Blog - Page 5 of 131 - Off-Campus Study

Speedrunning Tokyo

36 hours in Tokyo & how we spent it

At the end of September, my friend and I set off for a weekend in Tokyo. To get there, I booked us overnight bus seats. It’s a cheaper, though lengthier and less scenic, convenient alternative to taking the Shinkansen (bullet train). We boarded at 11PM on Friday, and after a smooth and quiet ride, we arrived at 6:30AM at a bus stop in Tokyo’s Chuo ward.

The first thing we did was park ourselves at Starbucks for breakfast. My friend got the Osatsu butter Frappuccino, a seasonal drink containing crushed sweet potato flakes and honey butter sauce. Afterwards, we quickly washed up, and then we were off!

Tokyo Skytree

The first place we went to was Tokyo Skytree. Tembo Deck stands at 350 meters and gives an incredible 360-degree view of the cityscape. On other floors, there’s shops and eateries, and even a viewing point 100 meters higher.

Hello Kitty and Badtz-Maru (Sanrio store)

Akihabara

When we got to Akihabara, it was already 11AM, and we were getting ~~hangry~~ hungry, so we opted for a Japanese curry place by the station. We got our meal tickets and sat at one of the small booths until our order arrived. It wasn’t crowded, so the food came right away and we enjoyed the calm atmosphere as we refueled for the afternoon.

Akihabara is packed with electronics shops, arcades, and themed cafes to explore, but we managed to narrow down our options to a retro game store and a claw machine arcade. Claw machines are an easy way to empty your wallet, so after three or so failed attempts, I gave up and opted for watching everyone else’s attempts.

Harajuku

Between Shibuya and Shinjuku is Harajuku, known as the center for youth fashion. Takeshita street is, warning: full sensory overload due to how many people, shops, restaurants, and overall activity and noise there is. There’s many fashion subcultures seen in Harajuku, so it was fascinating to see how people were expressing themselves through fashion.

To end our afternoon, we headed to Meiji-jingu, an impressive historic Shinto shrine dedicated to the emperor and his wife of Japan’s Meiji era.

One thing to note about the shrine’s torii is that you are not meant to walk down the center, but instead on the sides; the center path is for the gods. When approaching torii, bow in front of it once before entering the sacred area. After, we lined up at the nearby water basin to rinse our hands and mouth, an act of purification before entering the main sanctuary.

Once we entered the courtyard, we lined up to pray. When it was my turn, I cast a 5 yen coin into the offertory box. Why 5 yen? The pronunciation for five yen is the same as the polite way of saying ‘good luck’, which conveys desire for good fortune. Afterwards, the routine is as follows: bow twice, clap twice, brief silent prayer, then bow once more before stepping back for the next person.

There are places on the grounds to purchase various amulets to bring luck or protection for various purposes, such as studying, soundness of the mind, or even finding a good partner. There are also places to write down one’s wishes.

In my Japanese Religions class we learned that Shintoism is less of an organized religion and more a way of life valuing things like nature and ancestry. There is no founder, no holy scriptures, no path to ‘convert’. While many Japanese identify as non-religious, many still go to Shinto shrines to pray or for Shichi-go-san. Additionally, Shintoism does not require people to follow only Shintoism. Japanese society is, for the most part, religiously pluralist, and even at an individual level, many practice multiple, not adhering to one religion over the other. These points are a stark contrast from what I see in the U.S., and it really made me stop and reflect.

Ikebukuro

In the evening we met and reconnected with friends in Ikebukuro near our hotel for dinner! We had okonomiyaki, a savory pancake made with vegetables, meats, sauces, etc. and cooked on an iron griddle.

The following morning, we poked around the Animate Ikebukuro store and Sunshine City, a massive shopping mall.

Shibuya

Our last stop of the trip was Shibuya, where we spent the rest of the afternoon shopping and viewing popular attractions before heading home on the Shinkansen. It was a busy 36 hours, and we definitely made the most of it!

The Gift Economy & Finding Community

For every atom belonging to me as good
Belongs to you. Remember?
Howe, Marian. “Singularity.” Poets.org, 2019.

We just started our segment on “What is community?” here at the OE, and it’s come at an opportune time. This is the point in the semester at which living in community stops being a fun little experiment and we realize that authentic community actually takes lots of hard work that sometimes isn’t all that fun.

Not that I’m not having fun! Last week everyone at the OE went on a backpacking trip. My group hiked in the Sky Lakes Wilderness, where we encountered pikas, chipmunks, and black bears, ate way too many wild huckleberries, and were chased by Bigfoot (in the form of an angry hornet nest) out of his territory.

