The Eagle Has Landed...Awkardly

Hello again!

It's incredible how time flies -- it has officially been 6 days since I arrived in Japan. And WHAT an ordeal it's been!

I wish I could say that everything has gone smoothly, that I couldn't be more excited, but considering everything that's happened I have found my enthusiasm tested at times.

It all started the minute I got off the plane on Sunday. On the bus to the hotel, I noticed my ankles were a bit swollen. By the time I arrived at the hotel and was in the shower, my calves, ankles and feet felt as if some circus clown had tried to inflate them with air to make balloon animals. Since it was happening to my roommate too, I figured it was normal, which it is after such long flights. Over the next two days, however, everyone's feet were fine, while my ankles and feet were still so swollen I couldn't wear my dress shoes. I was convinced by the staff at orientation to hold out until I got to my main city, Amakusa, but they didn't take into account my travel arrangements, no matter how many people I spoke to.

Another flight, 1.5 hours, and a 2 hour bus ride. Isn't this what caused it in the first place?

Anyway, people who don't listen aside, I took their advice against my better (paranoid) judgement, and was met at Kumamoto airport by three exuberant people waving an awesome, colorful sign that had that horrible application picture of me: Len and Emily (two JET senpais) and my Tantousha (supervisor).

This was the highlight of my day. We all got in the car, and that awkward getting-to-know-you moment I expected was completely bypassed in favor of jokingly learning more about each other. Len, a second year ALT, is eccentric and energetic at all times, and Emily is extremely  kind and almost completely fluent despite this only being her second year. My Tantousha, who I will not name in case of privacy, is a beautiful young woman, with two small children, and she's incredibly efficient! All of them were very welcoming and accommodating.

They took me to lunch on the way to Amakusa, and I can now say that I have had real Yakiniku and cooked my own meat on the firepit at the table (pictures to come). My ankles were still swollen at this point, and they had taken note, but it wasn't until we got into Amakusa and saw the giant statue of Amakusa (the man) that they realized how bad it actually was. By this point, they were so swollen that I couldn't wear my sandals because they were leaving marks, and Len had to lend me his sandals so my feet could fit.

Long story short(-er, because this is already a bit long-winded, eh?), after a brief visit and introduction at the Board of Education, Emily and my Tantousha took me to the hospital to have my feet looked at.

This is where the story gets frustrating: my first encounter with transactional Japanese.

It's really, really frustrating when you can pick apart sounds in a language, but you can't understand what the words mean. I know a good amount of Japanese, but the day-to-day needs that you could only acquire by necessity and immersion are not yet available to me. The only doctor that speaks considerable English had, for that ONE day, closed his clinic, so we had to go to a different hospital. The doctor and nurses were kind, but it was hard to stay calm when I was convinced I had thrombosis and I couldn't understand or explain myself very well. Luckily, Emily translated for me. They did an echo of my legs, which revealed no clots (thank God), but the doctor's unsatisfactory prescription -- nothing -- didn't help me find stability.

It was at a moment like this that I began to doubt myself. It's a horrible feeling to be far away from home and think you're going to have a pulmonary embollism by yourself -__-

However, I was able to forget about this for a while once I got to my host family's house. I only stayed there the first night, but it was exactly what I needed. My host parents were nice times a thouseand! Dinner was already set, and they both engaged me in lots of conversation. That it was in Japanese helped me feel like I could still survive, especially after the hospital ordeal. It also helped that they have two very cute children, 4 and 7 years old. A good shower and a night of sleep later, I felt ready to face the day, and my feelings were refreshed, especially when my host mom packed me a snack bag!

This next day was productive, in the sense that once again some of the JETs and my Tantousha took me to get my bank account, cell phone, apartment, and gas set up. But by the end of the day, my ankles were again badly swollen. A full day of being unable to use transactional Japanese, and requiring my companions to translate almost everything said to me at these places when I felt less than okay, made things really difficult. Once left alone in my apartment, I had the sinking feeling I had done something terribly wrong. I could barely look at my suitcases, evidence of just how long I'd be staying here, much less unpack them. My supervisor had washed the comforter, but not the sheets for my bed. There was dust in the neighboring room. It is HOT in Amakusa, and the only A/C unit was in the small living room NOT the bedroom. I had milk and juice only, and had no idea where to go to get something else.

Just as I was facing my own insecurities in the mirror, God sent Len over. Len, with his
enthusiasm, shared his own first-year stories, and helped me sort through some things as I unpacked my odds-and-ends suitcase. He only lives two blocks away, and we will both be working at the same middle school (the largest in Amakusa, with 800 students), so he gave me a ride to the supermarket and a large bed bath and beyond  like store to buy sheets so I could sleep. And ice packs for my ankles.

If it hadn't been that he took it upon himself to come check on me that afternoon, I don't know what I would have done. The overwhelming experience of moving to a new country, with the stress of my body rebelling against be and the general lag in adaptation was pushing me towards despair. I know, I know -- it sounds melodramatic, and I felt incredibly ashamed of myself, but I couldn't help wondering if I was that person that the keynote speaker spoke about at orientation, the one who skips the first stage of culture shock (euphoria) and sinks straight into depression and anxiety. Luckily, I was able to calm down and look at things from a different perspective.

I've been given an opportunity of a life time. That isn't to say that things won't be hard, that there won't be times where I second-guess myself. Some things with suck, honestly -- it's just as hot and possibly more humid than Miami, and I have to sleep with an electric fan in my face at night because poor insulation makes my apartment hotter inside than it is outside. But there is so much to learn, so much that can be missed if I let those small moments take the foreground of my mind, that I have to live with both eyes wide open.

I realized this when Len came by to check on me. I'm surrounded by great people, in a great place, afforded an awesome apartment in comparison to that of other people here. The following day was also a great day, and I felt my spirits lifted. The teachers at the middle school were all very nice and welcoming, interested in speaking with me, and even if I don't speak much Japanese, the teacher and vice principle at the elementary school were very kind as well.

Life can either be the bull that drags you behind it, or you can take it in your own two hands and steer. I have to be the driver here. So, as the Japanese say, Ganbarimasu! I will try with all my might.