down country. The agent started to say, "I hate to say this..." but T noted that we had an electronic visa on my phone. The agent was relieved, "I thought I was going to have to say you can't get on this flight."
It was the first time I entered the Polaris Lounge at O'Hare. It was the first time I flew Polaris Business class. I was full of nerves and excitement. Now, I wear a sweatshirt that says First Class Personality on flights. I've become entitled instead of bewildered with my travel accommodations. A year into our assignment, I have gotten used to a three-month cycle. We are in Japan for two months, and then we return to the United States for a jam-packed tour of visiting family, medical appointments, and familiarity.
There were COVID precautions to go through before immigration. Now, you just walked by a staffed counter with signs asking passengers to inform the patient workers if you have any of these symptoms.
I went through the foreign visitor line at immigration. Now, I go through the resident line. I still nod and try to understand what is being said. My Japanese comprehension has grown but not as much as what people might expect.
Getting your bags is the same.
On that first trip, I think we did the paper customs form. Was this the trip I was pulled aside or the one after?
Upon arrival, we checked into the New Otani Hotel and hopped on a train to the current largest conveyor belt sushi restaurant by Skytree, and I was exhausted. T had told me I needed to stay up until 10 PM, but he meant he intended to have us out and about until 10 PM. I was not happy when I learned of my misinterpretation. He took me to a furniture store—anything to keep me verticle and moving. We ended up picking out what would be our living room rug that first night. I was a toddler on the verge of a tantrum. He was only doing what was best to beat the impending jetlag.
Today, a year and a day later, it is rainy, windy, and gray. This morning was the first time in months - ages, even - that I started to feel cold in our apartment. I had to check in with my body for a moment. What am I feeling? Is this what cold feels like again?
I can't remember the last time I felt a coldness not induced by roaring air conditioners or personal fans. The summer has been unbearable. Summer was the season my Japanese tutor warned me the most. By mid-June, it was necessary to ship me off to the United States to get me to stop complaining.
"I'm dying! It's too hot! I'm stinky and gross," I would often exclaim/complain to T while watching beads of sweat run down my body.
This afternoon, I had a panic about myself for the first time in months. This is probably induced by the fact that I won't be at our Tokyo apartment that much between now and when we depart for the States. For the first time, I started to do this - write uninhibited instead of locked in an episode of executive dysfunction.
The last year has allowed me some rest and time to think about some practices I want to reintroduce into my schedule. My whole social and professional world is sleeping during my days. A year ago, I struggled to calm myself enough to read a book I had wanted to read for over a year. I finished it on the flight back seven weeks later, barely accomplishing my goal. To date, I have completed 18 books.
I've been thinking of starting this practice of writing our adventures, much like when I studied abroad in Hong Kong. I feel pressure to make this perfect. I feel nervous about what T will think of all this. I hope this can live up to what I used to write about.
I haven't looked at any of those entries since I wrote them a decade ago. A DECADE AGO? No. It can't be - but it is. I was there for my spring term in 2013.
Should I read my old blog? Would I even recognize myself?
Did you read what I used to write?
Did you like it?
Should I start up a Midwest in Asia (Japan Version)?
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