Touchdown

As I'm writing this, I am sitting in a Starbucks at Narita Aiport, the predominant airport in Japan. Much like my laptop, I am searching for a place to recharge. For lack of permanent housing, I have caught quick cat-naps where I could: buses, trains, sofas, etc. While living between shelters, my most comfortable bed was a thin mat on the floor. But I digress...

Here I am! The wonderous land of the rising sun. I'm trying to kill three hours until I can check into my hotel for orientation. Besides trying to stay awake with the burden of jetlag telling me it should be evening instead of afternoon, I keep having these reoccurring epiphanies: "Oh my! I'm in Japan!" As if it were some sudden, just-this-moment event instead of something I've been planning for months.

Being removed from everything familiar has the taste of nostalgia, since I've been here before. The difference is that this time I have cast off the anchor of security previously provided by [Redacted] University and [Redacted] University. Back then, if there was a problem, I knew who to call for help. This time I am on my own, an intrepid pioneer with a somewhat underwhelming understanding of the Japanese language and a desire to enter into a committed relationship with gainful employment. She is an enticing beauty.

Soon after this, I should have a place to call my own. Until then, I will be attending job orientations and surviving off containers of toothpaste and shampoo so miniscule in size that I will likely need to buy a microscope at the next convenience store I see.