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Balance (first post)

Sitting on my couch, I count back ten weeks since I first flew into Tokyo. It’s hard to believe it hasn’t been longer. My room is artificially lit, and the curtains are drawn to shut out the unfamiliar world outside. I am wrapped in a blanket, sitting beside a tissue box and a water bottle. I turn off my phone and stare blankly at the screen in front of me. The fifth season of Gilmore Girls is playing. After a few restless moments, I check my phone again. All my friends back home are asleep. I scroll back on my camera roll as I listen to the soothing theme music.

I am walking up a crowded street, passing by vendors selling green tea, red bean crepes, paper fans and tee-shirts. The friends I had met in the last two months, Tessa and Charley, are walking beside me. I am determined to get past the vendors so I can show them my favourite place in Kyoto. We laugh and talk about our weekend plans. It’s crazy how a shared experience, such as living abroad, can bring people together so quickly. As I listen to Tessa tell a story, I feel like I have known her for years. The Autumn sun guides us to the top of the hill and the vendors become more sparse. The great, ancient temple is finally before us. Looking over the side of the temple, I am in awe of a sea of green, red and orange leaves. Tiny tourists walk around a small koi pond far below us. On the hill across from where we stand, Tessa points out a smaller red temple almost hidden by the trees. The smell of incense drifts past us. This moment reminds me why I left home and fills me with a sense of joy and peace.

This is a glimpse of two experiences I have had living and teaching full-time in Japan. Living here has given me very dark days where I feel entirely alone and completely out of place. Some days I am so bored, yet I can’t bring myself to do anything. On other days, I pretend I am somewhere else. I cry on the phone to my parents, telling them how my whole life has changed, that I work too much, how lonely I am, or that I am tired of everything being unfamiliar. After days of feeling this way, it only takes one good day to set me back on my feet and remind me of why I chose to move here. The good days are great; they remind me that I am living in a beautiful country and growing as an individual.

There is a delicate balance in my life here. I have more gratitude for the good days because of the bad days. I have hope during the bad days because of the good days. In this blog, I hope to write about both. There will be posts about the hard times because living abroad is not easy, and I want to share those difficulties and practice being vulnerable. I will also write about my good experiences because I love Japan and want to share its beauty. I believe it is a place everyone should visit at least once.

Slow Travel

I am racing through the station, frantically glancing at my phone. The map says platform three but I can only spot signs for platforms 1-2 and 4-8. Where the f**k is platform three? Crowds of busy people push past me in all directions as I stop to view the map on my phone. I have two minutes to get to the station to make the train to the museum that closes in an hour. It’s my last destination of the day and my last day in this city. Finally, I notice the sign across from me with the station map. As I walk closer I immediately see I already passed station three without noticing. I spin around and retrace my steps. There it is. I pass people on the escalator going down to the platform as the train pulls up. This must be the world’s longest escalator. My feet slam the platform floor as I run for the doors. They shut. The train races away, leaving me disappointed and sweaty on platform 3.

~

As thrilling as it is, backpacking is exhausting. It can allow you to see multiple cities and countries in a shorter period of time, which is amazing. It can also be disappointing and can distract you from what is really going on in the country you’re in. 

If I only had more time. 

I hate saying goodbye and making new friends every few days.

I don’t have time for that.

I wish I met more locals.

I need a break.

Those are all thoughts I have had while backpacking. I am not writing this to explain that I hate backpacking, I do think it is a great experience and a good way to begin traveling. However, I have learned much more about other cultures and places from slow travel.

What is slow travel? Slow travel means staying in a place for a longer period of time. You can still explore multiple cities/countries but instead of cramming your itinerary by spending two to three days in each place, you slow it down. If you have less time to travel, instead of hitting every hotspot, try to prioritize the few places that would align with the experiences you want from the trip. If you want to learn about culture and meet locals, try a smaller, lesser known area. If you want to meet other travelers and socialize, try hotspots. If you want balance, choose both and ditch the other eight destinations on your list.

Spending over a week in one place allowed me to find my favorite spots, have time to go to recommendations from locals and other travelers, discover lesser known places, relax, be spontaneous, and have a more flexible schedule without stressing you won’t see enough. Slow travel gives you the opportunity to make closer friends and form deeper connections. 

