Sensei and Sensibility
Monday, February 21, 2005
And So the Worlds Collide...
February 18, 2005: I woke up at 10am, after working until 3am at Starbucks. I was working with 2 new people, and I myself was new to closing (previously, I couldn't do closes because the bus didn't run late enough to get me home - now I am within stumbling distance). It was a hairy experience, trying to close down a store, and the espresso machine. My mind was whirling, and I still couldn't sleep at 4am ... dozed off...10am and my eyes were open...the ominous thought of "this is the day" repeating itself over and over in my mind.
I drank my coffee and read the newspaper, paying careful attention to the horoscope. Today was a good day for me to travel - not much in that, I thought.
I puttered. Then I puttered some more. I tried to distract myself in the world of "The Young and the Restless", but to no avail. Flowers came from my ever thoughtful sister. My stomach was doing flip-flops as fear was taking over. I had received an e-mail that there were problems at the Osaka airport - at first, they were unwilling to issue Yoshi a boarding pass because his ticket was open for a year, but he didn't have a visa. I was quietly anticipating problems. What if they sent him back? Would they contact me? Would they let me see him, even through glass, so that we could touch fingers and gaze into each others' eyes?
I walked to the flower shop and bought him the most perfect red rose that I could find. I stopped by Starbucks to get a coffee to calm my nerves, I hopped on the bus to the airport. I treated myself to a donut at 5pm - his flight was landing at 6pm, so I had the time.
No, wait, the plane was landing at 6:15. I need a whopper junior to calm my nerves...
Now the sign said 6:35. Time to settle myself in front of the TV and try to think of something else - Zoolander, the movie on TBS for the moment. I checked my watch incessantly. 6:35. He won't be coming out for a bit. 6:45- I lined up with the masses to greet him. 7pm - the flight attendants from his plane started to come through. 7:15 pm - the passengers from his plane started to come through. I looked up expectantly at the TV screen that showed the passengers coming down the hallway. No Yoshi. Maybe I missed him? 7:35 - I did a quick run around of the arrivals area to make sure I didn't miss him. 8pm, I clutched the rose harder and walked up to the glass to try to find him - there were no more passengers from his flight coming out. Other people were staring at me - this girl with a furrowed brow frantically clutching a rose. The story of my stress was etched on my face, but the lines did not betray the depth of my fear.
8:15 - still no Yoshi. I needed a drink.
8:20 - I looked down, thinking about how I would find out what had happened to him and trying not to cry. "Sabine" I heard softly. My head snapped up and there he was in front of me! Forgetting about the railing that impeded us, we hugged, and I gave him the now-limp rose.
He had been waylayed by the immigration officers, and the line-up coming from Taipei had been hideous. Luckily, the officers were very kind and helpful to him. They asked him what he was doing in Canada (why would he have a one year open ticket when he supposedly only wants a 6month visitor's visa?). He explained that he was visiting "Friends and Family". They wanted to know what family he was visiting, since he had never been to Canada before. He admitted that he was visiting his wife. They instantly understood - he hadn't received his residency papers yet, but wanted to be with his wife. They informed him that his six-month visitors visa could be extended if he showed someone a copy of our marriage certificate, and sent him on his way.
And with that, he was here :)
The taxi ride from the airport was.... well, as they would say on the riverbank, that was another story! ;)
 Sabine . 10:47 AM . Comments
Thursday, November 18, 2004
The tears have stopped, so...
For a long time, I have been completely unable to write about my experiences in Japan. I have been unable to write e-mails or postcards to my friends overseas. Thankfully, the tears have finally stopped, and I can see clearly again. I apologise to those who wanted updates, and to those whom I have lost because of my inability to communicate my thoughts and feelings.
My departure from Japan was lukewarm. I knew that there was a possibility that this could be good-bye for a long, long time, but many people assumed that since my husband is Japanese, I would be back. I wasn't certain, however, and I wanted the time to grieve and mourn and seek closure. So many people said only, "See ya later", and at times, I wanted to shake them and reply, "No, there is a good chance that you won't! So, c'mon, let's raise a glass of sake one more time and relish that moment because it may well be our last!"
So, my sadness started around July, and continued until recently. July was a whirlwind of packing and the dawning realization that this was the end of an era for me. I was faced with the challenge of clipping the ties of the sensei and becoming the traveller. My husband was trying to be supportive, but he has never forged a life in another country, so it was difficult for him to understand where I was coming from. For him, the realisation hit in August. Maybe it actually came at the airport.
A few friends stopped by on the morning of my departure, to thrust presents into my hands and hug one last time. Before our friends came, Yoshi and I tried our best to hold off time and just lie there together, holding hands. The clock ticked, and with grim determination, Yoshi nudged me out of the futon and helped me to prepare to leave. He was quiet, except for a few jokes about the weight of my luggage. His job was to field the knocks and telephone calls while I silently whispered my good-byes to the ghosts of our house and to the memories of my time in Ikuno. The first person to stop by was Sato san. He seemed quite nervous, and with barely a word proceeded to tramp through the house dragging cables in pursuit of a plug. With Sato san, one never knows what will happen, and soon I found myself standing by the back of his van, where he had an electric piano perched on his bumper. He had composed a song as a good-bye present for me. Tears welled in my eyes as I listened to the notes.
