Last year, I decided that I was old enough to send out my own Christmas cards (which turned out to be New Year’s cards because I took too long to make it happen). This year, I’m going to keep this new thing going. So, in case you didn’t provide me with your address last year (or you have moved since then) and you would like to receive a New Year’s Card from me, please fill out this form with your details (it comes straight to me and I promise not to sell it) and expect your card to arrive probably two weeks into January. Just want to manage your expectations.
 

Well, it has now been a little over 48 hours since I arrived in Tokyo. It seems like much longer than that…not in a bad way. It’s just that there’s so much to take in! This post was going to cover the first 48 hrs…and then I realized just HOW MUCH there would be to cover, so instead, this is the first day. Heaven help me!

When I arrived at the airport, I noticed two things. First, it was super hot/humid. Second, it was very orderly. Going through customs was a breeze…except that I got in the wrong line at first. And then I got yelled at (“yelled” might be a bit strong) for taking a picture of the “Welcome to Tokyo” sign. Not very welcoming, if you ask me. But it’s not like I deleted the picture, so I won’t hold it against Japan.

Baggage (still in NYC)

Narita airport is quite far from Tokyo proper, so there’s not taking a taxi (even when on the corporate dime), which meant taking a bus into the city and then a taxi from the bus. I considered trying to deal with my luggage myself, but my International Assignment Consultant (IAC) mentioned something about baggage delivery, and then I saw all of the service desks and just thought, “You know what…totally worth the $50 to have three of my bags delivered even though it’s not reimbursed by the company. So worth it!

While waiting for the bus, I wandered outside and noticed something else I found very interesting. Smoking rooms. Outside.

Anyway, I got on the bus, which dropped me off at a hotel near my apartment. At the hotel, I got a taxi to take me the rest of the way. A couple of things about taxis here, and driving. First, they drive on the left here. Not sure why or where that comes from, but they do. Second, the taxi drivers open the car doors from the driver’s seat (some sort of electronic opening). And third, the taxi drivers don’t really speak English. Thankfully, I knew that last one and had asked my IAC to send me the address of my apartment building in Japanese and then printed it off. This proved extremely useful.

I got to my apartment around 8:00 pm and I was thrilled to see just how nice and clean it was. And the lovely woman at the front desk was so very friendly, which made it okay that both my first and last names were spelled wrong. She showed me to my apartment and asked me if she could show me around (which is when the aforementioned shoe removal incident happened). Of course I’m thinking, “It’s an apartment. What, exactly, do you need to show me?” Well, stupid me.

from the front door

bathroom (obvi)

toilet = way too many buttons (not sure I’ll ever get used to the warm toilet seat)

bath/shower pod room thing (more to come on this)

entering the kitchen

washer/dryer (it does both) = dream come true!

bed

reverse view

desk (where I’m sitting right now to write this)

After getting semi-settled and unpacking one of my suitcases, I realized I was starving (I slept for about 8 hours of the 14 hour flight, I think) and so it was time to venture out into Tokyo and see if I could find some food.

Business class or die (okay, not really…I can’t afford business class on my own, but it was AMAZING!)

I wandered for about 10 minutes, seeing several restaurants that looked appetizing…but also very daunting. Suddenly, my lack of Japanese speaking ability was making me very uncomfortable. I was tempted to stop at a doner kebab stand (mission friends, you will understand my temptation), but I couldn’t have my first meal in Japan be a Turkish kebab. So, I kept walking until I found a sushi restaurant advertising an English menu. I decided, with ordering, to just choose a mixed sushi plate because the thought of trying to order individual pieces was just too much (even if I do speak “sushi japanese”…toro, tobiko, unagi, etc). I was not disappointed.

variety pack

loved watching the sushi chefs do their thing

And that ends day one. I promise not every post will be so travel-log-gy, but hopefully the photos make it worth it. In any case, days 2 and 3 were both great, too. Posts to come which will include more food, the subway, groceries, and things that are really different in Japan. If there’s something specific you want to know more about, leave a comment and I’ll try to address it…otherwise, you get what you get.

