As some of you know, I am now back in Minnesota. On September 16th, I met the day that I dreaded--my last day in Sapporo. I had spent the past week trying and failing many times to pack all of my belongings and take apart the room that had become my home. After the first attempt, I panicked, found a night bus to the peninsula of Shiretoko (the most uninhabited part of Japan) on the eastern side of Hokkaido, and fled. It left at 12:30AM, drove through the night, and I arrived with a vague plan to climb the mountain known as Rausu dake. I arrived at about 6AM, to learn--as I had roughly anticipated--that there were scant buses into the Shiretoko national park. To my great fortune, two French travelers had also disembarked with me, and after asking them if they knew of any buses and learning that they were simply going to hoof it (about 3 miles), they invited me along! I spent the rest of the day hiking along the roadside, seeing a bear within the first few hours, reaching the mountain hut, helping the two French travelers translate, climbing Rausu with them, spending the night with them, and hiking part of the next morning with them. Although I had planned on traveling alone, it was really a welcome and wonderful experience to hike with them. They were so friendly! I hope that our paths will cross again. My mind was often clouded by my dread about my upcoming departure from Japan, but for a time in Shiretoko I found calm. I swell with gratitude every time I think of the beautiful land of Ainu Mosir (Hokkaido). I was only in Shiretoko for one night and two days, so I could not do the entire traverse of the mountains. Coming back into the town of Rausu in the afternoon, I managed to catch the last boat tour. I was left in awe. I had not realized how high and incredible the cliffs around the coast were, or the deep admiration I held for the ocean as we glided through the waves. I was honored to see another bear and her cub eating salmon. I could have cried, gazing out at the rocks and trees--dwarfed by the the magnitude of the cliffs--and the seabirds swirling in the skies above each precipice. I thought to myself, what need have we of fantasy? This world is more fantastical than even the most creative human imagination could ever conjure. I am so grateful to live in this world, on this earth.
In my last days, I bid farewell to my lab and Koike-sensei. Saying goodbye to Koike-sensei was perhaps the most difficult thing I had to do. Afterwards, when I was alone and biking back, I immediately broke into tears. Koike-sensei has acted with such generosity towards me. I think of him much like a father! He has taught me, helped me, and supported me selflessly. I have learned so much from him and his dedication and hard work will always inspire me. I desperately hope that I will have the chance to meet him and the many lovely lab members and post-doc students who helped me. I hope in some way I can return his kindness in the future. I also said goodbye to the wonderful professor Jeff Gayman, whose trust, kindness, and continued assistance opened so many doors for me to meet and learn from Ainu communities. I owe him greatly for this gift. The last few months that I was in Hokkaido were absolutely brightened by these experiences. I will always send my strength to the many Ainu people working hard to find ways to revive and protect their culture. Iyairaykere. Iyairaykere. Iyairaykere. ('Thank you'). Lastly, over my last few days the Hokkaido University track and field members gave me so much joy and so many smiles. The middle distance/distance girls took me out to a desserts buffet for lunch, and then a couple days later a group of sprinters took me to a cake buffet! Needless to say, I had quite a few sweets over my last week. I was absolutely touched. I appreciate it so much. I am generally a shy and quiet person, and so I am often surprised by such warm acts of friendship. On my very last day in Sapporo, it poured all day. I frantically wrapped up my last bits of packing, mailed my last packages, tied up my last ends. My fellow Fulbrighter Becca and my friend Kotaro ate Hara (tofu flour) donuts with me one last time, and then I went to the train gates at 6:30PM...where half of the track and field team was waiting for me!!! I laughed and smiled talking with them all, then they all bought 100yen tickets and came out to the platform with me!!!!! I was shocked! Before the train arrived, we all circled up, arms interlaced over shoulders, and they sang the school song to me. When they finished, eyes turned to me, and I did my best to string together the heartfelt thank you, friendship, and deep gratitude I felt for them all without breaking into tears. A few tears slipped out, and my voice wavered, but I was surprised by my own ability over my last days to hold together. I will never ever forget their kindness. They turned the day I had dreaded most into one of my dearest memories.
