A Supposedly Relaxing Thing I’ll Probably Never Do Again*

*Is it plausible for a title to be an homage, rather than just a rip-off?

One of the most common questions I’m asked about my time thus far in Japan is whether I’ve visited an onsen yet, often translated as “hot springs” or a “traditional Japanese bath house.” I, for one, had heard the former term much more often than the latter. So, as I made plans to finally visit an onsen during my week of traveling in and around Kyoto, I was expecting something like the hot springs I had been to while traveling in South America. I knew it was indoors, rather than the outdoor natural springs of Chile, but I was still expecting something involving hot tubs, saunas, and maybe even some ambient music. And in a way, I guess I was right. In a way.

It was a warm, rainy Wednesday in August when I arrived to Kyoto on a train from the nearby town of Nara. I had spent two days in Nara, and was planning to spend two to three days in Kyoto before heading back to the Tokyo area and back to work for the start of the fall term. I was truly enjoying my few days of traveling alone. Nara is a small, peaceful town with some of the most farmous and amazing Buddhist temples and statues in the world. But after two days of traveling exclusively by foot (I have a thing about using public transportation while I’m traveling, when I’m really in no hurry and have nowhere specific to be), and a few outrageous moments (involving hostels, bats, deer, ambulances, and more, that could be stories all on their own), I was somewhat exhausted—physically and emotionally—and ready for a more relaxed, recovery-type day. So, as I arrived to the rainy former capital of Japan, I planned to slowly take in some sights around my hostel before setting out to find a barely-marked onsen from my guide book. I figured this would offer me just the right amount of adventure and relaxation to recover and prepare for two more days of temples, castles, and reevaluation of the way I’ve conceived of World History for almost 25 years.

I was amazed at how quickly I found the onsen. On the map in the guidebook, the place was simply a very tiny dot on a very big map with very few street names. I didn’t even know what the word “onsen” looked like in Japanese. But sure enough, as I walked the streets, holding my guidebook parallel to the ground and turning around it as if I was doing one of those dizzy baseball bat races, I found the blue awning with pictures of water and steam—this had to be the place. As I approached the sliding glass doors under the awning, I saw the automated ticket machine outside, which the guidebook had mentioned: son of a bitch—I really had found it. (The profanity really is necessary. Anyone who knows what it’s like to look for specific things when you’re traveling, especially cheaply and alone, knows that it is damn-near impossible to find things on the first try. And for anyone who knows the crazy things that tend to happen to me when I travel, know the extra level of ‘miraculous’ that this small moment involved.) I was feeling like a downright badass as I went to by the ¥410 ticket (about US $5), and make my way into the onsen. As I turned towards the doors and waited for them to slide open, I realized they were the kind which you actually have to touch where a handle would be, in order to open them. But they still didn’t open. Maybe they’re not automatic at all, I thought. I’ve been wrong about much more ridiculous things than this before. So, awkward as it was, I began to pry the doors open and push aside the oddly-placed banner hanging right inside the glass. I quickly noticed a man about 60-years-old, sleeping on a bench just inside the door. But with the ability and propensity of most Japanese people to sleep anytime, anywhere (it really is amazing, I have to admit) I didn’t think much of this in the moment I had to think. About a second later, the sounds of my struggles with the doors and the banner must have reached the man in whatever world he was in, because he was startled awake—to find a tall, red-headed white woman inside his shop. He quickly crossed his arms in front of his chest (a pretty common thing in Japan, especially with kids, it seems), and said “Mata! mata!” Luckily (in some ways), I knew this meant “not yet! not yet!” “Sanji kara!” he said, with a look somewhere between amused, annoyed, and downright angry for being so quickly awakened. Again, I was relieved to know that he had said ‘three o’clock.’ I quickly glanced at the clock and saw 14:45—I was 15 minutes early. “But…um…I already bought my ticket!” I stammered while I held up the ticket. Again, if you’re traveling on the cheap, you don’t just throw away $5! That could be a whole day’s worth of food, if you’re smart. “Sanji kara!” he repeated. Clearly I wasn’t going to ask any other questions or get in any earlier. “Ok! Sorry!” I shouted while bowing my head in embarrassment and trying to awkwardly back out of the doors I had so struggled with (although at least I now understood) thirty seconds before. As I stepped back outside, I quickly forgot my initial luck in finding the place, and began to feel that like any good future-story, this onsen thing was doomed from the beginning.

After 15 minutes of wandering the surrounding blocks and replaying the embarrassment in my head, I slowly made my way back to the building. Of course, I gave myself a few extra minutes so I wouldn’t arrive right at 15:00, causing the guy to wonder why the hell I was so eager to sit in a hot tub. By the time I made it back, there were at least seven bikes outside, and the automatic doors were opening, you know, automatically. I was relieved, upon entering, to see that the same guy wasn’t sitting in the entrance or working at the desk. Instead, a young girl was standing behind the desk and was probably a bit confused, as I awkwardly handed her my ticket, at how I had gotten it without her seeing me use the machine before I came in. At the moment, I was thinking, “Come on, lady. I think I’m clearly awkward enough for both of us in this situation. You don’t need to be acting so weird too.” After standing uncomfortably for a moment, waiting for directions, she finally motioned me to a doorway on my left. “Doozo,” she nodded. “Go ahead,” by translation, “What the hell are you waiting for?” by interpretation. Now, looking back, I kind of wonder if she could tell this was obviously my first time, and she was trying to contain her amusement at what she knew (and I clearly didn’t) was ahead.

I slowly walked in to the locker room area and began scoping out the lockers and wicker baskets in which to put my things while I was “relaxing.” Standing by the bench, facing the wall of cubbie holes, I noticed a lady to my right who was putting things in her locker—completely naked. ‘Wow,’ I thought. ‘Ballsy. She’s obviously pretty comfortable with herself.’ But, she was probably about 40 and had a pretty nice body—I guess it makes sense. And almost immediately, as I instinctively turned my eyes away and instead towards the glass doors leading to the bath area, I noticed that there were a few more women getting in and out of the baths—all over 60 (maybe over 70?) and all completely naked. If my life were a movie (and this was a more important event than a funny cultural moment), this would be the part when the camera would spin all around me and slowly close in on my confused and horrified face. This wasn’t a place where tourists sit around sipping drinks in relaxing hot tubs. This was quite literally a bath house, where a lot of Japanese people, espcially older ones, come to bathe and to a certain extent, socialize with the people they’ve probably known (and bathed with) for more years than I’ve been alive. Needless to say, the swimsuit I had brought was not necessary.

In that moment, I decided I basically had two options: either I could repress my “no money wasted” travel ethic and just leave, or I could repress my “don’t get naked in front of a bunch of strangers” life ethic and just do this thing. I’m 24, living in Japan, don’t know anyone within a few hundered kilometers, and I already paid my $5, damnit! If I can’t do something crazy like this now, when will I be able to do it? And what’s the worst that could happen, really? Yes, I’ll feel awkward, but that obviously is not new, especailly when traveling. Yes, the women will probably stare, but again, that’s something I’m more used to than maybe I should be. And I guess yes, someone could say something, if I’m in the wrong place or doing the wrong thing, but knowing what I had learned about most Japanese people at that time, no one would say anything to me under almost any circumstance. And if they did, I probably wouldn’t understand it anyways! So, why not? Most guys do this their whole lives, in locker rooms and fitness clubs, right? If pre-pubescent teenage boys can do it, so can I.

I slowly began to undress and put my things in the basket to go in the cubby hole. I wrapped my towel around myself, figuring I might as well delay the “full reveal,” as it were, until absolutely necessary. As I slowly shuffled towards the steamy room with the faucets and pools, I found myself battling the line between trying to look at the other women for some type of direction or guidance, and trying not to be obviously looking at the other women in all their older Japanese lady nakedness. I imagine, again in retrospect, that this little inner-mental battle of looking and trying not to look like I was looking ended up coming off creepier than…well, I don’t really know what my alternative was. There was absolutely no English anywhere. This was obviously not a place designed for or used by tourists.

