Watching the bats flying around the glow of the all-night gas station below my window.
My orange bicycle. It's been my trusty steed through rain and shine. Mostly rain, these days.
The old ramen shop up the road, run by the guy who always wears galoshes and his daughter who practices her English when she pours us water.
Live shows in Japan. Even for big acts, the spaces are much more intimate.
Uni Qlo. Way better than Old Navy.
Cheap cigarettes. Then again, maybe not.
Capsule hotels and love hotels. The best ways to crash after late night fun with friends in the city. The U.S. is sadly lacking in these options.
My keitai. More like a beloved pet than a simple device, canceling it is like having it put down.
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
going home means leaving home
one of the things i will miss most about Japan is my apartment. the actual living space i've had for the last three years.
aside from the home i grew up in, this is the place i have lived the longest. it's also the only space that i've had that's totally and completely mine.
i've loved this place from day one. the smell of the warm tatami, the sliding paper doors, the western-facing windows looking over the town...these were part of it's natural beauty. The sloping wall in the living room, the weird little hallways that were there for no reason, the cork-covered kitchen walls, the balcony you had to go through the shower to find...how could i not fall for such a cozy, kooky space?. it suited me so perfectly. i wouldn't have wanted to live anywhere else, even if i'd had the choice.
i worked to make it my home, to share the comfortable feeling it gave me with others who came to visit. art filled the walls, music and incense shared the air. i was once told by a friend that he hadn't been in a place so welcoming and relaxing in a long time. that was exactly what i was going for.
memories of good times here are plentiful. movie nights where every space was filled with people and conversation. sunday morning jam sessions with coffee and open, breezy windows. spontaneous waltzes in the kitchen. cold nights snuggled under the kotatsu's electric glow. throwing mikans out the window onto the empty highway late at night. they are particular to this place, to this time in my life.
each summer when it was time for other JETs to move out of their homes, they came to stay with me. last summer i put up a sign that said "Welcome to Hotel Mellen - We're happy to have you". i never took it down. it's on my door and will be until the day i leave. the day i need someone to share the same hospitality with me as i am displaced from my home.
this apartment truly is home to me, just as much as my family's house in america is. maybe even more so, as it has been mine alone to create.
and leaving my home is very, very hard. i will miss it dearly.
aside from the home i grew up in, this is the place i have lived the longest. it's also the only space that i've had that's totally and completely mine.
i've loved this place from day one. the smell of the warm tatami, the sliding paper doors, the western-facing windows looking over the town...these were part of it's natural beauty. The sloping wall in the living room, the weird little hallways that were there for no reason, the cork-covered kitchen walls, the balcony you had to go through the shower to find...how could i not fall for such a cozy, kooky space?. it suited me so perfectly. i wouldn't have wanted to live anywhere else, even if i'd had the choice.
i worked to make it my home, to share the comfortable feeling it gave me with others who came to visit. art filled the walls, music and incense shared the air. i was once told by a friend that he hadn't been in a place so welcoming and relaxing in a long time. that was exactly what i was going for.
memories of good times here are plentiful. movie nights where every space was filled with people and conversation. sunday morning jam sessions with coffee and open, breezy windows. spontaneous waltzes in the kitchen. cold nights snuggled under the kotatsu's electric glow. throwing mikans out the window onto the empty highway late at night. they are particular to this place, to this time in my life.
each summer when it was time for other JETs to move out of their homes, they came to stay with me. last summer i put up a sign that said "Welcome to Hotel Mellen - We're happy to have you". i never took it down. it's on my door and will be until the day i leave. the day i need someone to share the same hospitality with me as i am displaced from my home.
this apartment truly is home to me, just as much as my family's house in america is. maybe even more so, as it has been mine alone to create.
and leaving my home is very, very hard. i will miss it dearly.
Monday, July 20, 2009
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Little things I will miss...(one of surely more to come)
I will miss...
七夕、or Tanabata, the Star Festival. Kids write their wishes for the year on strips of paper and tie them bamboo trees around the school. It's cute and pretty at the same time.
the perfect western view I get of the setting sun over the mountains in my apartment.
salmon eggs, eel, and fermented soy beans in my regular diet. Foods I'd never thought I'd love but now can't get enough of.
my yoga class. I don't know if I'll ever find a class that suits me better than Hideyo's.
the smell of tatami in the summer.
Japanese trains. Even the slow local ones.
being called "メリー先生”
七夕、or Tanabata, the Star Festival. Kids write their wishes for the year on strips of paper and tie them bamboo trees around the school. It's cute and pretty at the same time.
the perfect western view I get of the setting sun over the mountains in my apartment.
salmon eggs, eel, and fermented soy beans in my regular diet. Foods I'd never thought I'd love but now can't get enough of.
my yoga class. I don't know if I'll ever find a class that suits me better than Hideyo's.
the smell of tatami in the summer.
Japanese trains. Even the slow local ones.
being called "メリー先生”
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