Oh goodness!

I'm going home in less than a week!!! I woke up this morning completely panicked. I jumped out of bed, thought (in Japanese) that I will be home in less than a week, than ran to my dresser and pulled out my clothes. And then I sat down, calmed down, and properly woke up. Waking up like that reminds me distinctly of missing the bus and knowing it before I'm even awake. It'll be so great to be home, I'm sure of it. I don't regret going home in the least. But. I'm completely dreading leaving here, all the way through to the core of me. I'm leaving a culture! A whole way of life! Not one that I particularly want to be a part of, nor one that I favor over my own home culture. But it's a culture that has inevitably become a part of me, and to know that I won't have it any more leaves me panicked. When I left America, I had no idea that I was leaving a way of life, and even if I had I wouldn't have known that it's one that I love. In any case, I knew I would be coming home after a year (that's now).

Yeah, so I'm leaving Japan. I've spent this whole year here, I've invested a whole year of everything I've got into this place, I've sort of become this place, and now I'm leaving. It sort of feels like breaking up with a guy. You know you gotta do it but it hurts all the same. I cry! I didn't cry last year when I left home. I didn't cry this year when I was all alone and couldn't talk to anyone. I feel heavy and sad and a little happy and excited at the same time. And satisfied. I had a great year. I learned so much. I made so many friends - more than friends, family. I've made families! People that really love me and that I really love back. People that have shared a really incredible year with me, that understand at least a little of what I've been through, people that promise letters and visits and phone calls and are sending me off with more presents than I came with, which is saying something.

Oh goodness. Oh goodness oh goodness.

Preperations

I'm so busy! Everyday is a new goodbye party. I have a little less than two weeks left in this country, and it looks like I'll be spending every day saying goodbye. Yesterday, I was outside trying to get ahold of my mother when suddenly, I got a phone call from a friend inviting me to a baseball game. So I spent the day in the blazing heat cheering on my school, and then cheering for the game after our game, and then for the next game. I stayed for a total of about 2.5 games, screamed my voice away, and despite repeated appliances of sunscreen, burned. Really burned. I didn't even burn beautifully. I'm all blotchy, like a giraffe or something. Afterwards, I went out to eat with my kendo friends, who gave me beautiful Japanesey type pajama-ish clothes. I really like them.

Today I'll finally go to the zoo with my friends, one of them being the exchange student who just returned from America last month. She speaks English. I speak Japanese. It's odd, but it works.

If you're still out there, leave me a comment or two! I love reading them!

A Real Typhoon!

It's raining. I mean really raining and I spent about ten minutes walking from Yamashina Station to home and my umbrella was ruined by the wind. I shouldn't have taken such an aerodynamic one with me - I thought I would fly away.

Oh yeah, so I went to my last tournament, where we were in way above our heads and lost right away. We got to go because we qualified from the last tournament. My teammates gave it their all though and it was okay. Good. We stayed overnight in a hotel last night, ate a breakfast buffet (at 6:30 AM!), lost the tournament, and went home, completely exhausted. It's raining! The typhoon is supposed to hit Kyoto tonight and/or tomorrow morning and it's possible that the Gion Matsuri that I'm so looking forward to won't happen. I think it will. And anyways, I think I'd rather be in a typhoon.

Kendo is finished. I've got a week of school left. I'm on my last typhoon. And then I'm heading home.

Typhoon Man-Yi

I hear there will be a level four typhoon sweeping through lovely little Kyoto tomorrow afternoon. I happen to be going to a kendo tournament tomorrow afternoon (same time, same place) right in the middle of the typhoon. Sensei is really determined to go to this tournament (he's practically living for this chance), and when I asked him if we would still go if a typhoon were to come, he glared at me and said, "We'll go if there's a typhoon or a hurricane or an earthquake! We are going to this tournament!" So I'm going to a tournament tomorrow, and if the trains are stopped due to the typhoon, I think we'll probably walk all the way to Osaka, carrying our (heavy) kendo gear all the way. Oh boy.

Oh yeah, I climbed Mt. Fuji. I'll tell you how that went later. It was really fun and really beautiful and really great to be with all my friends. At our last dinner together, I made the toast (in Japanese of course) and it was generally a successful trip. It made me feel good about myself. And then I went back home and the very next day I got swarmed with birthday gifts (oh yeah, I'm 19) and sweets and I knew I was loved.

Oh man, too tired for this. Sorry.