In what I hoped to be following the lead, I grabbed a small bucket from a stack and slowly walked to one of the many hip-high faucets along two of the walls in the shower room. there were about six different small pools in the center of the room and along the other wall. There were also stairs going to another floor above, but i didn’t even want to begin thinking of what wonders may lie up there. I reluctantly put my towel and bucket down and took a deep breath of “this is it” awareness. As I awkwardly (I wish there was another, equivalent word, but I just can’t come up with a good one) tried to rinse off with the low faucet that only ran for about 10 seconds with each push of the button, I realized that all the other women using these faucents were sitting on small plastic stools from another nearby stack. As I considered the possibility of sitting my bare ass on one of these plastic stools, and found myself thinking, ‘that seems kind of gross. But will I stick out more if I don’t do it?’ And then, I came to realize the full ridiculousness of this situation. There was no way, under any circumstances, that i was NOT going to stick out here. It wouldn’t matter if I had pulled out some chopsticks or a rice ball and started babbling away in Japanese. I was not going to “blend in” in any way, shape, or form. This not only helped me decide not to bare-ass it on the stool, but it also made me completely relax about the whole situation. Yes, I was standing naked in front of a bunch of strangers. But, so what? As far as I could tell, nothing bad was going to happen. This is why I travel, I thought: to learn a few new things about myself and the world.

Having traveled and lived in five different countries in the past four years, and usually being about a head taller and a few skin-shades lighter than anyone else, I’m pretty used to being stared at. Admittedly, the red hair, nose-ring, and tattoos probably don’t help. And the women in this bath house (the term I now use to describe an onsen) were no exception. Although, I can’t exactly fault them for looking. Not that this would come as any surpise, but my body is quite a bit different from a 70-year-old Japanese woman. In addition to height and weight and curves and such, I’m pretty sure I was the only woman in that room that had never had a child. (I also feel compelled to mention that while I have generally gotten a lot of stares in all the countries I’ve been to, the way the majority of Japanese people stare is really quite different. In all other places, including the US, when you catch someone looking at you, they acknowledge this by either quickly looking away or, if they’re more friendly and outgoing, by smiling or nodding. But in Japan, I’ve found that most people don’t do this. Instead, they just keep looking, as if they hadn’t even noticed that I could see them and am looking back. I have found that this generally makes me feel a bit less like a human being with the capability to look and connect with someone, and more like a car accident. Again, the women in the onsen were no exception; as if I was a tall, white, naked creature that had wandered in and couldn’t see them looking; as if I wasn’t clearly confused and uncomfortable.) Nonetheless, like the bare-ass stools, I realized I could do nothing but embrace the stares, quickly learn to be comfortable with my body in a way I had literally never had to be in the past, and find some way to enjoy this.

I began to wander from the faucets to the pools, which all seemed to be unbelievably hot. With my growing comfort level, I decided I would just grab my bucket and head my naked self upstairs to see what might await me there. Maybe there would be a more ambient setting or a sauna or something after all. The first thing I saw on the second floor was another room of faucets and stools. No, thank you. And then, a large, sliding (I hoped) stainless steel door. With no read-able signs to guide me, I just decided to go for it. (Obviously, I was feeling pretty daring at this point. I’m already walking around a random place with random people completley naked. Why the hell not?) I was a little nervous that this door might open to an outside area or a co-ed area or something, but I realized that that was pretty unlikely, considering the fact that the locker rooms were so far away. And if it was something somehow more embarrassing, I could always scoot back to the locker room and away from this steamy, wet house of awkwardness. But lo and behold, the huge door opened to another small pool, with fake rocks and plants and—yes—even ambient music! I was right all along! Well, you know, other than the whole naked thing. It had a price, but I had finally found the relaxing hot tub setting I had been looking for. A part of me was even starting to like the idea of being able to sit without the confines of a swim suit. I was determined to like this; determined to relax.

I slowly stepped into the shallow rock-covered pool and was unable to ignore how unbelievably hot it was. Maybe it’s just me, I thought. It’s like a hot tub—I just need to get used to it. So, still determined to relax, I sat in the pool, sweat dripping down my face and heart racing as though I had just tried to sprint a 400. I even tried to put my elbows up, head back, and close my eyes, as a couple other women came and left the room. Yes, I was in pain. Yes, I was getting light-headed and feeling my chest tighten. But, I had been through so much for this, damnit. I couldn’t possible give up now!

I gave up. My practical mind is just too damn practical to potentially give myself some sort of heat-enduced cardiac event. Plus, I started thinking about that anecdote about how frogs, when sitting in increasingly hotter water, won’t hop out because they don’t notice the small changes in the temperature. In the end, they will sit there while they unknowingly boil to death. If I don’t get out, I thought, what makes me any different from the frog? That practicality is what separates us, right? (Along with a few other characteristics of course.) Plus, if I was so embarrased by being in this place naked and alive, I didn’t even want to think about the alternative…

And so, I slowly gathered up my bucket while giving myself a moment to shake off the residual dizziness, and I started back down the stairs. I tried out a few more of the small pools on the first floor before heading back into the locker room. I had stayed for almost an hour, which seemed like a reasonable amount of “relaxation” time for my money. I quickly wrapped my towel around me and decided to sit in the room for a few minutes, watching and listening as some of the other women (mostly towel-covered as well) sat on the benches and chatted. I imagined they had known each other for years, and were catching each other up about their lives—sighing about cute things their grandchildren had done or laughing about their ridiculous husbands. In the comfort of my towel and my place along the far wall, I began to somewhat understand the draw of this for an older Japanese woman. I was able to see the community and friendship, and to understand the unique freedom this women-only escape must provide for them in their otherwise male-dominated and -infused (my assumption, of course) lives. I found myself really wishing I could understand them or even ask them what they were talking about. I wanted to laugh with them. I’m sure this was also because I had just forced myself to walk around naked in front of a bunch of foreign strangers, an event I found extremely funny, and had no one to laugh with about it. I kind of laughed vicariously through the women and let their joy express some of my own.

I left the onsen and slowly began the forty-minute walk back towards my hostel. I began replaying the afternoon in my head and making notes for the future story. I laughed out loud (probably another understandable reason I get stared at—I laugh out loud by myself a lot in public) at the lengths I had gone to and the determination I had employed to “relax” and try to “fit in.” But, I also realized that I had, in the end, found some peace and relaxation in the whole crazy event: not only through the peace of the women communing in the locker room, but through forcing myself to be naked in front of a bunch of people (something I’ve never had any desire to do whatsoever), and through forcing myself to get over it; through facing this idea of embarrassment, deconstructing it, and stripping it (no pun intended) of its power. I was reminded that in the end, a large part of embarrassment comes from the extremely self-involved notion that what you do (how you look, what you say, etc) matters to other people as much as it matters to you. As if everyone else is thinking about you as much as you are. And when I have these moments (that seem to come way more often when traveling—which is probably part of why I love it so much), it really is like taking a deep breath in and out and consciously settling back in to the small, beautiful corner of the world in which I have the pleasure to exist.

Nevertheless, I have no intentions of returning to an onsen any time soon.

we young.

the following is a passage from page 694 of david foster wallace's novel--and my current hobby--Infinite Jest. i'm genuinely not sure how much sense it will make without knowing the book, but i figured it was worth a try. someone may get something out of it. but if you don't know the context, don't read too much into the political aspects. i think this resounds with me largely because i currently live in a country where people rarely show emotion or sentiment (in my experience.) but i do think he also speaks to an american generation that i absolutely grew up in and am part of. but it may not be only in the US. it really makes me wonder about why, though. why do we--young, old, american, japanese, whoever--so fear ourselves?


