Sumeba miyako.  A Japanese proverb that basically translates as: if you stay somewhere long enough,
eventually it becomes home.  We are now well into our third and final year in Japan, with ten months to go
until the end of our contract.  It isn't quite the time for getting misty eyed and nostalgic over our stay,
but I have begun to realize that this place has worked its way into us despite all our complaints and longings
for the "better life of Canada".  We will likely even miss our daily existence in Soka City, a suburban industrial
"town" snaked through by Japan's dirtiest river, the Ayase.

This fall has brought more work to us as we now both teach at 2 schools.  Our second schools are in other cities,
so the bike ride takes almost an hour each way.  On a positive note, though, we're looking at it as a chance to get
fit while commuting.  On rainy days, I ride the train (since my bike ride is hilly with highways at the bottom of each
hill, not a good thing when the brakes are wet), which is an adventure in itself.  Yes, the white-gloved man is real.
Basically, passengers crowd the doorways with their backs toward the train until the bell goes off at which point
they all push backwards, a tightly crammed package of company workers.  Luckily, this mayhem begins at
the station where I get off.

 
Free time has been limited as we scramble to prepare English/Canucky culture lessons for our eager minions
(we teach about 800 students each).  But we're still managing to fit in a little creative expression.  Rod was
chosen as a finalist for the Aoyama Design Awards, which means his piece (My Vision of Japan) will be
displayed on Aoyama Street in Tokyo from October 20th to November 3rd.  We'll be sure to take pictures
to post later.  I have a poetry reading coming up in Tokyo, as well.  It's a benefit for a Laotian village adopted
by fellow poet, Sylvia Charczuk.  The date for that one is October 18th at 7:30pm at Asagaya station.

Fall is delightful in Tokyo, basically a slow trickling off of the summer heat with akinokaze (the fall wind)
and very little rain.  We aren't planning any trips around Japan to check out the red leaves, but we have booked
a flight to Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia for Christmas.  We are in the final cycle of this three-year hiatus.
A sequence of "lasts" remain before we board the flight to a new life on old turf.  Of course we have learned
that physical parting doesn't separate us from the homes we leave behind.

 

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