Life Archives - 100 TACKS

July 14, 2017

Catching Up: Repatriation

July 14, 2017

How has it been six months since our repatriation?

Just as with our last days in Japan, time has flown by since we moved back to Metro Detroit. In that time, we’ve celebrated holidays and birthdays, found a new place to call home, traveled and, most importantly, reconnected with family and friends.

There was a lot to process mentally and emotionally as we transitioned back to life in the states. There have been some highs and very unexpected lows. It wasn’t my intention to stay away from this space for six months, but I was honestly at a loss for how to sum up what the repatriation process has been like and how best to share. I also wanted to figure out the ideal way to continue this blog, which has been such a great source of expression for me.

That all being said, the best word to describe the past six months has been jarring. Not jarring in one big boom, but in little waves that knock you off balance unexpectedly. New routines and little adjustments. I can’t believe how hard it is to recall the little Japanese I’d mastered but how often I still bow my head in thanks. And don’t get me started on driving again.

I had a meltdown in the grocery store the first time I went shopping and called my mother asking what aisle bottled lime juice would be in. I don’t know for how many minutes before the call I circled, my mind racing with thoughts like “Why do we need so many options?” and “Why are there so many people in here?” and “God it’s so fucking loud in here” and “This place is too damn big.” It’s funny now but it perfectly sums up this process of being dropped back into a world that was so familiar — it’s the same grocery store I used to go to weekly before the move — and yet suddenly felt unwelcoming and harsh.

Suddenly I was bombarded by all the conversations of strangers I could block out before because I couldn’t understand them. All the food looked huge to me, piled high in enormous mounds that meant whatever was on the bottom would inevitably be damaged or rot without notice. All these options were provided to reinforce a right to so many options. Much of it would go the way of a garbage dump at the end of the week in protection of that ideal.

Sound extreme? I get it. But being in another country meant looking at my home country through a magnifying glass. Why? To answer all the questions I got about the American way of life I never had to think about before. And those questions ranged from politics (won’t get into that in this space) to, yes, big box stores. There’s a reason expats joke international Costco outposts are like American embassies.

There’s another way to describe this process, and that’s mourning. I joked with a friend once that when we moved back to Michigan, we’d be turning in our “cool cards” at the airport on the way out of Japan. As we sat on the plane to return to our home state, it occurred to me we were leaving behind an identity that lent itself so perfectly to making new friends and business contacts, a title that served as a welcome mat to anyone else we met in our situation. We quickly found people to bond with about living abroad and those eager to discuss America and what it means to be American. It felt like a hand holding open a door or a footstool always beneath our feet to help us stand above the crowd. We had a topic to discuss before we opened our mouths and something that made us interesting. Now what?

“Mourning” would have sounded overly dramatic at the beginning of this process. But as the weeks began bleeding into months after we moved back, I found myself trapped on the couch in a cloud I couldn’t shake. I would go to bed at night expecting to wake up in Tokyo or that we would go back in a few weeks like we usually did. I felt so disconnected from a life that had allowed me to reinvent myself and showcase my talents with the bravado of being a stranger. Now I was back in a place of such history, of ups and downs, watermarks and memories, documented failures and triumphs. The place where I’ll always have a past. I asked Craig the other day when we needed to stop talking about Japan.

What do I want to be here? What do I want to do? Luckily work has kept me busy, as has the task of decorating a new apartment (can’t say I was mad about the additional space). I’m taking fitness classes and refocusing on my health and that’s helped me get to a better place. There are still moments when the Twilight Zone-esque effect of moving across the street from the home we left three years ago gives me a lump in my throat and makes me wonder if, somehow, we dreamt it all.

But there is a purpose in every transition and that’s what I’m trying to remember. We’ve had some family news that has helped to put this move back to Michigan into perspective. I’m not religious but I am a believer in being in the right place at the right time. For now, this feels right.

