A Whirlwind of Changes
Sitting in the lecture hall of my first graduate course, I am armed with my OneNotes, ready for the readings on Migration Studies. The professor opened up the class by having us think about migrations in our own lives. What's your migration story? I immediately thought of my family, who immigrated from the Philippines to the US during the 1970s. Or my extended family, who migrated to other parts of the world. I typed mini arrows and charts, to process the levels of migration that would be discussed in the course. And then I thought of myself: from the US--> Japan-->Italy. I never thought I was migrating, but come to think of it, I am in some ways. Each country leaves a question mark on how long I'll exactly stay.
Leaving Japan
The second half of this summer was stressful. From lugging boxes and suitcases in the scorching heat, visiting family after three years, and preparing for school in another country. Paperwork in three languages--English, Japanese, and Italian--, two of which I'm barely fluent in. I was moving into the very last hour when my apartment company would check my room. How does one get rid of four years of junk? It was easy to do away with my 100 yen appliances, but then there were things like my wappa bento and yukatas for instance: Things I loved, but also wouldn't translate to life in the US or Italy.
In the midst of packing a Kuroneko box, I rolled my eyes at the stack of journals beside my futon. Four years’ worth of writing. If only there were a place I could burn them (and still, I seriously wonder where). I love journaling, but when the time comes to move, it's extra storage space. However, it's also four years of my life in Japan memorialized in the most candid way, capturing both the joys and the pains. Cultural fatigue juxtapositioned with This is what I'll miss about Japan. The culture of rigidity, yet also those moments exploring the beautiful landscapes of the country, whether deep in the countryside or the center of Tokyo.
Reverse Culture Shock
Imagine feeling like a foreigner in your own home country--A born and bred New Yorker, why am I suddenly so polite? In all four years, I've only visited my relatives in New York three times. The decision wasn't entirely in my control. As I'm sure many of my friends in Japan can relate, it wasn't easy to visit within the past two years due to borders. But while I visit mainly for family, old friends, (and of course Buffalo Wild Wings), readjusting is mostly an uncomfortable experience. There's quite a lot to take in, mainly, a change in safety, organization, and relationships. In Japan, I moved along with ease being in one of the safest countries in the world. In the states, especially in the climate of today-- I was often ripe with anxiety. Have I been destabilized, living in one of the world's safest countries or did the US actually get scarier? Google Mapping the nearest print shop requires more effort than walking two minutes to the Family Mart printer.
I'm always trying to stop myself from mentioning Japan mid-conversation. It's not that no one wants to hear about my four years, but at the same time—and understandably so— perhaps people don't want to hear that much detail. Reverse culture shock is a seasonal flu, whose only cure is time. Ironically, while I was in the states, I was reminded many times, that my time there was temporary. I am truly a visitor. In the days before, I once again packed my suitcases and boxes. For in the next month, I would be living in Italy for graduate school for the next two years.
Italy
Italy is a blank page with notes on the margins--there's so much to take in, and I'm far from drawing any conclusions. Immersing myself in the Italian university system, student life, and language. There's a big jump from coming from a culture of loneliness to one that is social, on top of recovering from the social distancing of the pandemic. And while my brain reverts to Japan and how things were done there compared to Italy, my Americaness naturally manifests as well. Comedically, I remind myself that iced drinks aren't really a thing and yes, I can stay in the restaurant for a bit to relax after eating. Complimenting others--albeit honest-- does not have to be the sole gateway into small talk. Between the reverse culture shock of returning to the states and then the re-culture shock of entering Italy, I can only tell you its been a whirlwind of changes