Setouchi Tsurezure #7 – Ushima Adventure

Technically, this would be the eighth of my articles for the local Seouchi Times papers, but I’m skipping one for reasons. This time, I wrote about a trip to a nearby island, Ushima, that hosts local kids once a year to get them more interested in the less accessible parts of Yamaguchi life. I mostly took pictures of cats while I was there.


็‰›ๅณถใฎ้ญ…ๅŠ›ใ‚’ๆบ€ๅ–ซ

5ๆœˆ19ๆ—ฅใซๆฏๅญใจไธ€็ท’ใซ็‰›ๅณถ่กŒใฃใฆใใพใ—ใŸใ€‚ไปŠๅ›žใฏไบŒๅ›ž็›ฎใฎ็‰›ๅณถๆŽข่จชใฎๅ‚ๅŠ ใจใชใ‚Šใพใ—ใŸใ€‚ๅ…‰ๅธ‚ใฎไผ็”ปใงๅธ‚ๆฐ‘ใŒ็‰›ๅณถใซๆธกใฃใฆๅณถใฎไบ‹ใ‚’ๆบ€ๅ–ซใงใใพใ™ใ€‚

่ˆนใฎๆ—…ใฏใพใ ใพใ ๆ–ฐ้ฎฎใช็ตŒ้จ“ใจๆ„Ÿใ˜ใ‚‹ใฎใงๅ…‰ๅธ‚ๅฎค็ฉๆธฏใง็‰›ๅณถๆตท้‹ๆœ‰้™ไผš็คพใฎ่ˆนใ€Œใ†ใ—ใพไธธใ€ใซไน—ใ‚‹ใจๆœฌๅฝ“ใซใƒฏใ‚ฏใƒฏใ‚ฏใ—ใพใ—ใŸใ€‚

็€ฌๆˆธๅ†…ๆตทใฎใ•ใ‚ใ‚„ใ‹ใชๆ™ฏ่‰ฒใจใใ‚ˆ้ขจใฎๅ‘ณใ‚ใ„ใŒๅฅฝใใงใชใ‚“ใจใชใๅˆฐ็€ใŒๆ—ฉใๆ„Ÿใ˜ใพใ—ใŸใ€‚ใงใ‚‚ใพใŸไปŠๅนดใฏ็‰›ๅณถใฎไบบใ€…ใฎๆš–ใ‹ใ„ใŠใ‚‚ใฆใชใ—ใซๆ„Ÿๅ‹•ใ—ใพใ—ใŸใ€‚

ไบบๅฃใฏๅฐ‘ใชใ่‰ฒใ€…ไธไพฟใงๅคงๅค‰ใใ†ใ ใจๆ€ใ„ใพใ™ใŒๅณถใฎ็”Ÿๆดปใ‚‚ๆ†งใ‚Œใ‚’ๆ„Ÿใ˜ใพใ™ใ€‚ๅคง่‡ช็„ถใฏ็›ฎใฎๅ‰ๅบƒใŒใ‚‹ไธญใ€็‹ฌ่‡ชใฎๆญดๅฒใ‚‚ไผ็ตฑใ‚‚ใ‚ใ‚‹ไบ‹ใฏๅณถใฎไบบใฎ่ช‡ใ‚Šใ ใจๆ€ใ„ใพใ™ใ€‚็‰›ๅณถใฎ็‰›้ฌผไผ็ตฑใ‚‚ๅ…จๅ›ฝใง็Ÿฅใ‚‰ใ‚Œใ‚‹ใปใฉๆœ‰ๅใ‚‰ใ—ใ„ใงใ™ใ€‚

็‰›ๅณถใฎ็š†ใ•ใ‚“ใŒๅญไพ›้”ใฎใŸใ‚ใฎใ‚คใƒ™ใƒณใƒˆใ‚„ไฝ“้จ“ใ€้Šใณใ‚’็”จๆ„ใ—ใฆใใ ใ•ใ‚Šๆ„Ÿ่ฌใงใ„ใฃใฑใ„ใงใ—ใŸใ€‚ๅ€‹ไบบ็š„ใซใฏๅณถใฎ่‡ช็„ถใŒไธ€็•ชใฎ้ญ…ๅŠ›ใงใ—ใŸใ€‚่ก—ใ‚’ๆญฉใใจ้‡Ž้ณฅใ‚„ๆ˜†่™ซใ€้‡Ž่‰ฏ็Œซใ‚’่ฆณๅฏŸใงใใ€ๆตทใงใ„ใ‚ใ‚“ใช็”Ÿใ็‰ฉใ‚‚่ฟ‘ใใพใงๅฏ„ใฃใฆใใพใ™ใ€‚ใ‚ซใƒกใƒฉใƒžใƒณใฎๅคฉๅ›ฝใงใ™ใ€‚

