I'm getting ready to move out of my guest house at this moment. Procrastinating while the cleaning lady who comes every Friday does her job. In two days time, I'll be back in Chiba with a family I have yet to meet.
This neighborhood I lived in and these past two months feel like a turning point in my experience. I started thinking about it when my friend asked me if I had gotten accustomed to Japanese life. 「東京の生活、慣れた？」This was after I was somehow appointed captain of the University Boxing Club (I believe it's very rare for a foreigner to be given this sort of responsibility) and had to attend a meeting for the Kanto region boxing clubs regarding some upcoming tournament that we won't be participating in. He came along since I don't have the comprehensional abilities to really understand the content of the meeting. Plus, Coach Tanaka told him to anyway...
Thinking back to the days when I first got here I remember the thick summer air, heavy typhoon rain, and all the other exchange students ready to take on Tokyo without abandon. It all seems like a dream back then. Remembering the state of mind I was in, you could say it was awe...
Time went on and I started spending a lot of time in various places. Band practice was always in Shinjuku, every morning I'd change trains at Akihabara, I spent a few late nights wandering around Shibuya until the first train arrived (Karaoke at 7:00am after a long night of revelry is a trial most men cannot endure), and going to campus in Yotsuya. Lots of time spent right smack dab in the middle of Tokyo.
But I feel like my 'awe' has... changed places so to say. Maybe it was that day I saw Buddha sitting on top of the hill while I was running, or maybe just everyday life here in the Tokyo suburbs. To me, the suburbs back at home felt disconnected. With big driveways, wide yards, and tall fences, everyone was effectively hiding themselves from their neighbors. Not only this, but each new development is given it's own name and special borders. It wouldn't be unusual to take a long walk and not see another soul on the road.
No matter what time of day it is here, I'll always see someone else walking somewhere. I see and hear kids playing outside constantly. Every clear day there is laundry hung up on the verandas. Walking through the convoluted streets inbetween houses, I hear someone practicing piano in one house, flute in another. Strange as it seems, you can tell there is life in these homes. I can't remember a time I felt that back in the states.I decided to meet that Buddha today. I walked around the Temple, took some pictures. Typical stuff you do as a foreigner. But what really got me were the houses built around the premises. Imagine everyday you get up for work, walk out the front door, and there it is: a giant Buddha. Always there every day to greet you with your morning coffee or whatever. After a while the surprise wears off, and it becomes a simple fact of life. I think there's some sort of beauty in that. Sometimes I'll walk by strange traditional Japanese structures and pathways and wonder if they're private property. The proximity between these things (be it relic or replica) and the houses of civilians is strange to me. Sometimes I wonder if it's really okay to be stepping where I am. But then I see someone walking with bags of groceries down the same path I am hesitant to cross. I wonder what I'm hesitating for, and remember that I always take a shortcut through a Temple in Shinjuku to get to practice...
In the midst of tall buildings and heavy machinery there remain pieces of a deep and humble past. The beauty is that it lives side by side with modern society, and continues to remain so.
Outside the city, but not quite the country, there are many people living quietly and very closely together. Although they may have different names and live in different houses, I have a feeling they recognize each other and say hello when they pass eachother on the street.