Carefully choosing fewer places to travel to also means less “traveling.” When backpacking, a third of my time was spent driving, on a bus, on a plane, or on a train. Time that I would have preferred to spend on the beach, surfing, or exploring. I also felt less guilty about having an unproductive or “rest” day, because I had time. My days didn’t have to be meticulously planned or rushed. 

I like to count living abroad as a form of slow travel. When you are able to stay somewhere for longer than a month, you truly start to peak through the backdoor. When I spend more time somewhere, I have deeper conversations with the people who live there. I gain more perspective on the place I am traveling and get to experience it more authentically. I have been invited to a private ceremony in a small Shinto temple, been through a secret, old war cave, celebrated a 100th birthday of an Indonesian man who’s granddaughter I’d befriended, and been on countless back roads and locally known trails. These are just a few examples of experiences that wouldn’t have been possible without forming connections with people by slow traveling. These experiences have helped me connect with the place, myself and my home. Some  of  these experiences were scary or uncomfortable for me and challenged me, which helped me to push out of my comfort zone. 

Slow travel is also not for the rich. You can get a working visa and work while you are traveling. You can volunteer in hostels in exchange for food and accommodation. You can sign up for Work Away and exchange various jobs for accommodation. You can also stick to the same timeline you would with backpacking, but be more selective with where you want to go. There are many ways to save money and stay longer somewhere. 

~

I step onto the platform as the train whirrs past me. I take a deep breath. I’m feeling tired, maybe missing the train was for the best. I have two more weeks to see the museum. I walk back through the station and out the front doors. The sun’s orange light warms my face. I walk in the direction to my hostel and pass a rooftop bar. I decide to stop and check it out. Climbing the spiraling stairs, I hear faint music coming from the roof. The table I choose looks out over a glass balcony to the city below. A man sits in the corner, passionately singing and playing guitar into a mic. The glass high-rises reflect warm light as the sun makes its way below the horizon. As the server brings me a margarita, we begin talking. She invites me out to a concert with her and her friends tomorrow night. After she leaves, I continue to enjoy the sunset, knowing that I am in no rush and have nowhere to be. I am in the moment. 

“The great benefit of slowing down is reclaiming the time and tranquility to make meaningful connections–with people, with culture, with work, with nature, with our own bodies and minds” 

Carl Honoré

How my Growth Mindset Changed from Living Abroad

I’ve always been an “I’m the only one that knows what’s best for me” kind of person. In other words, I’ve always been a little “stubborn.” In many ways, I like that about myself. It has led me to where I am now and has helped me accomplish many goals. Recently though, I have been learning a lot about how this mindset has also put me on a path toward being close-minded and judgmental. Not judgmental of others necessarily, but judgmental of alternate versions of who I could be. Versions that don’t meet the goals I currently hold or the future I have set out for. I have been putting expectations on myself without looking inwardly to find out if that will truly make me happy. I am making actions based on what my past self wanted without considering the person I am today. I am not who I was four years ago, I am not even the person I was a year ago. What made me happy then may not make me happy now. I am so afraid of disappointing myself that I put myself in situations that don’t make necessarily fulfill me or bring me happiness.

Moving abroad has helped me learn this lesson. Before I moved here, I had a picture of what my future would look like. A picture that hadn’t changed since before I started University. I was going to live abroad for as many years and in as many countries as I could. The idea of staying “at home” or “settling down” was not on my radar at all. All I wanted to do was learn, grow and experience other cultures and places. All this sounds great, it still does. But as I begin this journey, this dream I’ve had for so long, the reality isn’t as I imagined. Moving to a new country alone is mentally challenging, expensive, and emotionally exhausting. It’s been six months of living abroad and it still hasn’t gotten much easier for me. Yes, I will grow a lot this year and hopefully will come home with a better understanding of myself, the world and life. Yet, I will not be ready to pack up and move to a new country again next year, as I planned. I forgot how I felt after living abroad the last time, I was ready to settle in at home for a while after. I am teaching myself that it is okay to rest and take time to recharge. I do not need to be constantly learning, growing and changing. It is just as important to take the time to reflect on all the ways you’ve changed and grown.