็ŒซใŸใกใŒ็‰นใซๆฐ—ใซใชใ‚Šใพใ—ใŸใ€‚ไบบ้–“ใฎไฝๆฐ‘ใ‚ˆใ‚Šใ‚‚ๅคšใ„ใฎใงใฏใƒปใƒปใƒปใจๆ€ใ†ใปใฉใ„ใพใ—ใŸใ€‚ไบบๆ…ฃใ‚Œใ—ใฆใ„ใ‚‹็Œซใ‚„ใ€ใ™ใ้€ƒใ’ใ‚‹็Œซใ‚‚ใ„ใฆ่จชใ‚ŒใŸๅญไพ›ใŸใกใ‚‚ใƒฏใ‚คใƒฏใ‚ค่ฟฝใ„ใ‹ใ‘ใพใ‚ใฃใฆใ„ใพใ—ใŸใ€‚็งใฏใ€Œใ‚ถใƒปๆธฏ็Œซใ€ใฎใ”ใจใๅŠ›ๅผทใ„็Œซใซๆฐ—ใ‚’ๅ–ใ‚‰ใ‚Œใฆๆฐ—ใฅใ„ใŸใ‚‰ใ€Œ็Œซๆ’ฎๅฝฑไผšใ€ใซใชใ‚Šใพใ—ใŸใƒปใƒปใƒป

่ก—ๆญฉใใฎๅพŒใฏ็š†ใงๅฑฑๆ•ฃๆญฉใซๅ‡บใฆ็‰›ๅณถใฎๆญดๅฒใ‚„ไผ็ตฑใ‚’ๅญฆใณใชใŒใ‚‰ๆญฉใใพใ—ใŸใ€‚่ฟ‘ใใฎๅคฉ็„ถ่จ˜ๅฟต็‰ฉใƒขใ‚ฏใ‚ฒใƒณใ‚ธใฎๆœจใ‚’่ฆ‹ใชใŒใ‚‰ไธ‘ๆฃฎๆ˜Ž็ฅžใฎใŠ่ฉฑใ—ใ‚‚่žใ็‰›ๅณถใฎๆญดๅฒใฎ้•ทใ•ใ‚„่‡ช็„ถใฎ่ฑŠใ‹ใ•ใ‚’ๅฎŸๆ„Ÿใ—ใพใ—ใŸใ€‚ใใฎๅพŒ่จชใ‚ŒใŸๅ ดๆ‰€ใซใฏๅปƒๆ กใŒใ‚ใฃใฆๅญไพ›ใŸใกใŒใ€Œๆ€–ใฃ๏ผใ€ใจๅฃใ€…ใซ่จ€ใ„ใชใŒใ‚‰้€šใ‚Šใพใ—ใŸใ€‚็ขบใ‹ใซไฝ•ใจใชใๅฏ‚ใ—ใไธๆฐ—ๅ‘ณใชใจใ“ใ‚ใ‹ใชใจๆ€ใ„ใพใ™ใ€‚ๅญไพ›ใŒใ„ใชใ„็”บใฏไฝ™่จˆใซใใ†ๆ€ใˆใ‚‹ใฎใ‹ใ‚‚ใ—ใ‚Œใพใ›ใ‚“ใ€‚

ใงใ‚‚ๅฑฑใซๅ…ฅใ‚‹ใจใ™ใใซๅˆฅไธ–็•Œใซใชใ‚Šใพใ™ใ€‚

ๅฑฑ้“ใŒ็‹ญใ„ใจ็ฉบๆฐ—ใŒ็ถบ้บ—ใงๆตทใŒ่ฆ‹ใˆใชใใชใ‚Šใพใ™ใ€‚้‡Ž้ณฅใฎใ•ใˆใšใ‚Šใจ่‘‰้ขจใฎใ–ใ‚ใ–ใ‚ใจใ„ใ†้Ÿณใง็™’ใ•ใ‚Œใพใ—ใŸใŒ็‰›ๅณถใฎๅฑฑ้“ใฎๅŽณใ—ใ•ใฏ่ˆใ‚ใกใ‚ƒใ„ใ‘ใชใ„ใจๆทฑใๆ„Ÿใ˜ใพใ—ใŸใ€‚

