America, Closing Thoughts

Saturday, November 24

I ate a breakfast of Portuguese sausage, eggs, and rice (with a side of papaya), all prepared by Mommy. My cold had worsened into a stuffy nose, and I downed several Sudafed pills before completing my packing and leaving for the airport.

Throughout the morning, I prayed to the Gods-Who-Love-Kristine-In-Hawaii that my flight would be delayed or cancelled, but obviously it wasn’t because I’m back. After stepping off the plane at Kansai International, Chris and I sipped drinks at Starbucks and later bought Mcdonald’s for a late snack. We miss you, America.

A Brief感想文

Returning to America after over a year of life in Japan, I expected an encounter with reverse culture shock. Yet with the exception of embarrassedly bowing in thanks to drivers who waited as I crossed the street, I experienced none.

My visit back was not one of critically comparing America and Japan—as I had feared it might be—but one of comparing the Hawaii I had once known and the Hawaii I discovered anew in my weeklong visit. Familiar faces and voices remained at Longs Drugs. An enormous medical complex sprung up where KC Drive-In, with its waffle dogs and peanut butter shakes, once stood. My bedroom was still a space filled wall-to-wall, ceiling-to-ceiling with collections of books, clothes, and unnecessary knickknacks. My tiny cousins evolved into pre-teen giggle girls who ask nosy questions about bras and “poo-berty.”

Yet the most important comparison I made was in my renewed appreciation for family. Last August, in the weeks leading up to Japan, I was anxious for freedom, even solitude, as my parents nagged me over every detail of my departure. And indeed, in the past year, I’ve discovered the joys of 一人暮らし, or solo living. Against my mother’s advice, I ignore dirty dishes in the sink, I toss my delicate laundry with the regular, I vacuum only once in awhile, I play video games until two in the morning, and I sometimes fall asleep without brushing my teeth. Many selfish freedoms come with single life. Like singing in the shower even when I arrive home late. Or knowing that the ice cream that I buy on Monday will still be in the freezer on Tuesday night. Or mixing eggplant into my curry. Nobody else likes eggplant curry.

Alone, however, I miss recapping my day to Mom as she brushes her teeth. I miss talking eats with Dad, the other family foodie. I miss Scott barging into my room, with the latest in video game information/hip hop music/whatever on his laptop. And I suppose I even miss sharing my ice cream.

In short, as much as I love Japan, I miss my family, and I’m anxious to go home.