Foreign Feelings

Excitement is overstated for the moment, it doesn’t reach me, nothing does, because we’re out here by ourselves, kiwi and I, trying to navigate a program with too much bureaucracy and too little explanation, but we go along anyways shuffling from trains, to bank, to the board of education, sit down for an hour or two, twiddle thumbs and eyes, then off to the high school where we’ll teach. Armed with workplace guidelines and gifts, we bow and exit with Koccho, baby faced and balding, he gives us little emotion but makes small talk in the best English he can, asking me where I am from, America, and asking kiwi if she likes sushi, yes, while he drives, no shoes on because he took them off before stepping into his car. Confused we did likewise, best to follow suite. So we drive, barefoot, into the foothills of Osaka through winding streets and narrow misses until the houses clear and the school fence breaks the tiled horizon, our factory unfolds, and as I come level with my life for the next year I see dozens of cherry blossoms full bloom lining the driveway from end to end. I stare at the most beautiful thing I have seen since stepping off the plane three days ago and think wow, I’m really here.