One concept we talked about in the segment we just finished up was the gift economy: a more expansive view of the exchange of goods than the one that capitalism offers. The gift economy is built on gifts that constantly cycle through communities, creating ties of kinship that ensure that no one has too much or not enough.

The gift economy is a way to honor the gifts that nature gives us. Instead of only taking, we can show gratitude to nature by giving back. This can take many different forms: advocacy for policies that protect natural spaces; wasting less and stewarding the natural resources we have; educating other people about the gifts of nature and the best ways to take care of them… the possibilities for giving back are endless.

The gift economy ties us to each other and to nature by constantly cycling gifts through relationships. Instead of the alienation from labor that capitalism provokes, the gift economy brings communities closer together. I’ve seen that happening here at the OE already: We cook each other food from vegetables that we receive from the garden. We take turns collecting waste streams, chopping wood, and preserving food for our community. I find myself feeling grateful for things that never would have occurred to me at home: I am grateful that my vegetable scraps are taken away to feed the chickens and the garden. I am grateful that my cabin is warm in the morning because my lovely cabin-mate starts the woodstove fire. I am grateful that the wind and sun dry my clothes after I do laundry. Everything is a gift.

it is hallelujah time,

the swallows tracing an arc

of praise just off our balcony,

the mountains snow-sparkling

in gratitude
Browning, Sarah. “When the sun returns.” Poetry, January 2016.

An Unexpected Start

After an exhausting travel day flying from San Francisco to Montreal to Morocco, our group spent the day battling to stay awake so we could explore Casablanca, catch up on school work, and hopefully fend off any lasting jet lag by getting to sleep at a reasonable time. When I finally went to bed that night, ready to get a full 12 hours of sleep, I never would have expected to be woken up by the worst earthquake to hit Morocco in over a century. The shaking woke me up around 11:15, and after a brief moment of confusion, I went with my roommate, Sasha, to hide under the hotel desk. While certainly scary, being so far from the epicenter fortunately meant our group was safe and no damage was done in Casablanca, although at that point we had no idea of the true extent of the earthquake’s damage. In the following few days as the news spread and the death toll increased, I grappled with a lot of emotions: relief for my own safety, heartbreak for the country and its people, and guilt at the privilege I carried as a tourist who didn’t have to deal with any of the very real devastation so many people so close by were facing. Although the earthquake did mean our program would have to change about half of its plans for Morocco — which brought some disappointments and uncertainties of its own — this was still nothing compared to the changes the earthquake was causing for residents of Morocco, particularly near the epicenter. To not take away resources from those who needed them, our plans changed from going to Marrakesh and Ouarzazate to Bensmim and Tangier instead, although our first two weeks of plans in Casablanca and Rabat remained the same.

This, coupled with our sessions learning about the discrimination and harassment women and members of the queer community could face in Morocco, certainly made the transition more difficult than I anticipated, but getting out into the city helped me to reconnect with the energy and excitement of this new place. The first weekend we spent exploring Casablanca and immersing ourselves in the new culture by drinking plenty of mint tea, visiting the Hassan II Mosque (full of some of the most beautiful and intricate architecture I’ve ever seen), and roaming through the streets, soaking the city in. On Monday we headed to Rabat, where we would spend the next week and a half living with our homestay families and taking classes in the city.

As a part of the program’s experiential learning component, we stay with host families for a week or two at a time in each country, so we had our first homestay experience in Rabat. Ruthie, a friend in my cohort, and I lived with a family in the Medina, or the walled, historic part of Rabat. Although there was quite a strong language barrier since they mainly spoke Darija (the Moroccan dialect of Arabic) and we only learned the most basic phrases to communicate, we were still able to feel the generosity and beauty of the family’s life. Throughout our time in Rabat, we were taught how to make the most delicious vegetable tajine, discussed Moroccan politics with our host brother, and learned what it means to truly get clean through the cultural experience that is the hammam (getting scrubbed down at a communal bathhouse).

As for our classes, besides fumbling our way through basic Darija lessons, we had lectures from a variety of speakers, ranging from activists to government representatives to researchers. Through these lectures, we learned about the struggles of rural women for land rights, the aspirations of youth in agriculture, the implications of the tourist industry for Moroccan locals and ecosystems, the history of people’s protests in Morocco, and much, much more.

