Somewhere to Belong...

Moving around between continents to explore, being restless, feeling caged in when too much routine sets in, feeling too young to get stuck in a place yet, well, those are just a few things I could say about the reasons why I find it so difficult to settle on one location to live and, well, settle down. Another is that I have always been looking for somewhere to belong. Even back when I was little. I have always felt like an outsider, like I was that little green alien coming for a visit. 

In first grade I had figured out how to read within two weeks and allegedly had decided I was done with school, since that was what I had come here for. Pity there were another 13 years to go through with... 

In second grade we moved to another city, and I was the only one listening to pop music in my class, while everyone else was still talking about kid's audio plays. So I found a few friends, but I was always a step away, be it too far or behind, the mainstream. And proud of it, I might add, since it made me feel unique.

But I suppose, uniqueness comes at a price. One I was more than willing to pay, since mainstream was annoying me like hell, in the way where I would actually feel nauseous when I saw the other girls prancing around with their pink heart accessories, or giggle about stuff that makes any sane person's head hurt. Ok, call me snobbish, so what? I have taste! Even if it's not shared by everyone else... Which means, yes, I can hold my head up high and stand by my taste in music or literature etc, but makes not much for popularity, especially when the hits of the moment are prominent on my worst-music-ever list... 

Well, but the choice to stand apart kind of developed the compulsion to first question anything that was popular before looking at it for its own merit. By now I have learned to accept some things, even if popular, and even if they are possibly not the highest rating artistic works on earth. Thus, yes, I admit, I read all the Harry Potter Books, and though nothing outstandingly original from a literary point of view was to be found, I really did enjoy reading them. To give just one example...

But other things remain. So I find myself quite often trying hard to appear as a local, even if on holiday, because I don't want to be mistaken for one of those brainless tourists running off the list of must-sees in their Lonely Planet rather than having a real look around, deciding what they themselves might be interested in and God forbid learn something about another culture. And for the longest time I did not want to be obviously taken for a German, even if I don't want to give up that passport ever, since it's too comfy to travel on this one. But being taken for a German would usually come with all those stereotypes which I try my best to defy. And then I find myself being annoyed myself when someone promises to come out for a drink with me and then cancels last minute... 

Nonetheless, the concept of being different has always and still does appeal to me. Different, other, special... And even though I don't feel special, I suppose I have managed to achieve that, in a way, since people tend to tell me more often than not that they wouldn't be able to lead my life while admiring my life choices. That's what they say at least. But this is not a discussion about how honest other people express their  opinions. It's about having chosen to stand by my own ideals, by opposing conformity, and the consequences. Because, as much as I appreciate how people admire that I am able to just pack up and leave and go somewhere completely different, it comes at a price. 

Having moved between places, between lifestyles, between societies, I find it difficult to deal with routine. I have never had to settle, since I always knew that if I got annoyed I could just pack up and leave. Which is what I did. But keeping your head down and just going through with it is something I have not yet learned. Well, other than the various exams that I had to study for and things like that where the end was in sight. But on a larger scale, where you have no clue how long it may last and where it may lead, how do you deal with that? Especially since I am so bad with dealing with uncertainty? I know, I know, that sounds kind of absurd when at the same time I have no problem with just packing my things and going off to live in Japan or something like that. But the thing is, that by packing up I took the decision myself, I knew where I was going even if I had to start again, and what basics I had to settle first. But not knowing if there will ever be a change in the job you do and still go through with it day by day, when every step closer to the office makes your stomach clench that much further, that is something I am not prepared for.  And even though I still believe that if you hate your job that much you simply have to quit, come what may, there is an element of settling down and just accepting good and bad with that decision that I am as yet unsure about. 

Settling down... essentially I AM planning on settling down, but I have been looking for a place where I feel like I belong. A feeling which is largely defined, in my opinion, by the people that surround me. So I am looking for the place where I feel at home with the people around me, where I have good friends, where I will find love, where I want to stay. Well, the problem with that is that I have made a few good friends, just that they are spread out all across the world. Each of them I love for their own personality, each of them I miss, each of them has enriched my life in their own special way. But how do I decide which ones I want to live close to?

But that is the thing, right? It's a decision. And I have to take this decision, at some point. Somehow, it turns out, I had always assumed that these things just fall into place and settle themselves without my doing much about it. But these days I realise that belonging is not just a matter of coincidence, a matter of your surroundings coming to you take you in, but that it's largely a matter of deciding that this is where I belong, and building my world on that basis. Of making a choice and sticking with it. Once I have decided that, everything else will follow. 

