This is the end
I write to you from an Airplane somewhere over China, 9 hours away from London. I somewhat apologise if this blog is more livejournally - read 'angsty' - than the usual. To borrow a word from current political discourse, I hope to use it as something of a catharsis (http://news.google.co.uk/news?q=catharsis&ie=UTF-8&oe=utf-8&rls=org.mozilla:en-GB:official&client=firefox-a&um=1&sa=N&tab=wn)
I'm kind of lying in the presentation of this, I wrote the sadder stuff first - I had to, but there's also sorts of goodness to fill you in about as well.
First of all I'd like to say a shout out to my "home boys" and "home girl" Chris, Marc and Angela, one of whom complained they were not getting enough "props".
My friend Will - or 'Wirru-chan' to those who know him intimately - has been in Japan seeing family. I'd already met up with a London friend in Tokyo but it was quite different, and lots of fun, with haafu - half Japanese/half English - Will. In the early days of the trip I was very fearless, throwing myself into any situation in which I could meet people and hoping for, and usually receiving, the best. In Tokyo, the influence of family, school, settlement, and perhaps most importantly, a steady internet connection, rather dulled this sense of solo adventure. As such it was nice reliably having someone to hang out with, who can not only speak Japanese and make for great conversation about Japan and all, but it otherwise a top guy. Tokyo has a bar scene which London can not really compare to, not because Tokyo bars are that much cooler - though on average they are a bit - but because they're tiny, cheap, intimate and numerous. There's something really liberation about strolling around Shimokitazawa at whatever time in the evening/morning with a friend you know from halfway around the world. Perhaps the best bit of luck was when we had a conversation online a bit like this:
"Where'd should we go?"
"hmmm, I hear Koenji's quite cool"
"It's a bit far no?"
"I think it's only a few stops from Shinjuku, but like, we could go somewhere else"
"nah, lets try it".
Obviously such careful planning leads you to go to an area known for bars and vintage clothes the one night of the year where there's a massive festival:
What walks on four legs, then 2 legs, then three legs? A human - a baby crawling, and adult walking, a senior with a stick. Here's another one: what can afford taxi rides, but not the subway, fancy meals at posh department stores but not a curry, a burger or a bowl of noodles? An idiot who locks his credit card for use in ATMs but can still sign with it. See below.
One of the changes I noticed in my perception of Japan is in terms of sense of scale. The last few times I went to Japan I was always struck by there shear hugeness of the metropolises. London is a huge city, but it's old, pretty and low rise. As a Londoner I had always laughed at the provincial folk who talked in awe about how big and busy it all is. Tokyo, with 30 million people, sprawling in all directions, with skyscrapers galore, streets lined with neon and a concrete greyness always seemed infinitely more impersonal, more imposing, a futuristic metropolis where one was tiny and anonymous. This is why I had always enjoyed the tucked away spaces that dot the city and let one feel cosy and secure within this all. Having spent a month in Tokyo, and two months in Japan however, having essentially made it my home for a time, it has lost what made it intimidating, lost what made it unknowable. Tokyo is now a city I'm on close terms with. I wonder if anywhere will ever feel big again.
Packing up to leave a place is always pretty hectic. Moreso if you've got a lot of stuff which can not fit in your bag and needs to be sent home in a big box but must be done before 5 PM when the Post Office shuts. Moreso when you didn't quite realise how the checking out system at your apartment works. Moreso when to leave your apartment, you must pack, recycle mounds of rubbish, hoover up, clean, dry and fold your sheets, you had planned to leave your apartment on the 28th, your flight is at 12PM on the 28th so you must be at the airport for 9, the earliest the apartment people can check that you have cleaned you room is 10. I had to leave my apartment a day earlier than I expected so rather than sleep I spent one final night out drinking with friends. I feel. Like. Death.
My room - looking cleaner than it ever ever was - and ends:
Misc pics:
Serious things ahead, proceed at your own discretion.
It's been weird. When you go somewhere for two months, when you've only got a couple of weeks left you start bracing yourself for leaving, and you mindset changes to more short term matters. This is kind of silly, because two weeks is the length of an average longish holiday and there are infinite experiences to be had in that time. So the last two weeks I've been all set to go while meeting new friends, hanging out with old ones, stumbling across a festival etc etc. I posed it to myself that 2 weeks in a mindset of "I'm leaving soon" would leave me with little emotion left over by the time I actually had to leave. I was wrong.
Interrupted by a few days of slight panic running around after I stupidly/tipsily entered my pin-number wrong three times and lost my access to any cash in a country which still distrusts cards - saved by my fathers wonderful wonderful lovely friend - the weight of leaving Japan had been growing very rapidly. These last two days I've been one nostalgic thought away from tears, and have had to excuse myself to public toilets when I crossed that point more times than is wise to admit on a public blog. It's been really /really/ sad.