Outside of class and home, I tried to spend as much time as possible (when I wasn’t fighting my traveler’s sickness) walking around and exploring the city. Although not necessarily the most comfortable place to walk around alone as a young woman, the Medina was still an amazing place full of bustling life, intricate artisanal crafts, and delicious fruit juice vendors, and always made for a fun adventure exploring with friends. Outside of the Medina, my other most frequented spots would have to be the beach — perfect for long walks and stunning sunsets — along with a lovely garden and an incredible Syrian restaurant with some of the best falafel and lentil soup of my life. Seeing the Hassan Tower, an old unfinished mosque, with my friend Diarra was also another highlight, since the architecture of it and the mausoleum are so unlike anything I’ve seen back in the Midwest.

To end our time in Rabat, we had a farewell party with our host stay families, the SIT faculty, and our entire cohort, at a cafe just outside the Medina. There was, of course, mint tea and lots of pastries, but the real excitement of the party was in the live music, played by a Moroccan group. I danced with my host mom, with my friends, until I thought I couldn’t dance much more, and the energy in the room that evening certainly made it one of my favorite moments in Morocco so far. Needless to say, the emotions felt across these couple weeks were nothing I could have planned for, and wherever our change in plans leads us next, I couldn’t be more ready to follow.

with Ruthie and the homestay family at the farewell party

Zucchini Bread and Thoughts of Home

More and more recently I find myself searching for things that feel like home, like the zucchini bread my Grandma Donna used to make for us at my grandparents’ cabin in Tawas, Michigan. That place was such a special hideaway for my family. It was a place where we all came together to celebrate holidays, birthdays, and summer. My mind has been wandering to this place, to the place where my family was joyful and together and celebrating life.

I’ve never really been the type of person to get homesick or feel like I can’t stay away from home for too long. Maybe that’s because I’m adaptable and can acclimate fairly easily to new spaces, but I can’t say that I haven’t been thinking about home. I am surrounded by newness here, new housemates, new learning styles, and new experiences every day. I reflected on home this past week as I ventured to the Hoover Wilderness and Yosemite on a 6-day backpacking trip. I can’t say why it took bush-wacking in the backcountry of Yosemite to get me to feel homesick, but it did.

I had known it would happen from the first time I held her – from that moment on, all her growing would be away from me. It is the fundamental unfairness of parenthood that if we do our jobs well, the deepest bond we are given will walk out the door with a wave over the shoulder. We get good training along the way. We learn to say “Have a great time, sweetie” while we are longing to pull them back to safety. And against all the evolutionary imperatives of protecting our gene pool, we give them car keys. And freedom. It’s our job. And I wanted to be a good mother.” – Braiding Sweetgrass by Robin Wall Kimmerer

Thank you, mother, for giving me freedom when I thought you gave me another rule to follow. Thank you, mother, for letting me go, for letting me make a new home. A home surrounded in growth, in love overflowing. A love that tells me who I am as much as it tells me who I am not. A home that gave me four lives, entangled by red string, all together, yet all different shades of red distinguishing one from the other. One for Grace, one for Madelyn, one for Chloe, and one for me.

I know, mother, that you are longing to pull me back into safety, into your arms for “nuggles” and so you can “hug me and squeeze me and keep me forever and ever”. I am beginning to grasp the depth of your unconditional love for me. Your love that tells me how proud you are of me for becoming the “happiest person you know”. Your love that tells me I’m a good daughter even when I know that I’m not. Your love that doesn’t ask me to be perfect, but to be vulnerable. Until I can give you a story of who I am, you only have the story of who you believe that I am. Thank you for believing that I am good, that I will go far, that I am someone for you to be proud of.

Momma, I want to give you three gifts that are not mine to give, “A compass: to find your new path. A packet of smoked salmon: because they always come home. Pens: to celebrate having time to write.” I am proud of you for growing with me as I learn who I am. I thank you for accepting my forgiveness and for forgiving me in return. I am healing one step at a time as I learn how to be me and my wish for you is that you would do the same, knowing that I will always come home so I can hug you and squeeze you and keep you forever and ever.

Smells Like Home…

Zucchini Bread
Cubed potatoes and onions in the oven (Sunday Brunch)
Pine Sol

Sounds Like Home…

Booster Seat by Spacey Jane
Monumental by Coastal Club
Surefire (Piano Version) by Wilderado

Feels Like Home…

Dance parties in Mouw Cottage living room
Trashy movies on the couch with my mom and dad (I always pick the worst ones)
Morning coffee brewed for two

Off to Japan!

