Airplanes

I was born in a quiet little town, population around 300, in a dry valley with mountains on all sides. As a child, I would climb onto the roof of our chicken coop to watch the sunset, or look at the moon in the dusk sky. I would watch jet planes fly by overhead, leaving their long white cloud-trails, and wonder about where they were going. I was a shy child with few friends, and I spent much of my time reading books. I especially loved books about dinosaurs, and fairytales from around the world. When I was older I read National Geographic, Archeology Magazine, and world poetry. I always dreamed of going to faraway lands.

My first airplane trip was about twenty years ago. It was to Florida to visit grandparents. I was so excited to be on one of those planes I'd so often gazed up at. I wondered if there was anyone down below looking up at our airplane and wondering where we were going.

Since then I've lived in four U.S. states, Australia, and China. I'd like to think I've gained a deal of experience, if not sophistication. (I still giddily stare out airplane windows like a a child on her first flight.) I still love travel. I've done it enough to know it's a horrible experience full of cramped seats, long lines,  awkward fumbles (both physical and social), and jetlag, but I still love it.



I've been in Japan for four days now, and one of the most common questions I get is why I came to Japan. I don't remember when I became interested in Japan. The seeds of if must be somewhere there in the books I read, the pictures of verdant foreign landscapes I'd imagine myself wandering, the child's eyes gazing at the western sky.

I suppose my particular affection for Japan began in high school, when I read the Tale of Genji, a Japanese book from the early eleventh century considered by many to be the world's earliest novel. I read it for its historical significance; I loved it for its poetry. I had earlier read some haiku, but hadn't appreciated it. The Tale of Genji introduced me to tanka, the earlier 31-syllable poetry form. After that I found a website with more Japanese poetry, and over the subsequent years I collected books on Japan and Japanese literature.

Now I'm finally here. Will I love it as much as I loved my year in China? Will I be able to travel to all the places I want to go? Will I find modern Japan a disappointment with no remaining trace of the misty, mysterious, mountainous land and whale-haunted sea described in the old poems? Will I be able to be an effective English teacher with all of the different classes I'll be teaching? It's too soon to say.

The important thing is, I'm here, ready to find out.