The Process of Letting Go

These are my last few months living in Japan. A two year journey that was ten years in the making is going to be over soon, so some time to sit back and reflect over the course my life has taken since making this decision is in due order.
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PSSSH YEAH RIGHT! Do you know how much goes into moving?? To another country?!? I'll just say right now that I have no idea how people who aren't as OCD as me about organizing can do it. They either have way less stress than I do about throwing stuff in a bag and hoping for the best when you get there, or get a lot more help than I do.

My to-do list included things like going ways presents for my co-workers and shopkeepers who'd come to know me as a regular. Things to sell, pack, throw away, give away, and donate. Things I could shuck off on my visitors to take home for me (you guys saved me so much in shipping charges and now forever part of my exclusive mule club!), things I could do without until my bf could bring it home to me when he visited, things I needed until the last minute, things I was taking to Europe (more on that later), tax-representative stuff, how to stop all my utilities in a timely manner, returning my rental car, cleaning the apartment for inspection, figuring out how to ship my bunny home (this deserves a post on its own), getting in those last trips to my favorite places, getting in those last trips to places I'd always wanted to go, seeing friends before they left - are you as tired as I am yet?

To further explain that Europe blurb, I knew from the get-go that I would be treating myself to a Europe getaway at the end of my JET contract. I wasn't sure if I was going to backpack over three months or something crazy like that, but as it had happened in the past, my two moms and best friend jumped on board. This meant some serious readjusting of what I had envisioned, but it didn't bother me in the least. This post (coming soon!) details that incredible trip, but needless to say, that kind of adventure isn't one you want to be planning while moving.

Some tips for those departing moving from country to country would be the following (in no particular order) Some of these are more for leaving and some are more for going:

• It's never too early to start planning - make lists, read up on the experiences of others who have come before you (ahem), and plan way ahead.

• Make a list that counts down by weeks so you know what has to be done by that week. This will help you remember the time-sensitive stuff like if you need to order something online or cancel a service before you're charged for the next month, etc. 

• Take advantage of off-season sales for things that you will need on your trip and are difficult to acquire wherever you may be going. 

• Make one-on-one time for everyone in your life weeks before you go so you're not feeling rushed at the end to see everyone in big groups or whenever you can cram them in - trust me, they'll appreciate you thought of them.

• Set up a blog, vlog, instagram, facebook page, etc before you go. Some people document the departure process as well as the arrival one, but some leave it for when they get there and lose some of those first impressions in the initial haze of settling in.

• Think about bringing some gifts for the people you'll meet in your new life abroad and giving some to the people who did make your trip memorable. Things that are from your country are best. Sure this isn't the custom in all countries like it was for me in Japan, but it's good etiquette and appreciated no matter where you go. #Stayclassy

• Take pictures of everything!! That front yard that is never mowed like you've asked a million times for you school to do - do it. That side angle view of your students walking to school as you have your tea in the morning. Yup. You'll probably never show them to anyone else and think you don't want to remember them, but one day you'll be going over  your pics and see them and get a wonderful rush of nostalgia. 

• Stop to appreciate the last time you'll probably hang out with all the friends you made in your time abroad being in the same place at the same time. Just a moment. It goes well with the Japanese proverb I live my life by which is  一期一会 (ichi go ichi e) meaning one chance, one opportunity, because that moment will never happen again. 

I think that's a good poignant place to end this post. Let me know of any other tips you have from your experiences in the comments! 

The Successor

Somewhere, someone was eagerly waiting to find out if they had gotten into JET, was then waiting to see where they'd be placed and what academic level, and THEN wants to hear from their predecessor to learn as much as they can about their placement before they arrive to be totally prepared!

Right? 

That was my experience at least, but due to the devastating earthquake and tsunami that happened mere months before my arrival, my whole process was pushed back by about six weeks. So maybe that's why I was so eager... 

My predecessor was helpful with whatever I asked of her and sent me a video of the apartment so I knew exactly what kind of space I had to work with when I arrived. Not only that, but if you remember this post, it also took the edge off my shock when I arrived (but did nothing to alleviate the tears. hmm). She would comment on my pictures the first few months after my arrival and so on. 