I hope you’ll rejoin me here as I share more of our adventures and introduce you to the Mitten state. There are also last trips in Japan to share and tips for visiting that beautiful place. I’ll also share more on the expat experience to shed some insight for anyone considering it. While the transition has been hard, it was still profoundly rewarding.

I want to treat our time here as I did our time in Japan, for however long it lasts.

December 28, 2016

Tokyo, I Love You

December 28, 2016

How do I begin to say goodbye to Tokyo?

Our time here has flown by more quickly than the weepy, puffy-faced girl who arrived here almost three years ago could ever have believed. Today’s the day we fly back to Detroit and few words could do the experience justice. I never thought I would feel this way and that’s a testament to just how incredible this place is.

People have asked us a lot lately what we will miss about living in Japan. While there are the obvious things — the culture, food, people and art — there are some intangible things I’ll miss more. I’ll miss the calm that somehow permeates the massive crowds. I’ll miss the patience of people who know the best things, be it a collectible, a show or a dish, are worth waiting for, no matter how long the line. I’ll miss the preservation and respect for tradition. I’ll miss the pride of ownership no matter if you have a little or a lot. I’ll also miss the laughter we found amid the tears and the excitement and nervousness that made every little thing we did an adventure.

But I guess the real lesson here is we don’t have to say goodbye to those feelings or attitudes. No matter where you call home — even if it’s always been home — you can find those adventures. Every day is precious and what you get out of it is entirely up to you. We learned to make goals, but more importantly, to adjust our expectations (Spoiler Alert: I’m not fluent in Japanese). We did our best and learned to accept sometimes that’s all you really can do. We’re more humbled global citizens who’ve learned to look at the world through more than one lens. Most importantly, we did it together.

To commemorate our time in Japan, we recently teamed up with the incredibly talented Miranda Boller, who snapped our “sayonara portraits.” While it was supposed to be overcast, the sun came out and it was just beautiful. She snapped the photo above on Chuo Dori in Ginza. The street closes to cars on the weekends and it was always one of our favorite strolls. With all the feels we’ve been feeling (my god, the feelings) this past month, it was a reminder of how far we’ve come. We’re better individuals and better partners for having jumped in the deep end of the pool.

No matter how scary or uncertain things may seem, the sun will always come out.

I’ll be posting more Japan-related content in this space in the coming weeks and months as I decide how to transition this space. To everyone who shared the journey with us, who sent encouragement from near and far, to the new friends we made here who invited us into their homes, shared a meal with us, cried with us, got drunk with us, sang karaoke with us, gave me work or helped with small things that made a big difference (i.e. forms we still can’t read), we’re so very grateful to have you in our lives. Getting to share Tokyo with the friends and family who were able to visit meant the absolute world to us. Domo arigatou gozaimasu.

Cheers until the next.

October 31, 2016

The Big Surprise

October 31, 2016

I’ve done a lot of thinking over the past couple weeks about how to write this post. If you follow me on Twitter, you know Craig and I got quite the shock last month when we were asked if we’d move back to the U.S. Craig was offered an amazing work opportunity we simply couldn’t pass up, but it means cutting our time in Tokyo short by more than a year.

It’s taken me a while to post about this because I’ve been trying to figure out the best way to sum up how I feel about it. The best I can come up with is that this move has been met with a lot of mixed emotions on my part and more than a few tears have been shed (both happy and sad).

Let’s start with how I found out.

I was sitting in the airport in Seoul during my two-hour layover on the way to NYC when Craig called to deliver the news, news that arrived less than six months after we moved into a new apartment we adored and a neighborhood we really felt at home in. My first reaction was “Well, you can’t not take it,” which came out despite the massive lump in my throat. I was so instantly filled with pride, but not shock, because I always knew what he was capable of. I then boarded a 14-hour flight bombarded with thoughts of having to find a new apartment, and driving again in snow. Good god, the snow. I joked with a friend during that trip that when we left Tokyo, we would have to turn in our cool cards at customs.

