First weekend.

Waking up after two hours of restless, anticipatory sleep, I barely manage to scrable together my stuff, say my tearful goodbyes, and head out to the first, and hopefully the most challenging, part of my grand adventure: my journey across the world, nearly 7500 miles, to Hirakata, Japan. I had three legs on this journey, starting at MCO in Orlando, then to Dallas/Fort Worth, to Narita Tokyo, and finally to Osaka.

Security in Orlando went by quickly and without trouble, and I had just enough time to eat and board my plane to Dallas/Ft Worth. The flight was slightly nauseating (crowded, warm, and a lot of turbulence), but otherwise uneventful. Then came my quick layover in Dallas (who has a really neat transportation system between terminals, a lot smoother and prettier than MCOs), and then onto the big leg. The flight was empty enough that we were able to move around, and therefore I had my two seats by the window to myself--thank God, because if not the flight would have been completely miserable. It would have been extremely uncomfortable if we would have had to stay in our seat and not stretch out, there were poor movie and TV selections, and a pretty heavy amount of turbulence throughout the flight (though not as sickening as the previous flight, I suppose the larger plane helps with that). However, the flight path was pretty incredible--over the mountains by New Mexico, then up all the way into Seattle, past British Columbia, and into the Bay of Alaska--all very beautiful. They served us three meals and lots of beverages, and while the first meal was inedible (something they called "cheese ravioli", but tasted more like frozen dirt, and a roll that was still partially frozen...yeah, I ate the cheese and crackers, and even THOSE tasted kind of off), the last two were decent enough--a sandwich which was okay after removing the bread, and cheese pizza which was actually pretty tasty (though perhaps I was so hungry after those 11 hours that anything would do). I really thought the jokes about airplane food were just jokes, who would have thought.

After an exhausting flight, I finally landed at Narita Airport in Tokyo...customs was slightly confusing, but pretty organized and not complicated--they didn't even open my bags to check anything. Unfortunately, in the confusion, I was unable to switch my money over into yen, which leads to problems further down the road. The last leg to Osaka's Itami Airport was quick--55 minutes, no problems there. My friend Mari met me at the airport, and we took the Osaka Sky Monorail for 40 minutes (a very smooth ride, easy on the stomach), then a train another 30 minutes. By the time we finished the train ride, it was pouring outside, Florida style, with tons of lightning every few minutes. Her friend eventually picked us up at the station when the rain slowed, and then I was showered and passed out on her floor before I could say "oyasumi".

The next day, we went out in the afternoon and dropped off my luggage at my dorm (a convenient two minute walk from her apartment), and then went out exploring in downtown Hirakata city, about a ten minute bus ride. The first thing you notice is the whole concept of being a "gaijin", or "outsider". As an American, I've very often taken for granted the vast diversity and gave us the name melting pot. Japan is 98.5% ethnic Japanese--if you do the math, that leaves very low odds of you seeing people who aren't Japanese, especially in a smaller city. Everyone, and I mean everyone, will stop and stare, turn their heads, or full out gawk. At first, I was worried it was because of how hideous I probably looked, exhausted and sweaty and deathly. On the second day, though I was still sweaty, I realized it was just because they were surprised to see me walking down the street. My friend always joked about how "American" I was, and how I would have difficulty fitting in Japan, because of how different our lifestyles, personalities, and looks are (both in style and in actual physical features). The Japanese aren't trying to be impolite, either, because once I make eye contact with them and smile and nod, they smile and nod back (though sometimes still looking a little shocked or guilty). At the summer festival they were holding, a man was grilling some meat, saw me, and tried to sell them to me, "These tasty!" Called out. As it turned out, his wife was Phillipino, their friend was Peruvian, and they were all partners at a resturant. The wife talked to me for awhile, friendly, and it was funny how easily you find yourself in comradery with others simply because you are the minority (a situation I've never been in). It is an odd feeling, but I'm sure it'd be worse if I was a 5'8" blonde with blue eyes (but maybe they would assume it's a model and give you free stuff, ya never know...).