As I was waiting to hear about my successor, all the other ALTs had learned of theirs and began the usual process of informing them about their daily life and duties as well as trying to establish what could be sold to the successor or thrown away from their belongings. My JTE had told me on other occasions that my three previous predecessors were girls and from America so I just assumed that would be the case. I had wild imaginings of preparing long a Word document detailing every aspect of life in Tamba and what I had learned. I got this idea from my previous employment where a sort of manual is on file listing useful phone numbers and quick help guides, but with a to-do list as long as mine, that didn't happen..

Soon after I found a note on my desk with the name Peter Johnson and his email address. I took the grand leap of deducing that this was news I had been waiting to hear! Hello, Peter! Peter? A boy...huh, well look at that. He is from America though, and the nicest guy. We emailed each other a few times, but he didn't have many questions or expectations. He bought a few items off of me, but oddly refused the mattress. For some very hygienic people I know refusing a mattress is not a surprise at all (myself included), but I was selling it dirt cheap, it was a full size, already in the apartment, and even for a clean freak like me, a new mattress cover would have sufficed. He explained that a futon would be fine for him (maybe for the authenticity?) so I wished him Godspeed and sold the mattress to another incoming Tamba ALT.  (oh these youngens with their resilient backs). 

It's not too common for a predecessor and successors to meet since people usually leave their town to travel or go home right after their contract, but I was sticking around for various reasons and so, we met! It was strange going back to my home of two years, the site of so many happy, sad, quiet, personal, intensely visceral memories and having to walk in to my apartment like a guest. I explained a few things that were baffling him like the bathroom temperature control panel and the hot water faucet, and left my apartment forever. 

Good luck, Peter! May you come to love Tamba as dearly as I do (but you will never be queen of Kasugacho Mountain! That's mine forever! haha)

Since my blog here is to help others and give them an idea of what living and working abroad might be like, I'm re-posting this article from Thought Catalog because I love how perfectly someone has been able to articulate what it's like (source link at the end). It takes a certain personality, a certain kind of person, to be able to do this and I've seen many people fall short. I definitely think it shapes a person in a unique way which they can relate to others who have lived like them.

I am forever changed by my time living in foreign culture, a foreign land, and I love it.

What Happens When You Live Abroad

May. 21, 2012

By Chelsea Fagan

A very dependable feature of people who live abroad is finding them huddled together in bars and restaurants, talking not just about their homelands, but about the experience of leaving. And strangely enough, these groups of ex-pats aren’t necessarily all from the same home countries, often the mere experience of trading lands and cultures is enough to link them together and build the foundations of a friendship. I knew a decent amount of ex pats — of varying lengths of stay — back in America, and it’s reassuring to see that here in Europe, the “foreigner” bars are just as prevalent and filled with the same warm, nostalgic chatter.

But one thing that undoubtedly exists between all of us, something that lingers unspoken at all of our gatherings, is fear. There is a palpable fear to living in a new country, and though it is more acute in the first months, even year, of your stay, it never completely evaporates as time goes on. It simply changes. The anxiousness that was once concentrated on how you’re going to make new friends, adjust, and master the nuances of the language has become the repeated question “What am I missing?” As you settle into your new life and country, as time passes and becomes less a question of how long you’ve been here and more one of how long you’ve been gone, you realize that life back home has gone on without you. People have grown up, they’ve moved, they’ve married, they’ve become completely different people — and so have you.

It’s hard to deny that the act of living in another country, in another language, fundamentally changes you. Different parts of your personality sort of float to the top, and you take on qualities, mannerisms, and opinions that define the new people around you. And there’s nothing wrong with that; it’s often part of the reason you left in the first place. You wanted to evolve, to change something, to put yourself in an uncomfortable new situation that would force you to into a new phase of your life.
So many of us, when we leave our home countries, want to escape ourselves. We build up enormous webs of people, of bars and coffee shops, of arguments and exes and the same five places over and over again, from which we feel we can’t break free. There are just too many bridges that have been burned, or love that has turned sour and ugly, or restaurants at which you’ve eaten everything on the menu at least ten times — the only way to escape and to wipe your slate clean is to go somewhere where no one knows who you were, and no one is going to ask. And while it’s enormously refreshing and exhilarating to feel like you can be anyone you want to be and come without the baggage of your past, you realize just how much of “you” was based more on geographic location than anything else.
Walking streets alone and eating dinner at tables for one — maybe with a book, maybe not — you’re left alone for hours, days on end with nothing but your own thoughts. You start talking to yourself, asking yourself questions and answering them, and taking in the day’s activities with a slowness and an appreciation that you’ve never before even attempted. Even just going to the grocery store — when in an exciting new place, when all by yourself, when in a new language — is a thrilling activity. And having to start from zero and rebuild everything, having to re-learn how to live and carry out every day activities like a child, fundamentally alters you. Yes, the country and its people will have their own effect on who you are and what you think, but few things are more profound than just starting over with the basics and relying on yourself to build a life again. I have yet to meet a person who I didn’t find calmed by the experience. There is a certain amount of comfort and confidence that you gain with yourself when you go to this new place and start all over again, and a knowledge that — come what may in the rest of your life — you were capable of taking that leap and landing softly at least once.

