Typhoon

Yukiko drives me home after our wine party. I drank some Sauvignon Blanc from Chile and thought of Latin America. Nao misunderstood me when I mentioned Christmas and decided to put some Christmas music. But I must first make it to Halloween, right?

Something hits Yukiko’s car window and we both cry out. “Stay home tomorrow,” she says. But now I’ve been thinking of biking and marathons. I open the door and the wind caresses me like it doesn’t want to let me go. I love the rain and wind of this country. They are possessive and impatient but they don’t stay long. I rush in my shorts and platforms. They remind me of long legs running after the New York City subway, hoping to make it even if it is too late.

I sleep nine hours. I dream of beer, wine and friends in Japan. 

Wakarimasen

The children come to me. They have so much to say. But how can I tell you that I do not understand? I seek for understanding. I used to think if I stared at a sign long enough the characters would eventually manifest themselves to me, the kanji would pity the frugality of my tongue. But I was in denial. You must have underestimated the situation. To be proud, to be happy. Long legs, cute, slim…Are these the only English words you know? I have so much to teach you, but I only want to show you the beautiful. Let’s forget about the misery and the misunderstandings. I want you to see the world the way I see it, but without the need of contacts.

The students don’t understand English and I sympathize with them. We are very similar, after all.

The Stranger

I wake up at 6:00 AM. I prepare breakfast and lunch. When I am at school I realize I have forgotten the lunch. During my break I decide to go get it. Only I have forgotten the way home. “Sumimasen!” The school kids stop their bikes to help me. Only I never learned to ask “How do I get…?” And even if I did know I have forgotten the name of my street and I have also forgotten that my street doesn’t actually have a name. I show them a map. They cannot read it. They cannot help. They stop a car. A man steps out. He introduces himself in broken English. He asks if I’m a teacher. He says he teaches Japanese. He points to his car: “My car.” I get in. 

Going

Take a bus. Do not think you are going nowhere. You are going somewhere. Somewhere you do not yet know, but it is not foreign because no place is foreign. It does not matter what you do or do not understand. The best things happen when you do not understand: you love, you dream. Everything is new and strange. It was the same way at birth, when you cried because you did not want to stay. You must forget the objectives. Success is a weird sort of measurement. Can you tell me what this means?  Do you even know? We must all forget the ending in order to figure out a new meaning, but it is nearly impossible. It would require for us to stop being humans. You need me to take your hand and walk with you, but that seems sentimental, childish, too much work for you, for me. 

Politics

I meet the mayor of the town in his office. We are served tea with a cube of ice. I forget the speech in Japanese and instead I just bow, accept his card, remember the etiquette workshop, how to hold it, how to place it on the table. I say it is great meeting him. He tells me his son lives in New York City and that many Japanese went to DR during WWII. I find him a very nice man. Perhaps if we spoke the same language we would be friends. 

Shodoshima

The shock of the new, the unwillingness to change. Learning to be a child again: to use the first words, to mispronounce, to apologize, to get lost and not find the way, to ask for help though I know you won’t understand, to not know how to read, to apologize again, to be afraid, to smile all the time. Don’t run away. Learning the basic ways, deciphering symbols, sitting properly, bowing, understanding the importance of a thank you, of a laugh. If I can’t laugh with me, then no one will. To stare at the Inland Sea and think it is home.

I buy groceries and make my first meal. The pride of one’s own creation. Maybe this will work. Life is all one big maybe. I cannot miss you, you are too far away. It is too late for the no, the oh well, the past and the tomorrow. 

Nihon Awaits

I’ve packed my life into three suitcases. I wait for the nostalgia, but by now I am immune. I left for England once, for Mexico, for Spain. I jumped from an airplane two weeks ago and didn’t want the parachute to open. I was sure I could fly. I leave New York for the mystery of Japan. My apartment awaits and there is much tea to buy. Set it on the table. Treat myself to some green tea. Life must be coming to an end because it just tastes so good. The better it tastes the sooner it ends. It is all about sips.

South of Japan I’m heading, to the island most have not seen. I crave for the wonders of Shikoku, I dream of words I cannot speak. Come to me like the wind. I’ll get used to you, no matter how harsh. I’m sure I’ll like you.