An African weekend, a philosophical Monday.

Djembe drums and tabenomihodai (all you can eat and drink) – 3000 yen. Japanese people dressed in African-style traditional clothing dancing African dances while a full house of people from all over the world laughs and joins in – priceless. These are the things that I love about being in Japan. Connecting to people that I would never have had a chance to meet back home and finding commonalities beyond the mundane. Seeing cultural differences and finding humanistic similarities. And of course, seeing another culture through the eyes of the Japanese; which is always, always, if nothing else, a fascinating experience in surreality.

Even when I aim to have a quiet weekend I can still be surprised by the uniqueness of life here. Every time I become aware that I will be leaving here to get back to real, hard life back home before I know it, my heart now skips a beat in fear. What’s waiting for me in Toronto? Where will I end up? Should I try to go to university in Austria or go live for a bit in my homeland, Croatia? Should I go to law school in BC or try to find another country to live in? Maybe join the Foreign Service, because I am now certainly qualified. I love it here sometimes, and sometimes lately there is a little voice saying I should stay longer or just simply not go back. However, that voice is mainly coming from fear. Fear of going back to the confusion I had left behind. Considering that I am about to turn 26 though, I know that I can’t let fear drive my life anymore. I have to go back and face everything that my life has been so far and then make a decision of where to go from there.

So many people cling to certainty, and to safety. I think that’s natural, but Japan has taught me to compartmentalize it and carry it with me to a degree.

I remember when I was a kid and couldn’t sleep my mother used to heat up milk and put honey in it for me to drink. Even now when I drink hot milk with honey I feel a bit of the safety of being a 4 year old and in the safekeeping of my parents` bed. It’s not much, but if we can all find the little things inside us that kept us going, the things that we always carry with us, then maybe we can add them up into a larger whole from which we can tap our strength.

Then again, maybe I am just cold and philosophical on this Monday morning with no pressing matters to attend to and over thinking things as usual. I am also upset because the North Face shell that I wanted to purchase (listed as $60 online) costs about $250 in Japan. Good trekking backpacks are similarly expensive so it looks like I might have to wait till Thailand and buy a cheap knockoff or something – which will be hard because I don’t like cheap knock offs. Curse my expensive tastes!