"We enter a spiritual puberty where we snap to the fact that the great transcendent horror is loneliness, excluded encagement in the self. Once we've hit this age, we will now give or take anything, wear any mask, to fit, be part-of, not be Alone, we young. The U.S. arts are our guide to inclusion. A how-to. We are shown how to fashion masks of ennui and jaded irony at a young age where the face is fictile enough to assume the shape of whatever it wears. And then it's stuck there, the weary cynicism that saves us from gooey sentiment and unsophisticated naivete. Sentiment equals naivete on this continent...[and] naivete is the last true terrible sin in the theology of millennial America....[It's] about a myth, viz. that queerly persistent U.S. myth that cynicism and naivete are mutually exclusive. Hal, who's empty but not dumb, theorizes privately that what passes for hip cynical transcendence of sentiment is really some kind of fear of being really human, since to be really human (at least as he conceptualizes it) is probably to be unavoidably sentimental and naive and goo-prone and generally pathetic... One of the really American things about Hal, probably, is the way he despises what it is he's really lonely for: this hideous internal self, incontinent of sentiment and need, that pulls and writhes just under the hip empty mask, anhedonia."

the books you love.

Live for awhile in the books you love. Learn from them what is worth learning, but above all love them. This love will be returned to you a thousand times over. Whatever your life may become, these books—of this I am certain—will weave through the web of your unfolding. They will be among the strongest of all threads of your experiences, disappointments, and joys.

R.M. Rilke
Viareggio, April 5, 1903
Letters to a Young Poet

smiling.

i am still here.

i am thinking of the fading summer,
and the emerging fall.
i am thinking of distance
and solitude.
i am infinitely jesting
and foolishly investing
in cheap wine.
and i am thinking
about smiling.

kait


"Those who are beautiful—
who can keep them as they are?
Unceasingly in their faces
the life in them arises and goes forth.
Like dew from morning grass,
like steam from a plate of food,
what is ours goes out from us.

Where does a smile go, or the upward glance,
the sudden warm movement of the heart?
Yet that is what we are. Does the universe
we dissolve into
taste of us a little?"

'Where does a smile go?' by R.M. Rilke

funny japan.

here are some funny/interesting things i've seen in the past few weeks!


this one is a sign i saw in a train station. what is that man doing to that poor bird? and why does that girl want to watch??


then, last week, i worked at a summer camp for junior high kids wanting to learn english. it was really fun! and it was great to be closer to nature, but it was still quite a bit different the summer camp i experienced as a kid!


and the food was a bit different, too!


it leads, i will follow! this is a great, horrible english translation! (if you like this, you should check out engrish.com)


and then i saw these two ads next to each other the other day in tokyo and i found myself thinking, "even as a heterosexual woman, i have to say that i find the young samurai girls quite a bit sexier than the delicate, feminine men." maybe i've been here too long...



and finally, not all that funny, but really great:

this was a random spot in tokyo the other day. just one of the many little surprises in this incredible city.


and i finally got a guitar the other day! yay!!!!

t.t.m.m.h (things that make me happy)

- finally writing again about things that make me happy! it's been way too long.

- evening bike rides.

- raw tofu. it's cheap and cold and delicious.

- going to the local library and checking out the following books: player piano by kurt vonnegut (kind of on a vonnegut kick right now), rabbit at rest by john updike, macbeth by william shakespeare, tokyo sketches by pete hamil, and the penguin book of international short stories 1945-1985. i like a little variety (or randomness?).

- the privilege of having a nice apartment to come home to, a fan to sit in front of, and even an air conditioner to use if necessary, when it's this hot.

- finding myself thinking in japanese sometimes! finally!

- house plants. i know have 3! one is even about 2 months old! (i've never kept a plant alive that long before.)

- having the opportunity to be in such a dynamic country at such an interesting time in (its and world) history.

the smile project

the other day, after listening to a fantastic dharma talk by thich nhat hanh about the wonders of smiling, especially in the morning, i was in quite a smiley mood as i walked to the train station. and as i walked, meditating and smiling, i began to realize how alarmingly rare it is for me to see someone smiling while i’m on my commute. as i examined how freakish i felt smiling, i realized how rare it is to see people smiling in the stations, on the trains, on the streets, etc. of course, at work, i am saved by the laughter of children and some great co-workers. but on my commute and general comings-and-goings, it’s pretty rare.

so, upon noticing this, i decided to count. during my 1 hour commute to work that morning, i counted smiles. and the grand total? 4. not at me, just in general. 4 smiles. between the crowded trains and busy stations (including 1 transfer) i must have passed hundreds of people, without exaggeration. (and with my height, i have a pretty good range of vision in this country …). and i was able to count the numbers of smiles i saw on one hand. now, i know that most people commute by themselves and don’t necessarily have a lot of things to chuckle about. however, a simple smile is different. and compared to most of the places i’ve lived, this is really a change. even in chicago, strangers at least smile to each other when they both witness something crazy happening (which happens more often than not on the El). and of course, i’m not trying to say that all people here are unhappy or anything of the sort. i’m simply stating my findings.

at first, i was damn near despondent about this. i was honestly pretty upset. although there were probably some other factors playing in to it, the whole thing actually brought me to the brink of tears. it may sound a bit dramatic, but coming from chicago or especially sri lanka, where people (myself included, check pictures on fb for proof) seemed to be constantly smiling and/or laughing, this is a hard environment to adjust to. i truly believe it has dramatically affected my mood on a number of occasions, and so i’m quite happy that i realized it. but again, i was unsure what to “do about it,” if anything.

tonight, while i took an exhilirating bike ride at sunset, i found myself not only smiling but laughing uncontrollably. it was so beautiful that i simply couldn’t resist. and i started purposefully smiling at the few people i passed. some didn’t look at me (the norm, i’d say), some gave me a double-take like i was crazy (one guy actually tripped over his dog and almost caused us to crash! ha!), and some actually smiled back.

and during this ride, i decided that from now on, when i’m commuting (a solid 12 hours a week, at least), i am going to intentionally smile at people and try to get them to smile back at me. i’ll try not to be too creepy, but i’m going to actively go after smiles. luckily, unlike some places i’ve lived where doing this might very well get me slapped or hit on, i’m pretty sure the worst i’d get here is a dirty look—which i might actually prefer to being ignored.

so, this is my new project: the smile project. i don’t expect to change the world, but i figure that if i can make even one person smile, even if it’s after they walk away and are thinking, “i think that tall white girl might be crazy,” it’s worth it.

who’s with me?

daijobu desu. (it's okay.)

well, i’ve obviously been neglecting the blog for a while. i don’t really have internet at home, and when i get done at work, i generally like to go home to get as much sleep as possible. and then, of course, i went into one of those spirals where it just seems like there is too much to say to ever actually sit down and write. so, for now, i write to break the ice—it will most likely be random, and in bullet form. hopefully, more to come soon.


some general learnings:
--full-time jobs (especially with little kids (who don’t speak the same language as you)) are exhausting.
--summer in japan is hot.
--there are a lot of people in tokyo. not as many of them speak english as you might assume.
--learning japanese is hard (but fun).


things i’ve unexpectedly gotten comfortable with or better at since moving to japan 3 months ago:
--bagging groceries. they give you the bags, you do the work.
--sitting in tiny chairs at tiny tables. this might be more of a preschool teacher thing than a Japanese thing.
--controlling my facial expressions when i see girls in ridiculously short skirts in public
--reading on the train. commuting over 2 hours a day will help get over any motion sickness…
--going to sleep as soon as i get home at night. i used to need some ‘wind down time.’ no more. this might be more of a “first real full time job” thing.
--packing lunches. granted, this consists of putting a small container of tofu and some frozen veggies into a little Tupperware thing, but i’m making progress.
--doing laundry by hand.


things that seemed really difficult at first but are starting to get easier:
--navigation on the trains. i get really excited any time i don’t have to look up which trains to take to get somewhere in tokyo (which doesn’t happen often.) i also can’t believe i ever complained about having to transfer ONCE in chicago. one transfer is a blessing these days.
--japanese. it’s still hard, but i’m starting to really, really enjoy it. i started lessons a couple weeks ago, and i’m starting to really enjoy it. i only wish i had more time/energy during the week to spend with it. current favorite word: daijobu—“okay” or “alright”.


