So, I am getting ready to come home to America. Wow, I can hardly believe it has been nearly 10 months! Here is what is going on in my brain about returning....
I have changed.
I had this epiphany when I returned from my trip in Tokyo (remind me to tell you about Tokyo - yikes!) I realized that I have been trying so hard to not let anything change between me and my friends in the states, or me and my family, for fear of what would happen when I returned. But it's too late and nothing I can control. I have changed and when I come home, everything will be the same.
Well, for the most part. I know what Portland looks like and where most things are. I know what my family is like and what they are doing and how they do it and where I fit in. I know what people are thinking (for the most part, societally at best). And though it will be exciting and thrilling to be apart of that same machine again, it will be the same machine I have always known.
Believe me, I'm READY to come home. But a part of me lives here now. I have put some roots down in Japan and it will be hard to say goodbye. Goodbye to not knowing what others are really saying, goodbye to not knowing what I'm really eating (and definitely not knowing how to say what it is). Goodbye to being the only white person on the train. Goodbye to everyone staring at me. Goodbye to never knowing what the weather will be like, if it will go from a balmy 70 degrees to a rainy wind storm for 5 minutes (okay so that sounds a little bit like Portland, but its different because it's Japan). Goodbye to school lunches and looking around before eating to see HOW to eat my lunch. Goodbye to my group of ALT buddies who have all asked the same questions, "WTF" and "OMG". And I'll miss it all.
I have 2 more months to enjoy it and you better believe I relish everyday and the daily routine of naivety and ignorance that comes with it. I have a touch rugby tournament at the end of the month (We are 'Fistful of Funazushi' watch out). I have a Cowboys and Indian Theme party at my house June 13th...wait for the photos. And in July I have the Kyoto Matsuri, where I get to wear my Yukata (a thin kimono type wrap) and drink in the closed off streets of Sanjo...AND a trip to Okinawa! And BAM, just like that I'll be on a flight home.
I can't wait to see everyone again, especially my little nephews who ask if I can come home that weekend, every time I talk to them. But until then, stay tuned and keep checking out my pics on facebook....I'll try to post some on here when I get home. (I usually do all my posts on the computer at school, so I don't have any photos...) Sorry.
Wait for it...
Sunday, May 17, 2009
Falling sleep at Grandma's.
Last night I couldn't sleep. I couldn't figure out why, it may have had something to do with the frogs thriving in every rice field for miles or the fact I just sat on my "couch" and watched Sex and the City all day. Either way, I didn't want my coworkers telling me I looked tired for the third day in a row so I was in bed by 10:38, eyes closed.
I began to slow my breathing and on every exhale I would think, relax. This works, I'm told. So about 10 relaxes later I started to count down from 10. This started working until I realized I was concentrating too much and then my mind went into a flurry of other thoughts. 'Reel em in, Kyla,' is what I told myself and started to count backwards from 10 again, determined to fall into a deep, restful, no puffy eyes tomorrow, sleep. I remembered the tapes my mom used to put in for my sisters and I that would talk us into sleep. (I need to find those tapes.) A man would talk to us about relaxing and being on a cloud and all that. And it worked every time. So I tried to imagine his voice and then thought, since I am so far away I would channel some family member's voice. Of course, I thought of my Grandma Alice. But, when I "pushed the play button" the tape stopped. I had to recollect my memories of her voice. I was jarred to say the least and I heaved the memory of her voice back into my brain with all my strength and finally after flipping through afternoons at her house in her kitchen, her voice returned and so did she.
She said to me, "So you want me to count down from 10 huh?" With all her sass. "Yes please." "Alright, but you better fall asleep I'm only going to do it once." She told me. "Alright," I smiled. Her voice was soothing though her tone was impatient. She would never let on that she was actually enjoying herself. When she got to 5, as before, my mind started to drift into other memories, but her voice caught me when she said, "listen, I'm not going to count if you're not going to pay attention. Now close your eyes and listen."
I realize that all her words were my words in my mind. But it was her voice that played and I was happy to be in its presence. Soon she got to 1 and of course I wasn't asleep. But she didn't mind. She said she'd count one more time, but this time was it. And as she counted me to sleep I remembered all the nights I would run over to her house, mad at my mother, or just worried that my Grandma was lonely, and curl up under the covers in her King size bed to sleep. She would be awake until 2:00 or 3:00 reading her love stories anyway. I would say hello and that I was sleeping there and that was it. She would keep on reading. Sometimes she would extend her arm to rub my back for a second. Sometimes I would extend my arms and tuck it under her hip just so I could be touching her. "You're alright kid." she would say without looking away from her book. I remembered in the morning, rubbing 'the blue stuff' on her back and shoulders, her skin soft over her robust body.
She was the best woman I've ever met. Her tone was her trademark. She was always ready to help but she would never suggest it was her pleasure to serve. She would visit an elderly woman who lived alone down the street and buy the eggs the woman was selling there to help her out. Eventually she would run errands for the woman, bringing her groceries, picking up prescriptions. My Grandma enjoyed the simple things like feeding "her" birds and the other animals who lived around her property. And she was always stylish when making public appearances. Her hair was did and her large, extravagant cars would sail down the highways. Nothing but the best for her. She believed in hard work and family.