Once the train doors closed, the tears began, but they were tears of both happiness and sorrow. At the airport as I sat waiting for my (2 hour delayed) flight, tears fell unabashedly down my face. Because of a typhoon, my flight was extremely late and I finally reached Tokyo around 1AM. Then waited in a literal 2 hour line for a taxi (since it was so late that there was no other form of transportation) to a hotel were I slept a few hours (from 3:30 AM~6:30AM). On the morning of September 17th, I ate my last Japanese breakfast, ran for my last time in Japan in the same place I had run for the first time 1 year before, went to the Fulbright office to say goodbye and thank you, then to Meiji Jingu shrine to give thanks once more. Although my last day in Sapporo had been grey and a downpour--of course brightened by the kindness of others but wet nonetheless!--my very last day in Japan, in Tokyo, was beautiful sunshine. I am grateful to whatever forces conspired to grant that gift. I closed my phone account, and then caught a train to Narita airport. I gazed lovingly out the window at the landscape and cityscape of Japan. I tried to soak in every minute, like the last rays of warm sunshine. At Narita, I picked up my bags, checked them, and went through security with my banjo and backpack, with a deep, deep breath. I was saying goodbye to my home all over again. And it was more painful than before.
On the flight, I was very lucky (thanks to the help of the Japanese airport worker who checked me in for my flight at the kiosk) to have a window seat AND no one sitting next to me! My luck ran out when there was an announcement that there were mechanical problems with the plane's navigation system and after more than an hour of sitting and waiting on the plan as they tried to correct it, we all had to disembark, wait for a NEW plan for another hour or so, and then re-board. At least I still had two seats to myself. My flight had been scheduled to leave at 3:50PM but it was about 7PM by the time we finally started towards the runway. I remember that the sun was setting. I took another deep breath. And then I was in the sky. I watched the lights of Japan's coast until they disappeared. Then steeled myself against my sadness and tried to keep my head held high. I will be happy forever, for that one year in Japan.
While flying, I became more and more encouraged by the thoughts of seeing my family and friends. 12 hours later, gliding over the familiar cityscape of Minneapolis, it felt as if I had hardly left. It felt as if I was waking from a long dream. My family met me at the airport, and I was genuinely happy to see them. But I think I will never be the same, and my heart will always feel torn in two when I think of Japan, and Hokkaido. And it is always on my mind. There is not a day that my thoughts do not wander through the mountains and forests of Hokkaido, the streets of my neighborhood, the Shinkawa river widening out towards the ocean, the climb up Teine and Moiwa mountain , the agriculture building and mainstreet of the university, the shrines and temples of Honshuu, the bright, beautiful sidewalks of Tokyo, the hills of Nara, the cedars of Koya, the trains and stations, and many other places I was fortunate to see. There is not a day that I do not remember.
Now, I am in Minnesota again. And I am certainly glad to see the familiar fields and the city of Minneapolis, to run again around the lakes and to see family and friends. In particular, I am happy to see my dad again. I am struggling to course my future from here. I am planning to reapply to graduate school for forest sciences, but I continue to feel naive and lost when it comes to choosing a program. I also need desperately to find work here in Minnesota, as my student loan payments are a constant worry. BUT, there may be some hope for some excitement and a new chance to learn this year even after the disappointment of not being able to start my graduate school plans at Yale. It is still not certain, but I may be written into a grant by an amazingly generous and kind professor in Australia, where I will be able to help with a climate change research experiment for a few months! I am so indebted to the professor for working with me to create this opportunity. Even if it does not come to fruition, I am so grateful to him!
In my last days, I bid farewell to my lab and Koike-sensei. Saying goodbye to Koike-sensei was perhaps the most difficult thing I had to do. Afterwards, when I was alone and biking back, I immediately broke into tears. Koike-sensei has acted with such generosity towards me. I think of him much like a father! He has taught me, helped me, and supported me selflessly. I have learned so much from him and his dedication and hard work will always inspire me. I desperately hope that I will have the chance to meet him and the many lovely lab members and post-doc students who helped me. I hope in some way I can return his kindness in the future. I also said goodbye to the wonderful professor Jeff Gayman, whose trust, kindness, and continued assistance opened so many doors for me to meet and learn from Ainu communities. I owe him greatly for this gift. The last few months that I was in Hokkaido were absolutely brightened by these experiences. I will always send my strength to the many Ainu people working hard to find ways to revive and protect their culture. Iyairaykere. Iyairaykere. Iyairaykere. ('Thank you'). Lastly, over my last few days the Hokkaido University track and field members gave me so much joy and so many smiles. The middle distance/distance girls took me out to a desserts buffet for lunch, and then a couple days later a group of sprinters took me to a cake buffet! Needless to say, I had quite a few sweets over my last week. I was absolutely touched. I appreciate it so much. I am generally a shy and quiet person, and so I am often surprised by such warm acts of friendship. On my very last day in Sapporo, it poured all day. I frantically wrapped up my last bits of packing, mailed my last packages, tied up my last ends. My fellow Fulbrighter Becca and my friend Kotaro ate Hara (tofu flour) donuts with me one last time, and then I went to the train gates at 6:30PM...where half of the track and field team was waiting for me!!! I laughed and smiled talking with them all, then they all bought 100yen tickets and came out to the platform with me!!!!! I was shocked! Before the train arrived, we all circled up, arms interlaced over shoulders, and they sang the school song to me. When they finished, eyes turned to me, and I did my best to string together the heartfelt thank you, friendship, and deep gratitude I felt for them all without breaking into tears. A few tears slipped out, and my voice wavered, but I was surprised by my own ability over my last days to hold together. I will never ever forget their kindness. They turned the day I had dreaded most into one of my dearest memories.