It's not that I don't want to return to London. Indeed, that thought's been a great source of comfort. I really miss my friends and family. I really miss London. I miss... not English food, but food as it is in England. I miss pretty old buildings and parks. I'm really looking forward to going to university - having beyond all expectations got into my first choice - meeting new people, learning new things - it'd be too depressing to think what this would be like if I were returning to another year of A levels. I am not destined to live in Japan forever, London is my home, and it always will be. No, returning to London is the antidote to just how bad it feels to be leaving Japan.
I've already been through everything I'll miss about Japan in my last post, I'll just add that it's all making a kind of karmic sense now. The word has lost impact due to over and misuse but it fits here - I /literally/ could not have expected the trip to be this good. To be honest, my expectations were pretty limitless: it was me going to Japan for two months by myself, how could it not be amazing? But somehow these expectations were exceeded. Everything that could have gone right did - and then some - and what when wrong is a trifle. I won't use the tacky gap-year phrase "life changing" but it was life affirming. In ways I can't really express, not showy and big, but subtle and profound, my image of myself within the world, humanity at large has been altered for the better. In a million and one fluky situations where I've made one stupid mistake the result has been a wonderful experience, a friendship. Do I believe in fate? I certainly now have a lot of evidence in it's favour. It's been irreplaceable and unforgettable. And for all this, what can I expect but that leaving it all would be one of the hardest things I've felt in many years? In one of the first posts, I think I talked about "happiness", like, happiness of the gut, as a rare feeling that even very contented people, and I am very content, only feel at those special times. I could intellectualise it (my God, this post is obscenely self referential, I'm sorry) as anti-climax, loneliness, longing or whatever, but really it's just the counterpoint to that happiness - being sad.
Sitting here on my way back home, that feeling is far more blunted than before - it's all too easy to get nostalgic when everywhere you go has some nice memory attached to it, and with every action, with every friend you see, you think "this is the last time" - or worst of all, that one good friend you weren't able to see that one last time - so who knows how sad I'll feel once at home surrounded by all the great people in my life. But I hope this post was bearable, and I want to thank anyone who read this blog, your comments have been so, so appreciated, and more than that your presence has all been felt. If I know and like you I have spent time thinking about you. I have seen novelty Japanese trinkets and thought "that's well up your ally", I have sat down for a coffee and wished you were there and I have really enjoyed sharing my experiences with you as best as I can. It's been silly, it's been fun, it's been beautiful and moving. Like every year it's simply confirmed that yes studying Japanese is a good idea and got me "chomping at the bit" to come back. To my hoards of adoring fans - domou arigatou gozaimasu - thanks so much, and to Japan -itsumorashii tottemo tanoshikatta, mattane - like always it's been a laugh, see you soon.
xxx
I'm kind of lying in the presentation of this, I wrote the sadder stuff first - I had to, but there's also sorts of goodness to fill you in about as well.
First of all I'd like to say a shout out to my "home boys" and "home girl" Chris, Marc and Angela, one of whom complained they were not getting enough "props".
My friend Will - or 'Wirru-chan' to those who know him intimately - has been in Japan seeing family. I'd already met up with a London friend in Tokyo but it was quite different, and lots of fun, with haafu - half Japanese/half English - Will. In the early days of the trip I was very fearless, throwing myself into any situation in which I could meet people and hoping for, and usually receiving, the best. In Tokyo, the influence of family, school, settlement, and perhaps most importantly, a steady internet connection, rather dulled this sense of solo adventure. As such it was nice reliably having someone to hang out with, who can not only speak Japanese and make for great conversation about Japan and all, but it otherwise a top guy. Tokyo has a bar scene which London can not really compare to, not because Tokyo bars are that much cooler - though on average they are a bit - but because they're tiny, cheap, intimate and numerous. There's something really liberation about strolling around Shimokitazawa at whatever time in the evening/morning with a friend you know from halfway around the world. Perhaps the best bit of luck was when we had a conversation online a bit like this:
"Where'd should we go?"
"hmmm, I hear Koenji's quite cool"
"It's a bit far no?"
"I think it's only a few stops from Shinjuku, but like, we could go somewhere else"
"nah, lets try it".
Obviously such careful planning leads you to go to an area known for bars and vintage clothes the one night of the year where there's a massive festival:
What walks on four legs, then 2 legs, then three legs? A human - a baby crawling, and adult walking, a senior with a stick. Here's another one: what can afford taxi rides, but not the subway, fancy meals at posh department stores but not a curry, a burger or a bowl of noodles? An idiot who locks his credit card for use in ATMs but can still sign with it. See below.