A bit of fair warning to anyone coming to visit--bring yen with you, possibly as much as you anticipate on using, especially if you're coming on a weekend. Banks are closed all weekend, therefore travelers checks are unable to be cashed anywhere (not even at the airport, at least not at the ones not in Tokyo), ATMs are very picky about which cards they'll accept, and no where (and I mean no where) accepts debit or credit cards. Japan is a very cash oriented society, dependent on their coins and bills, and it is a hard transition to make from the US where so many of us hardly ever even touch cash. Wifi is a lot more difficult to find as well, surprisingly, which adds to my difficulties, both out of money and without readily available Internet access. Nothing will stress you out more than being without a way to fund anything you do--no food, drinks, fares, cell phones, everything. So please, come prepared with a lot of yen on hand.

Obnoxious "green" Californians, step aside: the Japanese are the most eco-friendly people on this planet. Everywhere you go, on every street corner, there are at least five different garbage cans, each specifically labeled--paper, cans, plastic, raw/burnable items, and PET bottles. They expect everyone to peel off the parts that don't belong, such as labels on a plastic bottle, and to thoroughly empty out the contents before recycling. This is done everywhere: homes, businesses, train stations, street corners. And they are strict about turning on lights and electricity, because they individually air condition each room, and have reminders everywhere to turn them off when you exit. Not even the bathrooms or shower areas have air conditioning, and with the heated seats of the fancy Toto toilets, it makes it a little too warm for this season (but I guess it'll be awesome in the winter, when the bathrooms and hallways are freezing). [Also on a side note, I encountered one of those frightening "squat" toilets at the airport, but I swiftly avoided that whole awful situation and waited for the regular toilet to be available.]

Summer weather here in Hirakata-shi is exactly like Florida so far--hot, humid, with big rainstorms and lightning. For the last few days I've been here, it's rained daily, and for a large portion of the day. Their mosquito population is also the same as Orange county, unfortunately. As a native to Florida, mountains still amaze me, and it makes for such a completely different landscape. Everywhere you look, there are mountains on the horizon, rising up beyond the city. It's beautiful, and that makes for one of the only huge differences between Florida and Japan so far--a lot of the vegetation is similar here, I've seen a lot of the same flowers we have in my yard at home here. Oh, and not to mention the enormous crows everywhere, squaking loudly and flying low to the ground, but that's a story for another day...

When you fly over Osaka, it looks like any other big city in the US...but not really. I have never seen a city so thoroughly, densely populated. Buildings and houses are so close to the other that you could easily jump rooftop to rooftop and maneuver through the majority of the city without ever touching the ground. It truly is like a maze, too, when you're on the ground, because the streets wind up and down the hills, there are homes built high enough that you can't really see either side of the street, lined back to back and back to back... As a Floridian who grew up on a decent sized piece of land, it's a little overwhelming to stand among so much concrete and roads and homes, dizzying and claustraphobic...

But when you stop and breathe, there's a special unique beauty to it all. The homes are charming--gated, their names engraved neatly on the entrance of the gate, bundles of gardens and trees and fountains nestled before the front door. When you stop and listen, it is this sound that instantly reminds you of home: the stream can be heard in the distance, the sounds of TVs and neighborly conversations and dad's playing with kids, the student practicing piano, another practicing the flute.

It is the same everywhere in the world, this dynamic of life, and I think that is the comfort I'll finish this initial weekend in. Even though I can't speak to people like I want to be able to yet, there's always a way to communicate, if only through a smile and a kind gesture. For instance, on my walk today, a little boy was walking and playing with his dog, and while at first he seemed scared of me, I leaned down and let his dog lick my hand, and instantly he smiled and showed me tricks his dog can do. After awhile, we waved and went our separate ways, and it made me unbeilevably pleased to remember that verbal communication is only half the story. Even though everything can be so overwhelming in a new country--not being able to communicate or navigate, sticking out like a sore thumb, or not knowing what to eat--it comes down to just being able to take a moment, appreciate the differences, but realize that we are still one world, with one ultimate race: mankind.