The Final Japanese Days

The last few days in Japan didn't feel like the last few days in Japan. I felt ready, as if I’d seen all I wanted to in Tokyo. I had gotten my closure.  I did some new things like go up the Tokyo Skytree and to an aquarium, and I did some repeat excursions as well. I returned to the zoo once again to visit my Japanese animal buddies and visited the owl café a second time to see those feathery friends of mine.

I also paid a visit to the second Tokyo Disney Park, Tokyo Disneyland. I will say, however, that it was quite a different experience. When I went to Tokyo Disney Sea in December, I was blown away by how crowded it was. I hadn’t even come close to really seeing “crowded,” as it turns out. No, Disney Sea was empty when I went in comparison to my trip to Disneyland. Disneyland’s streets were so densely packed that you could hardly shuffle from one ride to the next without bumping into at least twenty other park-goers. By 10 in the morning, the fast-passes for Space Mountain had been distributed for the remainder of the day, and the wait time had skyrocketed to 200 minutes, no exaggeration. So, one could watch an extended version of a Lord of the Rings installment and still have time to spare in line. When I thought about it in those terms, I simply couldn't wait standby for that ride.

160 minute wait? Nope!

I am not sure there is any logical explanation for the fact that I ACTUALLY waited two hours in line for Big Thunder Mountain. Especially considering that I have ridden that attraction many times in the past. The only explanation for my choosing to wait two hours in line for a ride that lasts about two minutes max is that I am certifiably insane. However, that would make every person ahead of me and behind me in line certifiably insane as well, which would make Disneyland just full of crazies. So in spite of the fact that the park was magical and fun, my enjoyment was slightly dampened by only getting to ride six rides in nine hours. I guess you know you’re getting old when you realize you no longer have the patience to put up with huge lines and crowds anymore.

I also tried some new Japanese cuisine that I hadn’t before during a home cooked meal and a thick pancake with green onions called Negiyaki. I also got to visit what was likely my 15^th or so Indian restaurant in Japan.

One thing is I wish I had taken the time to give the island that I called home for six months a more ceremonious goodbye. Instead, I spent my final morning rushing to the airport and didn’t really share my sentiments properly with Japan.

Sharing Music

Before I began my first day of work, a seasoned teacher told me not to buy a second-hand guitar here and that if I did, not to tell the kids at school. He said that if they found out, they would pester me incessantly to play for them all of the time. Honestly, that was one of the worst bits of advice I have received. Buying that guitar and sharing with the students that I love to play and sing was one of the best things I have done here so far.

Leaving my guitar behind in the United States felt like abandoning my best friend. I knew I wouldn't last long without one, so I quickly ventured to a second hand store and picked up a gently loved guitar. I’d reckon it only spent a few hours in a love hotel (I really hope someone gets that joke).

It’s gotten to the point where losing my voice was a terrible disaster because it meant I couldn't play for the kids. The second I woke up one morning and could barely speak, my thoughts turned to my own devastation and the likely future devastation of my students and the other teachers. The fact that it has persisted for almost a week has made for some painfully empty-feeling lessons. The teachers were crushed that I couldn't play for their classes, too. 

But more than the fact that the guitar has become an integral part of my lessons, it has taught me to be more confident. The first day I ever played for my students, sweat rolled down my face in unattractive gobs and gave me armpit stains appearing as if I’d run a marathon. My nerves reached an unprecedented level. I doubted myself at first, thinking that perhaps my music didn't mean much to the students. However, more and more they approached me and told me how much they appreciated my music. The simplest comments, like “your music makes me happy” or “we love to hear you sing,” transform me from shy and uncertain about my guitar playing to a beaming performer. I no longer sweat like a hog on a spit at a Hawaiian luau (actually, I guess the hog is, hopefully, dead in this scenario so probably beyond the ability to sweat).  So, I no longer sweat like a person standing next to a hog on a spit at a Hawaiian luau. 

I realize that many musicians would love to be in my place. For sixteen classes per week, I get the privilege to play for a cheering audience. They make me feel like a celebrity every single day, and are truly an amazing audience. Apparently, the key to getting some rowdy teens to be attentive is to play music for them.

I AM awesome, you're right!

Furthermore, their constant requests force me to practice and improve my rather limited guitar skills and learn songs I never otherwise would. It also gives me a chance to improve the music taste of Japanese youths by playing songs by The Beatles and other classic rock bands instead of only the Disney pop songs they are used to. Not that there's anything wrong with Let It Go. Until I've played it about fifty times, that is. 

My only worry is that upon my return, my guitar at home (named Nathan) will have developed some serious abandonment issues. But hey, it won’t be anything beyond what some good ol’ anti-depressants can’t fix.

No, guitar dearest, I love you!