Image of Mount Fuji, or Fuji-san, taken from my plane as we fly into Nagoya.

why nagoya, confronting challenge, and konbini

こんにちは！Hello!

Three weeks from today I officially landed in Japan and began my semester study abroad in Nagoya!

Leading up to it, there was an endless list of to-do’s and to-buy’s. From buying the right power converter, to researching restaurant etiquette, to making multiple trips to the nearest consulate to secure a visa, feelings of stress, anticipation, nerves, and disbelief kept accumulating and snowballing until they became indiscernible. It wasn’t until I was sitting in my seat, plane rolling down the runway at O’Hare, that I discerned the most prominent emotion I felt: excitement. After months of preparation and hard work, I was actually, finally going to Japan.

Why Nagoya? Nagoya was not at all on my radar when I first started to look into study abroad locations in Japan. I knew almost nothing about it, and until then I’d assumed I’d be studying somewhere in Tokyo. But when I looked into the available programs and locations, IES’s program in Nagoya stood out to me.

Nagoya is conveniently located in the center of Japan, with major cities like Tokyo, Kyoto, and Osaka all accessible by bullet train. It’s an industrial city, home to Ghibli Park (for all the Studio Ghibli enjoyers out there), hosts impressive castles and shrines, and is known for the craft of mechanized puppets– some of which can serve tea! As a major bonus: Nagoya boasts a rich and expansive food scene.

I wanted to experience the busy city life I love without getting too overwhelmed by all the activity and people. Nagoya is the third most populous urban city in Japan, with under 3 million residents (compared to Tokyo’s almost 14 million!!!), and has a solid public transportation system. Because this program is direct enrollment, I’m enrolled at Nanzan University, a private Catholic university in Nagoya’s Showa ward. While it’s lesser known and less populated than the neighboring Nagoya University (they are literally within 10 walking minutes of each other), it’s a respectable university with a range of educational opportunities, activities, and events.

What appealed to me the most was that I’d be taking courses through Nanzan’s Center for Japanese Studies (CJS) designed for study abroad students. Through this center, cross-cultural interaction and learning about DEI (diversity, equity, and inclusion) are encouraged, and now being a resident in the international students’ dorm, I have access to events and workshops hosted by it that facilitate those things. If you know me, you know that cross-cultural interactions and DEI are things that I’m passionate about.

Confronting Challenge. The one thing I’ve learned to always carry with me when I travel is the expectation of the unexpected.

After a long 13-hour flight, I arrived in Tokyo in late afternoon, eager to quickly transfer to my hour-long flight, be met by IES staff, then settle into my room at the designated hotel to catch up on sleep (I’d pulled an ‘all nighter’ on the plane to avoid jetlag), before IES orientation started the next day. However, the flight to Tokyo landed 20 minutes after the expected time, and upon arriving to the check-in point, I was informed that check-in for my flight had closed– the last flight to Nagoya for the day.

Already tired, overheated, and so hungry, this was not the news I wanted to hear or accept. It wasn’t until after having to miss several packed buses headed to my designated terminal, finally arriving at said terminal, and being told once again that I couldn’t board, that reality settled in: I was stuck in Tokyo overnight. Additionally, I was unable to place phone calls, even to the program directors. All I could do was helplessly text my program’s group chat and update them about the situation.

However, it was not all doom. Firstly: I’d been able to travel with my friend because we had the same flight. Secondly, upon learning the news about our flight, we met two additional IES students from our flight who were stuck in the same boat. I now had three other peers to share the experience with, so I was not navigating this alone.

After walking back and forth to various terminals and being told conflicting information from well-meaning staff, we were finally rebooked for the first flight the following morning, and then settled in for the night at First Cabin, an accommodation of semi-private cabins / capsules in Haneda Airport.

cabin at haneda airport, featuring a bed, side table, and various amenities. — our accommodation at Haneda airport for the night.

The next day we boarded our flight with no issues, landed in Nagoya, were met by IES representatives, hopped on a train to Inuyama (IES’s orientation location), and that was that!!

This experience wasn’t an ideal one, but having three friends to lean on during a situation of uncertainty, stress, and frustration helped my mentality immensely. And this definitely served as a reminder that no travel itinerary is guaranteed foolproof.

Konbini. Convenience stores– or konbini— are absolutely everywhere here, and yes, they are incredibly convenient– from picking up packages, to printing, to using an ATM, to buying ready-made meals at any hour. Konbini has quickly become part of my daily life here in Japan (it does not help that the prices are far too convenient with the current exchange rate).

