It's over...

And I’m home. After a whole year in Japan, after learning the language and making friends I'll never forget, after getting my black belt in kendo and climbing Mt. Fuji, after everything I've done and seen, it's all over. I'm sitting in my living room typing an email, not worrying about my settings mysteriously turning over to Japanese while I'm not looking. I've got two weeks till I'm off to college, meanwhile I'll rest and swim and work down my little sister's list of things to do together before I go away again. My family all got taller, but otherwise everyone's the exact same as they where before. I was worried they'd all change too much during my stay abroad,but nobody really did.

Thanks to everyone who helped me have a really amazing year. At the request of my host families, I'll start a blog in Japanese about my experiences from here on out. If you're interested and you know Japanese, feel free to email me for the URL.

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.