Oh dear oh dear oh dear

There's a silence looming over class 2-5, where a student is missing. I used to walk by the class every day several times on the way to my own homeroom, only a short walk down the hall, but the heaviness reminds me that I'm a coward and I go the long way around now. Anything not to notice.

Nobody wanted to tell me, which was okay because I didn't want to hear. I already knew. I understand more Japanese than they think I do. But when my friends start crying and shooting me uncomfortable looks, I can see their fear of me asking what's going on. I'm just as afraid of the truth as they are. Maybe even more afraid.

But Takebayashi Sensei decided someone had to make sure I know. Of course I knew. Of course. I looked on the internet. I watched television. I listened to the teacher break the news. I thought and pieced things together, reaching a crazy crazy crazy conclusion.

"Have you heard?" he asks, broken, altered. I nod, terrified that he will continue. He does and as I listen to him talk, I realize that he is not talking to inform me. He is talking because his heart is broken. Because the kid was in his club. T. Sensei had just seen him, just helped him with his tennis. Can you believe it? He played tennis.

Sensei couldn't stop talking after he started. I lost my fear as I listened to him. I don't think I knew the kid (though I'm far too terrified to look at a picture), so I was spared a lot of pain. Sensei knew the kid well. Every day for almost two years, they practiced tennis together.

"He was so healthy," Sensei tells me in disbelief, " he had no idea." Sensei's English is getting worse by the minute, but I don't correct him.

There has been no tennis practice all week. I don't know if there can ever be again.

Police on Tuesday arrested Mitsuaki Oji, 42, on suspicion of killing his three children, who were found dead at their home Monday in Fushimi Ward, Kyoto.
Oji, who has been hospitalized after a failed suicide attempt, has confessed that he strangled sons Shota, 16, and Kenta, 14, and daughter Miho, 13, sources said.
A suicide note read in part: "I cannot do anything for my children. I cannot even let them go to university."
Police said Oji lied to his wife, 39, about working at an interior company in Kyoto which he had never worked for

Happy Fourth of July to all, and to all, a good night!

I think I just had a party. No really. And I think it went really well. I'm so tired, but it's a good tired. There were fireworks and friends and good music and lots and lots of laughing. We ate potato salad and hot dogs and sushi and no-bake cookies and doritos. The doritos went fast. So did the drinks. We shared music and stories, and somewhere in the very back of our minds, we couldn't help but come across the notion that in a month, I'll be gone, and they also have to graduate and move on, and we'll never have a day like today again.

I'm so tired. My feet ache, but I'm satisfied all the way through and I have a sort of refreshed energy keeping me awake, forcing me to think and type and smile.

I think my computer has a virus. It's rather annoying.

the Leaving stage

I'm leaving in a little over five weeks. My emotions are much more mashed and scrambled than they were when I came here almost a year ago.

I'm finally here, really absolutely here. I belong here. My friends note that it feels like I've always gone to Toba and that it surprises them sometimes to remember that I'm a foreigner. They could have given me no greater compliment. English teachers don't call out to me in the halls anymore, nor do train officials gawk at me as I board trains, and even store clerks don't blush through their broken English to tell me their prices. I understand anything and it hardly ever surprises me anymore. I can watch TV with my family, or pass a math test, or follow my kendo Sensei's barked instructions, or pass my friends notes during home ec. Nobody equates my actions to my American-ness anymore; they equate it to my personality. I went home with a friend the other day. My friend had asked her mother if I could come over, but forgot to tell her I'm not Japanese, so she was really shocked when I was introduced. My friend forgot to tell her mother I'm not Japanese. It just slipped her mind. Teachers yell at me to fix my tie and warn me that tardiness is not acceptable. When the teacher tells us to remember there is no school Monday, nobody turns around to make sure I understand. I never want to leave here.

I can't wait to go home. I've learned what I came here to learn, got what I needed to get, and am ready to leave.

