From the moment I returned to Japan from my winter trip home to the states, I pretty much hit the ground running. I had to work two weekends in a row, co-led a workshop for the annual Miyazaki JET Skills Development Conference, and spent the dreaded inauguration weekend answering questions and playing American-themed games at a the local “World Festa” event, where I was meant to engage families in internationalization. If I had 100yen (roughly a dollar) for every old man who came up and made a joke about Trump over the course of those 5 hours, I’d be able to buy enough alcohol to make the whole thing slightly more bearable. But alas… In a small act of defiance, I wore my “The Future is Female” shirt, and all Americans in charge of decorating our booth refused to use any pictures of the Cheetoh in Chief. All complaining aside, I did manage to have a few thoughtful conversations about the state of the US, and overwhelmingly the Japanese people I spoke with were concerned about the relationship between our countries. It was a long, interesting day.
Last month I signed the papers that will officially end my time in Japan. I didn’t make any pro-con lists, and I didn’t really consult anyone about the decision. This was something I knew in my gut was right, and have known for some time.
I still love being in Japan, though I’m the first to admit that living here sometimes drives me up a wall. For all of the awkward misunderstandings, cravings for food I can’t find, and impatience in the face of extreme rule-following, this experience has been more than I ever could have wanted, and nothing like I expected. Continue reading