In Japan, they honor their relatives who have past away on a regular basis. They celebrate the anniversary of their deaths together as a family and pray in front of an alter to them, some daily. We drink Margaritas for Grandma Alice on her birthday, but it has been too long since we've all been able to get together and remember her. The last time my Mom and sisters did this was the first year after her death. It has been almost 4 years now. Wow. But last night we visited. And eventually after dilly dallying through memories and holding her voice at the forefront my mind through conversations with my grandma, I fell asleep, and she was there.
I began to slow my breathing and on every exhale I would think, relax. This works, I'm told. So about 10 relaxes later I started to count down from 10. This started working until I realized I was concentrating too much and then my mind went into a flurry of other thoughts. 'Reel em in, Kyla,' is what I told myself and started to count backwards from 10 again, determined to fall into a deep, restful, no puffy eyes tomorrow, sleep. I remembered the tapes my mom used to put in for my sisters and I that would talk us into sleep. (I need to find those tapes.) A man would talk to us about relaxing and being on a cloud and all that. And it worked every time. So I tried to imagine his voice and then thought, since I am so far away I would channel some family member's voice. Of course, I thought of my Grandma Alice. But, when I "pushed the play button" the tape stopped. I had to recollect my memories of her voice. I was jarred to say the least and I heaved the memory of her voice back into my brain with all my strength and finally after flipping through afternoons at her house in her kitchen, her voice returned and so did she.
She said to me, "So you want me to count down from 10 huh?" With all her sass. "Yes please." "Alright, but you better fall asleep I'm only going to do it once." She told me. "Alright," I smiled. Her voice was soothing though her tone was impatient. She would never let on that she was actually enjoying herself. When she got to 5, as before, my mind started to drift into other memories, but her voice caught me when she said, "listen, I'm not going to count if you're not going to pay attention. Now close your eyes and listen."
I realize that all her words were my words in my mind. But it was her voice that played and I was happy to be in its presence. Soon she got to 1 and of course I wasn't asleep. But she didn't mind. She said she'd count one more time, but this time was it. And as she counted me to sleep I remembered all the nights I would run over to her house, mad at my mother, or just worried that my Grandma was lonely, and curl up under the covers in her King size bed to sleep. She would be awake until 2:00 or 3:00 reading her love stories anyway. I would say hello and that I was sleeping there and that was it. She would keep on reading. Sometimes she would extend her arm to rub my back for a second. Sometimes I would extend my arms and tuck it under her hip just so I could be touching her. "You're alright kid." she would say without looking away from her book. I remembered in the morning, rubbing 'the blue stuff' on her back and shoulders, her skin soft over her robust body.
She was the best woman I've ever met. Her tone was her trademark. She was always ready to help but she would never suggest it was her pleasure to serve. She would visit an elderly woman who lived alone down the street and buy the eggs the woman was selling there to help her out. Eventually she would run errands for the woman, bringing her groceries, picking up prescriptions. My Grandma enjoyed the simple things like feeding "her" birds and the other animals who lived around her property. And she was always stylish when making public appearances. Her hair was did and her large, extravagant cars would sail down the highways. Nothing but the best for her. She believed in hard work and family.
In Japan, they honor their relatives who have past away on a regular basis. They celebrate the anniversary of their deaths together as a family and pray in front of an alter to them, some daily. We drink Margaritas for Grandma Alice on her birthday, but it has been too long since we've all been able to get together and remember her. The last time my Mom and sisters did this was the first year after her death. It has been almost 4 years now. Wow. But last night we visited. And eventually after dilly dallying through memories and holding her voice at the forefront my mind through conversations with my grandma, I fell asleep, and she was there.
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
Cultural reflections
At Satoko's Bamboo shoots party, I was there with a gaggle of people from all different cultures. Of course there were Japanese people, there were also people from Brazil and there were people from America too. Some Japanese people could speak English, some Portuguese people could speak Japanese, some Americans could speak Japanese and some Americans (such as myself) could speak English. Being able to speak another language opens up so many doors into new ways of thinking. During this cultural schmorgues board it was explained to me that in Japan they prefer people to have long legs and short bodies. However, in Brazil, their desired look is short legs and long bodies. These are rare among their own ethnic backgrounds. The man who was telling me this said, these are the reasons why he was perfect for his wife, she is Brazilian - and he is Japanese (short legs and a long body!)
I started thinking today about these cultural interests and how they transcend into other cultural aesthetics. Buildings, furniture, art, city planning, all of these tastes are reflected. I see how South American design is long shapes and with soft textiles - almost as if their furniture were the long torsos that appeal to them. And Japanese design is asymetrical and sleek using more natural fibers and recycled materials that could represent their taste for length, endurance, movement as they prefer in their physical appearance. As I have said before, culture is a machine that functions when using all its parts - personal aesthetic included.
So how does America fit into this? We like what? Long legs, long bodies, big butts, big chests, strong, healthy, tone? Can you see how our personal aesthetics transcend into our architecture and material culture?
I started thinking today about these cultural interests and how they transcend into other cultural aesthetics. Buildings, furniture, art, city planning, all of these tastes are reflected. I see how South American design is long shapes and with soft textiles - almost as if their furniture were the long torsos that appeal to them. And Japanese design is asymetrical and sleek using more natural fibers and recycled materials that could represent their taste for length, endurance, movement as they prefer in their physical appearance. As I have said before, culture is a machine that functions when using all its parts - personal aesthetic included.
So how does America fit into this? We like what? Long legs, long bodies, big butts, big chests, strong, healthy, tone? Can you see how our personal aesthetics transcend into our architecture and material culture?
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