I love it here. I hate it here. I miss my family. I don't want to leave my host families! I can't wait to be normal again. Look, I'm normal here. I'll never fit in here. I've accomplished so much this year. I can't wait to go home. I dread going home. I won't fit in after this year. I'll be able to speak English again. I won't be able to speak Japanese anymore. I'll forget everything. I sorta forget English. I love English. I love Japanese. I've worked so hard this year to learn it. I've barely done anything this year. It was a waste. I got so much out of this year that I'll never be the same again. I can't believe it's been a whole year. Has it already been a year? Have I really been living in Japan for a year? I love Japan. I can't stand Japan. I hate how nobody thinks. I don't want to go back to America. I don't want to be in Japan anymore. I love Japanese food so much. I would kill for Taco Bell. I don't want to leave Japanese gardens. I would love to run through a grassy yard. I don't think I'll be able to talk to anyone about this year. I can't wait to tell everyone about this incredible year I've been having. Why did I pick such a late return date? I can't believe I'm actually going home so soon. I'm not really going home. Oh yes you are. Okay, I am. I can't go home. I'm homesick. Of course I'm not homesick, especially not this late into my exchange. I love it here so much. I can't wait to have my wardrobe again. I don't ever want to wear my school uniform school. Can you believe I'll never wear this uniform again? What'll I do without it? Kyoto is so busy and fun and beautiful. Kyoto is so hot and humid and ugly. I didn't make any friends here. I'll miss my friends so much next year. I barely learned any Japanese. I'm so uncomfortable at the idea of English. I can't wait to be able to read store signs. I worked so hard to learn Japanese characters. Everyone respects me for it. Nobody has any idea. I didn't really work hard at all. It was one great vacation of a year. I faced so many challenges this year. It was a waste of a year. It was an incredible year that I wholeheartedly recommend to anyone. I have college to look forward to. I have to go to college. I'll be normal in America. I'll be unnoticed in America. I'll be understood in America. I'll never be understood by anyone but exchange students. Why did I ever go on this exchange? This has been a really amazing, fun, awesome year. I'm so angry that I have to go home, after all the work I've done to adapt. I wish I could go home now. I'm not really sure where home is. It sure isn't here. It sure isn't there. It is there. It is here. What'll I do when I'm not an exchange student? I feel like I'm returning from prison, or that I'm Rip Van Wrinkle or something. Everything will be so familiar at home. Everything's probably changed. I've changed. I can't wait to see everyone. They've been so busy without me. I've been so busy without them. I'm really going home! I'm leaving Japan. I still have a whole five weeks! I only have five weeks, and I'm so busy. Japan is absolutely the best country in the world. I don't much like Japan. I wouldn't mind living here. I don't want to live here anymore. I'll be able to rest when I get home. I'll be so tired when I get home. I have so many expectations. I don't know what to expect. I'm so happy and excited and angry and sad and afraid and proud and ashamed and man, it's a little tiring to harbor all this! It'll be good to get this over with. I hope I never have to get this over with. I wish time would stop. I wish time would hurry up.

I'm sure I'll cry at the airport (probably both in Japan and America), but I'm not sure I'll know why.

Japanese Grannies

Today I went to a nursing home with my class. It was fun, but one of the Obaasans realized there was a foreigner in the group and called every single granny over to gawk at me. I couldn't stop blushing. "Look how pale she is! And she's from far away! And how precious! Her eyes are blue! Look! Look, it's a real foreigner!" I wonder if I'll miss that when I go home.

Completely off topic, but - It's still a long ways away, but I'm thinking the Peace Corps is next on my agenda. Scratch that. College. Next summer I'll spend home, recuperating I hope, and working. Maybe the next summer I'll be somewhere, if I can afford it. And then my next year (Junior year) I'll do a study abroad program. And then I'll graduate. And then I'll do Peace Corps. And then I'll work and get married and have two beautiful kids, a dog, and a cat (but no bird). I'll have a big yard with a swing set in the back and I'll visit my parents every third weekend. And then I'll become a grandmother and then I'll die. Sounds nice, scratch the dying part. I don't know why anyone didn't think of that before.

Excuses for Why I Stopped Updating:

Kendo has recently been level-upped for the big follow-up tournament in July. I've been dragging myself home around 7:40-ish absolutely exhausted.