Soon, other friends had filled the little parking lot in front of our house. Magically, my luggage was already in the car (thanks Yoshi), and it was time for me to depart. Fujiwara san, Ichinose san, Yoshi and I climbed in the car, after long hugs and many photographs. A group of 5 or so people stood in the driveway, waving good-bye until they could no longer see our car. And with that, we were off, and my three years in Ikuno was over. My eyes passed over the road and the view that I had come to know as "the way home", and a huge lump in my throat prevented me from being able to speak. In my thoughts I whispered, "Good-bye route 312, good-bye Kanzaki town, good-bye Ichikawa town, Fukusaki town, good bye favourite sushi restaurant, good-bye"
At the airport, the whole process was too busy, a real blur. Yoshi was directing the conversation so that I could just sit and absorb everything one last time. Yoshi and I went to go get canned coffee for everyone - he was being such a rock! At the vending machine, I was approached by a woman with a small child. She explained that she was a teacher at a preschool in Osaka, and she had taken her students to the airport in the hopes of meeting foreigners. The students had carefully prepared questions and made origami presents, and she wanted to know if a couple of them could ask me questions. One last time, I was surrounded by the cherubic faces of Japanese children, tentatively forming English words with their small lips. Yoshi was standing back to watch. Tears were flowing down my cheeks as I smiled and chatted with the kids and their teachers. Just as quickly, they vanished. Their only remains were the stickers and folded cranes that lay in my hands. Yoshi walked up to me and simply stated: "You are a sensei until the last moment, ne..." With that, he took me outside to get some fresh air. We sat down on the curb, and Yoshi bowed his head down and started to sob, quietly at first. Soon we were both sobbing, dejected at not knowing when we would meet again.
His mom telephoned from the hospital to say good-bye, and with that, I lined up for security. I have no idea how I made it through everything and onto the plane. I remember walking to the train that would take me to my gate - there was a large window to the hallway and check-in counters. From there, I had my last chance to wave good-bye to Yoshi, Ichinose-san and Fujiwara san, whose faces were pressed up against the glass. I stopped for a moment, looked each person in the eyes, blew them one last kiss, turned and walked off. From all reports, they had a really quiet ride home...
I arrived at my business class seat to be greeted with a box of tissue and a glass of champagne. The flight was a blur. I don't even remember arriving. I know that it was raining. I know that I didn't want to get off the plane.
No one was waiting for me at the airport - my flight arrived almost an hour early. I think that I just stood there, for a very long time, in shock.
From that moment on, I have been living in Canada. Not so much living as filling time, urging it to go more quickly. I would tell myself, "If only you can make it until.... then it will be OK." When .... arrived, I would make a new date.
So, the things I have filled my time with since arriving back in Canada have been the following:
- going back to Ontario to see my family
- touring visiting friends from Germany around Vancouver
- cat-sitting for a friend
- rehearsing and playing the part of Wilbur in a production of Charlotte's Web
- getting a part-time job at Starbucks, and learning more about coffee than I ever thought possible
- touring around visiting students from Kyoto
- touring around my students from Ikuno JHS who came on the exchange trip
- preparing my application for Graduate School.
For those who are wondering how things are going on the immigration front, I have been approved to sponsor Yoshi, and his application was sent to Manila for processing (I think that is the Eastern Asia processing centre). The forms sat for about a month before being looked at in Canada, and then they sat for another month in Manila. However, they have started processing Yoshi's forms - the last stage before they make their decision - so we could hear something soon, or not for a long time. It could take weeks, months, or years. We don't really know.
My savings arrived the other day from Japan, and after thinking about it for a while, I went to a travel agent and booked a ticket to go back to Japan for a couple of weeks in January. If I get into Grad school, it will be a long time before I get back to Japan and see my friends and beloved Ikuno. Yoshi will hopefully come in February, so I can help him to prepare for that.
I paid for the ticket yesterday, and already a huge weight has been lifted off my shoulders. I think that I need to say good-bye to Japan slowly in order to put it behind me and move forward. I do not regret dipping into my savings to go back, even though it will mean a greater struggle in the end. Perhaps Yoshi and I can't get a car right away. Perhaps I won't be able to afford a computer and will have to camp out at internet cafes like I am currently doing.
However, there is no price on having peace in one's heart. I will go back to Japan as a visitor, and I will leave, this time of my own volition, and I will know that I have things to come back to Canada for, which makes all the difference. When I come back to Canada then, I have vowed not to dread my time here, but to embrace it, and to allow myself to love Vancouver once more.
Time will tell.
Sabine . 1:23 PM . Comments
Wednesday, August 11, 2004
The Post Office.
It`s so nice living in a small town!
Today, I finally went there with my 10 boxes of stuff to send home. They let me park in the loading dock, helped me to carry my boxes, I got to wait in the secret "back" area while they weighed them, and we were chatting about how hard it is to fit three years worth of memories into 10 boxes. They laughed at me because every box seemed to contain photo albums. My poor friends back home.
Then, they gave me a 10% discount for the big quantity, which saved me about 80 bucks.
We chatted some more. I remember how often these guys had helped me with my strange requests over the years - they really have been great to me!
At the end, they shook my hand, wished me well in my journeys, and told me that they`d miss me.
I was touched, just like when the announcement about Yoshi and my marriage went in the town paper and the delivery guy chased me down on his scooter to aske me if my address had changed.
Can this possibly be a government office????
In a small town, I don`t think so.
I`m gonna miss my inaka!
Sabine . 11:56 PM . Comments
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