After weeks of thinking and negotiation and drafting of a contract, it’s done: We’re officially moving back to Michigan, our home state, at the end of December. Holy shit.

When people ask us what these (almost) three years have been like living in Tokyo, we always describe it this way: The first year was stressful and confusing and seemed to crawl by. The second year we got more comfortable and was a breeze as we came out of our shells. The third year we both really seemed to hit our strides and it was over before we knew it. Now we have just two months left in Japan and I still can’t believe it. There’s still so much we wanted to see and do, lists that may never get checked off now (you know I love my lists) and there’s a pit in my stomach that stems from a fear we didn’t make the most of our time here. I think about the early days, when the thought of trying to go grocery shopping, or to mail something at the post office, or trying to find somewhere to eat lunch on my own would send me into a panic. There were many hours and days spent on my couch watching television, feeling completely alone and like I was living in a fish tank at the same time.

But then the friends came and the work came and with that, the bravery came. The feeling of home settled in and we finally exhaled when we would land back in Tokyo after some time away. I got to experience a reinvention of sorts and that’s what I have to say has been hard to think about leaving behind. Am I different person? I certainly think so. Will that person fit back in the place where I grew up? I’ve always felt like a square peg in a round hole in Michigan.

And then there are all the things this experience has taught us about partnership, marriage and each other. Will we lose our sense of adventure? Will we lose our feelings of urgency to work out every conflict because of our great need for each other’s support in a place where we lack a safety net?

The joy we feel about returning to friends and family is a given in this situation. We’re elated to be able to call the people we love in the moment when we want to speak with them and that they’re no longer separated from us by oceans and multiple time zones. Being a greater part of our nieces’ and nephews’ lives will be the greatest reward of all.

I guess what I’m saying is, well, I still get scared. I’m scared of the complacency that can come with familiarity. I’m scared of one day being angry about being the one who “trailed.” But then, I snap out of it and remember everything this experience has given us and how what we’ve learned and accomplished here will serve us going forward. I’ll be sharing plenty of my favorite things about Japan in the coming months, so I won’t get into the countless things and people I will miss just yet.

We don’t always get to decide when one chapter of our lives ends. We don’t always get to go down the path we wanted and we’re not always ready when opportunity knocks. But I do get to choose how this chapter impacts all those to come and that’s why I plan to fill the next three years with just as much adventure as the last.

Stay tuned.

July 5, 2016

Inevitable Departures

July 5, 2016

By far the greatest double-edged sword of living abroad is the relationships you form. They’re at the same time more intense than others in many ways and yet painfully brief. Summer is a time many expats move on to the next assignment, often while children are off school and work slows down a bit. It’s a season of goodbyes, and as a fellow expat said to me recently, they never get easier.

Last week, my first and closest female friend here in Tokyo relocated to Europe to begin the next phase of her life. While I knew it certainly wouldn’t be a fun day when she left, it didn’t really hit me until we were parting ways at my front door. I guess I’d kept some hope in the back of my mind their plans would change. But I’m thrilled for her nevertheless and know we will remain in touch.

In this odd sort of life, the friendships you develop can really be a lifeline. They’re the people you lean on when you have crises large and small — whether it’s a piece of mail you can’t read or a fight with your spouse about what the hell you’re supposed to be doing now. You find comfort in shared discomfort.

The silver lining of these friendships is the mark they leave on you. I learned from my friend how to be more brave, to put myself out there and make my opportunities instead of waiting for them to come to me. I’ve never been much of an extrovert. But watching women like her succeed in a place where they initially could barely communicate is what pulled me off the couch and out into this incredible world I get to call home for a little while.

As we continue to meet people from around the world, it’s the greatest joy to think of the network we’re building of friends in different places. To get to duck into and out of their adventures, and to partake in their cultures and share a bit of ours, gives me so much to look forward to when we see each other again.

[The photo you see above was taken at my friend’s final event as owner of Artbar Tokyo, the amazing business she began during her time in Tokyo.]