things that seemed really crazy at first and…still seem really crazy:
--beer vending machines. yes. vending machines on the street that sell beer. no ID necessary. i’m pretty sure that every time i pass one, i think of a new reason why they would be unthinkable in the US.
--the short skirts. a place where fetishes are definitely born.
--how quickly and deeply people sleep on the train! it’s amazing!


japanese people (total generalization, obviously) love them some:
--scrunchies
--umbrellas (rain or shine)
--packaging. it’s great that they always separate everything and recycle like crazy, but EVERYTHING here is wrapped in some type of plastic wrap. it’s a bit paradoxical, i think.
--socks/stockings—there are a lot of stores dedicated to nothing but these.
--salons. if i tried to count the number around where i live, it would be ridiculous. i walked with a friend to one last week, and in the building where her salon was and the one next to it, of 6 store spaces, 5 were salons. how they stay afloat, i have no idea.
--dorky white guys. now, i know a lot of really, really cool white guys here, but i’ve also met/seen some really dorky ones who have japanese girlfriends/wives that are…well…out of their league. i know that sounds horribly judgmental, and it is, but i can’t tell you how many times i’ve found myself thinking, “hm…japan. the place where dorky white guys go to find beautiful japanese girlfriends/wives…”


some deeper thoughts (in short bullet-point form.) if you’d like to discuss in more depth, let’s get coffee (in japan) or set up a skype date (anywhere else)!:
--living in a rich, affluent country is hard. i’d even say harder than in poor countries. ballsy statement, i know. but, i think it is so easy to get wrapped up in artificial things and start giving importance to things that simply aren’t important. i was beginning to really feel the same back in chicago recently. i could really go on for a while about this, so i’ll try to get the thoughts out for a later post.
--it’s difficult to live in a city of 30ish million people and not want to be creative. i have made some amazing friends and seen some amazing artists that really inspire me.
--i’ve been really thinking (and creating) a lot about the idea of beauty. it’s one of the things i often come back to when i’m traveling—ie, what are we culturally trained to find beautiful versus what is “true” beauty? does such a thing even exist?
--life as an immigrant, even a well-supported, well-paid, and highly educated one, is tough. and scary at times. i went for a routine physical to a hospital, WITH a friend/coworker there to translate, and i found it a little scary. i honestly can’t imagine what it must be like for so many people around the world living in a place where they don’t speak the language, have no one, have no education, no money, and are continually exploited. anyone who has any influence on immigration policy should really try it, i think.


ok, that’s all i got for now. thanks for reading. please have a dance party now in my honor, as thanks for checking in on me.

robert wright

loving this. it is applicable in so many ways. i cant wait to buy and read his books!

and it continues

i know it's been a while since i've written. and really, that will continue, most likely. but, below are a couple photos from a recent hiking day i spent, IN tokyo. the city continues to amaze me. (ps, i also got a new camera, which makes me really want to share some pictures!)


as you can tell, i'm pretty happy to have some connection with nature



i'm also loving this new camera!


a beautiful view, about half-way up



and i've decided that this one is an almost perfect visual representation of my spirituality.

the incapacity to understand

i've posted this poem before, but i continue to come back to it, as it continues to be so utterly relevant.

the departure of the prodigal son by r.m. rilke

To go forth now
from all the entanglement
that is ours and yet not ours,
that, like the water in an old well,
reflects us in fragments, distorts what we are.

From all that clings like burrs and brambles—
to go forth
and see for once, close up, afresh,
what we had ceased to see—
so familiar it had become.
To glimpse how vast and how impersonal
is the suffering that filled your childhood.

Yes, to go forth, hand pulling away from hand.
Go forth to what? To uncertainty,
to a country with no connections to us
and indifferent to the dramas of our life.

What drives you to go forth? Impatience, instinct,
a dark need, the incapacity to understand.

To bow to all this.
To let go—
even if you have to die alone.

Is this the start of a new life?



notice, it is sheer uncertainty to which we go forth, away from entanglement and that which we know, perhaps to other suffering or even lonely death--but always to life.
rilke understood my future existence almost too well. maybe i am him? most certainly, i think.

a glimpse of my life

here you go! it's a rough video, taken on a small digital camera, but i think it gives some idea of part of my life here. i hope you enjoy!

ah, entertainment

i'm planning a couple really good posts soon, but until then, enjoy these videos. i wish i could say they're joking, but i'm pretty sure these are/were for real. and it's reason enough to love this country.

BLAM!!

the last couple days have been really fun and productive. which is great combo.

the main highlight from yesterday:

 i bought a bike! i had been trying for a couple days, stalled by weather and holidays (on which the shop was closed). so, i was extremely excited when i was finally able to get it yesterday! for now, i’m toying with the name “akka”, which means “red” in Japanese, “sister” in tamil, “here” in Spanish, and… “(a surprised exclamation [a-ha] with a hard Yiddish accent)?” in English. all good things! it’s a bit small, but i love the retro style (which is the norm here). i immediately took it for a long ride, to where i work, to test out the route. it’s a long and somewhat difficult ride, so i’ll probably only do it a couple times a week. it felt so great to ride though! today, riding it to run an errand, i found myself thinking, ‘life is better on a bike.’



 while on my long ride to and from where i work (a little over an hour each way), i had time to see a whole other part of my city, at a nice pace. funny signs/things i saw:
- a denny’s. one of a few i’ve seen actually. of all chains to be here, denny’s? seriously? i don’t know the last time i was at a denny’s in the US, but i’m sure i’ll be craving some pancakes some day and will give it a try here. they better have some damn pancakes.
- a hardware store called “hard & tool.” i laughed out loud. i don’t know what it says about the English language (or just me?) that when traveling, a large majority of English-attempted signs are easily interpreted as penis references. i remember noam Chomsky once saying, “in language, we create slang for things we fear. that’s why the two things we have the most slang for are death and the penis (sex).” still—hard & tool? hilarious.
- a car dealership/shop called ‘TAX’—Total Automobile Excellence. again, i wanted to stop by and say, “hey, if you’re trying to bring in English-speaking customers with the English sign, best not using the acronym TAX. people don’t like those.”
- there was also a sign for ‘BLAM!!’ (yes, 2 exclamation points)!! it was an indoor sportscenter or something, but with a pretty technical sounding acronym for BLAM that i can’t remember.
- i also passed a bunch of random fields of crops. they smelled so wonderfully like farms and outdoors. i was pretty nostalgic for the Midwest US.
- i also really liked the courteous nature of people as i rode. there isn’t always a sidewalk, and rarely is there room for multiple people. so, if someone was coming opposite, someone would have to stop and let the other person go by. and i came up to a lot of old people walking that would stop, wait for me, and then we’d give a little head bow as we passed. it was very sweet.

and today—even better! i finally went into Tokyo. i went into a neighborhood called ikebukuro, which i haven’t heard great things about. i’ve heard it’s a bit grungy and without much to see. if this is “grungy”, then i can’t freakin’ wait to see the rest of Tokyo.
highlights:

 someone actually talked to me! in English! (it doesn’t happen often). when i came up from the big, crazy train station, which seems more like an airport than a train station, this is what i saw:



and this was one of about 8 exits. i had my trusty guide book, ensuring that i look as touristy as possible, but i decided to look at the big map outside the station to orient myself before looking around. (luckily, there were these huge maps EVERYWHERE, so i really couldn’t have gotten lost if i’d tried.) as i was studying this map, trying to figure out which way i wanted to wander first, a guy came up and asked if i needed any help! i got so excited that he had offered, that i wanted to make up something specific i was looking for, but i didn’t actually have anything. so, i said, “thank you so much! but, i’m just kind of trying to get oriented before i head out. thank you though!” honestly, it seems insignificant, but it was a great way to start the day. i have looked lost plenty of times in my neighborhood, and have never had anyone say a thing to me.

