The Long Road to Goodbye

I have just entered my last month in Japan, and it looks to be one filled with goodbyes, goodbye parties, and preparations to leave behind what I can only describe as my life. I no longer need the "in Japan" part, and have come to the accept the reality that I've created a life for myself here that in just over a month will (seemingly) evaporate into thin air. Job, friends, house, boyfriend, car, shopping, sense of purpose, reason for studying Japanese. It's all going out the window on August 10.

And somehow it doesn't feel real, yet. I just broke the news to some of my students today. They were shocked, in a groggy way (they were sleeping in class), I didn't know what to say, and then class finished and they left to get ready for 3rd period. Is it all going to be like this? A quick side note at the end of class, "Oh, by the way, after this month I'm never going to see you again." I don't quite know what to make of it.

When I stop to think about it, living in Japan has been the biggest adventure of my life. I've never been as shocked and confused as I have in Japan. I've never been challenged to this degree. I've never made this big of an adjustment. I've never been so independent. I've had so many chances to travel with friends or by myself. I've had so many new experiences that it feels like everything is just going to be downhill from here. Even moving to yet another country wouldn't have quite the same feel: been there, done that. I sought after the ultimate thrill, found it, handled it, thoroughly enjoyed it, and now it's time to resume an unthrilling life.

But maybe that's not such a bad thing. A dose of normal, a taste of calm, a struggle to readjust into the society in which I was brought up. It might do me some good. Certainly seeing family and friends is a comfort, even though it may be hard in some ways. I've been gone for 2 years, and in that time people change. I'll have to catch up with everyone back home, and though my stories might be interesting at first, after a short while, no one will be particularly interested to hear another, "When I was in Japan..." story. 2 years of my life, tucked away into a drawer, to be reminisced upon only when I meet fellow Japan-o-philes.

Another part of me says that if I really want continuous change and adventure, there are careers to be found in this area. That is the essence of an anthropologist's job, after all (but to become a full-fledged anthropologist would require years of education to get a PHD, and that's quickly becoming a poor investment in the current system). The fact is, though, that I'm not sure if that's what I want. But I guess there's time to figure all of this out. And time, at the moment, is exactly what I want. Time to adjust, time to see people, time to take in everything, time to lose my mind and then find it again. There's no real way to prepare for that. So all I can do for now is say goodbye.