Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to mark the beginning of a wonderful new life between two creatures.
One of these creatures is small and stocky, wild in hair and temperament. A firework-like spirit imbued with the dank essence of Welsh earth after summer rain. Watch how she shoots towards something completely unknown.
The other creature is sprawling. Magnificent. Scattered and clotted with the energy of a million existences. Sweat rolling down the back of its neck, thick rubber-covered cables crossing through the sky. Veins plugged into a machine like some post-human post-operation colossus. Cells glow as they rush through its body, and I smile becoming one of them.
In a surprisingly efficient turn of events, I was first to board the bus set to carry myself and a hundred other-odd British JET candidates on my flight from Tokyo Narita airport to the Keio Plaza hotel in Shinjuku. As we drive through Tokyo, I stare out of the window into the night with all the awe I usually felt when in the presence of my beloved Irish sea. It was a familiar feeling, despite the welcomingly different context within which I found myself experiencing it.
I have felt this awe-full sensation many times over the past few days, even when blurred between lines of fatigue and stress brought on by orientation. One of the main things drilled into us during those two days of panels, workshops, speeches, and buffet-style receptions was that all new residents of Japan should expect such awe in waves. From the giddy heights of Asakusa bliss to the dreaded 'trough of despair', the poles of my own self-expression will be well and truly excavated over the next few years. Like any relationship, I'm sure we'll have our ups and downs as I begin to approximate myself toward Tokyo life.
We're at a critical juncture now my welcoming ceremony is over. I've shivered through the pre-match nerves, all the goodbyes to what was my life before, the pomp, the circumstance. The wearing an extra-thick pair of socks on the flight over to guard against cold feet and Doc-Marten-induced blisters. I entered the British Embassy on Tuesday night and was immediately handed a glass of white wine for courage. I think then it finally sank in, the commitment I was about to make to myself and this city. My witnesses comprised of new friends and roommates - a new cast of characters in my life with whom I gladly tie a knot now between my heart and this country. Who will some of them become, I wonder?
It's bizarre to think I'll be spending Christmas with some of these people, but also comforting to decentre myself as I realise they all feel exactly the same way. Like we're here on the threshold of consequence, about to jump into something both exhilarating and transformative in equal measure. At the moment I feel supremely cognisant of how others perceive me. But like in most momentary lapses of self-perception that pass with the hands of time, I hope to soon be as comfortably myself with everyone here as I am at home. Currently we are in our honeymoon periods where everything in Tokyo is astoundingly sweet. I live on a diet of rice paper triangles and verisimilitude, waking up in a hotel room and going outside to face my humidly sky-blue reality.
I'm so glad to have your support throughout this next stage of my life as the bliss simmers down into thick reality. Expect stories and musings to come - I now begin to see how Carter and Mitchell honed their craft in this country through the eyes of another. Next week I move into my apartment, as long as the typhoon doesn't hunker me down for too long. I'll write back to you in the next couple of weeks with something a little more fictional.
Until then I sign off for the first time from Japan. All my stars,
Char xxx
(P.S. My new workplace is wonderful. My supervisor is very kind, and my school is home to Japan's premier goldfish expert. When I walked into my office to see a tank of goldfish on the floor, I knew I would be alright. Please expect a goldfish-themed post in the near future. Blub blub , big love.)
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