I've been so so so busy lately. I went to Heian Jinga, one of the biggest temples is Kyoto, and spent a day with my host family wandering through the beautiful gardens. I went to a Buddhist congregational meeting, had my prayer sent to the ancestors, spent two hours copying zen-ish words in calligraphy, heard the chant of the monks as I meditated in seiza, and listened to a sermon that was virtually identical to the ones given at the church down West Street, Morgantown. I toured a place that hand paints the intricate design on kimonos using a process called yuzenzome (which I totally wrote and delivered a report on for my home ec class). I watched fresh sake being made from fermented rice and learned how the tradition became embeded in Japanese culture. I got private lessons on how to put on a yukata by myself, a feat most Japanese women can't do, including any of the women in my four host families. I cheered for my school as we won a kendo tournament in Kyoto and am sweating with them as we excitedly prepare for the tournament in Osaka to determine the champion of the region. I went to a house where a famous revoloutionary hito was killed in a dramatic sword fight years and years ago, and ran my fingers over the marks left on the door frame from that fatal fight. I rode a boat through the Kamogawa River, splashed in the largest lake in Japan (Biwako), held live eels and then ate them (after they were dead and this time, cooked). And I did it all in less than two weeks. Hmm, maybe less than two weeks. I've even had time for school.

With the return date swooping closer and closer, I'm finding myself swamped with activities. Everyone wants to go out with me at least one last time before I go home, show me one last thing, and - oh no! You haven't been there yet?! Lets go ASAP! On top of everything, kendo practice has been upped for the big tournament coming up, so I've been absolutely pooped.

I've got speeches to write, parties to plan, stuff and more stuff to pack, and a mountain to climb. No really. I'm starting the trek up Mt. Fuji (Japan's tallest mountain) on July 8 (which happens to be my 19th birthday) with the other thirteen exchange students.

All this preperation for going home is exciting and I'm looking forward to stepping off the plane in my own country. I'm also nervous and uncomfortable with the idea. And I'm happy and thankful. It's difficult - right now I'm in Japan and I will be for another month and a half or so. I don't want to cut my exchange short by becoming sidetracked with dwelling on home, but I've got a feeling that it might not be being side tracked so much as part of the journey.

Yuck, I'm so tired! It's ridiculous. Have a grand night.

I might fall asleep as I'm writing this

I remember one day at karate, back in America, about two or three years ago now. It was one of Those Days. I came to class needing the workout, though why I wouldn't have been able to say. It was a Thursday, which means two things. One: I wasn't in charge of teaching, didn't have to be there, and probably came to class on a last minute decision (which my mom surely wasn't happy about). Two: I spent the class (and likely came for it) surrounded by some of my closest friends. Scott was leading that day and I was in the Hot Spot. The far right of the first line. There was the rage I get sometimes for no apparent reason. I think it's all of my emotions taking one form at one time, and it ends up as that black black anger. I love it, though usually only feel it when I'm at karate, and even then it's rare. I was feeling it that Thursday and I was dying to sweat. I wanted to be able to dump every single ounce of me onto the mat. We were going at a regular pace and I was thinking "I hope any time now we go so fast I won't be able to keep up, that I'll get that coppery taste in my mouth that is my body demanding water, that it'll feel better than crying. Please let today be one of those days. Please please please."

And then Sensei came in. He hardly spoke that day, except to tell us a story and then to give the orders of what to do next. This is the story he told: "Many years ago, when I was a student of OSensei Premru, he warned us to keep our dojo clean and keep up on chores. Nobody went home until the dojo was spotless and everyone did a chore everyday. One day, he had to leave early and we decided that the dojo was fairly clean, so we left without cleaning. The next day, Sensei Premru reminded us how important the dojo is and how we must have respect for it and ourselves. It was a lesson we never forgot. Right front stance, up." And we got into a right front stance, and then we kicked and then we switched stances and kicked and the orders kept steadily coming and we steadily obeyed. One technique after another after another. At first I felt like laughing because it felt so good and I could feel the rage that I had wanted earlier. It was a beautiful day. I lost my ability (and desire) to think as the effort of moving engulfed me, but I remember he told us to take a break, and I felt like screaming from frustration. It wasn't until I stopped jumping around that I realized I was actually exhausted. And then we kept going and it was beautiful beautiful beautiful. One of my best days at karate.

And then there's kendo. We won a tournament last week, so we're going to a bigger one next month. In honor of this Super Difficult Tournament that we're heading to, Sensei altered our workout routine today. We changed from three kirikaeshi to five. And 100 kaeshi do and 100 of something else I don't remember. He wants kaeshi do to be second nature, so that we don't know how to block the shinai without returning a do. It was a great day. I was tired, but I got about three kaeshi do's in that I was really proud of. That I'm sure would have gotten me ippons (points). There's a difference between slumpy and tired.

I think tomorrow we'll have our little mock shia. I love them. I think I can win tomorrow. I hope so.

