Stage 2 - Setup Camp

As if packing up my life into two fifty-pound suitcases and halfway circumnavigating across the world was not enough of an uproot, I had been assigned to a host family. We had been told the felicitous mannerisms and thank you’s to fill our dialogues with, but never was it ever going to be enough. Completely crashing and burning your already sinking ship was part of the curriculum when it came to living with a host family. Perhaps it would be different with that of the Europeans, but as luck would have it that was not where my muse beckoned me. That was OK. A complete shock to my system is something that can only be achieved when one is truly surrendered to one task or journey, right? It was all for the sake of learning! One day, most likely exceedingly far in the future, this would pay off and land me that dream job I had yet to think of.

Our Sensei had promised the furthest family the best student. I should have taken that as a compliment, right? Alas I did, and I was placed in the care of a family that lived an hour and a half from school. Now let me set your bearings. Tokyo is an exorbitant, metropolitan city. So large, in fact, that there are sub-cities within its frame. Even after spending nearly a full turn of the sun deviating through its passages and avenues I still did not effectively see all that Tokyo offers. To the east of the city is known as Chiba and that is where the adventurers go to catch a flight. Oppose that, on the south-west side, is Kawasaki. And if by now all you can think about is how you’d really like that chrome-plated Kawasaki bike you saw in your rich neighbor’s driveway last week, then they certainly have done a stupendous job at marketing the name, now haven’t they? That is where I took residence. Might I stress that it was a completely different city!
A rabbit house is what my host mom called her abode. She was rather fond of its American qualities. We had doors that swung on hinges, a place for the family car, and double-paned windows to keep her samba music from exacerbating the neighbors. I was sentenced to a room in the attic which I grew greatly fond of. I even had my own balcony! Which, might I add, gave me a perfect viewing of the many seductive sunsets that were ahead of me. They treated me very well. My host mother was an exceptional cook and when we learned that our tastes were of the same kind, life became much easier.
They spoke English. I did honestly try to converse in Japanese, but often times it was easier on everyone to speak English. It didn’t start that way. The taxi ride to the house was observed completely in Japanese, and it was not until entering the dining hour that I heard my host mother speak her first English word. Potato. Yes, that is correct. Clearly we were having some sort of dish that contained potatoes that night. Sadly I do not remember anymore the Japanese word for that particular type, but that is of no relevance these days.
As the moon continued through its monthly cycle, I learned how to get to and from school, which was a grueling undertaking every day that I attempted it. I would procure the assistance of my host sister’s bicycle and park it in the allotted space beneath the train rails. That was where the kind security guards would benevolently nod in my direction and give me a smile once they saw it was their local white girl each time I passed through the gates. Those old men were so cute. It was certainly a pleasant beginning to any day, even on the ones I was late to school for. After pressing myself into the commuter express I would count down the stops until it was my turn to switch trains in Shibuya. If you have never seen the youtube videos of train conductors dressed in perfectly bleached gloves press people into the train as hard as their muscles will allow, then I highly suggest you do a quick search. It actually happens. For those of you who have perchance lived through such an experience, then I feel your claustrophobic pain. There is nothing like being pressed against an old, sweaty man’s jacketed back on a day hotter than Carolina in July. Such is made sweeter by the stench of bodily odor still untamed by the wide use of effective deodorant.
Alas I would finally arrive at my final destination of Nishi-Waseda and would proceed to walk the last bit of distance. I enjoyed the days when I did not have to ride in rush-hour. It was then that I could take my time and enjoy the ethereal view I had once I got out of that spoiled city. The rabbit house was but a block from the Tamagawa river and I loved picking up lunch and eating along its waters. Those halcyon days were some of the fondest memories for me and the day I get the chance to travel back to Kawasaki, that is one place that is at the top of my list.