ๅ‰ๅ›žใจๅŒใ˜ใใ‚ซใƒกใƒฉใ‚’ๆŠฑใใชใŒใ‚‰ใ‚ซใƒฉใ‚นใƒใƒˆใ‚’ๆŽขใ—ใพใ—ใŸใ€‚ใงใ‚‚็”Ÿๆฏๅœฐใฏๅˆฅใฎๅฑฑใซใ‚ใ‚‹ใ‚‰ใ—ใ„ใฎใงๆฎ‹ๅฟตใชใŒใ‚‰่ฆ‹ใˆใพใ›ใ‚“ใงใ—ใŸใ€‚็‰›ๅณถใฏ็€ฌๆˆธๅ†…ๆตทใฎ้›„ไธ€ใชใ‚ซใƒฉใ‚นใƒใƒˆ็”Ÿๆฏๅœฐใชใฎใงใ„ใคใ‹็ตถๅฏพใฟใซ่กŒใใพใ™๏ผใจ่‡ชๅˆ†ใซ่จ€ใ„่žใ‹ใ›ใฆใ„ใพใ™ใ€‚

็ด„ไธ€ๆ™‚้–“ๆญฉใใจๅนณ่Œ‚ๆตทๅฒธใซใงใพใ—ใŸใ€‚ๅฐ็Ÿณใฎๆตœใงใ‚ใพใ‚Šๆตท้Šใณใซๅ‘ใ„ใฆใ„ใพใ›ใ‚“ใ€‚ใใ‚Œใงใ‚‚็€ฌๆˆธๅ†…ๆตทใฎๅณถใ€…ใŒใใ‚Œใ„ใซ่ฆ‹ใˆใ‚‹ใจใ“ใ‚ใชใฎใง้ ‘ๅผตใฃใŸ็”ฒๆ–ใŒใ‚ใ‚Šใพใ—ใŸใ€‚

ๅฑฑใ‚’ๅ†ใณ่ถŠใˆ่ก—ใซๆˆปใ‚‹ใจ็‰›ๅณถใ‚ณใƒŸใƒฅใƒ‹ใƒ†ใ‚ฃใ‚ปใƒณใ‚ฟใƒผใงๅณถใฎไผ็ตฑใฎ็ด™่Šๅฑ…ใ‚’ใฟใฆ็››ใ‚ŠไธŠใŒใ‚Š่ฟ‘ใใฎ็‰›ๅณถๅ…ซๅนกๅฎฎใงๅฎๆŽขใ—ใ‚‚ใ—ใฆใ„ใŸใ‚‰ใ€Œ็‰›ๅณถๆŽข่จชใ€ใŒ็ต‚ใ‚ใ‚Šใพใ—ใŸใ€‚

ไธ€ๆ—ฅใฎ้Šใณใ‚’ๆบ–ๅ‚™ใ—ใฆใใ‚ŒใŸ็š†ๆง˜ใซๆœฌๅฝ“ใซๆ„Ÿ่ฌใงใ„ใฃใฑใ„ใงใ™ใ€‚ใงใ™ใŒไฝ“ๅŠ›ใซใฏ้™็•ŒใŒใ‚ใ‚Šใพใ™ใ€‚ๅˆๅพŒใฎๅธฐใ‚Šใฎ่ˆนใงๅฟƒๅœฐใ‚ˆใ„็–ฒใ‚Œใ‹ใ‚‰ใ‚ฆใƒˆใ‚ฆใƒˆใ—ใฆใ—ใพใ„ใพใ—ใŸใ€‚ๅญไพ›ใŸใกใฏๆœ€ๅพŒใฎๆœ€ๅพŒใพใงๅ…ƒๆฐ—ใซ่ตฐใ‚Šใพใ‚ใฃใฆใ„ใพใ—ใŸใ€‚่‹ฅใ„ใฃใฆใ„ใ„ใงใ™ใญใƒปใƒปใƒป

Review – The Saint of Bright Doors

Cover of the book, The Saint of Bright Doors, by Vajra Chandrasekera. Copyright Tordotcom Publishing.