The Questions

If you're an exchange student, you probably know them by heart. Personally, I always enjoy answering them as they make me feel like I'm doing something important by being in Japan.
Here they are; frequently asked questions and there frequently answered answers:

1.) What's your favorite Japanese food?

I loooooooooooooooove Japanese. Really really love. I'm talking marriage here, so to choose one favorite is difficult. However, I do particularly like okonamiyaki. And sushi. And crab, though I guess we have crab in America.

2.) What's your least favorite Japanese food?

duh. Natto of course. Fermented (read: moldy) beans that are stringy, sticky, and smelly. Not to mention they taste bad.

3.) And the wierdest?

Maybe raw eel? Delicious.

4.) What are foods you miss from home?

Burritos. In fact, I miss it so much that I attempted to make it for my family using homemade tortillas, canned kidney beans, and improvised sauces. It's a good thing they don't know what they're supposed to taste like... I also miss tuna salad sandwiches (though I'm sure I could make it here) and eating fruits on a regular basis. Here, fruits are so expensive they are usually just dessert and an apple may cost as much as $2.oo.

5.) What's the best thing about being an exchange student?

I'm always learning and it's always interesting. And it's opened a lot of doors for me that I would have never known about otherwise. And it's pretty much awesome.

6.) What's the worst thing about being an exchange student?

Because I'm in Japan, everyone can tell right away that I'm foreign, so when I buy things at the stores or when I bump into strangers, everyone talks down to me. Sometimes I want to scream, "I'm foreign, not stupid!" I don't want the store owners to talk slowly to me because they don't expect me to know the language. And I don't want people to offer me brochures in English or stumble through English when they talk to me. I don't appreciate people ordering food for me at restraunts, and I wish they would at least give me a chance.

7.) Are you homesick?

Not really. Sometimes I remember that my siblings are all getting a year older without me and that makes me sad and sometimes I miss the little things, but I really haven't gotten "homesick."


Oh yeah, I just got my hair cut. I remind myself of my little brother (Christian). I didn't know our hair color was so similar. What do you think? The one with me in orange is the day I got it cut (it was styled and everything), the one with the white sweater is normal, and the one with the flowery shirt is with wet hair, taken this morning.

Another Host Family Change

I can't stop thinking that this host change will be my last. The next time I cram all my stuff into my suitcases, I'll be heading home. No more introductions to new host family members, no more new beds to get used to and new surroundings to explore. This is it. And these past three months have gone by the fastest by far. I just got here at this house! I just introduced myself to these people! All of my stuff isn't even unpacked yet! And yet, I'm leaving on Sunday. And my stay with the next family will be my shortest stay yet. Less than three months. Next month is June! If I was in America, I would be estatic at the ending of the school year. I would be counting down the days. I would be estatic at the signs of my season-long freedom - signs like sunshine and freckles and even end of the year tests. Oh dear. Next month is June. And then July. And I won't tell you what comes after July. It'll be a cliff hanger.

I think I really have changed since I got here. You know, I'm living in Japan. Sweet.

Three Month Families

I haven't spent as much time telling about this host family as I did the others and the reason for that is I haven't as much of a good relationship with them as I did with my previous two families. Of course in all the families we had our ups and downs and had to work to accomadate each other, but we did work. With both previous families, we had really great communication and I was able to really count on them as a support system.

In the beginning, my relationship with this family was rocky at best. I felt, though it was mostly just a feeling, like they didn't really want to deal with me or have time for me. That was fine. I'm fairly self-sufficient and took advantage of the freedom that came with the lack of interest. I felt like they were annoyed by the questions that my other families loved, and I know my host grandmother really didn't care for the responsibilities of having a kid in the house. She harbored bitterness against me for having to do my laundry and make my lunch every morning. Had she told me, I would have gladly done it myself. I did in America and tried to in both my first two houses. Whenever I tried to talk to her, she brushed me off, saying she couldn't understand me, which was probably true, but rather disheartening.
So they took me with them on their vacation to an onsen resort up in the mountains. I played babysitter for the five-year-old, and I think that won me points with everyone on that trip.

I'm changing families on Sunday. We've just started to bond. She's just starting to ask me questions about my day and I have more of an idea of what's expected of me around the house. She's started to ask about my plans for the future and what I'll do with the Japanese I've learned. Recently, I've really busted up my foot in kendo. My club told me that if I tell my host grandma, she'll be able to take me to a doctor or at least give me something to put on it. I was hesitant to tell her because I've been so sick lately and I get the feeling that she's annoyed by it. She hints that I'm just looking for attention. But today, just as I was about to go to bed, I asked her to take a look at it and see what she thinks. She immediately starting fussing over how swollen it is and rubbed aloe vera stuff (I think it was aloe vera) all over it. I'm still in shock.