April 8, 2016

A Year of Learning

April 8, 2016

One of my resolutions this year was to be brave. So, I’ve decided to find new experiences to take me out of comfort zone and help me learn more about the people and culture of Japan and, perhaps, myself. And with my 30th birthday coming ~~like a god damn freight train~~ up in December, I knew I wanted to make the final year of my twenties extra special.

I suppose the first step I took in this direction was taking on leading a conversational English class a year ago. Every month the women I taught have shared something new with me, be it a traditional food or drink or the customs that accompany a certain holiday. This experience has been great, but I knew I needed to up the ante.

Diving right in, I joined the board of an awesome women’s group and in February and participated in a workshop to help better understand the way I work best and how to communicate that with others. I’ve begun working with people from all around the world and learning what Japan looks like through their eyes.

And the unique experiences have kept coming — with surprising results.

Just last month I was asked to serve as a patient in a mock medical consultation. As someone who used to dance onstage, participate in speech contests and run for class council, I can’t believe how shy I’ve become in some ways. For example, I believe there is a special place in hell for comics who pull unsuspecting people up in front of the crowd to be tortured. But as odd as the experience was, I left feeling so touched by the fact these Japanese physicians took time out of their schedules to learn the best way to communicate with a foreigner. It was a reminder of the dedication and care so prevalent in the Japanese work culture.

On Tuesday, I headed to my first ever spinning class at Feelcycle in Nakameguro. I was one of two gaijin (foreigners) in the class and it was predominantly in Japanese. Amazingly, I was able to follow right along, which gave me a boost of confidence in my language skills. It reminded me that when times get tough, a deep breath and some concentration (and perhaps some Britney blaring through the speakers) can get you through.

There are so many things I want to try in the countdown to my big birthday, including more cooking and art classes. Who knows what direction they’ll take me in. Stay tuned for some new discoveries!

April 2, 2016

Staying Fit Abroad

April 2, 2016

When we first found out we were moving to Tokyo, I was thrilled to get back to an urban environment. I’ve never been a suburbs kind of gal and couldn’t wait to have a huge new city to explore.

One of the best things about living in a place like Tokyo is that it’s walkable. Coming from Metro Detroit, where we’re pretty car dependent, I love getting outside and using my damn legs to get from point A to point B.

But, real talk time. While walking daily is essential to good health, it didn’t save me from gaining what I’d lovingly call the “Expat 15.” This reason is, I think, that when you first move abroad, you’re stuck in “vacation mode,” which means anything goes when it comes to eating and drinking. Emotions were also a huge part of the reason I let my health and fitness regimen go a bit.

After letting my first year abroad be one of less inhibitions food wise, I knew the second had to be different. Food can be a deliciously dangerous way to cope with stress and emotions and after overcoming the initial struggles of the move, I knew I didn’t want to fall into that pattern. Thankfully, I was introduced to an outdoor bootcamp class that did two important things: get me moving and help me interact with other women in my situation. That first class helped me feel a bit braver about putting myself out there as well.

Since then, it’s been all about balance, which isn’t always easy. I’ve learned my mishmash of nationalities means white rice and noodles aren’t my friends and too much soy means my jeans get a bit too snug for my liking. But I can’t deny the healing power of a bowl of spicy ramen when I’m sick or the fact everything seems to taste better dipped in tempura batter. But if there’s anything I’ve taken from watching tiny Japanese women slay a meal, it’s that it’s all about balance. This is the country with the largest population of centurions after all . . . they must be doing something right.

So, these are goals I’ve set for myself:

Walk as much as possible
Take the stairs more often
Drink lots of water (counters the ramen bloat nicely)
Exercise three to five times a week (see my at-home favorite routines here, here and here)
Cook as much as possible
Don’t be too hard on myself
Keep up with my supplements
Get enough sleep (<– still working on that one)

Following these guidelines has helped me get back to where I want to be and I feel so much better. I’ve even been able to quit my asthma meds by improving my lung capacity and stamina. Moving into this new apartment has made me excited to get back into the kitchen, too. Cooking as many of my meals as I can during the week allows me to explore new restaurants on the weekends without feeling guilty about sampling new foods. I know what works best for my body but hey, I love food and I don’t want to feel like I’m being punished.

