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I wrote a while back about how one of my favorite things about traveling is getting to microdose on cluelessness. These past few days in Japan have taught me that there is such thing as too much of a good thing. The last time I was in a place where I didn’t speak the local language was seven years ago (France and Italy), and there I could at least read, if not understand a little. In Japan many people don’t try to (or simply cannot) accommodate you if you don’t speak English, an unfortunate detail exacerbated by my Japanese-passing looks. People speak to me in Japanese and expect me to respond to them in kind, not changing their approach even after it’s apparent that I cannot.

This morning I visited a tiny onigiri restaurant and tried my best to order from the all-Japanese menu. The cook spoke to me only in Japanese even after I said nihongo wa wakarimasen (“I don’t know Japanese”) and stared blankly in response to his prompts, repeating everything as I tried to guess what he meant. After a difficult few minutes ordering, an Australian lady walked in and ordered in English, to which he responded… in English! Granted, it was very broken English, but still—why weren’t we afforded the same cooperative treatment when we were clearly struggling? Mom says it’s because we’re Chinese. I’m vaguely aware of the history between Japan and China, but I’m not convinced it’s to blame for what I saw this morning.

Because of this and all the visible and invisible social rules, I feel like I am overdosing on idiocy here all the time. I get in people’s ways, walk on the wrong side of the road (on accident), and get in a lot of sumimasen-filled awkward interactions. I’m grateful for the opportunity to get out of my comfort zone, but I also feel overwhelmed by not knowing the social norms and the local language. I’d have such a rough time if I moved here.

The writerly side of me wanted to write a nice eloquent post after each day of travel; the lazy (more realistic) side hasn’t felt like writing at all. They compromised and wrote a bulleted list of observations, which I suppose beats not writing at all.

• It really is as clean and safe and convenient and organized here as everyone says. Even the garbage trucks don’t smell, it’s absurd.
• The sheer number of vending machines took me by surprise. I knew they were common but not THIS common. I feel like I see more vending machines than tourists.
• There are no trash cans anywhere.
• Being a fan of the concept of bidets does not make getting used to them any easier.
• Public bathrooms are much easier to find than in Europe or the States.
• The subway system is such a joy to use. Jingles, safety barriers, not having to ever wait more than 3 minutes for a train? Good public transit is a godsend.
• Cycling infrastructure here is glorious. Protected bike lanes? Bike racks everywhere? Yes please!
• Accessible design here is head and shoulders above anything I’ve seen elsewhere. Help buttons and assistance rails in the bathroom. Truncated dome mats all over the sidewalks. Smoothly paved roads with ramps for wheelchairs. Information double-coded everywhere. Subway lines are colored and lettered, and stops are named and numbered.
• It will take me a while (read: forever) to get used to walking on the left side of the streets and to look right before crossing; I’m used to looking left, then right, then back left again.
• You can get tax waived on many purchases over ¥5500 if you show a foreign passport! You can also land small discounts at places like UNIQLO (10%) on top of that. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to shop guilt-free at UNIQLO stateside ever again. Most higher end brands are about as expensive as they are back home though, sadly.
• Food is cheaper. Except for $100 mangos and melons and $3 strawberries.
• Bread here is so good. Japan could give France a run for their money.
• Most people are friendly enough, but some aren’t accommodating at all when they realize you don’t speak Japanese. They’re not obligated to, but from a practical standpoint why would you keep speaking in Japanese when people clearly don’t understand?
• Ginza is like a better 5th Ave, but still pretty boring. Next time I’m here I want to get out of the city, or at the very least visit some parks and less touristy areas.
• Tsukiji outer market is overrun with tourist traps and overrated. While still very touristy, Ameyoko had a better variety of vendors and wares.
• 2000 yen notes are rare.
• The food court of the Mitsukoshi department store is hands down the most beautiful display of food I have ever seen. Vendors hawk croquettes, skewers, noodles, raw fish, and pastries from cultures around the world, all too pretty to eat. The food court in the Tokyo Solamachi (mall at the base of the Tokyo Skytree) is similarly dazzling. The decision paralysis is enough to slow my brain to a halt.
• Japanese people are ridiculously well-dressed. I didn’t spot anyone who was less put together than me all day. Maybe this is because I’ve only been here during the work week?
• Double transit time estimates when you’re not completely familiar with the transit system and don’t speak the language.
• Don’t travel during rush hour. We did anyway and I always noticed.
• Being in Japan is the first time i’ve felt this uncomfortable in a long time, maybe ever. I get sensory overload everywhere (always getting in others people’s way and my brain can never move fast enough).
• I’m always second guessing myself here trying to avoid committing faux pas — is it rude to leave some of my noodles if I can’t finish? I know it’s rude to eat and walk, so where should I eat this thing I just bought? And so on.
• It can be so difficult and stressful to coordinate meetups with other people in a foreign country without a data plan! Street names are unwieldy to use (many don’t have names here) and many popular tourist attractions are large and not specific enough to use as meeting places. What3words would have been useful for meeting up on a busy market district with no easy Google Maps landmarks.
• Just functioning is difficult when you’re without internet in a foreign country. I couldn’t even use Google Translate when I needed it.
• Food has been good, not spectacular. I’ve not been going out of my way for great meals. I could subsist on konbini food forever. Because I can’t eat much meat or fried, my diet is entirely carbs (bread, rice, noodles), salt (anything brined or pickled), and sugar.
• Taking meds is difficult when you switch timezones. Do I keep taking everything on my old timezone? Taking blood pressure medication before I go to sleep doesn’t make much sense to me…