 as the picture above only KIND OF captures, the amount of life in this one area was incredible. there were people and signs and sounds and things everywhere. i didn’t even try to play it cool and look like i knew what i was doing. i was gaping like the most touristy tourist in the world. i was saying, ‘holy shit!’ out loud. things were just too amazing not to audibly exclaim.
 diversity! i hadn’t seen too much in my city, but i actually saw some here! different races (it seems Africans have a pretty strong hold on the hip hop clothing market here, which is really interesting and somewhat ironic to me. a future post may be coming on this topic), different religions (some people in traditional muslim clothing, to whom i found myself giving a ‘hey, how’s it going fellow outsider’ type of look, until i felt like an insensitive idiot, and realized it’s probably a bit different and maybe more difficult thing for them), and different sexual orientations (i saw a same sex couple for the first time since i’ve been here). i also (FINALLY) saw some tattoos and piercings. i also saw an Indian restaurant and a Spanish bar! i’m definitely heading back for those. (i actually ate lunch at a Chinese restaurant, by accident, thinking it was Japanese food, and all my fears about eating out without someone to translate were confirmed. even though the menu had pictures and English translations, the vegetarian things i tried to order had meat in them. i tried to eat around the meat, but even still didn’t feel too great afterwards.)
 i stumbled upon an awesome little used book/record/art shop. normally, i don’t go into the little bookstores because, you know, i don’t read Japanese. but, i noticed this one had records. they had a ton of awesome ones, for really cheap. i’ve never bought old vinyl records in the US, but they had Beatles records for $10. that’s got to be pretty good, right? i ended up getting some awesome art there. i got this picture and a little book with some cool pictures in it that i’m planning to cut up and make something out of.



 and to finish the day, i sat at a little French café with a fruit parfait and cup of coffee, writing down all the great things i had seen/heard/experienced/tasted/etc.



if you’ve made it all the way through this post, i thank you! i’m not one to be brief with words, when i actually take the time to sit down and type them out. obviously, i had a great couple of days. along with a bbq with some coworkers tomorrow, i’m wrapping up a great vacation week. and although it’s been nice to have the time off to rest, adjust, explore, and bike, i’m also pretty excited to go back and see the kids.



sayonara!

ps-i've put together a fun little video about my life here so far, but i need a good internet connection to upload it. so, next week, when i get to work, i should be able to post it.

the paradox of choice

a few days before leaving for japan, i was trying to explain to someone that one thing i was excited for was to be somewhat limited in the way i would live. i was excited to go to place where i didn’t know the language or the customs, and this would cause me to have to “make do” in a lot of ways, because i wouldn’t be able to just do whatever i felt like or wanted. i think this very much relates to some of my other traveling experiences, especially sri lanka. after coming back from that experience (which i long for in many more ways and for many more reasons than these restrictions), i think i really struggled with being in such a huge and amazing city like Chicago, with a (for me) well-paying job, and not many responsibilities. i am, of course, not trying to complain about this situation at all. of course it is a privilege to live such a rosy existence. and i attempted to appreciate every moment of it. however, it was difficult. and by the springtime (especially when i had quit my job in anticipation for japan and was waiting for everything to finalize) i found myself, rather than using the time and exploring the city, sitting in my apartment a lot. i felt like i was constantly on overload from various stimuli in every direction. hence the desire to go somewhere where i don’t have to constantly decide what i should do or eat, etc, because there are a very limited or no options—i just do what i can, eat what’s available, shower when i can, wear whatever clothes i happen to have.

and at first, this was the case here in japan, and it was pretty great. i got my food from the same couple places because they were the only ones i knew. i went to the same couple stores because they were the only ones i could find my way home from. i used the few, crappy items in my apartment because i had no money and no idea about how/where to buy anything at all. and it was great.

but, as i’ve grown a bit more comfortable and had a bit more time to explore and experience, of course, these restrictions have increasingly fallen away. but, rather than open up a lot of new opportunities, as you might imagine, i’ve found it’s had a bit of a different effect. it has paralyzed me, much in the same way things did in Chicago/iowa/etc. for example, since the day i first arrived in my apartment, i told myself, ‘i really need some shelves or drawers, even crappy plastic ones, to organize some stuff—like clothes, papers, electronics, kitchen or bathroom stuff. and here i am, almost 3 weeks later, and still without. have i not found any, you ask? quite the opposite. i’ve gone to probably 10 different stores (no exaggeration) that have this selection or more:



and every time, i end up thinking, “goo! i have no idea which of these would be best. it would be nice to have bigger ones, but i’m not sure they’ll fit very well in that part of my apartment. i better go home and think about it some more. i don’t want to waste $50 on drawers and then end up wanting to buy something else.” and so, i continue to leave with nothing. i shit you not, i have done this 5-10 times in the last couple weeks.

and in addition, i find that it frustrates me way more than i ever would normally be, when i can’t find something i really want. for example, i have gone out a number of times looking specifically for a reading light/desk lamp, to put by my bed so i can read at night without the big overhead light on. and i swear to you, it is like finding an iowan in japan (like that? i was also going to go with "finding a sumo wrestler in iowa"). the things seem to not exist here. the couple that i have found were over $60. for a little reading lamp. absolutely ridiculous. and not relative to the prices for other home-type items. and if, for example, i had looked for this in sri lanka, i wouldn’t have been at all disappointed in not finding it at the one little grocery store i went to a few times. and in fact, i did read by the overhead light and got up to turn it off every night. and i got used to it quite quickly. but because i know that inexpensive reading lights MUST exist here, i am super frustrated every time i go into a store and walk out without one. (for the record, i did buy an annoying little clip-on light today for $30 that will probably (hopefully) be replaced some day. so, when i do make a choice, i'm not happy with it because i know there are others). here are some of the other many, many, many things there were to choose and choose and choose from, just from TODAY's trip to ONE store:







another reason i think i am thinking about all of this so much currently is that i am currently reading infinite jest by david foster Wallace, which is—among many other things—about the hyper-consumerism of modern times and how we are constantly being marketed to. and how nearly everything is available for purchase. and this may be even more true here than in Chicago. it is ridiculously overwhelming. there are signs/ads everywhere. and they are big and bright and loud. the book is amazing, and i am planning to do a future post on it, as i continue working on it. (today i had a thought, though, that, “my best friends right now are characters—albeit great ones—in a novel. a teenage tennis player and a drug rehab house worker.” is that weird?)

and as i’ve been thinking about all this, i came across the following video the other night. and i think it describes EXACTLY what i’ve been feeling. it is the fact that choice is not necessarily better, but rather can be quite paralyzing. there is so much EVERYWHERE here. there are huge department stores on every corner. there are countless bag stores, book stores, shoe stores, stationary stores, restaurants, cafes, electronic stores, etc, etc, etc, just on my 15 minute walk to and from the train every day. watch the video here:



and so, with that in mind, i have been recalling again some of the reasons why i was so incredibly happy in sri lanka. every day, i got up, wore whatever i had, drank instant coffee, ate whatever was prepared for me, went wherever i was taken, talked to whomever i was around, dealt with whatever the weather was doing, was in my room by 8pm, read whatever i books i had, and went to bed. it was simple. and beautiful. and i had lovely people to spend it with. and i’m not saying that i won’t be able to make it work here and that i won’t be just as happy as i was there or Chicago or anywhere. but it is so very different. and it will take some extra adjustment. and some damn decisions. lots and lots and lots of decisions. chances are, when people come to visit me in 6 months or more, i’ll still be storing things in plastic bags and suitcases. i’m cool with that.

oh, and the big decision for this coming week, when we have national holidays all week and i don’t have to work at all: a bike. luckily, money will be a big factor in that. it’s a decision i’m almost excited for, though!

