A lot of people have asked what I'll miss most about Japan. Topping the list is the sense of adventure. My students are a close second. I'll also miss my colleagues at school, my friends, and the food. And a million other things, large and small.
When I reflect on this question, I realize that living in Japan for two years has really ruined me in a lot of ways. Never again will I be able to buy sushi (or any fresh food) at a convenience store without falling perilously ill. I'll have to start being more vigilant of my surroundings- no more walking alone at night, or napping on the train with my purse in my lap. Speaking of trains, I can forget about the efficiency of public transportation. Farewell to the punctuality of bus and rail schedules, and people showing up early for meetings.
Because Japan is a cash economy and has weird ATM hours that make it difficult to make withdrawals, I've become accustomed to carrying around hundreds of dollars' worth of yen. Elsewhere I might be mugged; in Japan, it's fairly par for the course to have that much cash on you. When I closed out my bank account the other week, the teller gave me the balance of my account in a thick stack of cash. It looked as though I was about to ransom a small child, but I admit I was exhilarated. It's the only time in my life that I'll be able to say that I was a mill-yen-aire. (See what I did there?)
In my next life, there won't be vending machines on every block offering a wide assortment of cold and hot beverages, helping me stay hydrated. I will have to re-condition myself to not bow to everyone, and remind myself that I can't expect the superior level of customer service offered in Japan. For example, no one will apologize to me when I commit a grievous faux pas, as though their perfectly reasonable rules or procedures are inconveniencing me, the clueless customer.
I will have to dig out my tip calculator again, since gratuities don't exist in Japan. Workers earn a living wage, and besides, it would be considered poor form to expect extra compensation for doing their job.
Dear onsen, I'll miss you as well. There's nothing quite like being naked with a bunch of strangers, scrubbing oneself clean and then luxuriating in different baths. The soothing, scalding heat of one tub, the discomfiting electric pulse of another, or the invigorating wakeup that is the ice-cold pool.
Goodbye, floors so clean I could eat off of them. See you, spotless bathrooms and people who take pride in what they do, no matter how seemingly inconsequential or lowly the job. Hello, rippling cellulite and exposed undergarments. To those perpetually and loudly talking on their cell phones, please give me a wide berth.
Remind me why I didn't renew my contract for another year?
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