I always thought I thrived on constant movement and a busy schedule, but I now realize that I don’t prosper on busyness but find silence and rest uncomfortable. Recently, I have been trying to allow myself to take time to be bored. I want to overcome the feeling of restlessness and teach myself to enjoy taking breaks. I have been practicing listening to my present self more. When I feel a spark of motivation, I put all my energy into it and when I feel burnt out, I take a break. Hopefully, by practicing this on a day-to-day basis, I can learn to plan my life with a careful balance of work, travel and rest. Instead of throwing myself into big projects and trips all the time, I can plan to take time to settle into a familiar routine and comfortably rest at home. Moving abroad has shown me that it can be amazing, but it also involves exhaustion and anxiety when you’re constantly experiencing new things. Last year, I pushed myself to finish university early by cramming eight courses into one semester. As soon as I graduated, I was preparing to move across the world alone for a full-time high-school teaching job. I never allowed myself to recharge and reflect on all that I had already accomplished. I learned I would not be moving backwards if I take a moment to settle into a routine and a home and take time to recharge. Doing this will allow me to have the energy to enjoy bigger projects and adventures more when I decide to take them on. I have learned that I need to prioritize who I am in the moment and how I feel, just as much as I prioritize who I want to be. I don’t always have to be pushing myself on to something “bigger and better.” The constant growth mindset is not always the best mindset.

“To allow ourselves to be truly in touch with where we already are, no matter where that is, we have got to pause in our experience long enough to let the present moment sink in; long enough to actually feel the present moment, to see it in its fullness, to hold it in awareness and thereby come to know and understand it better.”

Jon Kabat-Zinn, Wherever You Go There You Are.

Visiting a Zen Buddhist Monastery – Eijeiji Temple

It’s been a stressful week, a rainy day road trip to “the temple of eternal peace” was exactly what I needed. Eiheiji temple is a thirty-minute drive through the 田舎 (county side) from my house in Fukui City. We pass through rows of rice fields along the way. The many hills are covered by cedar trees and speckled with orange deciduous trees. Thick fog hides parts of the landscape. Between rice fields, there are small creeks that parallel the road and clusters of traditional houses. The natural landscape reminds me of home, the rainy Pacific Northwest. However, the cedar trees differentiate the forest slightly from Canada; the lofty green branches grow much higher up on the trunk. The sound of the rain and the peaceful atmosphere set the scene before we reach the temple. Once we arrive, I’m surprised by the size of Eiheiji. There are multiple areas to visit, each with a different purpose for the monks. After taking a moment to appreciate the red Japanese maple leaves falling over the stream that flows through the temple, we wash our hands, remove our shoes and walk through the entrance. Eijeiji temple was founded in 1244 by Dogen Zenji. He encouraged the Zen practice of shikantaza or “just sitting.” This type of meditation does not involve concentration on one object but on everything you experience in the moment. Shikantaza encourages focusing on thoughts, feelings and surroundings without attachment. 

We walk up the stairs to the upper part of the temple. There are four lion sculptures guarding a large altar that stands before me. Golden chandeliers hang above as I kneel down in front of a saison box and toss a few coins in. Growing up in a non-religious household, I was never taught how to pray properly. I am unsure if it’s a request, a wish or just silence. I close my eyes and I hope that being here will help me let go of the anxiety and fear I’ve held onto since moving to Japan. I want to bring home some of the peace I feel being at the temple. After I’m finished, I bow to the alter and walk outside to join my friends again. We sit down and look out at the view in silence. Beyond the kawara roof of the lower temple is a forest draped in dense fog. Normally, I would consider the rain to be bad weather, but today it added to the calming atmosphere. 

We continue into a room that holds many memorial tablets of all the past abbots of the temple. A group of monks is talking by an altar. The monks still live, work, and practice Zen Buddhism at Eiheiji temple. There is a bathhouse where they bathe and shave their heads every five days. They pray multiple times a day and eat a vegetarian diet. I have never been to a place where people live so simply and presently. The Monks who live at Eiheiji are surrounded by nature all day and are devoted to the teachings of Buddha. In these teachings, they do not yearn for or loathe anything. They must have compassion for all living things. Buddhahood doesn’t include anxiety and distress. Seeing this way of life, even for just a day, reminded me that I can live much more peacefully if I let go of what is not in the present moment. So much of my anxiety being here revolves around what could happen and what I miss back home. Practicing letting go and focusing on the peace of the moment will help me feel fulfilled wherever I am.

We are born and die one time in this human life- How shall we live it? That is the fundamental question of the Buddha Dhaema. Is it a joyous thing to live long? Life is not that way. Is it sorrowful to die after a short life? Life is not that way. The question is how shall we live.

