Month One

On the southern coast of the northernmost large island of Japan, a little town of concrete and fields sits by the sea. Waves occasionally splash over the coastal road, and in winter the hills behind the town hover like guardian ghosts. This is Hokuto-shi, the merged “city” (more like a town) of two former towns (more like villages), Kamiiso and Ohno. Kamiiso is the concrete, Ohno the fields. This is my new home.

Though I’d known since April that I would be moving to Japan at the end of July, and had had the possibility on my mind since last November, when I applied to work as an Assistant Language Teacher with the Japan Exchange and Teaching Program, I was too preoccupied with scrambling up faux rock walls in Nashville and jetting around the U.S. to reestablish lost-but-not-forgotten friendships to give much thought to this transition before it actually happened.

And then one day I found myself boarding a 747 in Chicago and disembarking in Tokyo.

Hmm.

Eight months in the U.S. since the end of my previous adventure (two years and eight months in West Africa) temporarily reacclimatized me to comfort and convenience, having everything I could want and more at my fingertips, and to the joy of clear and simple communication. For eight months I could talk to whomever I wanted with great ease; I could read and understand every sign, notification, description, newspaper, magazine, form to fill out—anything and everything written; I could, more or less, take care of life on my own; I had not only enough food to eat every day, it was delicious and nutritious as well; I took hot showers when it was cold outside and slept in air-conditioning when it was hot; and I felt like I had a good deal of control over the shape of my existence. Thanks to a number of kind souls who extended amazing generosity and kindness to me, and to many wonderful people who shared their friendship with me, and thanks to America and all that it offers, I lived in relative bliss.

Too bad I couldn’t just leave it that way.

Tragically, from the perspective of some, I seem to be addicted to adventures abroad. Perhaps it’s the simple delight that I take in noticeable accomplishments, one day being surrounded by what seems to be meaningless gibberish, the next day being able to separate it into words and phrases, and the next to spit out some of that gibberish (which is suddenly meaningful and not so gibberishy) myself. Perhaps it’s the feeling of excitement and discovery I get when I go for a walk down a street I’ve never been on before, with shops selling things I’ve never seen before, and restaurants offering food I’ve never eaten before. Perhaps it’s the opportunity to hop around the globe, always to be based in a new location with a whole new set of countries to explore. Perhaps it’s the deeper fascination I have with examining different ways of living and thinking, observing how and asking why people do things the way they do. Or perhaps it’s a little bit of all of the above.

Whatever it is, it’s taken me from Austria in 2001, to Switzerland, France, Spain and beyond in 2003, to West Africa in 2004, and now to Japan in 2007. I won’t be surprised if it takes me farther.

There’s more than just a personal dimension to this vague “it”, though—it’s not only all about me. As I was reminded regularly in Peace Corps, it is my responsibility (and naturally also my desire) to share these unique experiences and what I learn from them with others. Looking forward to the coming year in Japan, and reflecting on what my first month here has already brought to me, I am eager for you, my friends and family around the world, to participate in this adventure.