Ashamedly, lately I have not been forward to going to Japan. I was hit by a wave of dread and fear, I had never given too much thought before about how alone I would be on the other side of the planet, 12-14 hours ahead of my friends and family. What if I offend my coworkers with grammar mishaps? Will I meet females my age to become close friends with? (Thankfully I've been told Honda Research has a fair share of recent PhD and college grads, but I imagine that most of them will be male.) To further this, the one friend I've been counting on to help me get adjusted is planning a trip back the the US for the first 2 months I am there. All these things have made me wonder if I have been silly to insist and plan on this year abroad, which has complicated my life in many ways.

But my dad today, gave me a book that he had seen in a bookstore in Washington, while on a business trip-- a city guide to Tokyo, full of restaurant reviews, lists of must-see spots, a subway guide, and... get this-- a pocket restaurant map. My eyes watered a bit. I remember now why I've been wanting to go to Japan for most of my life, I remember why I've studied Japanese and found an internship, so that I could go there not as a tourist, but truly feel like I was part of this city of crazy fashion and technology. It won't be easy making myself understood and making new friends, it won't be easy living in a coffin sized room, it won't be easy never getting to talk to my friends on the Western hemisphere, but it will be an adventure, and it will be worth it. Thank you, dad, for making me remember.

Because I found this old journal entry and it amuses me

Tea (April 14, 2005)

It is something so cultured, enjoyed by so many societies. We partake in it to relax, we partake in it to connect to other people. We partake in it because it is a ritual and an art form.

I have always watched tea drinkers in awe. I have always loved the vivid pictures on Celestial Seasoning boxes. I have always found tea pots adorable. As many little girls, my stuffed animals had tea parties. As maybe less girls, I actually did not like tea. I found it bitter or tasteless, but dwelt on the hope that I would grow into it. For me, it was a sign of maturity.

I blame my dislike of tea for the breakup of my first relationship. After stressful days of class and school work, I wanted to come back to my room, unwind, and spend time with him. He also wanted to unwind, but did so with tea. I despised tea, so he would go and heat up a cup with one of my best friends. Needless to say, he was soon dating her.

Just the other day, an acquaintance invited me to tea. I agreed, since often "having tea" means having a hot drink, and I could sneak along a package of hot cocoa. But as she served me looseleaf tea from a trendy minimalistic teapot, with bits of blue flower petals in it and also chunks of caramel, an aroma as I had never experienced before filled the room, and my hot cocoa was forgotten. The taste was delicate, and not even bitter. While I sipped the tea accompanied by a petit ecolier biscuit, I knew that I had grown up.