Weirdness

I feel like so much has happened to me in the past 48 hours -- both good and bad -- I don't even know where to start. For now I'll try the easy stuff and see where this goes.

GOOD
I went to Tokyo with Mayumi and Jun. It was a whirlwind trip. I saw some great sights, bought some new clothes, ate at a great sushi place, and learned some more Japanese.

I was reminded a couple times why Mayumi is such an awesome friend, and why Jun can be such a nice guy.

I tried uni, raw sea urchin ovary. I mustered the guts a lot sooner than I expected. Uni is small, yellow-brown, mushy like firm hummus, and tastes absolutely gross. A pasty, chemical + grossly-biological taste. I'll stick with my raw tuna and seaweed, thanks.

I pushed through some barriers on purpose and had a very interesting discussion on love (and expressions of love) with Mayumi and Jun. Hopefully more on this later.

I ate some authentic-tasting Italian food.

I got an amazing email about the Duke game. I won't spoil it for those of you who may have taped the game without watching it yet.

Mt. Fuji is covered in snow, and all day you can see the wind whisping the flakes into a crowning cloud.

BAD
I tried to keep up the self-sufficient thing, and decided against asking Mayumi for help getting a kerosene refill. (She's my friend, but she still has her own life. It's not her job to cart me around just because I don't have a car. I thought I should do it on my own. Besides, I thought I was being Japanese, by thinking of the "group" and not inconveniencing anyone else.) So, I made it to the gas station in the freezing cold, asked for the correct fuel in Japanese, and dragged that darn thing back to the bus stop. I had to stop every 10 steps to switch hands. The container was HEAVY, and the handle was too small to use 2 hands at once.

The first bus came, and let people off, but for some mysterious reason didn't let me on. I thought the bus driver didn't see me, because it was pitch-black, even though it was only 5pm. I was disappointed but resigned myself to waiting, 20 minutes in 40-degree weather, for the next bus. I had put on extra clothes in preparation for this trip. But there was no way I was making the 30-minute walk home with 50 pounds of kerosene bumping against my thighs. I waited and waited, blew my runny nose, and waited some more. The next bus came, and let people off, but again totally ignored me and did not open the door for me to get on. I was stunned and this time, heartbroken. (Keep in mind I was already having an usually rough day.) Why did he not let me on the bus? Was it the huge jug of kerosene? I had considered this before I left my apartment -- maybe kerosene on a public bus was a safety hazard. But the bus took me TO the gas station, with the jug in full sight. So why wouldn't it take me BACK? Why didn't they even try to speak to me? This was the last frustrating straw in a very emotional day. I wanted to cry. And in fact, I sat on my damn kerosene, in the cold, in the dark, by the side of the rode, and I did just that. I held my head in my hands until the metal in my earrings began to freeze and hurt my earlobes. A few minutes later I stood up, dragged that jug of kerosene down to my school (where I knew Mayumi would still be), and asked for a ride home.

I felt ashamed. But as Mayumi lifted the jug into her car, she squealed, "Are you crazy? Why didn't you ask me for help?" Then I burst into a big story about how I didn't want her to feel used, I wanted to do it myself, and not bother her or depend on her. She was my friend, not my chauffeur. She looked at me and said, "Lauren, sometimes I think you are actually Japanese. But in this case, you don't understand. No one can live a life alone. You don't have a car. So don't be stupid - just ask me for a ride!" I bit my lip but I promised her that next time, I would.

After that Mayumi and I sat in her parked car and talked for a long time. I needed to have that conversation. Lately I've just felt like the shit has begun to hit the fan, if it's possible for that to happen in waves. The whole attempt to assimilate in another country has taken me farther than I expected, faster than I expected. Some of the results are amazing, beautiful, and powerfully transforming. But others are not so pretty. When you enter the JET Program, if you take it seriously, you are signing on to accept an explosion of your social circles. People who never care to keep in touch with friends wouldn't have this problem. But I want to make sure all the people I love really know that I love them. So one leg is running in Japan, so smoothly it scares me. One leg is planted at home in water. By home I mean all the family, friends, and experiences I had before Japan. I say water because you know it's there and it's necessary for life. But water is also something that moves, changes, and takes the shape of its container, yet is impossible to pin down. It's really hard to run with one foot down a new path that you love more and more, and stand in water with the other. However, it should still be possible -- right? Because you have two feet!

But you're forgetting about the JET Program and that third leg you sprouted when you met all the other ALTs! Americans and British and Irish and Australians and Scottish people that, like you, are foreigners in Japan. You think you're in the same boat, and that you should all bond over common struggles in Japan. And you want to maintain good relations, because you think you're supposed to be friends with other people "like you" on the JET Program. The problem is, everyone assimilates at various speeds, to different capacities. Some people hate Japan, or dislike it at least, and you don't want to be around negativity when you're happy. Some people like Japan okay, and don't want to complain, but are clearly uncomfortable with the differences in your experiences. Others just don't care and it's like they never left home. But all of them, somehow (except for 1 or 2), make you feel more out of place than if you were just hanging around with your Japanese friends. And then you feel like a poser, or a traitor or something, for "forgetting your roots," or leaving behind what you know, or becoming too Japanese, or being naive because you're still "in the honeymoon stage."

And the weirdest part of all is when you realize your values are changing, and it begins to affect your everyday life. You gauge your interactions with Japanese by Japanese standards. And then you start to adopt their values, or realize their values match your own, and you can really flesh out your own way of doing things by being in a new culture. But you forget that you are changing! You think it's just you all along! (Maybe it was, and America socialized you into acting a different way!) So when you interact with other ALTs, or people from home, you start gauging your experiences with them by Japanese standards. And then you get so confused, and feel like you're being pulled in so many directions, and wondering what is best for you without rejecting too many things from Japan or too many things from your previous life that the next thing you know, you're sitting on kerosene and crying because the bus driver didn't even try to speak to you in Japanese. And you think, if he had just said, "No toyu on the bus," in any language, you would have understood.