The Saint of Bright Doors by Vajra Chandrasekera

It seems almost pointless for me to review a book so original, so outside of the norms I know, as this. The awards are numerous, major, and utterly deserved. People are speaking of The Saint of Bright Doors in superlatives and wonder, and having just finished my first read (of which I think there will be many more), I can only agree with what everyone else is saying. And who even cares about my opinion, anyway? But having finished the book, I feel I have to write about it. There are thoughts banging around, and I need to get them out.

There are books that are good because they are fun, or interesting, or thought provoking. People like what they like. Books that are great, though, tend to have more than thatโ€”undercurrents that hint at unseen depths, at leviathans swimming in seas of culture and history.

The reason that a children’s book like The Hobbit has gone on to become an enduring classic of Western Literature is that Tolkien rooted it in a thousand years of hero’s journeys and Anglo Saxon sagas. Gene Wolfe’s books are layered with allusions and histories of Greece and Rome, religions pagan and Catholic, pushing them beyond mere adventure and space opera. Le Guin wove stories of wizards and dragons from primordial myths and basic human truths.

Vajra Chandrasekera has written a Great book; done something that echoes those feats, with a weft of modern post-colonial literature and woof of lit-in-the-age-of-Covid, but the roots and undercurrents seem deep and… Unknown to me. This, I think, is what makes this book in particular, right now, so worth rereading and excavating. For me, anyway. This book breathes the air of an unknown land even as it echoes more familiar Kafka-esque paranoia and surreality, and that air is still fresh to me. I feel that I recognize some of the pieces Chandrasekera used in assembling this mosaic, but some are still in colors I cannot name.

I want to learn those names. I want to know if the “invisiblelaws and powers” are his, or if they belong to a history and tradition I am simply ignorant of. This book is a signpost toward a place I have never been, and I think I want to follow it.

The Jason Ogg Theory of Luck

I’m a lucky guy, all in all. Bad things have happened in my life, but I’ve made it through them more or less intact. I have a loving, healthy family. A career that is basically ideal. And through it all, I’ve been able to experience the world in ways I never dreamed of.

I sometimes feel like I’m so lucky it’s kind of scary. Because luck can turn on you in an instant, can’t it? All this can disappear like a tears in the rain (IYKYN). That thought has haunted me in a very real way, and I think I’ve developed a weird psychological tick because of it.

The thing that made me understand my own way of interacting with life’s vicissitudes was a bit in one of Terry Pratchett’s Discworld books, about the blacksmith Jason Ogg. Because of the fundamental importance of a skilled blacksmith, and the magical nature of the Discworld, Jason Ogg can shoe anything. Donkeys, unicorns, even Death’s pale horse. But to have the power to shoe anything that comes to you for shoeing, you have to shoe anything that comes. If Death comes to you to shoe his horse, you shoe his horse. If your drunk friends bring an ant for shoeing as a joke, you shoe the ant. If you deny the request to use a power, you lose the power.

A blessing must be used, or you lose it. That is how I have come to interact with what I view as my luck. In practical terms, that means that if a chance that seems “lucky” comes along, I take it.

When someone emailed me years ago asking if I was interested in coming to Japan to teach English, I wasn’t, actually. But it seemed like a lucky chance, so I took it. And now I have lived in Japan, happily, for two decades.

When my barber asked if I wanted to go out to dinner with him and his niece, whom I had never met, I went. I married his niece a year later.

When my wife and I went for a walk one day in the neighborhood and saw a house with a for sale sign in the window, we took a tour and made an offer that day because it felt perfect to me. We’ve lived in it for almost 11 years now, and never plan to move.

This tendency of mine, to say “yes” to pretty much every major opportunity that comes down the line has also guided my career. It’s how I survived the bankruptcy of the English school I first worked at, it’s how I became a semi-regular TV guest, and it’s now guiding my literary translation work.

As if to reinforce the idea, the lucky chances keep coming, and I’ve not had to say “no” to any yet. That idea, that I have not had to say no, is perhaps the other half of my theory of luck. Because, if you want to say yes to opportunities, you need to be able to take them. You need skills, flexibility, time, attitude… You need to be open and prepared. Which is why I study things almost constantly, because you never know when you’ll need to know, oh, trends in the Japanese mystery publishing industry.