Well, sounds good, doesn't it? Just decide and there you go. And knowing that it is simply a matter of myself deciding does help, now at least it is in my own control. A place to belong... If only I knew what that means! How does it feel to belong? How do I know that I have achieved it? And even more importantly, how do I, who hates limiting my possibilities, rule out all other places for the sake of just one single spot on earth where I want to settle? Live and learn, I say, live and learn... and see what the next turn in life has to say about that!     

     

The Sea of Shiny Trees

A sunny spell among the English summer weather (in case you didn't know, that is the nice way of saying it's pissing down each and every day in London) brought me out to do a bit of grocery shopping. Passing a bits and bobs shop in the shopping center at the end of my street a tree gleamed at me. Literally. At about a meter and a half its leaves and flowers were made of electric lights, all transparent white, and if I knew anything about such things I could probably say something about it being LED technology and stuff, but since I have no clue what that means I just leave it at that. And immediately it sends me back to warmer parts of the world.

This is the first time I've seen this kind of tree out here in London. The first time ever that I did see such a tree was in Kuala Lumpur. Near where I was staying some furniture shop had a few out in the front, and they immediately fascinated me with their pink and orange lights. Seriously, what is there not to love? Shiny things! Really really shiny things, glowing in the dark, in a variety of colours. But the best thing was when my friend introduced me to I-City out in Shah Alam. What did they call it? A "lightscape tourism destination". Love this fancy speak... which is to say it's a forest made of these LED trees. And LED flamingos. And LED geese. And deer. And peacocks. But most of all trees. Cherry trees, orange trees, pine trees, and all sorts of indescribable colourful flowers and what-not trees. It looks amazing. You (which means I) walk around at a foot a minute because you take pictures of each and every flower you see, that's how amazing the whole place looks, at first sight, well, and at second and third. I have not yet gotten to the point where I don't find these trees incredibly fascinating and beautiful, in the strange way that artificial things sometimes are. And where I don't pull out the camera on a reflex and start taking pictures like mad. Especially when you are standing in front of hundreds of them...

This one tree today in the shop was safe though. Mainly because I had forgotten my camera at home. But it was interesting to see how an item such as this triggers all those memories of Malaysia, of sitting in the car with my friend and driving past those three or four trees in front of that furniture shop on the way to some nightmarket where wonderful food was waiting for us. Or when we went out to Shah Alam to that shiny tree park, and how we spent hours walking among those trees with hundreds of other people, amazed at the sight, incredulous at the cheap crappy light-up toys they tried to sell on top of that, shooting picture after picture and falling in love with whoever it was who came up with the idea of building this park. 

If I win the lottery I want to have a whole garden like this. Well, next to the one with real plants that is. But first, I suppose, I will have to start buying lottery tickets, right? Electric garden, wait for me!     

Why do birds sing?

Well, I can't speak for birds, but there are certain moments where I feel like singing. I mean, yes, I also like karaoke, the Japanese box style thingy, not the open bar thing, just to be clear on that point. But give me a stretch of open road or better yet, a path through forest or park, and a bicycle, the wind blowing in my face, and I can't stop myself. I have to sing. Whatever comes to mind. All-time favourites are Oh Happy Day, Your Song, Paper Bag or Opportunity, and in light of current events, Three Lions. Even if the poor guys lost the game last night. 

The same works for thunder storms with lightning flashing and thunder crashing in the skies above. Or just standing outside at the rail on deck of a ship... well, anything with wind blowing and the force of nature pushing me. What is it that makes me sing, I wonder? It can't just be the rush of speed on a bicycle, since standing on a balcony with a thunder storm above will do the trick, too. 

Whatever it is, it is a lot of fun. Well, for me. I may not be the worst singer on earth, I know that for a fact, I have met him. But I am also not the best, far from it. I hit the notes, usually. I still try not to be too loud with people around, too embarrassing for me, and possibly painful for them. Still, given a bit of solitude and some wind, and there I go again. Well, at least it's just singing and not screaming... that would be much more disturbing, now, wouldn't it?    

Here and there... and everywhere

Does anyone remember that sketch from Sesame Street, where two of those characters - I have no recollection which ones they were but anyway - talk about being HERE and THERE. One keeps asking where she is (I think it was a she...) and the other keeps telling her that she is over THERE while he is over HERE. She desperately wants to be HERE too, so she keeps moving over to where the other stood, while the other moves to her previous location, and is frustrated to find out that she is still over THERE and not HERE. I don't remember how they finally solve the problem, but right now I feel so much like that little one desperate to finally arrive in the HERE, instead of always being THERE. Or rather, in my case I keep wishing I was THERE instead of HERE. 

