Sayonara Tokyo…for Now
...And then, there was an empty one-room apartment, in the exact same condition as exactly 8 months ago, when I set sights on it for the first time, full of anticipation and newfound exhilaration. Under the unusually crisp, fresh, and not-raining early summer sunshine, the room, to me, shined just as brightly as it did in chilly October. It remains, in my view, that serene safe haven for the tired sailor, coming back to her warm embrace after another day of battling the constant storms that is Japanese society.
Yet, at the same time, the room was not, and cannot possibly be, in the same condition. What is unseen, floating in the still air and absorbed in her walls and furniture, are memories, thoughts, and endless self-reflections, stemming from so many observations, experiences, and occasionally, lonely nights looking up at the stars. The room, even devoid of all her material possessions, cannot hold all my random thoughts. They threaten to overwhelm her and escape her containment.
It is simply unfortunate that I cannot jot down the mental occupants of the room fast enough. For every presence I describe, three vanishes into the background, not to be seen again, perhaps forever. Just as I will feel a few hours from now when I exit her door for one last time, as they depart the room, there is a little bit of satisfaction, much to look forward to...but simultaneously, the feeling of leaving something behind, of leaving something unaccomplished, just cannot be erased or suppressed.
All of that sense of incompletion has to go back to that one fundamental question that has, to this day, perplexed me and compelled me to find that perfect answer. “Why are you in Japan?” They kept asking, glancing at me intently, full of curiosity and expectations of some spectacular answer. I have none. Among the clichés of “new challenges,” “cultural understandings,” and “to be a global citizen,” I cannot help but disappoint the inquirers with something incredibly shallow and stereotypical.
And eventually, my robotic repetitive replies cannot even convince myself anymore. Yes, my 6 years of childhood in Japan were amazing (hearing Japanese songs of that era still brings a marijuana-like feel of euphoria). Yes, my summer internship in Wakayama city hall told me I must spend more time to understand Japan of early 21st century. But those were, no matter how great and memorable, things of the past, largely irrelevant to the tumultuous present and a largely unknown future.
No two experiences can be alike, even in a place as homogenous and unchanging as modern Japan. From living in Rakuten to confronting the Quake to partying it up hard on the weekends, Japan has shown us her multiple faces in different situations. From superiors trying to pass vague propagandistic phrases as motivating speeches to new grads attempting to balance strong individualities with unavoidable “social rules” and obligations…I have made the effort to tirelessly effort to record the inner workings of the society that gave us so much variations despite seemingly forever constant exteriors.
I guess the ultimate answer to that “Why am I in Japan” question is that, well, I am actually NOT in Japan per se. From the beginning to the end, I was a third-person observer, inserting myself in every social situation imaginable to a normal, somewhat permanent resident of Japan, without actually participating to change the situations to my own favors. And here from this now-empty room, I have turn them into anecdotes with deep opinions, for my personal regurgitation and re-digestion at a later time.
However, for now, the Tokyo chapter of the observer’s records will have to draw to a close, maybe temporary, maybe permanent. Thankfully, my one-room apartment, so used to my pacing to gather thoughts and typing them up late into the night on the weekends, will continue to keep a vigilant watch over the Japanese metropolis. I have not had time to excavate all the ideas still packed into the room and surely she will add more after I am gone…To the room: keep the ideas with you until I come back and visit you one day, will ya? Thanks!
Yet, at the same time, the room was not, and cannot possibly be, in the same condition. What is unseen, floating in the still air and absorbed in her walls and furniture, are memories, thoughts, and endless self-reflections, stemming from so many observations, experiences, and occasionally, lonely nights looking up at the stars. The room, even devoid of all her material possessions, cannot hold all my random thoughts. They threaten to overwhelm her and escape her containment.
It is simply unfortunate that I cannot jot down the mental occupants of the room fast enough. For every presence I describe, three vanishes into the background, not to be seen again, perhaps forever. Just as I will feel a few hours from now when I exit her door for one last time, as they depart the room, there is a little bit of satisfaction, much to look forward to...but simultaneously, the feeling of leaving something behind, of leaving something unaccomplished, just cannot be erased or suppressed.
All of that sense of incompletion has to go back to that one fundamental question that has, to this day, perplexed me and compelled me to find that perfect answer. “Why are you in Japan?” They kept asking, glancing at me intently, full of curiosity and expectations of some spectacular answer. I have none. Among the clichés of “new challenges,” “cultural understandings,” and “to be a global citizen,” I cannot help but disappoint the inquirers with something incredibly shallow and stereotypical.
And eventually, my robotic repetitive replies cannot even convince myself anymore. Yes, my 6 years of childhood in Japan were amazing (hearing Japanese songs of that era still brings a marijuana-like feel of euphoria). Yes, my summer internship in Wakayama city hall told me I must spend more time to understand Japan of early 21st century. But those were, no matter how great and memorable, things of the past, largely irrelevant to the tumultuous present and a largely unknown future.
No two experiences can be alike, even in a place as homogenous and unchanging as modern Japan. From living in Rakuten to confronting the Quake to partying it up hard on the weekends, Japan has shown us her multiple faces in different situations. From superiors trying to pass vague propagandistic phrases as motivating speeches to new grads attempting to balance strong individualities with unavoidable “social rules” and obligations…I have made the effort to tirelessly effort to record the inner workings of the society that gave us so much variations despite seemingly forever constant exteriors.
I guess the ultimate answer to that “Why am I in Japan” question is that, well, I am actually NOT in Japan per se. From the beginning to the end, I was a third-person observer, inserting myself in every social situation imaginable to a normal, somewhat permanent resident of Japan, without actually participating to change the situations to my own favors. And here from this now-empty room, I have turn them into anecdotes with deep opinions, for my personal regurgitation and re-digestion at a later time.
However, for now, the Tokyo chapter of the observer’s records will have to draw to a close, maybe temporary, maybe permanent. Thankfully, my one-room apartment, so used to my pacing to gather thoughts and typing them up late into the night on the weekends, will continue to keep a vigilant watch over the Japanese metropolis. I have not had time to excavate all the ideas still packed into the room and surely she will add more after I am gone…To the room: keep the ideas with you until I come back and visit you one day, will ya? Thanks!
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