Once the train doors closed, the tears began, but they were tears of both happiness and sorrow. At the airport as I sat waiting for my (2 hour delayed) flight, tears fell unabashedly down my face. Because of a typhoon, my flight was extremely late and I finally reached Tokyo around 1AM. Then waited in a literal 2 hour line for a taxi (since it was so late that there was no other form of transportation) to a hotel were I slept a few hours (from 3:30 AM~6:30AM). On the morning of September 17th, I ate my last Japanese breakfast, ran for my last time in Japan in the same place I had run for the first time 1 year before, went to the Fulbright office to say goodbye and thank you, then to Meiji Jingu shrine to give thanks once more. Although my last day in Sapporo had been grey and a downpour--of course brightened by the kindness of others but wet nonetheless!--my very last day in Japan, in Tokyo, was beautiful sunshine. I am grateful to whatever forces conspired to grant that gift. I closed my phone account, and then caught a train to Narita airport. I gazed lovingly out the window at the landscape and cityscape of Japan. I tried to soak in every minute, like the last rays of warm sunshine. At Narita, I picked up my bags, checked them, and went through security with my banjo and backpack, with a deep, deep breath. I was saying goodbye to my home all over again. And it was more painful than before.
On the flight, I was very lucky (thanks to the help of the Japanese airport worker who checked me in for my flight at the kiosk) to have a window seat AND no one sitting next to me! My luck ran out when there was an announcement that there were mechanical problems with the plane's navigation system and after more than an hour of sitting and waiting on the plan as they tried to correct it, we all had to disembark, wait for a NEW plan for another hour or so, and then re-board. At least I still had two seats to myself. My flight had been scheduled to leave at 3:50PM but it was about 7PM by the time we finally started towards the runway. I remember that the sun was setting. I took another deep breath. And then I was in the sky. I watched the lights of Japan's coast until they disappeared. Then steeled myself against my sadness and tried to keep my head held high. I will be happy forever, for that one year in Japan.
While flying, I became more and more encouraged by the thoughts of seeing my family and friends. 12 hours later, gliding over the familiar cityscape of Minneapolis, it felt as if I had hardly left. It felt as if I was waking from a long dream. My family met me at the airport, and I was genuinely happy to see them. But I think I will never be the same, and my heart will always feel torn in two when I think of Japan, and Hokkaido. And it is always on my mind. There is not a day that my thoughts do not wander through the mountains and forests of Hokkaido, the streets of my neighborhood, the Shinkawa river widening out towards the ocean, the climb up Teine and Moiwa mountain , the agriculture building and mainstreet of the university, the shrines and temples of Honshuu, the bright, beautiful sidewalks of Tokyo, the hills of Nara, the cedars of Koya, the trains and stations, and many other places I was fortunate to see. There is not a day that I do not remember.
Now, I am in Minnesota again. And I am certainly glad to see the familiar fields and the city of Minneapolis, to run again around the lakes and to see family and friends. In particular, I am happy to see my dad again. I am struggling to course my future from here. I am planning to reapply to graduate school for forest sciences, but I continue to feel naive and lost when it comes to choosing a program. I also need desperately to find work here in Minnesota, as my student loan payments are a constant worry. BUT, there may be some hope for some excitement and a new chance to learn this year even after the disappointment of not being able to start my graduate school plans at Yale. It is still not certain, but I may be written into a grant by an amazingly generous and kind professor in Australia, where I will be able to help with a climate change research experiment for a few months! I am so indebted to the professor for working with me to create this opportunity. Even if it does not come to fruition, I am so grateful to him!
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