So once again, I'm leaving a family way before I'm ready. I've just stopped being a house guest and we're finally starting to connect, and I have to start all over again. Again. For the fourth time. And after three months with this next family, I'll have to go home, and head to college, where I'll start over again. I love Rotary very much, but whose idea was it to put me with four host families?! Isn't it easy to see what a pain it is?

At least I'm an adaptor now. And, due to all my family changes, I've got one heck of a support system. That's nice.

Today I shared the best of me and it felt good

I love martial arts very much. It's hard to pin exactly what it is that draws me towards martial arts, but there's something that makes me restless and eager to learn it.

One of the beautiful things about martial arts, particularly kendo where you're always working with a partner, is your sharing your best with someone. Sometimes, definitely not always, everything you're doing is right. Even if you don't know the technique so well or you're not scoring, you're working the right way. You're remembering everything you've been told, you're completely focused, the energy is there, and you're absolutely in the moment. Of course even then you may screw up, but you're practicing right, and that makes it euphoriatic. And then, your partner is too. And that's it. Two people sharing the very best of themselves, and suddenly martial arts becomes a very intimate activity. You're sharing the moment, sharing the euphoria, sharing the energy, sharing yourselves. You can never dislike someone you've shared your best with. It's a beautiful thing to be entrusted with the best of someone, even to be able to see the best of someone is incredible. But to also put your own best out there, to share it with someone, that's incredible.

Can you understand this?

On Being an Exchange Student

I got an email from someone looking into exchange in the near future. She asked many questions, one of which was "What's it like being an exchange student?" I thought long and hard about this question, throwing adjectives and Rotary catch phrases like fun, exciting, difficult, challenging, mind-broadening, and, confusing. In the end, the one word I really felt could best describe this exchange is wierd.

There is nothing normal about being an exchange student. Nothing comforting, at least not in the beginning. In fact, my comfort zone was the biggest burden I brought with me to Japan. Even when life feels normal (which of course is a lot of the time, maybe even most of the time), it's a wierd normal.

My exchange has thus far been absolutely loaded with surprises and being so surprised is downright wierd. Wierd wierd wierd. Not knowing the language is weird of course, but what's wierder is knowing the language. I hope you understand the following explanation. Knowing the language is really an insight into the culture. Like the word "yasashii" for example. I learned in my textbook that it means "gentle." In America, we don't describe good people as gentle. It's wierd. And if you were a foreigner in America asking someone to please use easier English, you wouldn't say "Would you mind using more gentle English?" Wierd, huh?
And of course it's wierd knowing the language because what can possibly be normal about using Japanese on a daily basis?

In America, I was probably a wierd kid. Everyone says so, and I think they're only half joking. If that. But I was never The Wierd Kid. You know the one. Picks his nose, pours ketchup all over his tuna salad, smells sort of funny, draws (coincidentally) too much Japanese anime, knows all the answers in math class (or else is in remedial math), wears mismatching socks, carries all his books to class at once instead of using the locker, and of course is the slowest in gymn class.

A Side Story: When my mom was visiting, she reached for the soy sauce to pour all over her rice. We stopped her just in time, but she shot me an annoyed look and asked, "Why not?"

I am The Wierd Kid at Toba High School. I don't pick my nose in public. That's wierd. I don't know what sauce goes with which food. In fact, I was often annoyed in the beginning that they don't let you choose your favorite sauce - they give you the one called "okonomiyaki sauce" if you're eating okonomiyaki and "tacoyaki sauce" if you're eating tacoyaki. It took me a while to get in the habit of carrying around a little pencil bag for my most important belongings (pencils, pens, and flashcards of course) and I still forget to use the little piece of plastic they sell to go in between the pages of your notebook while you're writing (to provide a harder surface than the other pages of the notebook provide). I didn't know how to tie a tie when I got here. I tried to cross the street somewhere other than the sidewalk. They're still talking about that one - how I managed on my first day of school to summon the whole staff of teachers to yell at me and make angry motions that to me, held no meaning. That's wierd. I'm The Wierd Kid because sometimes I go to temples on my weekends. I carry a camera with me wherever I go, even to school and even when we just go out for dinner. I take pictures of street signs and trains and bicycles and vending machines and food. I have two holes punched neatly in each ear. I came to my first day of kendo practice with sparkling blue toenail polish on, applied by my eager little host sister. After that lecture, my host sister never touched my nails again. I can't read. In the beginning, I said wierd wierd things, sometimes rude, sometimes, in this culture, out of context, and sometimes just things that can't translate through our cultural differences.. I probably still do say wierd things, but at least whole conversations don't stop while everyone gapes at me and wonders how I could possibly have said such things.

