I discovered from a student the other day that Tokushima means something like 'Integrity Island'. Hmmm. I'll have to consider that one seriously.

Recently there was yet another Farewell/Welcome Party celebrating the ever-more familiar shift in staff at our two branches. We had the most wonderful meal in recent memory at Doma-Doma; vegetarian nabe (with a meat option for the omnivores) , a variety of little fried fishes and exciting Japanese vegetable chips (mmm... crisp-fried lotus root), pizza, chicken, daikon salad, potatoes drizzled with anchovy paste and garlic chips, etcetera, etcetera. And of course, lots and lots of beer and nihon-shu (sake). I sat next to my wee favorited friend and across from her knob of an English boyfriend. I poured her drinks and listened to her self-absorbed boyfriend drone on about himself and his extensive knowledge of Japan (gathered over the course of what-- 5 or 6 months?). I also tried to make conversation with our newest addition, 'New' Neil who weirdly enough was slated to be the room-mate of 'Old' Neil (who is not old... he's just got seniority). I think we've got to start calling them by their last names. Anyway, the party went on and my good intentions to have an early night were gone with my second pint. I went around to the Japanese staff ladies, assuring them that if they couldn't find husbands (their collective worst nightmare) that they could come to Canada and I'd sort them out.

The night ended in shambles; my little friend's prat of a boyfriend dumped her shortly after they left the party, assuring her that it was 'she' who had to figure out what to do when 'she' went home, and not a 'them' or 'they' situation. She rejoined us in tears and with a fierce determination to get numbingly drunk. I went on with her and the rest of the staff to Ingrid's for whiskey and tequila and horrible renditions of Red-Hot Chili Peppers songs. I hugged most of my co-workers argued with Martin when he called me a 'jobbie' for poking him with the karaoke-song-selector-stylus. (We arm-wrestled to solve the dispute. He won.) Tomomi got predictably floppy and hammered and fell asleep in consecutive laps-- first Neil's then Chris', then Kat's. We decided to move on. Outside. Down the spiral staircase. Into the narrow street, lit with signs for the Soap-Land shops and the red night-district lanterns. Somehow I found myself rough-housing brother-and-sister-style with NewNeil (who started that? I just met him for the first time that night) when I realized that my little friend had been left behind. My crowd filtered away as I worked my way back up the stairs to retrieve her. The following scene lasted approximately three hours: Enlist a kind New Zealander to get her down the stairs. Retrieve her shoes, her bag. Retrieve her as she tries to get back up the stairs. Accidentally drop her head-first onto the pavement. Worry that I've killed her. Wake her up. Ascertain that she doesn't have a concussion. Enlist further help from the New Zealander to struggle her into a taxi. Use limited Japanese vocabulary to navigate to her house. Drag her out of the taxi. Catch her as she tries to run away. Get her up the stairs, hand her off to her none-too-impressed room-mate. Start walking through the still blue night, through narrow streets and past emptied rice paddies. Stop to stare up at Orion's belt and ponder a little, before continuing to my apartment. Realize that I don't think I'm cut out for many more nights like it.

I've been phoning home a lot more recently, feeling things out and passing updates along to my mom and dad and my Aldergrove family. There are a variety of reasons compounding and compelling this weary traveller to wend her way home. To mention a few: My grandmother's 80th birthday, my high school reunion, my grandparents 60th wedding anniversary, and (breaking news) my friend-since-forever Corrin's wedding. I'll be her maid of honor besides!

The Tokushima adventure met its natural end when my original contract concluded, but I fought against it tooth and nail. What?! Leave Japan? Now? Just when things are getting good? Now that I have the postcard indicating my acceptance into another year of life in the Japanese working world in my sweaty little hands, I feel... meh. I don't feel sad, or disappointed, or anything really. I am certain that I could ferret out new challenges; for example, fervently study the Japanese language, or tea ceremony, or kendo... but the pursuits strike me as rather hollow at this point. I feel satisfied, satiated. Why stuff myself on one experience when there are so many more to be had?

What scares me a little is not knowing what's next. And I don't mean that I am afraid that there won't be anything for me to do; I foresee a myriad of doors flung open for me, and I am rejoicing in the boundless opportunities. What I want to discern is what opportunities will best suit my needs and goals at this time, which pursuits will help me to grow into a better, fuller, more rounded human being. (And I'm not talking about getting a gig at Roger's Chocolates!)

I phoned my little friend the next day to check up on, make sure she was doing okay. I was surprised to hear her sounding genuinely... chipper.
"I'm going home in April!" she announced. "I'm so excited! When I was at home, I hated everything there; I think I needed to get away from it all to realize how much it all meant to me." My sentiments exactly. I'm ready to approach the things and people once familiar and taken-for-granted with fresh enthusiasm.

So I bought a plane ticket today.