For the first time in a long time, I am truly craving to go back to Australia. I grew up being surrounded by the bush, not by people. My hometown is small, my home country is vast and fairly empty. At night outside it would be pitch dark and silent. I find that many places I’ve travelled to in my life encapsulate the opposite: full of lights or the constant buzz of noise. In Japan, where the cities are dense and numerous, and even in France where the countryside is dotted with many little historic villages close together. Everywhere seems to be touched by the human hand at some point. It’s funny because part of the reason why I and many people go to Europe is for the history… I never thought this would be the thing that gives me a headache these days. In Australia, at least where I’m from, it’s not so difficult to find yourself a spot where you’re alone with a radius for miles. The time it takes to drive between countries in Europe is the time it takes to sometimes drive from one major city to another within the same state. Nothing but the same scenery for miles, land not touched by hands or seen by eyes. It’s exactly what I need right now.
Something I didn’t say about my time in Japan was that I had a neighbour in the building who constantly made noise. I don’t know how they did it, and towards the end I became genuinely impressed. I think they had the television or radio on loud all day and night, because surely no one can talk for that long. I’d go to bed after midnight and hear it, I’d wake up at 4am and still hear it. Like a soft drone, disturbing my peace, even the cicadas was a more pleasant sound. I decided not to speak to anyone about it, because I couldn’t tell where it was coming from. Was it from a neighbouring apartment or a house nearby? It was impossible to know. So I lived with it, but paired with the increasing humidity at night, I rarely had a good sleep. Last night was no exception, and so I’ve arrived at the airport earlier than necessary.
When we travel, we kind of leave ourselves at the mercy of life how it is elsewhere. We don’t have any say in the rules, the customs, the culture… we are dipped into it and we can fight against it or adapt and learn something from it. Maybe that’s why travelling is the ultimate training in getting to know yourself or your travel partner, because there is no other constant, there is nothing else to rely on. You’ve got to find that anchor within yourself, even for short periods of travel, otherwise you will destabilise easily. As I head back home, my mind becomes even more reflective. In what ways has Japan changed me? In what ways did I adapt to Japanese life and what of those changes will I carry with me?
To sum it up in a sentence: the ability to create space for yourself, when many others are surrounding you. Maybe I’ve learned something about that. In Australia I was so used to the luxury of space. I could have quiet, peace and solitude easily. In Japan, I’ve had to learn to create it for myself. I’m not talking about the company of friends, but rather the constant reminder that there is someone impacting your world in some way: whether visually, audibly, or even just physically, like when I took the local train to Osaka this morning on my way to the airport. I was surprised, because at the start there were few people on there… however that changed quickly. Soon I found myself pushed up against my suitcase, balancing on my toes. It was worse than Tokyo. I knew I wouldn’t fall despite the jerking movements of the train, but in this humidity… I started to wonder how the people around me could do this every day.
In the airport, a place where there are normally big groups of people, there was something particularly special. It was a little embarrassing… I got off the lift and walked onto an empty bridge leading to departures. But the man who exited the lift with me hesitated to walk forward and so did I, because at the end of the bridge was a crowd of young girls and some security guards. I continued on, knowing that the security could just tell us to leave if we were in the wrong place… They all stood there expectantly with their signs and phones held ready to film. I later met a lady from Hong Kong near my check in gate who told me that a k-pop group was going to arrive at the airport to fly to Shanghai. Luckily, my check in line was right at the edge of the pathway into departures which was gated off for them. I managed to take a video and send it to my new friend, but I was lucky to still be standing. All the girls who’d been waiting around were screaming, frantically jumping barriers, pushing past people and chasing the stars who I knew nothing about. Security guards from the airport as well as the groups personal crew were raising their voice, telling them to stay back but they refused. It’s the first time I’ve seen Japanese people be on the aggressive side – I guess this kind of attraction is what’s behind many crazy things we see in the world.
These instances remind me of what my boyfriend told me recently, that even though we can make choices for our own life… we can’t deny the reality that we live alongside others as well. I’ve been thinking a lot about those words while in Japan, as I’ve had to deal with the sometimes unpleasant presence of others in my life. It feels as if they are crossing a boundary, and as I have continually been agitated by it and trying to fight against it… it hasn’t helped me. I discovered that when you reserve a space for others in your mind, you’re able to tolerate them easier and even appreciate their presence sometimes. During the night, as I heard the constant drone of the television, I’d trick myself to fall asleep by pretending that I was at home and deciding to go to sleep while my friends or family were outside talking. That didn’t feel so bad for some reason.
When I’m on the plane and worry about someone looking over my shoulder, I remind myself that it’s a good opportunity to practice some confidence and not worry about the opinions of others. I simply get on with what I want to do anyway. The peak hour train journeys well, I haven’t come up with something yet… other than the feeling that when we all get off, I am just that bit more grateful for my own autonomy. Separate from others and able to make my own decisions, even if someone might try to push up against me. Overall, I have more certainty than ever that I don’t want to live in a city. I still like to have new experiences, but I can make decisions now in life that are more focused… because I know what I want. And I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to be home more than I do right now. It’s been a long journey so far, which is why I haven’t been able to keep up with writing on my blog yesterday, but I’m almost there. I’ve found myself in the crowd, and I’m on the way to my old home… so I can start building my new one.
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