One of the changes I noticed in my perception of Japan is in terms of sense of scale. The last few times I went to Japan I was always struck by there shear hugeness of the metropolises. London is a huge city, but it's old, pretty and low rise. As a Londoner I had always laughed at the provincial folk who talked in awe about how big and busy it all is. Tokyo, with 30 million people, sprawling in all directions, with skyscrapers galore, streets lined with neon and a concrete greyness always seemed infinitely more impersonal, more imposing, a futuristic metropolis where one was tiny and anonymous. This is why I had always enjoyed the tucked away spaces that dot the city and let one feel cosy and secure within this all. Having spent a month in Tokyo, and two months in Japan however, having essentially made it my home for a time, it has lost what made it intimidating, lost what made it unknowable. Tokyo is now a city I'm on close terms with. I wonder if anywhere will ever feel big again.
Packing up to leave a place is always pretty hectic. Moreso if you've got a lot of stuff which can not fit in your bag and needs to be sent home in a big box but must be done before 5 PM when the Post Office shuts. Moreso when you didn't quite realise how the checking out system at your apartment works. Moreso when to leave your apartment, you must pack, recycle mounds of rubbish, hoover up, clean, dry and fold your sheets, you had planned to leave your apartment on the 28th, your flight is at 12PM on the 28th so you must be at the airport for 9, the earliest the apartment people can check that you have cleaned you room is 10. I had to leave my apartment a day earlier than I expected so rather than sleep I spent one final night out drinking with friends. I feel. Like. Death.
My room - looking cleaner than it ever ever was - and ends:
Misc pics:
Serious things ahead, proceed at your own discretion.
It's been weird. When you go somewhere for two months, when you've only got a couple of weeks left you start bracing yourself for leaving, and you mindset changes to more short term matters. This is kind of silly, because two weeks is the length of an average longish holiday and there are infinite experiences to be had in that time. So the last two weeks I've been all set to go while meeting new friends, hanging out with old ones, stumbling across a festival etc etc. I posed it to myself that 2 weeks in a mindset of "I'm leaving soon" would leave me with little emotion left over by the time I actually had to leave. I was wrong.
Interrupted by a few days of slight panic running around after I stupidly/tipsily entered my pin-number wrong three times and lost my access to any cash in a country which still distrusts cards - saved by my fathers wonderful wonderful lovely friend - the weight of leaving Japan had been growing very rapidly. These last two days I've been one nostalgic thought away from tears, and have had to excuse myself to public toilets when I crossed that point more times than is wise to admit on a public blog. It's been really /really/ sad.
It's not that I don't want to return to London. Indeed, that thought's been a great source of comfort. I really miss my friends and family. I really miss London. I miss... not English food, but food as it is in England. I miss pretty old buildings and parks. I'm really looking forward to going to university - having beyond all expectations got into my first choice - meeting new people, learning new things - it'd be too depressing to think what this would be like if I were returning to another year of A levels. I am not destined to live in Japan forever, London is my home, and it always will be. No, returning to London is the antidote to just how bad it feels to be leaving Japan.
I've already been through everything I'll miss about Japan in my last post, I'll just add that it's all making a kind of karmic sense now. The word has lost impact due to over and misuse but it fits here - I /literally/ could not have expected the trip to be this good. To be honest, my expectations were pretty limitless: it was me going to Japan for two months by myself, how could it not be amazing? But somehow these expectations were exceeded. Everything that could have gone right did - and then some - and what when wrong is a trifle. I won't use the tacky gap-year phrase "life changing" but it was life affirming. In ways I can't really express, not showy and big, but subtle and profound, my image of myself within the world, humanity at large has been altered for the better. In a million and one fluky situations where I've made one stupid mistake the result has been a wonderful experience, a friendship. Do I believe in fate? I certainly now have a lot of evidence in it's favour. It's been irreplaceable and unforgettable. And for all this, what can I expect but that leaving it all would be one of the hardest things I've felt in many years? In one of the first posts, I think I talked about "happiness", like, happiness of the gut, as a rare feeling that even very contented people, and I am very content, only feel at those special times. I could intellectualise it (my God, this post is obscenely self referential, I'm sorry) as anti-climax, loneliness, longing or whatever, but really it's just the counterpoint to that happiness - being sad.
Sitting here on my way back home, that feeling is far more blunted than before - it's all too easy to get nostalgic when everywhere you go has some nice memory attached to it, and with every action, with every friend you see, you think "this is the last time" - or worst of all, that one good friend you weren't able to see that one last time - so who knows how sad I'll feel once at home surrounded by all the great people in my life. But I hope this post was bearable, and I want to thank anyone who read this blog, your comments have been so, so appreciated, and more than that your presence has all been felt. If I know and like you I have spent time thinking about you. I have seen novelty Japanese trinkets and thought "that's well up your ally", I have sat down for a coffee and wished you were there and I have really enjoyed sharing my experiences with you as best as I can. It's been silly, it's been fun, it's been beautiful and moving. Like every year it's simply confirmed that yes studying Japanese is a good idea and got me "chomping at the bit" to come back. To my hoards of adoring fans - domou arigatou gozaimasu - thanks so much, and to Japan -itsumorashii tottemo tanoshikatta, mattane - like always it's been a laugh, see you soon.
xxx
posted by Domuseswords at
03:04
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