But there are the fears. And yes, life has gone on without you. And the longer you stay in your new home, the more profound those changes will become. Holidays, birthdays, weddings — every event that you miss suddenly becomes a tick mark on an endless ream of paper. One day, you simply look back and realize that so much has happened in your absence, that so much has changed. You find it harder and harder to start conversations with people who used to be some of your best friends, and in-jokes become increasingly foreign — you have become an outsider. There are those who stay so long that they can never go back. We all meet the ex-pat who has been in his new home for 30 years and who seems to have almost replaced the missed years spent back in his homeland with full, passionate immersion into his new country. Yes, technically they are immigrants. Technically their birth certificate would place them in a different part of the world. But it’s undeniable that whatever life they left back home, they could never pick up all the pieces to. That old person is gone, and you realize that every day, you come a tiny bit closer to becoming that person yourself — even if you don’t want to.

So you look at your life, and the two countries that hold it, and realize that you are now two distinct people. As much as your countries represent and fulfill different parts of you and what you enjoy about life, as much as you have formed unbreakable bonds with people you love in both places, as much as you feel truly at home in either one, so you are divided in two. For the rest of your life, or at least it feels this way, you will spend your time in one naggingly longing for the other, and waiting until you can get back for at least a few weeks and dive back into the person you were back there. It takes so much to carve out a new life for yourself somewhere new, and it can’t die simply because you’ve moved over a few time zones. The people that took you into their country and became your new family, they aren’t going to mean any less to you when you’re far away.
When you live abroad, you realize that, no matter where you are, you will always be an ex-pat. There will always be a part of you that is far away from its home and is lying dormant until it can breathe and live in full color back in the country where it belongs. To live in a new place is a beautiful, thrilling thing, and it can show you that you can be whoever you want — on your own terms. It can give you the gift of freedom, of new beginnings, of curiosity and excitement. But to start over, to get on that plane, doesn’t come without a price. You cannot be in two places at once, and from now on, you will always lay awake on certain nights and think of all the things you’re missing out on back home.

Source

Enkais: All in a Day's Work

An important feature of JET life that I haven't talked about yet is the enkai (宴会). Literally, meaning 'banquet' these are equivalent to a workplace office party. I don't really have a choice in the matter concerning payment for these big parties. Even if I expressed that I didn't want to go (perhaps in the interest of saving money), it would still be taken out of my paycheck. Even if I couldn't go for a legitimate reason like being sick or having another commitment, it would still be taken out of my paycheck. My attendance however is optional. Actually in most companies, attendance isn't required, but in Japan, a lot of things are "not required." However, as a foreigner, it isn't actually expected that I must go.

All enkais follow a general format of encouraging speeches, flowing alcohol, and lots of laughter. There's always a "kampai! (cheers!)" at the beginning which is led by the principal and a "banzai! banzai! banzai!" (hip hip hooray! or hurrah!) at the end. There's also the common practice of going around with bottles of beverages and filling each other's glasses. At an enkai, one should avoid pouring for themselves but instead pour for a coworker and wait for them to return the favor. In this case, seniority doesn't matter like it does in other aspects of Japanese culture. The only things that change are associated with the reason for having the enkai. i.e. holiday parties, beginning of the school year, farewell/welcome parties. Some special features I've seen at enkais so far include karaoke, speeches by honored individuals, giveaway games, special recognition given to individuals, and a game of London Bridge - with a twist. To elaborate on that last one, the teachers made a long chain of London Bridge with the teachers who were being recognized going under it. At the end, some of the stronger male teachers hoisted them up one at a time and tossed them up in the air. I was definitely surprised to my proper coworkers THAT loosened up, haha! But it really is great to see them relax and take a well-deserved break.

