There are times when I have to remember what I’m over here for. That being in Japan is more about a hard reset and broad opening of the future than a look at permanence.

It’s followed by most social weekends where I feel the most unfulfilled with aspects of this experience. I’ve traveled to most of the cultural hot spots on the island. Several significant shrines and temples— old fortresses and vantage points. I’ll stand there appreciating the stunning natural beauty— and feel deep in my bones the seconds ticking down. I came over here with a half-opened heart, wondering if this would be where I’d spend a good part of my life. And I know that it isn’t. Beyond the language barrier at times, it’s the cultural differences, for better or worse, that keep a gap between myself and the rest of the community. That’s okay for the interim, but I can’t imagine living long-term in a place where you’d always be looking from the outside. I’ve got a lot of respect for people that can do that— or who are forced to and deal with it with grace. Because that shit is fucking difficult.

I’ll let the experience fill me— knowing this is a zero-sum game. Find the parts to cherish in all of it. Learning to sit with the uncomfortable moments is what this is all about. That and the king’s ransom of incredible seafood I’ve been able to eat on this island.

I overlooked the Komoda beach from the original viewpoint where the So commander that led the resistance against the Mongols in 1274 first saw them from. In the centuries since, the sea has lowered to pull the beach further out.

I walked through the southern cape in the early morning hours as the owner of the hotel I stayed at took all the guests on a ghost tour. We stopped by the abandoned army barracks, the grave of the Beautiful Woman, the grave site for the priest that interned the emperor Antouta that died on the island, and the Takuzudama shrine (which has a tree that dates back over a thousand years). These are the things that I’ll look back on fondly— even if during them, I was lamenting my lack of sleep due to my fellow teacher snoring like a broken tractor.

Even now, I sit here watching the Japanese national team play in the World Cup as I listen to the Japanese commentators bemoan the goal Costa Rica just scored against them. It’s a surreal feeling to more or less understand what the presenters on TV are saying as they explain everything in Japanese. I’m closing the circle on my childhood educational experience. Every moment like this is a bigger win than I could have ever imagined in the past. Especially for someone that would break into a cold sweat every time I had to take a kanji test. Every time I translate from English into Japanese in the classroom I laugh— because it’s the same moment as understanding what’s on the TV but in front of an audience— one that I don’t really think about until long after—judging it all to be part of my new normal.