Being an exchange student is wierd because products come in the wrong sized bottles and shapes. Because you can only buy one hairband at a time in the convenient store next door, and that one hairband costs nearly $1.80. Japanese cows don't say "Moooooo," they say "Mooeeeee." I don't even know how to write it, it's so wierd. (pronounced like the mo in Elmo and held out)

How can I make you understand what it's like to be an exchange student? I've never done anything like it before.

A Sad Story

Once upon a time, there was a girl. That's me. She went to Japan on a foreign exchange. That's here.

So I was packing up about 8 months ago, trying to decide which of my beloved clothes would win the free (actually, I'd hardly call it free...) ride to Japan in my suitcases, when it occured to me that one whole suitcase was dedicated to jeans. In case you are unfamiliar with jeans, let me tell you about them. They are blue, usually, and denim. Sometimes they hug the hips, sometimes they flare at the bottom. Sometimes they have cheesy pictures on them. Usually they have pockets, though sometimes they don't and sometimes there are so many pockets you can't find the jeans. There are jeans for everyone out there - grandma's and grandpa's, retro high school kids, little tottlers who can't dress themselves, and even Japanese. Most people have a certain style they prefer to other styles, so that while jeans stock up (they're also very addicting and, because they're so essential, sell really well), most of the jeans in a person's collection consists of a mountain of nearly identical jeans. Of course the owner of the jeans can tell the difference - this pair makes me look fat, this pair clings to the leg too much, but fits the hips just right, this pair has three buttons and no zipper, this one has the conveniently big pocket - but to the average onlooker, jeans are nearly identical.

So I was stuck with a problem. I had one suitcase dedicated to 20 pairs of the same item and barely had room for my passport. I didn't think it was a problem until the travel agent sent me multiple emails, letters, and faxes warning me of the consequences of favoring jeans over my passport, which is when I decided to cut down on my beloved jeans. Next thing I knew, I had a rather sad collection of my three favorite pairs of jeans, hoping against hope that they would hold me for a year.

One of them fits me really strangely now, one of them got stuck in the tire of a bike wheel and has black stains running down it, and the last pair is so worn that the inside of the thighs look like they won't hold out one more walk across the street. I think I should have bought another pair. If you're a future exchange student, bring at least four pairs of jeans with you. And they're so expensive here.

In America, I wore jeans to school virtually every day, rain, snow, sun, and tornado threats. I wore jeans on my first date, I wore jeans to the doctors office and to the movies with my friends. When in doubt about the formality of an occasion, I played it safe and wore jeans. They were party clothes and school clothes and probably a gift from God.

Now, I wear my school skirt to school, my sweats around the house, and, surprise of all surprises, a skirt when I go out. I brought exactly one skirt with me because frankly, I didn't feel particularly comfortable in skirts. And now, with only three deteriorating pairs of jeans, I buy skirts. And skirts and skirts. What'll become of me?

And I bet you thought I was going to tell you something meaningful and insightful.

update

Today was pretty awesome. I went to an apple orchard with my host family and helped out there. It was perfect weather. We stopped at a village about 200 where most of the houses are 200 years old and still in use, went out for sushi, and did a little shopping at the huge department store near our house.

I went to my first kendo tournament the other day. Got my first point, which I'm really psyched about, though I lost in the end. I also got terribly sick, which was pretty miserably, but I'm pretty much over it now.

I'm BAAAAACK!!!!!

Guess what! My computer isn't broken! My harddrive wasn't wiped clear.

So the other day, my host grandfather's brother (can you tell I still don't know anyone's name...) came and drank all the beer in the house. Nothing's new there. I remembered that he actually owns the computer store next door and, upon seeing him, pleaded with him to take a look at my computer.