Upon arriving to the hotel in Inuyama, we had just enough time for a quick bite to eat before we had a Japanese language class half an hour later (nothing like a flight and class in the same day). We were brought to the nearby konbini to pick something out. I was amazed and relieved by the cheap prices and quality options I had to choose from, and after a long morning, having good food made me feel rejuvenated again, feeling my original excitement from O’Hare coming back again.

Just to wrap things up for my first post, it’s been three weeks since I landed in Japan, and I can safely say by now I’ve established a steady living routine that will keep me afloat in the long run here. I’ve met a variety of new people- friends, classmates, professors- and seen a variety of new places. These remaining 13 weeks will fly by, as the first three have, but I’m determined to make the most of each one, and every moment!

Why go?

Hello again! I’m back from Jordan and embarking on another off-campus study adventure, this time (a little) closer to home.

I’ve been in Oregon for three weeks now, and so far it’s been really great. In a few pictures, here’s what’s been going on:

Cabin Life

I live in Cabin 10! I have two awesome cabin-mates, and we each have our own room.

We shop for groceries together once a week, and we cook our dinners together as a cabin in our cute little kitchen.

Hiking

We’ve been exploring Lincoln as well as venturing out on longer trips. Last weekend we hiked Mt. McLoughlin.

The Oregon Extension is located within the Cascade-Siskiyou National Monument, so there are tons of wildlife and hiking trails easily available to us right on campus.

Chores

There are forty-ish people living on this campus, and it takes a lot of work to keep the whole place running. Every week groups of students cycle through chore assignments. So far I have taken care of the chickens, stacked firewood, and distributed vegetables from the garden.

Why go?

With the slower pace of life in Lincoln, I’ve been thinking about why I chose to come here. What makes an off-campus study semester worth missing everything happening back at home and at school?

The sea that calls l things unto her calls me, and I must embark.

For to stay, though the hours burn in the night, is to freeze and crystallize and be bound in a mould.
Gibran, Kahlil. The Prophet. Albatross Publishers, 2015.

One reason I chose to study off-campus was that I did not want to stagnate. I think there are so many personal growth areas and new lessons that I will only encounter if I push myself out of my comfort zone, into places that are unfamiliar. I saw that to be true in Jordan last semester, and I believe that this semester also holds growth opportunities.

That being said, it is difficult to be so far away from my family and my friends at Hope, and not having a phone during the week can make it especially challenging. Something I’m trying to keep in mind this semester is that growth only happens when circumstances are difficult. One of the reasons I am here is to place myself in hard situations, in order to become more resilient. Hopefully, I will emerge with stronger friendships and a better array of tools to navigate staying connected.

I expect I’ll have more thoughts on this topic as the semester goes on. And if you’ve made it all the way to the end of the post, thanks for reading.

Let Go, Dive In

Anyone who really knows me could tell you about how I can be over the top with my organizational and planning systems (just ask me about how I organize my wardrobe). But no amount of list-making or journaling could have prepared me for the whirlwind change in my life since this semester began. With a program like this, everything from the next meal we’ll eat to where we’ll lay our head down that night can be a mystery. Our itinerary can change anytime and isn’t known far in advance, thus, the predictability and routine of my old life has given way to the unknown and left me forced to embrace the moment and let go of control — quite the change of pace for me.

The program began August 29th, and since I had already spent the weekend exploring the city with my parents, I was the first to arrive at our meeting location – the colorfully decorated lounge of our hostel. Not knowing anyone was certainly what I was most nervous for, but as the 21 other members of our group filtered in one by one and we fell into easy conversation, that fear quickly vanished. Once we were all together and I had lugged my 60 pounds of luggage into my new room, we headed to our conference center classroom for orientation and to find out what our time in the Bay Area would entail.

As an experiential program, IHP Climate Change has a mix of classroom days, site visits, and excursions. Our classroom days we spent learning about San Francisco’s progressive climate action plan, overviewing our 4 courses, and discussing what it meant to have the privilege to travel (and thus how to conduct our field work ethically).

As for site visits, our first field trip was to the Monterey Bay Aquarium, where we learned about how climate change was affecting the ecologically rich marine habitat and even got to go behind the scenes and hold some of the jellyfish, a feeling I don’t think I can quite describe. We also observed a massive feeding of the sardines, watched the coastal birds soar and dive outside, and saw sea creatures from penguins to jellies to crabs much bigger than I feel comfortable with. That same afternoon we headed to Alba Farm, a highlight for me as someone deeply interested in food systems justice. The model of this organic farm was new for me — workers are given their own smaller plots of land within the farm and learn how to become farmers at a discounted price. Instead of the traditional model where farm laborers work for someone else, here the autonomy is handed back to them, and in 5 years they can start their own farm. Still, however, climate change has brought about shifting weather patterns in California that threaten the livelihoods of all agricultural workers.