How Shall We Live

Loneliness and Living Abroad

Have you ever asked yourself what kind of person the people closest to you think you are because you wonder who you are yourself? I didn’t even know that I had lost connection with myself until I began spending a lot of time alone. Moving abroad to Japan was a chance to force myself to go through something challenging on my own, which is helping me learn to understand myself and what I need.  

Two years ago, the thought of living alone was terrifying. I didn’t even like imagining it and would think about ways I could avoid it in the future. In March, when I was deciding whether to move to Japan or not, the idea of being alone in a foreign country scared me even more. I remember calling my parents at that time and telling them that I didn’t think I could do it. “I’ve dreamed of this for so long, but I never knew it would be this scary. When I dreamt of it, I never thought about the flight or living alone or natural disasters,” I said to them. “Who would be there for me if something happened? Who would take care of me if I got sick or injured?” I didn’t even think for a second that I could be that person for myself. 

During my four years of University, I always had roommates and was constantly with my friends or family. I looked forward to coming home at the end of the day to talk to my roommate. Even when I was alone in my room, I liked knowing she was just in the other room if I needed her. When I was anxious, it comforted me to know I wasn’t alone. I am an extrovert and always loved being around people. I didn’t even realize how much I relied on others for comfort until I moved to Japan and was completely on my own. 

In May the reality of leaving became even more real when I had to say goodbye to my family and went through a breakup because I was moving to a new city in Canada for the summer before going abroad.  I needed to let go of the people I relied on because soon they would not be there. As the day of my flight came closer and closer, I became less focused on being alone in Japan and more nervous about the flight. In the last few years, I have developed a very unfortunate fear of flying. I knew that this was an irrational fear that I had to overcome, but the idea of getting on the plane made me feel queasy. Three weeks before my departure, I still had a feeling that I might not go. I doubted my ability to actually get on the plane and leave everything that I was so comfortable with. The next thing I knew, I was sitting on the plane, thinking “I guess there’s no turning back now.” 

The first three months in Japan have been difficult. Learning to be by myself and enjoy my own company has been a rollercoaster. I still feel a yearning to be with the people I left at home. I’ve realized that I don’t know how to be with myself after always being surrounded by others. When I first got here, I was alone a lot. I didn’t know what to do, I would just stay at home and call my friends and family. Eventually, I started to get sick of that and realized I can enjoy my own company. I started by going to the beach. I spent the day relaxing, thinking, meditating and reading. I made stops on the way home and ended up in a beautiful field of flowers. I felt so happy that day and knew that this was exactly what I came here for. Not just to explore Japan, but to explore who I am. I want to learn to be completely happy on my own. 

Just as some days remind me why I am here and I feel progress, there are many more days when I still feel lonely. There are at least a few days a week when I just want to quit and go home. I come home feeling tired each day. My mind is exhausted not only from work but from constantly processing a new language, culture and way of life. I feel out of place here and the feeling of not belonging leaves a pit in my stomach. Thoughts of natural disasters, foreign bugs in my apartment and making another mistake causes me to constantly feel on edge. At the end of the day, I come home to a quiet apartment and my feelings sit with me. As much as I want to be able to handle these difficulties on my own, it hasn’t been easy. I want someone to tell me I need to come home because I feel too trapped here to tell it to myself but I also don’t want to risk disappointing myself if I went home. I have grown a lot already and the thought of being a stronger person reminds me that I need to hold on a little longer. Day by day, week by week. 

This morning, as I drove to the beach again, I realized that I don’t show myself enough gratitude. I’ve never thanked myself. If someone treated me to a nice dinner, I would thank them and appreciate their kindness. When I treat myself, I feel guilty for spending the money. I have done so much these past few months. I have worked hard to move abroad and support myself. I have learned to comfort myself when I’m sad, protect myself when I’m afraid, and enjoy my time alone. I’ve grown so much, yet I only look at where I could be, instead of feeling gratitude for how far I‘ve come. During those tough days, I try to show myself gratitude and focus on the good. Right now, I am sitting at the beach and looking out at the sunset. I came here because it had been a hard week and I needed this day to reconnect with nature and myself. Writing has helped me so much with being present and reflecting on how I’ve changed. Being vulnerable and sharing my writing on this blog is helping me to become my authentic self and document my truth. Moving abroad is so much more than exploring the external world, it’s also about understanding and learning about my internal world.

“Loneliness adds beauty to life. It puts a special burn on sunsets and makes night air smell better.”

-Henry Rollins