Arigato gozaimasu!

I think for the past few years I’ve posted about my mom on her birthday, the anniversary of her death, and Mother’s Day. I wasn’t going to post anything today because I just didn’t really want to focus on it. I wanted to make it through the day without crying, but then I ended up crying anyway (story of my life), so I decided to just do a quick little post seeing as how I haven’t written anything in over a month (if you want life updates, follow me on Instagram…that’s where the action is happening these days).

All I want to share are a few things I inherited from my mom because, given current life circumstances (blog post to come), these are the things I have been thinking about.

1. My pretty green eyes. One of my favorite features. And a feature I inherited directly from my mother. My siblings all have blue eyes in various shades and tones, but somehow I got lucky enough to get green from my mother. Hers were a truer green than mine are, but still…I love that every time I look at my eyes I’m reminded that I am my mother’s daughter (especially since my body type and the rest of my facial features are entirely from my dad’s side of the family…which is not the good side).
2. My love of traveling. As I await the outcome of my recent application to move to Asia (Japan or India) for six months, I am reminded that it was my mother, and her own travel habits, who introduced me to the wonders of traveling. It started with me missing her when she went off to travel in far off places with a group of girlfriends and continued as she introduced me to my first fondue in Geneva and then, for some unknown reason, allowed me to go off and live in Belgium with a random family at the way-too-young age of 14. She was a great example and supporter of travel and I am so excited at the prospect of going to live in another amazing place and I know that is a direct result of her example.
3. My realistic optimism. I have experienced too much in life to believe that things always turn out how I want them to, but my mom instilled in me that things do always work out. And maybe that’s just because I choose to view life that way, but I choose to do so because my mother taught me to. If there’s any legacy worth leaving a child, it’s that. 

So, I have issues. I mean, we all have issues. Some of you might have read that and thought, “I don’t have any issues.” Well, guess what, that’s your issue. Anyway, back to me.

I have issues. I have issues from parents who had an unhappy marriage. I have issues from losing my mom when I was 18. I have issues from struggling with my weight for as long as I can remember. I have issues from not dating very much when I was younger. I have issues from being engaged to someone who wasn’t very nice. I have issues from being a 30-something and single in a religion of marriages. I have issues from feeling like I live below my potential. And so on and so forth.

So, I started going to therapy back when I was in grad school. Maybe a little later in life than I should have, but you know, better late than never. But even then, I wasn’t really ready to deal with some of my issues. And so, recently, I decided to start again. In fact, I wanted to a while ago, but therapy in New York when not a student is not really in my budget. Enter Columbia Teacher’s College and a fantastic center where I can go to a grad student for an amount of money I can afford and, well, to therapy I went.

I started going about two months ago and, let me just tell you, I LOVE THERAPY. Seriously. And I love my therapist. I know this might sound ridiculous to some of you, but there is just something about having someone outside of your life to listen to your thoughts and push back when you’re thinking crazy s@$#. Or, as is often my case, being too hard on yourself. And there’s just something about knowing that I have issues and then dealing with them that makes me feel so very sane.

Anyway, I felt like I needed to share this on the blog because it just didn’t feel right not to. Now, how much more I will share about is still TBD because, well, I get pretty dang personal in therapy. (Yeah, I know, you’re shocked that there are things I don’t share on the blog.) For now, just know that I talk about all the crap I mentioned and then some. It’s a good time.

And just one more thing I want to say about this right now. I know that there are those of you reading this who are probably thinking, “Well, yeah, I have issues, but I don’t think I need to talk to a therapist.” And to you I would say you are absolutely right. You don’t need to. Especially if you feel like your life is where you want it to be (and I’m not saying that in a snarky way). This is not me trying to tell everyone that they should be in therapy. This is me saying that it helps me a lot.