damn, i love a man in a baseball uniform.

today i had such a wonderful day. although i am coming to enjoy my work with the kiddies, i still love a good day off to explore, learn, be alone, and be quiet. (this last element being quite important now that i'm a preschool teacher.) highlights from the day:

-i slept in until 9 AM!!! this is huge for me. between jet-lag and work, i haven't slept past 630 yet. so, 9 was awesome. (although it did require me staying up until midnight to do so...)
- i went for a run in the beautiful sunny weather and discovered a new route. i decided i shouldn't try to find new routes during the week, because if i get lost, i'll be late for work. so today, i had a great time exploring. and listening to lupe fiasco while i did it. what more could i ask for?
- after some cleaning/organizing/communicating, i set out for the city art museum. it was a beautiful walk. the museum was very cool, but everything was in japanese, so i really had no context. this included the main exhibit, which was a historical tour through a certain type of narrative art in japan. it was awesome to look at the paintings, but i had little to no idea about timeframe/artist background/etc. there were some modern pieces that were absolutely stunning though.
- i peed in a hole in the ground. i didn't notice the difference between the "japanese style" and regular stalls in the bathroom, and once i was in, i felt really weird going out and back in line (at the museum). so, i went for it. it didn't go well. i won't go into more detail... but seriously, why do they still have those? any country that can use the type of toilet in my apt with more buttons than a remote should have no use for hole-in-the-ground toilets.
- i found a baseball game!!! this was, without a doubt, the top highlight of the day. it could have been high school, but i think it was more like an adult city league or something. they had very nice uniforms, but the game seemed pretty informal. maybe it was just a practice game or something.
- i tried some sweet potato ice cream. well, i think it was. but since it was in japanese, i'm not really sure. it was good, but nothing too amazing or different.
- i sat at a great little cafe, had a beer from a local brewery, and read a book. so lovely.
- i stopped in a shop on the way home called 'kaldi coffee bar.' it was amazing. anybody who's lived abroad knows that when you do so, it is vital to find some places that just make you feel comfortable. i've mentioned starbucks before. this place overtakes that. except it's a store, so i can't just hang out there. but, they have surprisingly inexpensive things from all over the world there, including a lot from latin america. and i think the theme is supposed to be primarily latino, because they were playing salsa and tango music! i was totally salsa dancing in the aisles, hoping someone would ask me (in spanish, ideally) if i'd like to go salsa dancing sometime at some nearby bar! didn't happen, but i won't give up... the store also had--popcorn, cheap wine, chips and salsa, and graham crackers! it was pretty great. oh! and the girl at the register spoke english to me! as someone who really didn't like it when people spoke english to me in latin america, i realllllly appreciate it here. at least for now.
- on the last leg home, as i was walking, totally stoked from an awesome day, a teenaged girl kind of jumped out from her group of friends, in front of me, smiled, and said, "herrow!" (i feel i can make fun of the accent because it's completely legit. and it makes sense, because they don't have a difference between Ls and Rs in japanese.) i was caught off guard but i laughed and said, "hello!" they thought it was pretty funny.
- i went to a department store and found a huge music store, including a room of pianos and many walls of guitars! after a bike, i think a guitar will be coming.
- and now, i'm sitting in my apartment, listening to lauryn hill, drinking red wine, writing, and reading. it's kind of awesome.


one kind of weird thing i really noticed today is that i have a tendency to feel a bit sea-sick in my apartment, because there have been aftershocks almost every day for the past 5 or 6 days. so, i'm constantly thinking that the place is moving, even when it's not. it's really weird. i can't imagine how people live like this all the time. especially if you've been traumatized by an earthquake in the past.

i just bought and read a collection of stories by one of my new favorite authors, haruki murakami, called 'after the quake' that he wrote in the 1990s after the huge kobe earthquake. it's really interesting to read within my current context.

i hope you are all well. please email me updates/anecdotes/pictures/etc.

discovering more.

rilke in a letter to a friend:

Oh, the joys of travel! To feel the excitement of sudden departure, not always knowing whither. Surely you and I are in agreement about that. How often did my life seem concentrated in that single moment of departure. To travel far, far—and that first morning's awakening under a new sky! And to find oneself in it—no, to discover more of oneself there. To experience there, too, where one has never been before, one's own continuity of being and, at the same time, to feel that something in your heart, somehow indigenous to this new land, is coming to life from the moment of your arrival. You feel your blood infused with some new intelligence, wondrously nourished by things you had no way of knowing.

first pictures.

check them out on facebook! or here, if you don't have an account.

i hope this gives some slight idea!

a world of fascinating.

konichiwa! i have officially been here in japan for 4 whole days. it’s really hard to believe that it’s only been 4 days. i’m not sure if this will make the majority of you happy or sad, but i already feel really comfortable here. not in a “i look anything like anyone here” sort of way, but in a “i could see myself having a really nice life here for a while” way. (sorry, mom.) and i’m sure that this will wane, as these types of feelings always do. but, since it’s such a different situation from my other times abroad, in that i’m super independent from the start (although, thank god for my coworkers who have already helped me a ton. there are so many ways i would have been screwed had they not been willing to help), i’m working full-time right away, i know NONE of the language, and i’m committed to at least a year from the start. with all those things in consideration, it’s really comforting to have even a moment of feeling like i could be comfortable here for at least a year.


some things i think might be contributing to that:

--the independence. i’ve loved all the people who cared for me in my past living situations abroad, but it also feels great to be able to create my own life here from the start. i have SO much to learn, and that’s a bit harder without a “host” family, but being able to come home to my apartment after a long day, have a beer made from sweet potatoes (really!) or a glass of santory whiskey (thinking of bill murray, of course) and read a book is a great, great feeling.

--feeling a bit ignored in public. i know, it seems crazy since i do, of course, stick out. yet, i feel like people are definitely used to seeing white people (although there aren’t many around right now). so, i’m not such a spectacle like i was in sri lanka. and so far, the men aren’t nearly as forward as latin America (or Chicago, for that matter), so sometimes i really do feel nearly ignored when i walk down the street. people look, but then look away as if bored. i kind of love it. i feel like i finally get to be a bit of a fly on the wall, rather than the freak that everyone is staring at. i wonder if perhaps this also has to do with the general state of the country right now, post-disaster. i’m not sure if it’s a huge factor, but i wonder if people are just generally somewhat preoccupied with that.

--my job and my coworkers. although it was a bit overwhelming to be with a bunch of kids speaking a different language the two days immediately after i landed, i think i am going to really love my work at the ymca here. the kids were really sweet and fun, and my coworkers are amazing. i really think i am going to like it there. and after a couple days off (Sunday and Monday are my days off), including some lesson planning and lots of japanese studying, i’m really looking forward to the beginning of my week!


some things i’m a bit nervous/hesitant about:

--japanese is hard! i’m LOVING studying it so far, but it’s really really tough and different. and there is way less English here than i was imagining. including signs, food, etc. as a vegetarian, it’s tough to buy food because i have no idea what’s in it! at least in sri lanka, a lot of labels were in English too. (and someone was cooking my food for me, i guess…). but today, i learned of a Japanese class for foreigners at a community center, and the flyer was in Spanish! so i’m hoping i’ll be able to learn Japanese and meet latinos!

--granted i only looked briefly at one little beauty shop/pharmacy, but they had NO red hair dye. HUGE uh-oh. why would a country of people with black and dark brown hair need a wall full of black and dark brown hair dye?!?!

--although people don’t seem too phased about it, i do feel like a giant in this country. a pale, red-headed (although that might change) giant. it’s nice that a lot of girls wear really high heels, which genuinely makes me not feel that tall. but that doesn’t do anything for the size of my ass.


as for other notables, i found myself thinking the other day, “how do i write about the interesting things i’ve seen, when EVERYTHING is interesting?” no exaggeration, everything here is different and fascinating! literally, if i made a note of everything, like i’d like to, i would be writing CONSTANTLY. i’ll try to pick out some biggies below. the others will, i’m sure, come up in future posts.