Japan is full of absolutely incredible foods and while most people will admit to overindulging a bit on vacation, living abroad requires reminding yourself this is home now and to really enjoy it, you have to take of yourself.

[In an early version of this post, I forgot to link to my favorite workouts. Sorry about that!]

March 12, 2016

Reflecting on 3/11

March 12, 2016

Yesterday marked the fifth anniversary of East Japan’s earthquake and tsunami, and while it’s no understatement to say this remains a country in mourning, it’s also one full of hope and inspiration in the face of unspeakable tragedy.

I had the pleasure of visiting Iwate Prefecture, one of the areas hardest-hit by the natural disaster, last October (see here and here). I realize now how much of the trip I didn’t understand at the time. Looking back, our guides didn’t mention the disaster at all. They didn’t tell us how much was damaged or how many lives were lost. Instead, they showed us the beauty of their communities. They showed us the restaurants, temples, shrines and parks they loved. They showed us their home. It’s a pride we all share — one of those links that reminds us we aren’t very different at all.

I wish I had better acknowledged the strength and perseverance of the people of these communities I met, who have sent out more messages of hope than anger. It’s a humility I remain in awe of today. Japan is such a beautiful country and I don’t take it for granted how lucky I am to live here. The Japanese people can be misunderstood for any number of little things — as any culture can — but it’s their pride and their grace that always make me take a step back and consider where I come from and how I show appreciation for wherever I call home.

February 25, 2016

Moving Day!

February 25, 2016

It’s finally here! Moving day!

Preparing for this move has required countless emails and sheets of paper, but there are certain steps I expected to take that I’ll be skipping. Compared to signing a lease in the United States, which I’ve done seven times in the past decade, there were some noticeable differences in the process, both good and bad.

Good: Movers
Moving companies here are remarkably fast and go to great pains to make sure neither your items or the apartment are damaged. They remove their shoes, of course, when coming inside but also lay down tarps and even cover parts of the walls. Our movers in the U.S. tracked dirt everywhere, banged into walls and, um, used my toilet. Several times. Ew.

Good: Building Features
While every apartment is different, I’ve never felt less like a renter than here in Tokyo. What do I mean? Management is attentive and responsive in keeping up the buildings, which are very secure and safe. We’ve had our pipes and smoke detectors checked regularly at no charge and they were quick to repair a broken washer/dryer. Other little items I’m grateful for are video cameras at the main entrance, locked parcel boxes so packages can be left when I’m not here and the most meticulously cleaned garbage and bike rooms I’ve ever seen.

Good/Bad: Cleaning
All you need to do is vacuum before moving out of your current unit, which is good. The management company then has the apartment professionally cleaned and restored, repairing any and all damage, including wallpaper. This means walking into an apartment that is in pretty spectacular condition. However, the cost of that fabulous cleaning is footed by the former tenant and can be $500 or more (assuming there are no major damages). Bad.

Bad: Bank Transfers
How you pay for many moving expenses, such as agent fees or deposits. They have to be done at the bank or through an ATM instead of writing and check and usually only Monday through Friday. Before 2 p.m. Not fun.

Bad: Bulky Waste Removal
Don’t worry, this isn’t about to get gross. In Japan, large trash is called sodai gomi, or “bulky waste.” This includes obvious items like appliances and furniture, but also small electronics, rugs, old luggage, etc. These items must be hauled away by the city. Now, don’t get me wrong, recycling is a good thing and I ultimately feel better about having these items hauled away than throwing them in a dumpster. But the process is less than fun. You have to complete an itemized form online (in Japanese, typically) and schedule an appointment for pickup, which can take a couple of weeks. THEN you have to go to the convenience store and buy a certain number of tickets/stickers to place on the items. These stickers can really add up, which means paying a good chunk of money to have items hauled away. I think we paid around $50 for our couch. And if you leave your items in the wrong place (as we did), that can lead to more fun.

