Syllabus Day - But like for life...
Recently, Franny and I spent two and a half weeks in Ohio visiting family. This was not originally the plan for summer, but Franny is on an extended break from school. Additionally, the Americans in Japan warned me (repeatedly) about Japan’s absolutely brutal summers. Instead of hunkering down in the house under the wall unit air conditioner and engaging in way too much tablet time for six weeks, I decided to take Franny to the US.
Both of us were really looking forward to the trip. Prior to leaving, the weather in Japan had been hot and wet. It was so humid that every single article of fabric we owned felt damp. Franny started getting a rash on her cheeks and Aaron got one on his back. My face broke out so badly I looked like I was having a second adolescence – except I also now have wrinkles. Yay... Apparently, these unsightly afflictions are commonly associated with the hot and humid Japanese summers along with food poisoning from easily spoiled and moldy food. Lovely. Additionally, I was having trouble sleeping because my sheets constantly felt damp.
As previously mentioned, Japanese houses have wall unit air conditioners and heaters. Since the cost of electricity is so high, most Japanese only heat or cool the rooms they are currently occupying. When our rooms were not occupied, they got so hot and humid that our bread went stale, our ground spices became one solid clump, and the chocolate melted in the cupboard. I even had some lotion melt in the storage closet.
Like Europeans, Japanese also have single unit combination washers and dryers. However, the vast majority of laundry is dried by being hung outside or in the house.[1] See my earlier comment about the cost of electricity. Right before Franny and my departure, it was so humid that our clothes were taking over a day and a half to dry. Even while unpacking my suitcase in the US, my clothes felt damp. Did I mention I was really looking forward to the trip to Ohio?
Like many people, I get a twinge of anxiety before traveling. In particular, I was nervous about traveling for 23 – 24 hours nonstop with a five-year-old. Seriously, by the time we travel to the airport, fly to the US, go through customs and immigration, grab our bags, recheck our bags, go through security again, take another flight, grab our bags again, and drive home from the airport – both trips to and from Japan were approximately 24 hours. On top of that, I do not sleep on planes. At all, period. I simply cannot get comfortable sitting upright. If I ever do get lucky enough to doze off, that is when Franny wakes me because she needs to pee.
Fortunately, our travel to the US went as smooth as possible. We arrived before the computer outage that grounded planes and caused thousands of suitcases to stop short of their destination. Unbelievably, no TSA agent yelled at me during this trip. Usually, I get scolded at least once. I take my liquids or electronics out of my bag when I am not supposed to or I don’t take them out of my bag when I am supposed to. I use too many gray bins or I put too many items into my bin. I don’t move up in line quick enough or I move too quick and I am crowding them. When I was in law school and regularly flying back and forth between D.C. and Ohio, my bag and/or person got searched every single time. Not an exaggeration. I could write a book about the rude “power-trip-treatment” of TSA agents; but this time, incredibly, everyone was polite and efficient. It probably helps to have a cute five-year-old tagging along with you.
On the way back to Japan, everything was equally smooth. That is, until, I got to the immigration and customs lines in Japan. The Americans living in Japan told me to make sure I skipped the long line for tourists and go to the much shorter line for Japanese residents. I wasn’t sure where to go so I asked a young man directing people. He pointed to the line for electronically scanning passports. That didn’t seem right, but who am I to argue with a professional at work? Well apparently, I should have argued with a professional at work because another employee stopped me and said that line was for Japanese passports only. She said to go to the orange line.
I scanned the huge room packed with people and saw absolutely no orange line. I decided to make my way to where I entered the room to see if I could spot orange anywhere. I was stopped by the same young man that told me to go to the wrong line. I asked him again for the line for Japanese residents, and he vaguely pointed behind him. At that point I could see an orange sign sitting in the middle of the massive crowd. However, I had no idea what line was associated with that orange sign and where the end of the correct line was located. I told the young man, “I don’t know how to get there.” This prince charming responded by yelling at me, “Just go!”
Please remember, at this point I had been traveling for approximately 22 hours with no sleep. In a fit of rage, I punch this asshole in the face.
Just kidding. I started to cry.
In fact, I was so tired and stressed that I could not stop crying. Franny and I jumped in the line immediately behind the young man. I stood there wiping away tears as they rolled down my face. A very nice guy behind me, who was not an airport employee, took pity on me and told me I could go into the much shorter line for people traveling with small children. I was hesitant because there was absolutely no signage (in English anyway) that specified that line was for Japanese residents or for people with children. I really didn’t want to get yelled at again!