--i would describe the neighborhood i live in (for you Chicagoans, at least) as a mixture of wicker park and Lincoln park, with a little boystown thrown in. there is a lot of super hipster style. a lot of young people. but it’s much cleaner and prettier than wicker park. and there’s some pretty gender-bending styles as well. and some (actually, a LOT of) super short skirts. often paired with long socks. today i saw a super hipster little family, both young parents with really funky clothes, hair, shoes, and glasses, and a double stroller! it took all my strength not to get out my camera.

--there are also salons and coffee shops EVERYWHERE in my neighborhood. the coffee shops i like, of course. (aside (if i were david foster Wallace, this would be an awesome footnote): as i began in chile, i will continue to defend the starbucks business model. throughout the world, i have ALWAYS been made to feel more welcomed and cared for at startbucks than any other business. i’m not even ashamed to say that i’ve already gone a couple times here, and will continue to do so.)

--bikes! i love that people ride them everywhere, and i’m planning to get one myself within the next month or two. but the CRAZY thing is that they don’t lock them up!!! it’s literally almost too much for me to comprehend. today, when i was walking around with my friend/coworker yuko, i kept saying, “but, really? they just leave them there? i don’t get it? why don’t they get stolen???” she replied, “i guess they do, sometimes. but not like America. when i lived in America, i had 2 bikes stolen!” mmm…home sweet home.

--aftershocks. i’ve already felt a couple, and it’s pretty crazy. but, nothing scary at all, actually. i wrote in my journal the other day:

it’s so strange to be constantly aware of the movement of the earth—of the world around me, actually. as i sit in bed and read, with my back against the wall, i can’t tell if the movement i feel is the earth moving or my own heart beating. it sounds a bit terrifying, but it’s also an incredible feeling of connection with the earth.

it sounds a bit cheesy, but it’s really such a unique feeling. some of you may know what i’m talking about.

--the food is really, really good. it’s very different, but good. i will talk more about that when i can put pictures up on facebook. i’ll make sure to put the link here, just in case. (everyone who reads this is on facebook, right? if not, stop reading this and make a facebook account.)

--there really are vending machines everywhere! i’m so glad i don’t have to walk ONE block (no exaggeration, i bet there’s at least one on every block) without a soda, water, coffee, or juice of some sort!



i could probably go on forever, so i will stop for now. this post is already pretty crazy long. but, at least i was able to give the first run-down of my life here. thank you so much for checking in on me. i am doing well. i am happy. if you would like to send me anything (why yes, i love mail and care packages!) my address is:

7-16 Sugawara-Cho #402
Kawagoe, Saitama, Japan 350-0046

i will hopefully be posting pictures on fb soon. (check to the right for a picture of where i live. the pic was taken from my apt window.) and updating here at least once a week. please do send me an email when you get a chance to let me know what is going on with you, how you are doing, and some interesting things you have experienced lately. (and don’t you dare say nothing. even an apple is a swirling mix of protons, neutrons and electrons—so interesting. and delicious.) i would love to hear from you, especially if you’ve taken the time to read all this.

domo arigato. sayonara.

arrived!

not much time to write now, but i have arrived! i will hopefully be able to write more soon!

and i'm off.

tomorrow i will officially be heading off to japan! check in here from time to time if you'd like to know what i'm up to (assuming i have somewhere to use the internet). and please email me to let me know what you are all up to! even if it's short, and even if i don't get back to you right away (or ever, let's be honest), i would love to hear from you!

in the meantime, enjoy this little piece of joy:



if the kids i work with are half this cute, i might be dangerously happy.

japanese music.

here are two videos that are getting me excited for my upcoming move. the first one has been called the "sufjan stevens" of japan. say no more. and the second was an ultimate fighter before doing music. i'm not super crazy about the song, but the video is awesome.

the 'invisible man.'

watch this video and then check out the pictures, HERE. it's really awesome.

where children sleep.

i found this project by photographer james mollison really, really interesting.

mystical and nocturnal.

i recently came across these words from rilke. they perfectly depict why i am so happy to think about 7 days from now, when i will be in a place that i literally cannot even imagine right now. (i fly out april 13th!) it is so lovely to think about whose "world of sound" i will be incorporated into. and who will become part of mine.


"How delicious it is to wake up in a place where no one, no one in the world, guesses where you are. Sometimes I have stopped spontaneously in towns along my way only to taste the delight that no living being can imagine me there. How much that added to the lightness of my soul!

I remember certain days in Cordova where I lived as if transparent, because I was completely unknown. The sweetness of staying in a little Spanish town, if only to relate to certain dogs and a blind beggar—more dangerous, that blind man, because he can read you. But three days later, if he hears you come back toward his church at the same hour, he counts you now as someone who henceforth exists, and he incorporates you into his world of sound.

And there you are, destined to new birth, mystical and nocturnal."

Letter to a friend
February 3, 1923

transitions and salinger

things are definitely moving! i am currently in chicago, saying some final goodbyes and getting my visa. i am hoping to fly out next week, sometime around the 13th of april. things have been (and continue to be) pretty random, unplanned, and sporadic, but so is life, right? i had a friend ask the other day about my being relatively calm and seemingly relaxed about everything, especially as i was waiting for some paperwork from japan to come. my answer? salinger. i find a lot of peace from franny and zooey, but i've been re-reading 'seymour--an introduction' the last couple days, and it's been great, as always. so, here are some excerpts below. i was going to give some context for each quote, but i think i prefer not to. you should read it. overall, the (fictional) author, buddy glass, is writing an essay about his older brother, seymour, who committed suicide at age 31. i hope you enjoy.

"However contradictory the coroner's report--whether he pronounces Consumption, Loneliness, or Suicide to be the cause of death--isn't it plain to see how the true artist-seer dies? I say that the true artist-seer, the heavenly fool who can and does produce beauty, is mainly dazzled to death by his own scruples, the blinding shapes and colors of his own sacred human conscience."

"Surely he was all REAL things to us: our blue-striped unicorn, our double-lensed burning glass, our consultant genius, our portable conscience, our supercargo, and our one full poet, and, inevitably,...i think, he was also our rather notorious 'mystic' and 'unbalanced type.'"

"...there is evidently one rather terrible hallmark common to all persons who look for God, and apparently with enormous success, in the queerest imaginable places--e.g., in radio announcers, in newspapers, in taxicabs with crooked meters, literally everywhere. (My brother, for the record, had a distracting habit, most of his adult life, of investigating loaded ashtrays with his index finger, clearing all the cigarette ends to the sides--smiling from ear to ear as he did it--as if he expected to see Christ himself curled up cherubically in the middle, and he never looked disappointed.)... The hallmark most commonly identifying this person is that he very frequently behaves like a fool, even an imbecile."

"No, no, I can't stop now. It seems to me, in my Condition, that I'm no longer merely asserting my brother's position as a poet; I feel I'm removing, at least for a minute or two, all the detonators from all the bombs in this bloody world--a very tiny, purely temporary public courtesy, no doubt, but mine own."

"For the faithful, the patient, the hermetically pure, all the important things in this world--not life and death, perhaps, which are merely words, but the important things--work out rather beautifully."

"Were most of your stars out?"

"They may shine with the misinformation of the ages, but they shine."

