The C-train

Today I went on a new adventure, this time in English. I met one of my friends from the camp I worked at a few summers ago last night at one of Kelsey's many wedding showers, and we decided to hang out today because she had it off. The thing is though, that she lives on the other side of the city, and to hang out I had to take the C-train.
It's really funny to me because I would've rather taken a train in Japan than the little C-train in Calgary. I thought about that for a bit and realized that in Japan I'm just big and white- I stand out,obviously not belonging, and because
of that it's okay if I get lost or ask for help or press the button that sounds out an ear-piercing security alarm. But in Calgary nobody knows I don't naturally belong, I'm just one of the crowd, and if I make a fool of myself then people, well, think I'm a fool (not that I care so much about what people think). It's the White Anonomity in Japan that allows you to goof up that I was missing.
But I took the train successfully and made it downtown; the only trick was meeting my friend. She wasn't where we had agreed to meet, and I kept waiting and waiting for about half an hour - until I realized I had her cell number in my pocket and thought it would be beneficial to call her from a pay phone and see where she was. And when I called her I realized she was literally 4 meters away (why is it that it always happens that way?)
Now looking back I wonder why I was nervous about getting lost on the C-train at all; there literally are only 4 destinations and two tracks (one going each way) in the whole city. The train system in Japan is much much more complicated, especially in Tokyo. Tokyo is crazy for trains with all the different lines and directions, and throw the subway in there and it's even worse. I figure if I can navigate my way around Tokyo no problem then places like Calgary shouldn't be a problem... if I could just remember which part of this huge city I live in.

Change

I think there are two things that are sure about life: 1) things always change, and 2) you will eventually die. I haven't been thinking about death really at all, but having come back to Canada two weeks ago, spending nine days at home, and now living with a friend in Calgary makes me realize that life isn't always predictable.
I've decided that I like stability, but I've also decided that, outwardly, I don't have it right now. I don't know what I'll be doing for the summer, next week or even today, I don't know for sure where I'll be going to university in the fall, and it feels like there's a whole lot more of 'I don't knows' because I haven't had time to process all of the change that's happened in the past two weeks.
I also think that I like routine, at least until I get sick of it and want to change it. Right now I'm struggling to establish a routine, and that consists of continuing to study Japanese, doing CLBI correspondence courses, washing dishes, going to the gym and whatever else I happen to do with my friends in Calgary. But routine isn't always the fun way, I think. Without routine, each day is vastly different and leaves me open to all different options.
I've come to realize that God is really the only stable thing in life, the one who should be at the start of my routine and the only one who knows where my path is heading even though it's twisting through the overgrown jungle and I can't see anything but an occasional flash of sunlight through the thick bush. It's exciting an almost scary to walk with your eyes closed, but I have a promise that when I'm allowed to open them it will be absolutely beautiful.

Back in Town

I'm finally at home in Canada, no longer lost in Asia, though they were a little reluctant in letting me go. I took the first train out of Takanosu early Saturday morning to catch the shinkansen out of Akita City at 8:02am; I wanted to get into Tokyo earlier than I needed to be to catch my flight so that I could spend some time with my friend Yuki, who moved there with her family last month. After having lunch together we decided to go to the airport super early, which turned out to be a super huge blessing.
I had finished packing my bags the night before - apparently too well because a few of them were quite dense. I was about the first one in line to check in for my flight, because it was still 3 hours until takeoff, but wow did I need that time. First of all, one of my carry-on's was a couple of kilograms too heavy so I was ordered to try to repack my bags to rearrange the weight a little. So I did, displaying everything from my blowdryer, Japanese textbooks and a pink and white stuffed dog Atsuko's sister gave me in the process. I get back to the counter to try to check my bags again, and one of my other suitcases is too heavy. Luckily I had taken enough weight out of my one carry-on that it was now light enough that I could put the extra 1 kilogram worth of stuff into. So again, over to the side and out come all my things. I felt pretty confident that my bags were ready to board the plane, so I take them back to the counter where everything is weighed again, showing they are the appropriate weight limits, only to be asked the question, "Do you have anything breakable?" I point to my one bag and tell them I have sesame oil in it in a glass bottle. The bottle wasn't the problem, the problem was the fact that oil apparently has the ability to combust on airplanes so it had to be removed. One of the check-in people at this time inserted the joke, "open sesame!"; I thought it was amusing. So after digging through my bag that had been opened for the third time, produced the oil, gave it to my friend in remembrance of me, asked if my sesame dressing would be okay to take, got it cleared by about three staff members, and closed up my bags. By this time quite a line had formed, Yuki and I had seen the contents of my bags many times, and our faces hurt from laughing.
I go up to the counter for the 4th time in the past hour and the guy who had joked about the sesame oil decided it would be funny to tell me one of my suitcases was now 2 kilograms too heavy again. I laughed a little whimper, groaning fakely that I was just trying to go home, and then I realize they're all joking and my bags are actually in perfect flying condition. We laugh again jollily and I'm on my way.
I had been assigned for an aisle seat; I hate aisle seats so I asked if any window seats were open, but no, all full. I say goodbye to Yuki-san and hike the twenty minutes to my gate and sit an wait the short time until boarding. The one of the ladies who was helping me for the past over-an-hour to get my bags under control, the one whom I had asked about the possibility of getting a window seat, comes over to me and tells me that she could maybe get window seats for me now. And bless her heart, she got me window seats for not just the flight to Vancouver, but the flight to Saskatoon as well.
And now I'm home, embarking on the next phase of my life, and it seems it will be a good change...and a little pricy: yesterday I misjudged the distance between my car and the curb and had to choke up 100 dollars for a new tire (the old one was leaking air so fast it sounded like a sprinkler).
So give me a call, I'm back in town...at least till next Monday.

Seasons

Packing. It is now a word that I've come to dislike. It seems like I've been packing for days, yet my apartment still looks completely lived in... I've just gained a few impossibly dense bags.
It's weird to think that I'll be in Canada in 3 more sleeps; it feels like I'm going to be where I am right now for forever. But no matter what it feels like I've still spent the last two weeks saying goodbye. I hate long goodbyes, and this is like a goodbye marathon. I think one thing that helps my coming home feel real though, is the way my thoughts about people have suddenly yet naturally slipped tenses - from present to past. Even though it's hard to say goodbye, it actually feels like it's time to go, time to come back home.
I got a sneak preview of home today. I went with a couple of friends to see the cherry blossoms. This place is different than all the other famous places I've been to in the past 4 days for hanami (flower viewing) - it's a long long road lined by canola and cherry trees. The stark contrast from the yellow ground to pink trees is quite amazing. As we were driving I rolled my window down and it smelled just like what I remember Saskatchewan smelling like.
These past few weeks really have been a changing of seasons, not just externally but internally as well. And I've come to realize, from inside and out, is that the freshness of spring and summer is what makes the cold winter season bearable, and even almost beautiful.