One of the most eye-opening days for me was Neighborhood Day, in which we split into groups and explored neighborhoods in the Bay Area with varying income levels to see how wealth, housing, and environmental quality were all related. Downtown Oakland, which I explored, was a historically black neighborhood built where industry once thrived. The result? Toxins in the soils, shockingly high rates of health issues, industry sites left unremediated, and a highway built through the community. A passionate and deeply caring business owner I chatted with told me how she had witnessed the decline of the neighborhood as gentrification pushed up rent prices, businesses struggled, and people increasingly turned to violence. Meanwhile, the majority of white neighborhoods were clean and experienced no such issues.

Our final site visit was to Muir Woods, home to the famous redwoods, where we learned from park rangers the power of the redwoods as well as the threats they faced from changes in the fog (a major source of their water) due to climate change. A beautiful hike with two of my sweet new friends solidified the importance of protecting places like these for all to enjoy one day.

Outside of the scheduled curriculum, our group of course did much exploring on our own. Being minutes from a Trader Joe’s meant we were able to grocery shop for communal dinners where we gathered around the hostel kitchen to cook veggie-rich dinners, discuss anything and everything, and of course, laugh. Lots and lots of laughter. Some nights we would choose to eat out in small groups instead — the highlights for me being tofu and kale ramen, dumplings in Chinatown, and an In-n-Out/Ghirardelli/cable car adventure.

Other special moments include:
– Seeing the blue moon over the city
– An alleyway full of powerful, powerful murals
– Trying to master the art of friendship bracelet making while watching Miss Congeniality
– Ferrying over to Sausalito and hiking up to a beautiful look-out point
– A morning run to Pier 39 to see the sea lions
– Solving my first Rubik’s cube in the airport
– Boba and swimming in the waves at Baker’s Beach

Baker’s Beach was one of the biggest highlights to me. The water was cold, much colder than Lake Michigan in September. And salty. I had forgotten that water at the beach could be salty, but it did make sense seeing as I was on the Pacific coast. The waves much taller than me looked daunting, and my instinct was to stay back on the beach, but I remembered my promise to myself to embrace the new. And so I dove in.

Politics, Goats, and Tea

“Why, for instance, is the ‘wilderness experience’ so often conceived as a form of recreation best enjoyed by those whose class privileges give them the time and resources to leave their jobs behind and ‘get away from it all’? Why does the protection of wilderness so often seen to pit urban recreationists against rural people who actually earn their living from the land? Why in the debates about pristine natural areas are ‘primitive’ peoples idealized, even sentimentalized, until the moment they do something unprimitive, modern, and unnatural, and thereby fall from environmental grace? What are the consequences of a wilderness ideology that devalues productive labor and the very concrete knowledge that comes from working the land with one’s own hands? – “The Trouble with Wilderness” by William Cronan

My first week in Oregon was spent enjoying and gaining knowledge about the “wilderness” that surrounds me. I am surrounded by trees far taller than I am used to, mountains in the not-to-far distance, and trails that lead me further into contemplation and sublimity. My second week in Oregon was spent reading about the politics of nature, the way that our perception and understanding of nature are deeply influenced by the history and power structures of our world.

As I process the two weeks that I have been here, I can’t help but think of how uncomfortable this experience is. It is uncomfortable to learn new information that convicts me and inspires me to change. It is uncomfortable to step out of the current pace of my life to meet new people and have an entirely new structure of daily life. It is uncomfortable to not have the pleasures of technology that I am used to. However, it is incredibly sweet to spend time in a space of people willing to be uncomfortable together, willing to learn together, and willing to evoke change in the world.

Amidst the discomfort and stretch to grow that I feel, I also recognize feelings of contentment, fulfillment, and peace. As I spend time in nature which I will learn to call “home”, I have been allowed to be an embodied participator in the “wilderness” that cannot and should not be separated from me, though I leave my mark on it daily. Some sources of contentment and fulfillment are the two cheerful and goofy goats that reside on our campus. My daily chore was to milk the goats in the morning, which was a huge source of joy for me this week.