"all we do our whole lives is go from one little piece of Holy Ground to the next."

why we travel.

here is another interesting article, along the lines of my last post. the author discusses the fact that travel is about more than just relaxation and "getting away" (for some). Sometimes it's dangerous. But it (almost) always pays off.

progress (or at least the illusion of such).

not too many definite details yet, but it looks like things are starting to move again towards japan. i will post more when i know more.

until then, it was really interesting to read this article and think about moving to a country going through such an interesting and difficult time. i look forward to learning so much. and seeing politicians on bicycles with foghorns...

kandasamy

you can tell i'm feeling pretty nostalgic when i'm listening to and watching this. although, i'll admit the belly dancing part is pretty cool. and the 'rapping' is hilarious. i used to sing this in SL all the time, because it was the only "tamil" song i could sing and remember...

and the now keeps coming.

it's been a while since i've updated here. vast overview: the earth is spinning, some people are suffering, some are laughing, and some are doing both. more specifically, i have moved out of my apartment in chicago and am currently staying at my parents' home in iowa. i was preparing to drop off my stuff, say my goodbyes, and head to japan. however, in light of recent events, my plans are currently on hold. i don't really know anything yet. i'm still planning on going, just not sure when. it was a bit disappointing at first, but considering what has happened and what people are facing in japan, i wouldn't dream of complaining. instead, i'm trying my best to live fully exactly where i am.

some things i have noticed in abundance since i've been here:

--babies. not just my 9(!) nieces and nephews, but others, as well. one day, i went with one of my good friends from grade school and her baby to visit another good friend from school and her baby! lots of babies!

--old people (ironically enough). it's something i always notice when i come to iowa. not that there are more here, i just see them more. i know there are a lot of old people in chicago, i just don't see them. unless they're super rich and come into the restaurant.

--trees. it is so wonderful to smell trees and grass when i go out running. so wonderful.

--big cars. there are a lot of really, really big cars here. and a lot of trucks. you don't see as many pick-ups in the city.

--those shoes with the individual toes. they freak me out a bit, but i've seen them on multiple people here, and i don't think i've ever seen them in chicago. then again, they don't seem like something i would see in a restaurant or in my working-class mexican neighborhood...


general t.t.m.m.h. (things that make me happy):

--riding my bike on the bike trail here--trees and creeks and people that actually look at you and say good morning! lovely.
--playing my parents' baby grand piano.
--hanging with my brothers. i love getting to be with all of my family, but i've known them for 24 years, and for most of those, i was waiting for the day when we could be good friends and just hang out. it never gets old.
--hanging with my sisters-in-law. it's a lot like hanging with my brothers, except they're chicks, so we can talk girl stuff. and we can make fun of my brothers. bastards.
--a family of litero-philes. (i made that up.) when i'm in iowa, especially for a little longer time, my library basically quadruples.
--re-reading the fountainhead by ayn rand. i think it's my spring tradition. challenging and inspiring.

and a new section for the blog, inspired by the lovely megan, crazy shit i saw today (c.s.i.s.t):

--"knight" practice going on the park. full costumes, although the armor was like nerf-ish.
--3, count 'em 3, people i went to high school with in the "engagements and marriages" section of the sunday paper. i should be used to it by now, but it's the sheer volume, i think.

y'all got any good ones?

justice.

today, while running, i was listening to the new lupe fiasco album. it's pretty different than the last couple, but i really really like it. but the one thing i did keep thinking was, 'he seems so angry.' and as i was thinking more about it, i wound up listening to this video by a chilean folk artist named victor jara. and it's really interesting, because i would say that they are really talking about the same issues--social inequality, racism, etc. but, living in different countries, different generations, and different cultures, they have such different ways of communicating. even if you don't speak spanish, i dare you to watch the jara video below and not find it incredibly peaceful. even in light of the fact that during the coup in chile in 1973, he was kidnapped, tortured, and killed by the regime. he wrote some beautiful things in his last hours. i am not saying either method is better, or that lupe doesn't have every reason to be angry. it's just interesting to see how similar and yet different people can be. that's life. beautiful. compare the videos/songs below.

promises.

i've been having some fun this morning, reading this poem and watching this video. (yes, yes, i am way behind, yet again.)

fire’s reflection by rm rilke

Perhaps it's no more than the fire's reflection
on some piece of gleaming furniture
that the child remembers so much later
like a revelation.

And if in his later life, one day
wounds him like so many others,
it's because he mistook some risk
or other for a promise.

Let's not forget the music, either,
that soon had hauled him
toward absence complicated
by an overflowing heart....





also, just a quick note: nostalgia is crazy. really really crazy. i'm in the process of "saying goodbye" to my friends and family in the US, and i find myself feeling like i'm saying goodbye to everyone in sri lanka again. and it's pretty horrible. like that process was so impactful to me, that that's all i can relate this to. ah...life.

more love.

more from rilke:

'love is at first not anything that means merging, giving over, and uniting with another (for what would a union be of something unclarified and unfinished, still subordinate--?), it is a high inducement to the individual to ripen, to become something in himself, to become world, to become world for himself for another's sake, it is a great exacting claim upon him, something that chooses him out and calls him to vast things.'

love and leave. and love some more.

not only is this an awesome video, but the music is really really great. (and they're wonderful people, on top of it all.) the full album 'sympathy' comes out april 5th. the video was directed by j.m.harper.

inside out.

pretty inspiring video about how art can change the world.

biutiful. and living the questions.

this weekend, i saw the newest inarritu movie 'biutiful' starring javier bardem. it is an incredible movie. i don't know much about film theory or production, so i'll refrain from a true review. all i can describe is how it made me feel. at least i can attempt to do so. and i must say, for me, it was nothing short of heartbreaking. it was painful. but yet, it truly was beautiful. the story of not just one person, but many, and how they are truly connected in not only their joy and love, but in their pain and suffering as well.

i came across this picture tonight, and it reminded me of one of the scenes in the film that i found most visually striking. the main character's estranged wife was kissing him, but simultaneously almost falling the ground. it was so strange and unnatural, and it seemed to communicate so much about love and pain and connection. at least to me it did. and this sculpture reminded of me of that scene quite a bit.



as i found myself completely overwhelmed emotionally, during and after watching the film, i began to think about my upcoming travels. one thing i love most about traveling, although it tends to be quite a personal challenge, is the confrontation with things in and about the world that i may not know or may choose to ignore. when pushed out into a completely new place with new people and customs and culture and expressions, it's damn-near impossible to ignore the beauty of how we are all connected.

and as tends to happen these days, this has propelled me back to reading some rilke to find some peace. the first thing i re-read was a piece that includes the following lines, reminding me that the horrors in the world ARE the world.

We are set down in life as in the element to which we best
correspond, and over and above this we have through thousands of
years of accommodation become so like this life, that when we
hold still we are, through a happy mimicry, scarcely to be
distinguished from all that surrounds us. We have no reason to
mistrust our world, for it is not against us. Has it terrors,
they are our terrors; has it abysses, those abysses belong to us;
are dangers at hand, we must try to love them.



this poem, especially the last line, broke my heart tonight in a beautiful way:

It seems
our own impermanence is concealed from us.
The trees stand firm, the houses we live in
are still there. We alone
flow past it all, an exchange of air.

Everything conspires to silence us,
partly with shame,
partly with unspeakable hope.


and as i continued my search, i found this poem again, which i absolutely love. i love thinking about my widening circle.

I live my life in widening circles
that reach out across the world.
I may not complete this last one
but I give myself to it.

I circle around God, around the primordial tower.
I've been circling for thousands of years
and I still don't know: am I a falcon,
a storm, or a great song?


and finally, this incredible paragraph from one of rilke's letters. what a perfect reminder that life is not about solving problems, but about having them. it's not about getting through life to arrive at paradise, but finding the paradise in every day life.

I want to ask you, as clearly as I can, to bear with patience all that is unresolved in your heart, and try to love the questions themselves, as if they were rooms yet to enter or books written in a foreign language. Don't dig for answers that can't be given you yet: you live them now. For everything must be lived. Live the questions now, perhaps then, someday, you will gradually, without noticing, live into the answer.

Worpswede, July 16, 1903
Letters to a Young Poet



thank you, friends, family, and 'strangers.' thank you for being part of my widening circle, for letting me be part of yours, and for helping me see that they are one and the same. thank you for being god and allowing me to be so as well.
peace to you.

((and if you're digging the rilke and buddhism themes, you might want to check out this podcast. it's pretty amazing.))