It’s 8 PM and I’m falling asleep. Photos and updates forthcoming, I hope.

My uncle's been smoking since before I was born, so it's not like we couldn't have foreseen this coming. But I think my grandpa doing the same without issue well into his eighties lulled us all into a false sense of security. The timing stunned me, not least because we found out at commencement. Learning that someone's in their last chapter while celebrating the ending of another feels especially cruel.

I was really looking forward to seeing my uncle again. I haven't seen him since the last time I visited, in 2010. Back then he'd sneak me and my brother out and let us get away with anything. Now instead of him showing me around town I'll be visiting him at the hospital.

"Life changes fast. Life changes in the instant. You sit down to dinner and life as you know it ends."

This morning I found out that he passed away overnight. He was only sixty-one. I hate when people say someone was "too young to die", because when is the right time for anyone to pass? But sixty-one? My parents will be that age soon.

I don't think I was close enough to my uncle to feel what people call grief — at least not the crippling, all-encompassing variant — but I do wish I got to see him again, even though I have no idea what I could possibly say that wouldn't pale in death's looming shadow. There's no way 2010 Misu knew he'd never get to see his favorite of mom's siblings again.

I like to think of the deaths of loved ones as reminders to not waste the gift of life. Go on, they seem to say with their last breath, do something that is befitting of this brief and beautiful life.

"I closed the box and put it in a closet.
There is no real way to deal with everything we lose."
_{^{(not one Didion quote today, but two)}}

It's been a long time since we played. When we first started playing on the street I was still in college and the older brother Daniel in middle school. Now he towers over me and plays on his high school's varsity team. They made it to the state finals on Saturday. I had half a mind to go cheer him on, but it's on the other side of the city, an hour and a half away by car.

To temper their good news about the state finals I tell them I'm moving to New York again soon.

"For good?" the younger one Mal whines in disbelief. His curly hair reaches midway up my torso now. "Can't you stay forever? Or at least until I graduate high school?"

I laugh. I'll be in my thirties when he graduates.

"I wish," I say when I manage to catch my breath, which is not a full untruth. Of course I'd rather be in New York, but I do wish some part of me could stay behind and kick around with them forever, in the same way I wish I could still cut class with friends or rehearse with my old ensembles. Alas, I can only be in one place at a time, and this is not the place I need to be right now.

"Did you get a new job? Where will you stay? Won't it be dangerous?" I know Daniel's grown from the kinds of questions he asks now. Their image of New York as a crime-ridden slum makes me wonder if they've ever actually visited.

Mal asks the harder questions. "Will you visit? Can you send us mail?"

"I'll try. Of course I'll write." I mean it. I always write, even though the postal service ate the postcard I sent them last summer. Judging from the way Daniel and Mal use their dented mailbox as a goalpost, I'd be surprised if anything I send them ever shows up.

I've watched them grow up in front of my eyes these past few years. When Daniel and I play ones¹ we know all of each other's moves. I know he'll step over and cut right before even he does, and we've both learned to keep our legs closed to avoid getting nutmegged. Even if his teenage ego has inflated a bit too much for my liking, I'm going to miss him. He and his brother seem to get taller every time I see them, and I know they'll be grown before I know it.