I spent last night going through the last cupboard or two to make sure we didn’t need to toss anything else and then finished up the last of the laundry. Now I’m sitting in the new, empty unit waiting for our belongings to arrive and I couldn’t be more excited.

Keep your fingers crossed for my sanity and I’ll share another update once everything is all set up.

February 17, 2016

Saying Sayonara to Our First Apartment

February 17, 2016

We’re moving out of our first Tokyo home in just over a week, and let’s just say the feelings have started. I was lying in bed awake last night and thinking about all that this little apartment has meant to us.

I remember when we first walked up to the building, I just got a feeling. Once we saw the inside, I knew it was meant to be ours. Sure, the space did seem immediately swallowed up by all our things. And it took me months to finally find the best arrangement to optimize the space we had. But it’s never felt cold, or too dark or lonely.

I haven’t lived in any house or apartment since my childhood home for more than a few years, but I quickly become sentimental about these temporary ones. As the days wind down, I start to wonder who will set up here next. Will they appreciate it as much as us? Will they damage it? Will it be a safe haven for them, as it was for us, when the outside world was just a little too crowded and loud?

I’ve been scared in this apartment. I’ve been homesick and sad. But I also learned how to be more brave. I learned everything from what it meant to work at my marriage to how to do a burpee in a confined space without breaking anything. I spent hours deciphering the worst of Google’s translations to pay bills, make doctor’s appointments and order pizza between FaceTime sessions with loved ones back in the states.

Every home I’ve had has changed me a bit and pushed me forward. While I’ll probably be more than a little weepy about leaving this apartment, I know the chapter we spent here is among the most important of mine and Craig’s journey thus far, and for that reason, it will always have a special place in my heart.

February 7, 2016

Two-Year Reflections

February 7, 2016

I can hardly believe we’ve reached the two-year mark. While it seems like only days ago we made the move to Japan, so much has happened it also manages to feel like a decade ago. Craig and I returned to the restaurant where we had our first date in Japan, Nobu, to celebrate the occasion, and found ourselves in an all-too-common situation: ordering something we thought was something else. As luck would have it, this time we ended up with a bowl of cod brain ceviche. If anyone was wondering what the oddest thing I’ve eaten so far is . . . there ya go.

What was so poignant about this little mishap was how we recovered. Two years ago, I probably would have had a little silent sob over my plate and then vowed to never dine out again (for a couple days anyway), but if moving to Asia has taught us anything, it’s to take a deep breath and go with the flow. Celebrating adventures big and small has made this chapter of our lives mean so much more, even on the days that were the hardest.

Craig and I have decided to extend our time in Japan and may end up staying in Tokyo for another two years. For me, the first year crawled by. While I enjoyed all our explorations and the new sights, sounds and tastes we experienced, a big part of me was watching for the finish line. Year two, by comparison, completely flew by, as Craig and I each found our personal and professional grooves. As the year wound down, I started to get nostalgic about leaving our first apartment (I’m such a crier). When out to dinner with colleagues who asked us what we didn’t like about living in Japan, we struggled to come up with an answer.

At an event this weekend, the women seated at my table and I did the usual “How long have you been here?” question-and-answer session and, for once, I was the person at the table who had been in Japan the longest. In the days since, I’ve been thinking more about how we’ve spent our time here. How have we grown and what growth have we perhaps shied away from?

As I look toward to what our third year in Tokyo holds, I’m going to keep those beautifully prepared, albeit terrifying, cod brains in mind and dive into the deep end of the pool whenever possible. If year one was the time for adjusting, and year two was the time for building, then year three is the time to throw out all the remaining excuses.

We’re not newbies anymore. It’s time to make it really count. Here’s to year three!