Anyway. I was just thinking about this, because sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I had said “no” to some of the things that have come along. But all in all, I’m glad I didn’t.

Setouchi Tsurezure #6 – Spring is Come

My sixth column for the local Setouchi Times newspaper was about my encounter with spring at a local park. It was one of my favorites, mostly for the pictures. I spotted a Longtailed Tit couple building a nest from spiderweb and moss, and while I was shooting pictures of them, a tanuki came waddling by. It was nice.


ๅ† ๆข…ๅœ’ใงๆ˜ฅใŒใ‚„ใฃใฆๆฅใ‚‹

ใƒฉใ‚คใ‚ชใƒณใ€€ใ‚ธใƒŸใƒผ

ๅ…ˆๆ—ฅใ€ๅคงๅฅฝใใชๅ† ็ทๅˆๅ…ฌๅœ’ใฎๆข…ๆž—ใธใŠๆ•ฃๆญฉใซ่กŒใฃใฆใใพใ—ใŸใ€‚ๆข…ใฎ่ŠฑใŒใ™ใงใซๆ•ฃใ‚Šใ€็ฉบๆฐ—ใŒใพใ ใพใ ๅ†ทใˆใฆใ„ใพใ—ใŸใ€‚ใใ‚Œใงใ‚‚่‡ช็„ถ็•Œใฎๆ˜ฅใฎ่ณ‘ใ‚„ใ‹ใช็ฉบๆฐ—ใ‚’ใตใ‚“ใ‚ใ‚Šใจๆ„Ÿใ˜ใ‚‹ใ“ใจใŒใงใใพใ—ใŸใ€‚้‡Ž้ณฅใฎใ•ใˆใšใ‚Šใ‚’่žใใชใŒใ‚‰ๅฑฑใ‚’็™ปใฃใฆใ€็€ฌๆˆธๅ†…ๆตทใฎ็œบใ‚ใ‚’ๅ‘ณใ‚ใฃใฆใ„ใ‚‹ใจใ€ใพใ ่‘‰ใฎ็„กใ„ๆœจใซๅฐใ•ใช้ณฅใฎๅ‹•ใใซๆฐ—ใ‚’ๅ–ใ‚‰ใ‚Œใพใ—ใŸใ€‚่ฆ‹ใ‚‹ใจใ‚จใƒŠใ‚ฌใงใ—ใŸใ€‚

ใ‚จใƒŠใ‚ฌใฏๅฐใ•ใใฆไธธใใฆใ€ใจใฆใ‚‚ใ‹ใ‚ใ„ใ„ๅฐ้ณฅใงใ™ใ€‚ๅค–ใ‚’ๆญฉใๅบฆใซใ„ใคใ‚‚ๆŽขใ—ใฆใ„ใพใ™ใ€‚ไปŠๅ›žใฎใ‚จใƒŠใ‚ฌใฏๅŒใ˜ๆ–นๅ‘ใธ่กŒใฃใŸใ‚ŠๆฅใŸใ‚Šใ—ใฆใ€ใใกใฐใ—ใซไฝ•ใ‹ใ‚’ๅ’ฅใˆใฆใ„ใ‚‹ๅงฟใ‚’่ฆ‹ใ›ใฆใใ‚Œใพใ—ใŸใ€‚

ใใ‚Œใงๆฐ—ใฅใใพใ—ใŸใ€‚ๆ˜ฅใฎๅทฃไฝœใ‚Šใ ๏ผ

ใใฃใจใ€ใใฃใจ่ฟฝใ„ใ‹ใ‘ใฆใฟใ‚‹ใจๆข…ใฎๆœจใฎ่‚กใง่œ˜่››ใฎ็ณธใจ่‹”ใงใ‚จใƒŠใ‚ฌใฎๅคซๅฉฆใŒไธ€็”Ÿๆ‡ธๅ‘ฝๅทฃใ‚’ไฝœใฃใฆใ„ใพใ—ใŸใ€‚ๅนธใ„ใซใ‚‚ใ‚ซใƒกใƒฉใ‚’ๆŒใฃใฆใ„ใŸใฎใงๅ†™็œŸใ‚‚ๆ’ฎใ‚Œใพใ—ใŸใ€‚