Well, if it was the wrong line, I was too pathetic for anyone to tell me because the rest of the process went fine thereafter. However, the tears did not stop. I had been hit in the face with a reminder of how hard life in Japan can be for a non-Japanese speaker. I wasn’t sure if I would be able to handle this kind of “hard” for the next year and a half, and I really wasn’t sure if I wanted to try.
After collecting our bags and finding Aaron, I used a Japanese restroom. The cleanliness of many Japanese public bathrooms is a thing, and it is wonderful. There is never toilet paper on the floor. Each stall contains sanitizer so the seat can be cleaned prior to usage. My particular stall at the airport played the sound of running water. I am not sure if the sound is meant to muffle any noise coming from the stall or encourage urination, but I loved it either way. And just like that, I was happy to be in Japan again. Do not underestimate how much I hate public bathrooms. Once as a kid, I barely peed for a week because the restrooms at camp were so gross. You have to appreciate the little things. Also, did I mention that I had not slept in over a day?
When Franny, Aaron, and I got home from the airport I saw the pile of homework and documents Franny’s school sent home over summer break. Every piece of paper had to be translated and addressed. I felt frustrated and overwhelmed. I was particularly annoyed by the message indicating that I was still required to submit Franny’s temperature daily on the school’s app so the school can continue to monitor her health over break. The school also suggested that I use a calendar and stickers that they had sent home to track Franny’s teeth brushing, vegetable consumption, the weather, and how often and the consistency of her poop. As soon as I confirmed that it was not required for the calendar to be completed and returned to the school after break, I threw it away. Suddenly, I was not happy to be back in Japan again.
Since Franny and I were in the US over Aaron’s birthday, we took him out to a steak dinner at a restaurant the day after we returned. In hindsight, a dinner out the day after traveling may have been a mistake. Franny’s jetlag was in full force and she oscillated between crying and sleeping during the first half of the meal. As is usually the case in Japan, the service was absolutely impeccable. The owner brought Aaron a complimentary glass of French apple brandy, and they even brought Franny a blanket to make her more comfortable while she slept. The steak was one of the best I have had in my life, and it cost a fraction of the price of a steak in the US. Also, there is no tipping in Japan. And like that, I was happy to be in Japan again.
Upon reflection, I realized that those rough moments at the airport felt like “syllabus day.” Remember the first day of class in school when the instructor hands out the syllabus outlining all the work that will need to be done over the semester, aka syllabus day. Without fail, every syllabus I received would send me into a panic. How could I possibly accomplish all this work? But I did not have to accomplish everything in the syllabus that day or even the next day. I had the whole semester. When I did the work step by step and day by day it was usually not that bad.
Getting off the plane and being chastised by the airport employee sent me back to syllabus day. I know I am prone to this type of self-defeating irrational thought, and I am working on it. I am trying to be more mindful and more present in the moment. Logically, I know that I do not have to do a year and a half of hard in one day or two. I have a year and a half. I can accomplish all those hard things step by step and day by day. Similarly, Franny and I do not need to complete everything the school sent home in a day; we can do it little by little over the rest of summer break. Worrying does not make the future better; it only ruins the present. (I definitely read that somewhere.) Furthermore, I am striving to not completely spin out every time I think about getting a job upon our return to the US, or moving back into our house, or enrolling Franny in school, or buying a vehicle, or ensuring Franny is not behind in English, etc. Does anyone have a brown paper bag I can breathe into?
Like most things, the reality is nuanced. There are great things about living in Japan and frustrating things about living in Japan. Just as there are great things about living in the US (like central air) and frustrating things about living in the US. Truthfully, I am incredibly grateful for the opportunity to live here. I get to spend more time with Franny.[2] I have been able to do some writing, like this Substack. As a family, we get to explore this amazingly beautiful country and culture together. On a personal level, I have a chance to figure out what I want my career to be when I return to the US.
That said, in a year and a half I will be happy to go home. I will be thrilled to return to my dog - who I miss so much it physically hurts. And I will be really happy to return to Taco Bell – who I miss so much it physically hurts.
[1] Bats like to hang out where we hang our laundry outside and by our front door. Consequently, I get to clean up bat poop a couple times a week. Did I mention I was really looking forward to the trip to Ohio? On the bright side, we do not have a problem with mosquitos like some homes.
[2] Let’s be honest. More time with your kid has its own good points and bad points.