Another source of joy this week was the delicious food that we received from the garden. We have full access to the garden and are encouraged to explore it and find foods that we want to cook with, make tea with, or eat while we explore! My cabin-mates and I have been having a cup of tea to end every day, re-capping our day together, and discussing our reading.

Our reading can feel pretty intense, especially when reading “After Nature: A Politics of the Anthropocene”, so I feel lucky to have homework-free weekends where I get to bake, catch up letter-writing, and summit mountains!! Yesterday I made beet hummus with fresh beets from the garden and today we summited Mt. McLouglin, which was about 13 miles, 6.5 straight up and 6.5 straight down. This was probably the hardest hike I’ve ever done and it was very challenging and rewarding!

The End or Beginning?

I am moving into my last month of being here, and my program technically ends next week (although I will be here a bit longer). I can’t really fathom the fact that it has been a year since I came here. The best way I can describe it, being here has been like I was transported to another dimension version of myself that happens to be living in Japan. Abby in Japan seems like a separate person from Abby in the USA.

Obviously Abby in Japan is simply a continuation–an addition–to who Abby in the USA was. I can tell that I have changed in ways that I probably don’t know, and probably will continue to not know until I discover them as I move into the future to create more newer parts of myself.

Reflecting back on my experience, it was a lot different than I imagined it. I didn’t necessarily come with a bunch of expectations or anything, but I think I am experiencing what we all experience after achieving something. I feel like I had almost seen coming to Japan as a giant finale. It was like this big unachievable thing in my mind since I was a young kid, and to me, achieving that big unachievable thing was my happily ever after. I didn’t even consider that life continues on after this goal. I especially didn’t expect my response to the end of achieving this goal.

Until month 10 (last month), I had extreme anxiety about going back to the USA. While everyone had been experiencing culture shock and homesickness their first 6 months here, I had felt no longing to go home. Maybe it was the fact I hadn’t imagined anything past my experience. Maybe it was just that the food was good and the train system provided a type of freedom I didn’t know in the US. However, last month, and especially now, I feel differently.

I feel really ready for the next chapter of my life. It isn’t necessarily that I prefer the US over Japan or Japan over the US. However, I know that for the time being, since I’m not planning to work here this next year, this is not the place where I can forge a path for myself. I don’t feel I can grow here anymore in the way I need to right now. Going abroad, especially for a long time, really makes you reflect on your values, and I think it was extremely necessary that I came here. I think it is also extremely necessary that my next step not be here.

Who knows maybe I’ll find myself back here in a couple of years, or maybe in a completely different country. I can’t really say where I’ll end up making a permanent space for myself, or if I ever will. Life is full of possibilities. My experience here was definitely a foundation for leaping into adulthood. I thought it was the finale this whole time, but I think it’s really the beginning of something.

If you followed my blog this year, thank you. I wasn’t that consistent, but I appreciate you taking the time to read about my experience. I hope it was beneficial to you in some way. I enjoyed writing it 🙂

The End… or rather,

The Beginning

Bittersweet Beauty: Making Friends Abroad

This post has been collecting dust for two months now (WHAT?!) and the consequence of my procrastination is that instead of finishing it on a train or in a hostel on the continent, I’m next to my little sister on the couch at our home in Saugatuck where the evening breeze tosses the song of crickets and the faint rumble of semis on the highway through the screen door. I’m home.

I’ve been back for almost two months and the word I continually fall back on to describe the feeling is weird. It’s just weird. I could write about the reverse culture shock (why so many choices in the store? Why so big? So loud? Why do I have so much stuff?), how the reality of Dutch bingo in my small hometown is unsettling, how campus feels hollowed out in the summer, how it’s hard to know how to share months of my experiences abroad with family back. Or I could share all the beautiful parts of being home: my Dad’s homemade breakfasts, playing in the yard with my little siblings, reuniting with old friends, riding my horses again, making it home in time for Mother’s Day, Lake Michigan sunsets, so many trips ‘up north.’ But instead, I want to rewind even further, to revisit this draft to take you with me to a small town in northern France with a very special friend I made in Liverpool.

If you’ve followed any of my posts, you’ll know about Romane. You might know her as my flatmate or my hiking buddy, but she became so much more than that. After our first weekend of orientation at LHU, I felt a little overwhelmed and out of place. I missed the familiarity of my friends from Hope, the easy way that time passed when I was with them, our comfortability with silence, the non-existence of small talk. I had met so many lovely, fun, enthusiastic people in Liverpool, but I started praying for a special friend. The next morning (literally, THE NEXT morning), while making breakfast, I (accidentally) set the toaster on fire, disrupting the delicious breakfast of the sweet French girl who lived down the hall from me. We put out the fire, choked on the smoke, called the security guard, and laughed about it all the way to campus on the bus together. And so began our friendship. Who knew burned toast, ruined appliances, and getting yelled at by a Scouser could be an answer to prayer.