For the record, I thought the problem was with my cord. I tore the third prong off my plug so it'd fit into Japanese outlets, only recently, it's been sparking every time I plug it in. The ends of the prongs look burnt. So I suggested to my host great uncle that perhaps the problem was the plug and maybe if I could just buy a new one the problem might be solved....
"No!" shouts my drunk great uncle. I immediately regreted not having the insight not to go to someone who's only english vocabulary consists of "Get me a beer!" So he said he'd just wipe my hardrive and everything would be good. No! Don't wipe my hardrive! Please! So I'm pleading to him, trying to convince that actually it's not really broken and I don't need his help. He gets sorely offended and the whole family has a meeting to discuss my impolite behavior. They tell me he's a certified engineer who's been to college and knows a lot about computers. I sigh and relent (imagining him spilling beer all over my laptop as he erases all my pictures of Japan, all my word documents, all my completely-legally-downloaded music). Today, I got the half-dreaded, half-anticipated phone call. He fixed my computer, didn't spill a single drop of beer on it (that I know of), and my hardrive is thankfully still in tact. And I don't owe him a single cent.

This Sunday I'll be going to USJ with Rotary. I'm really looking forward to it (though it'll be my third time... hehe...) because I haven't seen my exchange friends in a long time.

The new school year has of course started and it's going really well. I'm well ahead of them in math and science, which makes life a lot easier for me. In my home-ec class, I'm actually going to making a yukata! Woo!

Hisashibari!

So I went into a sushi bar today with my host family. It was pretty fun. I went with my host grandma, my, err, aunt, her husband, and their kid (who I'm completely in love with). Honokachan (the five year-old kid) was eager to go play in the back kids' room, but everyone was busy eating. So I went with her (actually, I secretly wanted to play in the kids' room too) and boy did it cause a ruckus. First, Honochan is a really shy little girl. The only reason she wanted me to go with her was because the idea of actually walking into a room of screaming kids, finding a playmate, and playing with all those unknown kids terrified her. So she brought me for moral support. When we were about to enter, she told me to go in first. And then she decided she didn't actually want to play, so we started heading back to the table. She decided she really did want to play and we went in together. At first, she was too shy to mingle with anyone, so we sat in a corner and played with some balls together. But the other kids noticed me right at once. Not only am I rather big kid, but I also have the telltale blonde hair and blue eyes, which I so often forget about. Suddenly, a swarm of kids surrounded us, all shouting "Hello! Hello! Hello!" Poor Honochan curled up with me and I tried to usher us outside the attention. Only the attention followed us. They all came up and introduced themselves to me proudly in English. Even the three and four year-olds got in on it. They asked me to say something in English. They asked me if Honokachan is my real sister. They asked me all sorts of things. Parents came to check on their kids and didn't go back to their tables, so we had parents crowding around the door (when we entered, their where no parents at all anywhere in sight). We went back to the table and waited until it was a little more quiet before we went back. When we left the restaurant, all the kids came up to us and shouted "Goobye! Goobye!" I think Honokachan was proud that I was with her and pleased when I excused myself from all of them to play with her, but not so happy with all the attention. I was sorry she was thrust into the spotlight.

Actually I really like this kid a lot. Besides being absolutely adorable, she's interesting and curious about the world. And she sneaks up and tickles my feet when I'm trying to type on the computer.

Toriaizu (that's my new favorite word. Not sure exactly what it means, but I hear it all the time. Nobody can tell me what it means, so I think it doesn't have a clear translation. My guess is something like "Anyways" or "to change the subject"), the new school year started and I've got a whole new set of classes, friends, and kendo-mates. I'm in advanced classes too, so there's pretty much no chance of keeping up. I'm in math, biology, history, Japanese (the Heather version, not the Japanese high schools student version), English, gymn, art, and calligraphy. And a few free periods to kill. The hardest is absolutely Japanese history. For one, I've never studied it. For two, it's in Japanese I've never heard before, and uses kanji I've never seen before. Nakai Sensei says I can drop it if it's too much. I might, but I'll give it a little time first. I'm only here for a few more months anyways. That's wierd.

Oh yeah (toriaizu), I got my departure date. For sure. August 7. Later than I expected, which I'm annoyed about, but otherwise don't care. That means I'll have about 20 days to come home, unpack, repack, and fly across the country to college. I wish I had at least a bit of time for reflexion, not to mention seeing all my friends and family again.

Aww, Honokachan prepared tea for me. I have to go and have a tea party.
Hope this posts!