ใ€Œ่ฆชใŒๅญไพ›ใฎ็‚บใซ้ ‘ๅผตใฃใฆๅฎ‰ๅ…จใชๅฎถใ‚’ไฝœใ‚‹ใฎใฏๅคงๅค‰ใ ใชใ€ใจๆ€ใ„ใชใŒใ‚‰่ฆ‹ๅฎˆใฃใฆใ„ใพใ—ใŸใ€‚

ใ—ใฐใ‚‰ใใ™ใ‚‹ใจ่ฟ‘ใใฎ้“ใซๅคงใใช่Œถ่‰ฒใฎไฝ•ใ‹ใŒ้€šใ‚Š้ŽใŽใพใ—ใŸใ€‚

ใ€ŒไปŠๅบฆใฏใชใซ๏ผŸใ€ใจ่จใ‚ŠใชใŒใ‚‰ใพใŸใใฃใจใ€ใใฃใจ่ฟฝใ„ใ‹ใ‘ใพใ—ใŸใ€‚

ใ™ใ‚‹ใจใ‚ฟใƒŒใ‚ญใ•ใ‚“ใŒใŠใใ‚‰ใๅฐๅทใงใ‚จใ‚ตใ‚’ๆŽขใ—ใŸใ‚ใจใฎๅธฐใ‚Š้“ใงใ—ใŸใ€‚

ๅƒ•ใฎไบ‹ใ‚’ๅฎŒๅ…จใซ็„ก่ฆ–ใ—ใฆ่ฟ‘ใใฎๆคๆœจใ‚’ใ‚ฏใƒณใ‚ฏใƒณใ—ใชใŒใ‚‰ใฎใ‚“ใณใ‚Šๆญฉใ„ใฆใ„ใพใ—ใŸใ€‚ใใฎไธธใ„่ƒŒไธญใ‚’่ฆ‹ใ‚‹ใจใ€Œใตใฃใ€ใจ็ฌ‘ใฃใฆใ€ใพใŸๅ†™็œŸใ‚’ใ„ใฃใฑใ„ๆ’ฎใ‚‰ใ›ใฆใ‚‚ใ‚‰ใ„ใพใ—ใŸใ€‚

ใ“ใ‚Œใ‚‚ๆ–ฐ้ฎฎใช็ตŒ้จ“ใงใ‚ใ‚ŠใชใŒใ‚‰ใ€ใชใ‚“ใจใชใๆ‡ใ‹ใ—ใ„ๅ ด้ขใงใ‚‚ใ‚ใ‚Šใพใ—ใŸใ€‚

ๅƒ•ใฎๅฎŸๅฎถใŒใ‚ใ‚‹ใ‚ซใƒณใ‚ถใ‚นๅทžใงใฏๆฏŽๆ—ฅใฎใ‚ˆใ†ใซ้‡Ž็”Ÿๅ‹•็‰ฉใจ่งฆใ‚Œๅˆใˆใพใ—ใŸใ€‚ใงใ‚‚ๆ—ฅๆœฌใซๆฅใฆไปฅ้™ใฏๆป…ๅคšใซใชใ„ไบ‹ใงใ—ใŸใ€‚ใƒชใ‚นใ‚„ใ‚ฆใ‚ตใ‚ฎใ€้นฟใ€ใ‚ขใƒฉใ‚คใ‚ฐใƒžใชใฉใฎๅญ˜ๅœจใŒใชใ„ๅ…‰ๅธ‚ใฏใ‚ใ‚‹ๆ„ๅ‘ณใงๅฐ‘ใ—ๅฏ‚ใ—ใ„ใจๆ€ใ†ใ“ใจใ‚‚ใ‚ใ‚Šใพใ™ใŒใ€ใ‚ใฎๆ—ฅใ‚„ใฃใฑใ‚Šใ€Œๆ‡ใ‹ใ—ใ„ๅ‹•็‰ฉใŒใ“ใ“ใซใ‚‚ใ„ใ‚‹ใ‚“ใ ใ€ใจๆ„Ÿใ˜ใพใ—ใŸใ€‚

