My stomach is rumbling aggressively in response to the smell of onions, carrots and potatoes cooking on the stove. Add a can of tomatoes, water, and some bullions cubes and I might just have dinner. With one or two pieces of buttered toast, what could go wrong? It's wednesday, and I've spent the day not in repose. I woke up (albeit late, but hey, I'm on break) had my pot of coffee, played only a little video games, and then I got the doing itch. I got up, I paced. I walked out onto the balcony and breathed in the fresh air warmed by the sun that doesn't seem to understand that February is still winter, damnit! I leave the sliding door open all day, because the bugs aren't out yet and I don't want anything blocking the air and the sun. I cleaned up my room, which daily gets cluttered with the presence of two boys and all their computers. I vacuumed, lit new candles. I recently rearranged my room with pleasing results, reinstating my corner of candle and books. I pulled down Gianni's clothes from outside (he uses my washing machine) and hung up my own, ran another load. With my last cup of coffee I sewed a rip in a pair of jeans and watched an episode of Pirate of Dark Water, which recently "appeared" on my hard drive.
James showed up and I had someone to talk to, bop around with. I still wanted to do something, swirling around in my purple skirt, liking the feeling of being up and awake. I made dinner. It's stewing now. And I'm writing this. I wonder if my life ought to be more interesting. I was assaulted by monkeys a few days ago, does that count? I'm in Japan, this is a once in a lifetime opportunity! But that's the thing. I'm not here as a tourist, I'm not here to spend thousands of dollars to see the sights and do all the things you could do. I know some of the students who are. Samantha's family just arrived from France, here for I'm not sure how long. Her mother, father, and younger brother are all here, and she's showing them Japan. I can't even really afford to go see all the places I want to see, let alone have family come over to show them. I'm not a tourist, I'm trying to live here. I should probably be trying to get a job, but there aren't too many options for a foreigner not fluent in Japanese. But I don't mind so much. Even dirt poor, I'm happy, because I'm living here. I'm existing, even thriving, in a country worlds apart. And every day it teaches me something.
Some days it shows me the beauty of a city that is like a world on its own. The lifelines of trains that run back and forth, the faces of the people who walk on and off. The people who look up, stare at you for a moment, then their faces light up as they call 'Hero! How are you?' It is strange, to be instantly recognized as a foreigner. To have people say hello to you simply because they know you are not Japanese, and then assume you speak English, and just want to say something to you.
But most every day I learn something else. As I smell the air of spring and gaze at the stars at night, as I dream about my future, scary and looming as it is (only one more year of school!) something inside of me moves towards home. You might not know it, but I was once scared of traveling. I thought I might fall in love with some other land and want to move away there. I don't think I could have been more wrong. Day by day I want only to be home again. Not that I am not happy here, I am, I am very glad I'm here and that I stayed. I look forward to next semester and the places and people I will see and meet. But every day I know more steadily that it is not here my heart wishes to be. I look to my homecoming with wild joy, and the thought of familiar sights and smells and sounds and faces fills me not with longing but with comfort. I don't need to long for home, because I know where it is. I know I'm going back there. I will enjoy this place and all it can show me, but the most precious thing I've learned here is that Grantwood Ridge is where I want to be.