I know HERE, well, most of it, and the bits I haven't explored only become apparent with a bit of distance. I keep dreaming of things to come, things I want to do in my life, with my life, places I want to see, people I want to spend time with, things I want to learn or experience... Don't get me wrong, I think this is a good thing, dreaming is one of the most important things, in my book, for each and every person: Once you lose your dreams you lose everything, your motivation, your energy, maybe even your reason for being here in the first place. I can't imagine a life without dreams, for me that is like living death, nothing to aspire to, nothing to work towards, nothing will ever change, constant sameness and no way out. Heck, I believe even lab rats have dreams, why else would they launch at every opportunity they get to escape? I feel sorry for anyone who just resigns themselves to whatever they have been dealt in life. I mean, yes, there will always be things you have to do in order to have the life you lead, sacrifices to be made, barriers you have to overcome, but you should have a reason why you do this. If you hate your job, but you do it because you need the money for your dream, well, go on a bit longer until you have achieved your dream. If you don't have a reason to do a job you hate, quit it! At least that's my way of going about things. And I often feel impatient with people who keep complaining about their lives but don't do anything about it.
Still, how do I get to a point where I am content with one place? At least enough to live there and go to other places to visit? Why is it that I am most interested in seeing what it is like to live somewhere? Just visiting means you stay a visitor, an outsider, just a quick look and you are gone again. I don't want that... but what solution is there? If I was real rich I could just build a couple of homes in different countries and go live wherever I feel like at that moment... lacking those kinds of funds, what to do? I keep telling them I need a Scottie, you know, a machine (or Scottie who operates that machine) that gets me all over the world in a second. Then nothing would matter, I could just decide to have tea with my friend down in Sydney, or try out that new Okonomiyaki place in Osaka I heard of, or come over for dinner at my friend's in Germany... pending that, I guess I will at some point have to settle for one place... I just don't know how to make that decision yet! And the alternative, keep on moving from one place to the next, clashes with my longing for one place, one home, where I can have my stuff around me, my bed, my books, my music... Komatta ne!!! So I just keep waiting for some realisation that finally tells me I am home. And I'm still waiting...

    

Education programme of another kind

The other day I went to Amemura here in Osaka, to meet a friend who was looking for some clothes for her 11 year old son. And in one of those shops I fell in love with a spudmonster t-shirt. No, not the band, the Ghostbusters thingy. You know, the green thing that flies around and eats any food that comes within reach... and slimes on people whenever the fancy takes it... Anyway, having bought the t-shirt and getting home again I was shocked to realise that the kids had no idea what that green thing was! I mean, seriously Ghostbusters! It's basic education! Especially when you are a nine year old boy! The parents knew of it, but never bothered to show him the movie. 

So, first on the agenda was to teach him the Ghostbusters song, which he has almost managed, well, the refrain at least... and with the video came some of the marshmallow man images, and curiosity was at full blast... 

So, the next step was to scout all the Book Off places in the area to find the DVD second hand. And in Kyoto I was lucky, finally, and brought it home. The nine-year-old loved it, of course, I mean, why wouldn't he? Monsters, jokes, action and a lot of slime in between... The five-year-old girl had some more reservations... nothing really cute about it, plus the monsters, so she would just cry out "kowai kowai" (scary scary) most of the time and hide in someones armpit, whoever happened to be nearest. The little two-year-old watched fascinated, some kowai comments in between, but mostly he just pointed at whatever he thought looked exciting...

Well, now they know. And another part of my job is done! Yoisho.

Meeting an old love...

Last weekend I went out to Awajishima, right here in Osaka Bay, with my friend... to her parents' place in the countryside... to get some fresh air and good seafood. And to meet my old love again. 

When we all used to live together in Chochiku House, he was living at the front with the family. I remember the first time we met. I went to chat with my friends in the front flat of the house, and have some tea, and he was there. He was looking at me suspiciously, after all he was living there and I wasn't. It was his place, what was a stranger doing there? But soon after there was a lot of touching and cuddling and dancing... the latter mostly by him. He has a very special happy dance, for when he is, well, happy. He shakes his bottom, then stretches out his legs and wags his head while making some indescribable sounds, something like yapping and neighing and laughing all at once. Oh, and licking of course. He would lick any free stretch of my skin he could reach.  