ๅฐใ•ใช็™’ใ—ใจใ—ใฆๆœ‰้›ฃใ„ใฒใจๆ™‚ใงใ—ใŸใ€‚

ใ“ใ‚Œใ‹ใ‚‰่‡ช็„ถ็•Œใฏใพใ™ใพใ™ๅ…ƒๆฐ—ใซใชใ‚‹ใจๆ€ใ„ใพใ™ใ€‚ๅ‹•็‰ฉใ‚‚ใ€ๆค็‰ฉใ‚‚ๅ‹•ใใ ใ—ใฆใ€ๆฎตใ€…ใจ็”Ÿๆฐ—ใ‚ใตใ‚Œใ‚‹ไธ–็•Œใซๆˆปใ‚Šใพใ™ใ€‚ใใฎๆ—ฅใ€…ใฎๅค‰ๅŒ–ใ‚’่ฆ‹ใ‚‹ใจๆ™‚้–“ใฎๆตใ‚Œใจๅญฃ็ฏ€ใฎ็งปใ‚Šๅค‰ใ‚ใ‚Šใ‚’ใ‚‚ใฃใจๆทฑใๆ„Ÿใ˜ใพใ™ใ€‚ไบบ้–“ใŒ่‡ช็„ถ็•Œใ‹ใ‚‰้›ขใ‚Œใฆๆšฎใ‚‰ใ™ใ‚ˆใ†ใซใชใฃใŸ็พๅœจใงใฏใใ‚ŒใŒๅฟ˜ใ‚Œใ‚‰ใ‚ŒใŒใกใฎไบ‹ใงใ‚‚ใ‚ใ‚Šใพใ™ใŒๅฟ˜ใ‚Œใกใ‚ƒใ„ใ‘ใชใ„ไบ‹ใ ใจๆ€ใ„ใพใ™ใ€‚

ไบบ้–“ใ‚‚ใ€่‡ช็„ถ็•Œใซ็ธใŒใพใ ใพใ ใ‚ใ‚Šใพใ™ใ€‚

็š†ใ•ใ‚“ๆ˜ฏ้žๅค–ใซๅ‡บใฆๅคง่‡ช็„ถใŒๆ˜ฅใ‚’่ฟŽใˆใฆใ„ใ‚‹ไบ‹ใ‚’่ฆณๅฏŸใ—ใฆใฟใฆใใ ใ•ใ„ใ€‚

ใใฃใจๅƒ•ใฟใŸใ„ใซ็™’ใ—ใ‚’่ฆ‹ใคใ‘ใ‚‹ใ“ใจใŒใงใใ‚‹ใจๆ€ใ„ใพใ™ใ€‚

20 Years

I stepped off the plane in Osaka on June 9, 2004. Though I didn’t know it yet, I was home.

A street scene in Japan.
The view out my window in Ube, Yamaguchi, on June 10, 2004. My first morning in Japan.

My memories of that first day are blurry. I remember buying my first bottle of “Milk Tea,” syrupy sweet and delightful, at an airport kiosk. Riding the shinkansen for the first time, transferring to the local line, and being terrified I would miss my stop in Ube. Jetlag made that first day a hard one, but I awoke the next morning in JAPAN! It was pretty wild.

The big Shidax (now gone) down the road from my apartment made things easier…

My first Karaoke in Japan. Can’t you feel the passion?

It’s hard to really believe that I’ve lived in Japan for 20 years. I only lived in Kansas, where I was born and raised, for 18. I left the United States for good at 24 (spent a bit of time in Russia and Germany before I came to Japan). I see no reason for me to leave Japan in the future, so it really does seem that this is where my bones will rest.

Looking back on why that might be, I can only say that it feels right. I settled into Japan relatively easily, after the first couple of years. The obvious influence is my marriage (17 years and counting) but even the pace of life and basic values of Japan suited me quickly. Or, perhaps I should say this part of Japan, because Osaka and Tokyo are not for me.

The truly surreal thing is, coming to Japan was never even on my radar as a young man. Apart from a brief anime phase in college, I was not a big otaku or whatever. If anything, I was hoping to live in Europe, given my MA in German Language/Literature. But I was never much a one for plans. I was always the type who took what chances came my way, and the chance to visit Japan came my way.

I’m glad it happened. It’s a nice life for me, and has brought me a wonderful family to boot.

I’m lucky, and grateful.

But man. 20 years. That’s a long time, isn’t it?