I am Urashima-taro

Just as I expected, I feel like a foriegner in my own country.

It's been only two weeks since I've left Canada to start my new life in Tokyo. I saw my mum for the first time in three years, I am working with my former teachers with whom I am now on a first-name basis, I've gone out to at least 3 parties where booze never ran out but the food always did and everyone was dancing by the end of the night at the principal's house (not to mention 3 parties in two weeks for Sohko is a huge anomaly and ground-breaking event). My Japanese is slowly but surely coming back, and I can now create full sentences without blatant grammatical errors. I'm still looking for some place to do yoga, and speaking of which, I've already bought a pair of shorts from Lululemon Japan. The food here is glorious, just like I imagined it to be, and the heat unbearable, at least for these first few weeks. Soon, autumn will hit and the food will only get better.

Amidst all this transition and re-adaptation to Japan, I am everything but adjusted and comfortable. Reverse culture-shock, they say, is harder to deal with than any other usual form of culture-shock. I'm used to how things work here -- the transportation system is the best of its kind in the entire universe, as far as I am concerned -- and know what to expect when I go to Shibuya on a Saturday evening. There are so many things here that I recognize, but that's all it is -- mere recognition. Somehow in these past four years something has changed, and I no longer feel the roots of my own identity, grounded and saturated in the soils of one of the most oddly spectacular countries of the world (if they ever were, that is).

There is a folk tale that is retold to children in this country, which tells the story of a young man by the name of Urashima-taro who saves a turtle stranded on the beach. The turtle in return offers to show its gratitude by taking the man to an underwater paradise. The man complies and spends a grandiose time, until one day he is prompted to return to his home above the sea. He is given a box as a token of gratitude, which he is warned not to open. When he returns home, he is unable to control his temptation and opens the mysterious box, only to realize that by doing so he has reawakened to a vastly changed reality, and that he himself has turned into an old man.

I feel like that man who has spent years abroad and upon returning to his origins he realizes that time has not stopped and the reality he was used to seeing no longer existed in its original form. Some things resemble its older form, but most have undergone an unrecognizable form of change. It's one thing when you can identify what kind of change has occurred, but unfortunately, there is an unsettling discomfort that lingers inside you when you are unable to say exactly what that change was. If you get what I mean.

All in all, however, it has been a good two weeks. The kids are starting to come in and coaching keeps me busy. I hope blogger keeps working on this computer so I can keep the updates going. Also, check out my flickr site (link is located in sidebar), there will be pictures there for you to view.