After my classes ended, I spent a month traveling around Europe, staying in hostels and Airbnbs, enthralled by history, hiking, architecture, food, and people. Yet, the nomadic lifestyle, however thrilling it is, becomes exhausting. I discovered my tolerance for solo hiking isn’t infinite, nor was my desire to spend hours exploring museums and cathedrals alone. So when Romane invited me to visit her and her family in northern France, I leaped at the opportunity.

Hiking in 9 countries was a highlight of Europe!

I didn’t know I’d said yes to what I look back on as one of my favorite memories from Europe. Romane greeted me at the bus station in Lille after I’d spent 19 hours with no sleep on an overnight bus across France. She escorted me back to the apartment where she and her sister live when attending university in Lille. Romane and her parents led me on a tour of Lille, showing me the university, the park, several charming shops, and the market called La Vieille Bourse. My dad, who very last minute booked a flight to spend a few days traveling with me, flew into Paris that same morning and took a train to Lille to meet up with all of us. We almost bumped into him downtown! Romane was an excellent translator in the flurry of introductions, hugs, and questions that filled the afternoon and evening.

Among the sometimes awkward and humorous communication attempts between my dad, myself, and Romane’s parents, our time together was full of laughter. When I look back on the days we spent together, they are marked by an overarching joy.

Romane led us on a tour of her charming hometown of Gravelines, just 15 miles from Dunkirk. We saw lovely gardens, the expansive beach, and the old city walls! Her family provided home-cooked meals (and the traditional pre-meal snack and after-meal dessert) and insisted we eat it all as was the “French way” according to Romane. And WOW. Their food was amazing!! My favorite treat was something they bought at a shop in Lille, called Le Mereilleux, which literally translates as “the marvelous.” I don’t know how to describe or explain it except that it exceeded any expectations and is, quite possibly, the most delicious thing I tried in Europe.

One of my favorite moments was when Romane, knowing my love for horses, surprised me by bringing us to the equestrian center in their town. Another highlight was going to the French side of the English Channel where we walked along the clifftops of Le Cap Blanc Nez, gazed across the sparkling channel, splashed in the waves, and visited the seaside town of Wissant. Romane and I, who both have a budding interest in photography, passed an evening downloading and editing our travel photos together.

We spent our last day together in Bruges, Belgium, thanks to the generous driving of Romane’s dad. It was a gloomy, grey day, but the delicate spring flowers, quaint brick buildings, rows of chocolate shops, charming canals, and the clatter of horse-drawn carriages made it feel like a fairytale town.

My dad and I still marvel at the generosity of Romane and her family: an authentic, warm, sacrificial kindness. They literally offered their bedroom to a stranger (my dad) and gave up their time to devote several days entirely to the comfort of our visit. This generosity marked their actions to the very last moment: they not only helped carry our luggage to the station in Bruges but waited with us until our train to Brussels arrived. Saying goodbye to Romane was one of the hardest goodbyes I’ve had to make. Her friendship has been a deep and beautiful blessing to me.

We text almost daily, send letters and postcards, and DM each other travel reels, daydreaming of our someday trip to Scotland together. I also text her anything I can think of that would convince her West Michigan is worth the $$$ flight to come visit (we have Tulip Time! We could basically be Europe! And the Peanut Store could be Le Mereilleux! And we have the beach too!)

Romane, if you’re reading this, July is a fantastic time to visit Michigan. My hometown may not have ancient city walls like yours, but the meadows are laden with a rainbow of midsummer flowers and the wild blackberries are ripening along the edge of the forest. The golden beaches are wonderfully deserted at 7am (assuming you’re still an early riser) and the sapphire, non-salty waters of Lake Michigan have hit 70 degrees (Fahrenheit that is). My family’s doors are always open, and I’ll be ready to welcome you with some blueberry crisp and homemade ice cream (almost as good as Le Mereilleux).

Tokyo Skytree

Akihabara

Harajuku

Ikebukuro

Shibuya

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Smells Like Home…

Sounds Like Home…

Feels Like Home…

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why nagoya, confronting challenge, and konbini

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Cabin Life

Hiking

Chores

Why go?

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