Planes, Trains and Family
I got back from my family vacation last week—10 days in Hawaii with my family and some family friends, with very caring and kind hosts that were my sister and her man.

It didn’t really feel that strange being on U.S. soil—I’ve been in close contact with lots of Americans in Japan, so there wasn’t really any reverse culture shock, although I found myself missing Japan and my friends there. Hell, half of Hawaii Japanese anyway. I think we should just give them the island since they like it so much better than us. It’d be a great Christmas present, and a way for apologizing for putting Bush in office. I mean, it wouldn’t totally make up for that, but it’s the thought that counts. Hell, why don’t we just give away Texas too, while we’re at it? Who’s with me?

I spent most of my time in Hawaii studying Japanese, as it’s been a kind of obsession lately, but that’s what I do—I take something on and I want to learn it so badly that it’s almost all I can do. You can only spend so much time with family anyway—when you see your family after a long time they feel like your best friends in the world. After a few days, though, they start to feel like family again.

I like to think I’m becoming a mature adult, you know, having a job and my own apartment. Teaching especially makes you feel like an adult because you have lots of people listening to you, even if it’s just because they want to pass a test.

But being with your family has a way of making you regress about a decade. I don’t know what it is, but I felt like I was just a bratty high school kid again. I was really impressed by my sister and her man, Mr. K, and how they managed to keep the family occupied and free of arguments, for the most part. They were really amazing. Mr. K especially was a kind of role model of how to put up with someone else’s family. While I was antisocial at times, trying to study or something he was always driving people places, helping with food and cleaning, keeping people out of trouble, or listening to old people talk about how cool they were when they were his age. I can do that for a while, but I really get sick of it, and I couldn’t keep that charade up unless I really wanted to impress someone like a senator or the author of The Princess Bride, or my future wife’s family (if I ever have a future wife).

I like spending time by myself too much. That’s going to be a problem, I can tell. Oh well, I’m sure it’s nothing a few beers can’t take care of.

It’s also hard to share Japan with people who’ve never been their before. Some people don’t really know what culture shock is, or how it feels to connect with another culture and land. They don’t really know how to ask about it, and I don’t really know how to explain it. How do you answer, “What’s your best Japan story?”? The whole thing is a good story, actually. People don’t understand why I wanted to leave my own country to begin with or why it’s such a meaningful experience to me.

Plane rides make you think. Flying to Hawaii really put things in perspective. Going to Japan was a real time-stopping experience—thinking about what I was leaving behind—and leaving Japan kind of made me remember what life was like before that. My memories are tied mostly to the people and places I’m around, so it’s easy to forget your past in another country.

A plane flight is a lot like church—a bunch of people trapped in their seats, not going anywhere for a while, with only a tiny snack. I guess the food on an airplane is maybe a little better than your average communion, though.

That and the GPS screen with the plane going over the world really makes you think big. It’s different than staring at a globe because you’re really watching yourself go over places you’ve never been…kind of makes the world pretty small.

Right off the plane it’s Japan again. You don’t have to walk to the baggage claim, there’s a futuristic shuttle. At the baggage claim, everyone respects the line in front of it, except for one foreigner in front of me. To my right is an American with his Japanese fiancee talking about future plans. To my left is a guy I recognize as a JET with a kid astride his shoulders. He’s half Hawaiian, half Japanese.

It was hard to speak Japanese to the train station attendant. The more Japanese I learn, the more mistakes I realize I make. On the ride back, I start talking with a foreigner—that never happens. For some reason, foreigners try to avoid talking to each other in public, as it may disturb their Japan experience or something. That, and other foreigners tend to be really arrogant about their Japan knowledge for some reason. But this guy was nice. And it’s strange how easy it is to talk to a stranger who’s from your homeland, who you might never otherwise have anything to say to.