At Home, Elsewhere

learning how to be at home

Painting a Picture of Osaka

It’s a rainy day in Osaka today, but everyone is still out walking around. My first month in Japan has been a little lonely, especially since I don’t live in the centre of the city. Going to the centre, where strangers walk side by side, makes me feel a little warm and happy. The city can affect you in waves sometimes. If you are lonely in your apartment, simply being around others can be comforting. But if your head is full of the same lights and sounds of the city, then being surrounded by thousands of unknown lives can feel even more isolating. It all depends on the mood, the phase and the timing of things in your life. But today, it provided a good change for me, and there are always lots of interesting things to observe in Osaka. If terrace dining were popular in Japan, I would enjoy taking time to eat somewhere outside and watch the people go by. I often want to take photographs of them, but sometimes I’m not in the mood. It feels too crass. So maybe I can describe them.

Today I saw a young woman cycling, cigarette hanging out of her mouth, dark eyeliner and bright purple checked pants. She crossed the road against the red light, which was totally safe because there were no cars coming in either direction. However, the officer managing the traffic on the road did not think so, as he glared at her. It was raining, and incredibly humid… lots of excuses to be in a bad mood but people appear to just let things go here. As I walk, I see small alley ways, crowded with neon signs, white and red lanterns, dripping air conditioning units all being reflected by the roads, black and shining with rainwater. Modern buildings interspersed with traditional wooden walls and the gritty white tiles of train stations. Black bunches of wires hanging just above rooftops, looping in and out from pole to pole. Every angle provides a different perspective, a different story. Women in beautiful dresses, the elderly resting on their umbrellas, tourists in colourful raincoats, traffic officers in bright blue and white gloves. Cities always tell a million stories.

I enter the electronics store, next to the main train station, and I am smacked in the face with bright white light. Characters in all the Japanese scripts swim in the air, and people are standing by the walkway calling out to the passers by. It was a little disorienting, but I take a few breaths and search for what I need. Luckily a kind Japanese woman approaches me and speaks perfect English, it makes me smile and I find what I need. A brief interaction in a sea of people, a spark that lasts only for an instant and doesn’t draw a flame. I find the nearest exit after paying, so that I can leave the overstimulating store and enter the calmness of the hallway. I cannot see daylight, so I get a little lost trying to find my way out. Eventually I do, and when I try to look for something to eat I fail a number of times. There are too many options, and all of those options, all of those smells, are too overpowering. I lose my appetite. I start to feel a headache coming on, and I rub my temples.

As I finally make my way outside, I realise that I’m on the second floor and I find myself on a bridge overlooking a main road. Wherever I look, it’s busy. I smell smoke from the Burger King pumping out a hot mist behind me, and in front I see three layers of movement. Trains passing by quickly, over a bridge full of bobbing umbrellas, over a road where little boxes are zooming by. I stop and take it in for a moment, and realise that my breathing has become shallow. Maybe that’s why I have this headache. The warmth of being surrounded by others doesn’t take long to become disorienting and as I stop I realise that I am not part of the flow anymore. I look around and try to decide where I should focus but I give up and close my eyes. As I listen to the sounds, without looking, I wonder what it would be like to live inside this chaos every day. I think of all the children I’ve seen, walking close by their parents, and I wonder what it would have been like to grow up in this chaos.

Instead of taking photos today, I paint a picture with my words. A city is like several currents crashing into each other but somehow flowing in their proper direction. It is easy to get swept up. It is sometimes hard to choose. And if you don’t have the strength to choose, then everything will be decided for you. It’s like an organism, everyone plays their part but we don’t tend to notice the parts… we only notice the whole. I open my eyes and look out again, but this time instead of sardines packed together, I see an expanse. Buildings rising up high, wide roads, a large empty space in the air between myself and the flurry of activity beneath me. I’m reminded that we can always find space for ourselves, even in the crowded streets of a big city.

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