I don't know about other workplaces in Japan, but at my high school, a ￥3,000 (USD 37.00) enkai fee is taken out of my paycheck every month which goes towards paying my share of the party. This goes for everyone at my school, so considering we have two major enkais a year, I estimate about ￥12,000-21,000 per person. It's quite pricey if you think about it, but at least it holds its weight. With almost 80 staff members, my school has to rent out a large dining hall to accommodate us all. ($$$) Either this includes a bus service or they pay extra, but this bus takes us to and from school. ($$$) This is provided 1) for convenience and 2) so that people can drink to their heart's content (since Japan has a 0% tolerance policy on driving and alcohol). Also, so far it's been the case that the food is top notch even if I'm not a fan of everything. ($$$)

At my first enkai in December, right before the winter holidays, the organizers used part of the money to go towards gifts for everyone which they then made a game out of for entertainment. Everyone received something. ($$$) The game was to have our seat numbers chosen at random and then the person selected one of the wrapped gifts at the front of the room. The most expensive gift in the pile was an iPod and the cheapest couple of gifts at the end were boxes of fancy chocolates. To everyone's amusement, I picked out an electric shaver for men and acted like I was thrilled. Later, I traded it with a male teacher for a personal massager - win/win.

At my second enkai in April, after the start of the new school year, we had a 12 course sit down meal. In reality it was too much food, but I wanted to try everything. (I later paid for my gluttonous ways, but I regret nothing!) Unbeknownst to me, this was also the farewell party for some of my teachers who were being transferred to new schools (I'll explain this shortly). Usually if this were the case back home, some sort of goodbye card would have been passed around beforehand for everyone to sign or we would have pitched in for a surprise farewell gift; thus when I realized what was going on, I was lamenting the fact that I didn't get anything for some of my favorites. But then I was saved by the enkai fund! Each of the teachers who were leaving received a bouquet of flowers, a plaque of recognition, and a gift card that they knew came from everyone's pockets. ($$$)


So this farewell party came as a surprise to me because it is commonly known in Japanese schools that in the short time between the end of the school year in March and the beginning of the new term in April, several teachers will be transferred and new arrivals will come in. I was away for a week during the spring break and in that week, my teachers had been replaced with new ones. We also switched desks around in the staff room and I'm not particularly fond of my new place, but oh well. I was extremely uncomfortable for a about a week with all of the changes. After eight months of adapting to a new work environment and becoming confident with my place in this Japanese school, I suddenly I felt unsure about what was expected of me all over again. Once more, I gave my self-introduction, met the new teachers, and adapted to the classes. I also was sad to say goodbye to people I basically just met and really liked. They had helped me get settled in and were friendly, familiar faces that I may never see again. At least I got to say a proper goodbye thanks to the farewell enkai! 

I intend to find out, but at the moment I still don't understand why teachers are transferred - do they put in a request? Is it random? Can they say no? From the speeches at the enkai, I know that all of them had been at my school for different amounts of times. The shortest was two years and the longest was twenty-two years. So it's not a matter of "your time has come." Also, many of them seem to be really inconvenienced by where their new school(s) are (sometimes up to two hours away from their home). So better said, I don't know why certain teachers are transferred, but I do know what the thought process is behind this madness. It's considered a way of spreading the talent. Japan isn't an individually competitive society, but instead likes to make sure there's more of a mutual benefit going around. The theory is if there's a bad teacher you can hope that they'll be replaced by a good teacher soon thus sharing everyone's strengths and weaknesses in the education system and making sure no one becomes complacent. I see a lot of flaws in this but have been enlightened to the benefits as well. 

That last part was a bit of a rabbit trail from the original purpose of this post, but relevant all the same...Banzai! Banzai! Banzai! 


Here are some pictures that I snapped with my phone (Already being a gaijin in a sea of Japanese people, I didn't want to stand out more with my shiny red camera, hehe)