Life After JET.

It has been approximately 73 days and 21 hours since I permanently left Japan. That is 2 months and 12 days since I entered the immigration office at Narita International Airport, signed a form that said I was denouncing my Japanese residency, and had a hole punched into my gaijin card. Since I hopped on a flight to Denver, connected to Montreal, and after a week of sightseeing, finally managed to find myself home. In my parents' house. In Saint John, New Brunswick, Canada.

From the beginning.

I will admit, I was not surprised to find myself there. After all, it had been my plan to stay (not live, but stay) with my parents for a few months until I had a job and enough money to move into my own apartment. Then, I was going to continue working for the year while applying to graduate schools and building up a portfolio that simply screamed "Accept me!". Because of this, I can't say I was shocked when I was unpacking my clothing into my younger brother's old closet, or when I was buying odds and ends for an apartment I hoped I would eventually have.

No, I wasn't shocked. But I was disappointed. Disappointed in myself for having gone from a well paying job in a foreign country to living with my parents, unemployed and mooching food and gas money. Disappointed for having gone from having adventures every weekend to being in a city where all my friends had moved on to bigger and better things. I wouldn't say I was depressed, but I certainly wasn't very happy with myself.

However, I had a job interview as soon as I got home, and quickly managed to find a job doing something I absolutely loved: working at an after school programme for elementary school kids and coaching gymnastics. I threw myself into my job and gained happiness from there. I gained new friends where I lacked old ones, and I started re-exploring my city. "Saint John isn't so bad after all," I started to think as I got excited for another shift or to check out a new restaurant uptown with a friend.

See? Not so bad!

Don't get me wrong, things are still very weird here. Every time I open my fridge, I'm shocked at how much space there is. I managed to fill my tiny Japanese fridge with enough food for myself, but here it is difficult to do so. My mother makes fun of me every time she comes over for not having any food, but honestly, it just looks that way. In fact, I am amazed at the size of all the appliances. My washer and dryer (oh yes, I have one of those again) are huge, able to do twice the amount of laundry as their Japanese counterparts.

My tiny Japanese washing machine

The weirdness also extends to my interactions with people. I still have to resist the urge to point out "foreigners", even though they make up 98% of the population of Saint John. I still say "sumimasen" and "gomennasai" when I run into people on the streets, prompting some strange looks from passers by.  I still feel the need to follow around the three Asian people in my city, trying to find out whether they are Japanese. They never are.

In short, I feel a bit out of sorts. I'm beginning to feel a bit more comfortable here, but I still don't really feel like I belong in my hometown. Hopefully, as time passes, the nostalgia for Japan will settle and I will become normal again. If you've met me, however, you know that that's never going to happen. I will never be normal, nor do I want to be. Japan was a major part of my life, and hopefully I will integrate these two facets and create a better whole. Here's to "ganbaru"ing it up!

I miss Japanese food.