After that, whenever we met we would just fall over each other in embraces and cuddles. We were in love.

After I moved away and my friend had her second child, he moved out to Awajishima to stay with their parents. Now, six years after, he has become an old man. He is slowly going blind, and one of the legs won't really do what it's supposed to anymore. And his stature is a lot more filled out by now, since he can't walk much, but hangs around the kitchen most of the time where he will always get some snacks and goodies from otousan. But he recognised me instantly, and for the whole time I was there he would not leave my side, and we would again cuddle and he would still do the dance, if all a little more slowly than before.  And he still has the spirit, if not the energy or braveness to follow up on it. But he will surely make known when he is displeased with someone else taking his food. Even if he only grumbles and glares at the culprit, but not shout or hit out at them. Which is, effectively, useless, but he seems to be happy just having made some noise at all.

I am glad I was able to see my love once more. He will probably not be around for much longer anymore, turning older and sicker. Non, I love you, and I miss you already, after  being away from you again for just a day. I will always remember the time we had together!

 

How to talk when you don't know how...

  So, I am back in Japan once again, the weird place that holds a strange fascination for me, because even though I am highly critical of so many aspects of this society and will never succumb to many of the rules I still want to stay here, at least for a while longer. Call it what you will, masochism, love-hate relationship, challenging myself, I keep coming back, even if I sometimes have to run away half-way across the world just to get a break.

  Among one of my biggest challenges here is that I am a foreigner. Visibly. And a female at that, too. For a male foreigner many things are quite easy here, the nerdiest and positively attraction-free guys find those pretty chicks here, end up getting married and go off their heads in their own imagined super-sexiness. Outside of Japan they wouldn't have had a chance to reproduce, ever, but here... and it's not that the girls here are stupid. On the contrary, I think they have their own motives, which mostly come down to this: Japanese men are macho pigs. Exceptions do exist, but in general a Westerner makes a more comfortable partner. Or so I hear. For me, a Westerner, many of the guys still appear to be macho pigs, but maybe they win in comparison? I don't know. But fact is: For foreign men it's easy here, for foreign girls less so. Because Japanese men... well, the macho pig comment still stands. And most of the nice guys are too shy or too scared of Western women to make a move. And I have no clue how to notice who is nice and who isn't here, they all look like cute little boys to me! 

  Anyway, that wasn't what I wanted to talk about. What I did want to talk about was that as a foreigner you will always be just that, a foreigner. However hard you try, however well you speak the language, marry into a Japanese family, learn all those rules of conduct and mannerisms and what have you, you will still be the outsider. You will maybe get a glimpse of the inside, but you will never belong. Even if you find great friends or even partners, there will still be those moments where they will exclude you, because you wouldn't understand. And they won't explain. Because some things just can't be translated, linguistically or culturally.

  I came to this country in the first place to learn the language. I wasn't too interested in the culture to begin with, I just wanted to learn a language with a different writing system. And then I got stuck with it, and went on, all the way to Osaka. I stayed for a while, learned a lot, but then forgot it all again when I left. Therein lies the rub, this damn language just vanishes from your braincells if you don't refill them every day... 

  And so, after going on two decades of dealing with this language, I still can't speak it. Oh yes, it sounds impressive to others who don't understand a word of Japanese, and I am definitely able to make myself understood and have simple conversations, but make it a bit more complicated and that's where it all ends. And that is so damn frustrating! I mean really frustrating, the kind where I just want to throw myself on the floor and pound it with my fists and scream at the top of my lungs! And I would, if I even remotely thought it might help...

  So what to do? Luckily in many situation people overlook my lack of Japanese or the parts where I wasn't able to express myself politely or even remotely correctly, and still talk to me the next day. There may be some who didn't, but since they usually withdraw themselves really discretely I didn't notice. And wasn't bothered by the fact that we never met again.

  But still, I wish I could be able to express myself much better, and know what to say in certain situations, and ask the questions I really want to ask but don't know how, and understand the underlying meaning of what I am being told. I mean, I love my friends here, and I know they love me, despite me trampling on their toes every once in a while because I just didn't get it. By now their feet must be flat as pancakes. I just wish I could finally get to a point where I feel like I know what I'm doing. Or saying rather. And be able to say the right thing when they tell me their grandmother is in hospital. Instead, all I can do is look concerned, and give them a hug. And for now, that has to be enough...