five years on (5年後)

It's five years now that I've lived in Japan.  In a flash the time has passed.  I never expected to spend more than three months here.  An experiment, a personal challenge turned into a lasting love affair.  

My first year or two here I tried hard not to be a tourist, a gaijin.  Then one day, suddenly, I realized I wasn't.  That is not to say I'm Japanese.  I'm not.  I don't slurp my noodles, I don't wear a germ mask, and I tie and untie my shoes when I put them on and take them off.  But I don't feel quite American anymore.  I'm somehow different from the thousands of tourists that flood the city everyday.  I'm different even from the other expatriates in Kyoto who tend to group together, form communities.

I went to the American Embassy a month back to renew my passport.  It felt a little like visiting another country.  I answered questions with "hai" and "iie".  I bowed slightly when thanking the staff.  These are habits now, second nature.

It was strange to write "Kyoto" as my "permanent address" on the application form, to pay the fee in yen, not dollars.

In 10 years when this new passport expires who knows where I'll be.  I hope I'll still be an expat.  I like being quasi-American.

Hanami (花見)

A chill in the air, winter's grip still tangible.  I set out for the river.  Katsuragawa, I knew, would be quiet.  My friend had packed me a lovely bento lunch, including a little bottle of sake and ochoko (cup) .

There are a couple of magnificent old sakura near Katsura Rikyu, signposts of another era.  Here I made my picnic on the slope.

The sun darted in and out of the clouds, the crisp afternoon radiant and golden one minute, muted and flat the next.  The long sakura branches bobbed in the breeze, white blossoms trembling.

The river, stretched from the recent rain. glided by noiselessly, past the Imperial Villa, past these old sakura, past my petite hanami.

a great island of clouds

a blue sky

the sakura dance

on this stage