If I had to find the perfect way to summarise my first six months in Japan in one sentence, it would be "finding myself while lost in translation." When I first made the decision to apply to the Japan Exchange and Teaching (JET) programme six years ago, I enrolled in Japanese classes at the Centre for Language Learning at UWI to help better prepare me for life in Japan. I stuck with the classes for two years before starting a Master’s degree and could no longer balance it all with a full-time job.
In the time it took me to finish school and get into the programme, everything I had learned had vanished from my head and I arrived in Tokyo on August 2, 2022, unable to say anything more than my name and where I was from.
“Konnichiwa. Watashi wa Rhianna desu. Torinidado to Tobago desu.” こんにちわ。私わリアナですトリニダード・トバゴです。
[caption id="attachment_1000792" align="alignnone" width="1024"] Rhianna Mc Kenzie, centre, in white) with other JET participants living in Ibaraki at Lake Senba, in the capital city of Mito. -[/caption]
You would think after six months, I would have learned enough to go to my neighbourhood Daiso (¥100 store) and engage in friendly banter with the lovely Japanese lady who always makes an effort to say something to me in English.
Alas, immersing yourself in the culture is not always enough to master this beautiful and complex language, at least not in the time I’ve been here. I am daunted by every trip to the Konbini (convenience store), but I am determined to get it right.
If I’ve learned anything in my soon-to-be 33 years, it is that life is all about balance. In as much as I have been struggling with the language, I have also found out new and interesting things about myself and how much I am able to handle on my own.
[caption id="attachment_1000796" align="alignnone" width="1024"] Shibuya Crossing, Tokyo, Japan. Shibuya is one of the busiest and most recognisable crossings in the world. - Rhianna Mc Kenzie[/caption]
Back home in Trinidad and Tobago, I always had the safety of family around me. I lived in a family home with an attentive mother, an over-protective father, and an adventurous little sister. If ever I was in need of something, anything, they were always right there ready, willing, and waiting to provide. And, if for whatever reason they were unable to help me, I could always rely on a nearby uncle or aunty. I was safe and happy, not to mention well-fed.
The day I moved into my barren apartment was one of the most exciting days of my life. That is, until I, and I alone, was tasked with furnishing it. I have lost a pound or two logging a desk, appliances from the second-hand store, and endless Daiso bags of home goods up two flights of stairs in the past few months.
While I did not have to tote my Amazon-ordered bed up those stairs, I had to put it together and was mortified by the endless little baggies of knots and bolts I was forced to sort through.
I messaged my father in tears. “Why, WHY are there so many pieces?” I asked, half hoping he would get on a plane to help me
