This week marks the beginning of my 6th month in Japan. I know how it looks to an outsider, reactions I've gotten span from "Oh it's a good opportunity" to "Oh my god, you're living the dream!" I didn't really understand why so many people (especially Malaysians) love Japan. But I'm slowly starting to see its appeal. It has such a rich and unique culture, so obviously different from what we're used to. Yet it seems mysterious, kind of like that sexy artist you can never quite figure out. At 25, I'm at that place in my life where I'm becoming increasingly aware of where I'm at physically, intellectually and emotionally. I want to say I've seen quite enough of life in the East and West, but I only know what I know. I think we all crave both comfort and adventure, and it's difficult to strike a balance - to be able to tiptoe out of your comfort zone. I think we all know what it's like to be comfortable, to be confident...
This was my original plan: Apply for LA jobs during my last semester in Boston, get some interviews (maybe some Skype ones), secure a job I like with a fair pay by the time I step out of college, and off I ride, into the beautiful sunset of the wonderful Adultworld everyone else has been complaining about. Alas, life didn't go as I planned in my neat little brain. Before long, I realized that under normal circumstances, employers want you to be in the same area before they decide that you're serious about the job. Which is perfectly reasonable. They ask you to check in again when you're "here". Fair enough. You have a lot on your plate at this time. Final projects to wrap up. A lot of goodbyes to be said. You wonder what awaits you on the opposite coast. By now, you've heard a lot of horror stories about the industry, its competitiveness and the (perceived?) discrimination. "I didn't get the job because of my race." "I didn't get ...
Tonight, I have two options: walk all the way home by myself for 40 minutes, or take the crowded train for 10 minutes. I chose the latter. A week after arriving in Tokyo, the discomfort finally kicks in. Before taking the train, I stopped by this food place. To be honest, I don't know what that is. I only know it serves Soba and Udon, and Tendon.. Tempura.. and they don't provide seats, so you'd stand and eat your delicious bowl of noodles. The last and only time I was there, I couldn't understand the old Japanese man, so he pointed at the Soba noodles, and I just nodded. It was delicious and cheap, so I decided to go there again. This time, I noticed the vending machine in the restaurant, hidden in a corner. Nothing was written in English. I picked the cheapest thing that I assumed wasn't going to turn out to be just a boiled egg. I brought my ticket to the same old Japanese man. He asked me something in Japanese, no mention of "soba" or "tendon...
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