The story thus far....

Once upon a time, in a big city far, far away from where this story is being told, a young woman (34 is still young) got a bright idea to change her life by changing her address. Her move was not across town, across state lines, across the country or even across the pond. Her move was across the world. She made the necessary arrangements, told friends, family and her imaginary boyfriend - he cried and begged her to stay. She ventured off to Japan with two oversized suitcases and four pre-shipped boxes of books, photos, an All-Clad saucepot, her terrycloth robe, CDs, boxes of super plus Tampax, Korea Ginseng, and a Charlie's Angels: Full Throttle dvd. She was well-traveled; although not within Asia and was experienced and familiar with her soon-to-be adopted culture. She ate sushi, often perused her favorite department store, Takashimya, cried while watching Hiroshima Mon Amour, had an unwavering fondness for ninjas and Ken Watanabe. Now however, she realized seven hours into her ANA flight that she would live à la Japanese, not from a distance, but close up and full frontal. This is her ... well, my story.

....... I'm Jane. Smart Jane, quirky American university sensei Jane, but often unshakably known as (even now in Japan) "plain Jane" (my students think it sounds kawaii). Perhaps you can imagine how far that got me in New York City, where as of only a few months ago, was home. Yes, I hail from the land of bright lights, cheese pizza by the slice, Egyptian cabdrivers, big city action and urban grit where nothing is plain (except for me) and everything is fabulous big, extreme, high pitch, glorious billboard banner-sized fab-U-lous. While it appeared an absurd transition to my friends back West, my move here was spot on. In a city where 24 hours seems like an inadequate amount of time to see everything, be seen by everyone and do everything possible to ensure seeing and being seen, I became bored of the gaze and exhausted by the effort required to maintain it. I was burnt. My fire was out. It was time to go. Now in Hiroshima, things are at least for now monotone.

Here I feel (in reality perhaps a greater absurdity) like a part of a tightly woven fabric, an invisible but connected thread in an intimate community. I figured this self-portrait possible being a quick study and very adaptable. While I haven't taken any language classes yet, I am confident making my way around town - exploring, discovering, living. I manage to successfully excuse myself when exiting the crowded streetcars, passing ladies in the grocery store aisle and swerving away from small children and the elderly on my bike. My new friend Gretchen (she's an artist and uniquely outspoken I will warn you when covering ears is advisable) colors my image more dark and gray. As we sip complimentary green tea at the cheap cafeteria style restaurant steps off Hon-dori she compares me not to 'connected thread', but to bug .... no, "cockroach egg nesting in old tatami until rainy season" when I will "hatch and be bane of some poor souls existence". You should see her paintings. She blurts, "Your woven fabric as culture motif is lovely but truth be told, you will always be seen as the little gaijin girl". Sometimes I think Gretchen must have drops of Woody Allen's cynicism in her veins despite being from a wholesome place like Wisconsin.

She is a hostess (the chat and fetch fancy scotch kind of hostess) and artist (photographer and painter). She is smart, funny, insightful and yet outfitted like that mean seven-armed Greek Goddess with a clever, straightforward, sharp tongue. Oddly, I feel at ease with her. She and I met at Hiroshima International Center during my first month. She was the only foreigner who would give me the time of day. The others, a blond girl who shot attitude worst than women at a department store holiday sale and three fresh out of college boys just stared like they detected a glitch in the pod cloning. I imagined them muttering to each other in secret code, "Is she real"..."Oh look, another one"..."we aren't alone". Freaky huh. Gretchen waltzed over to me like it was her house and she was greeting a guest for a dinner party. She was kind and gracious and an HIC volunteer. It was through Gretchen that my social circle began to expand beyond my foreign colleagues and polite Japanese faculty at Hiro-dai. She was happy to introduce me to people, places and things - show me the ropes. I was appreciative of her comradarous gestures.

After her lecture, tea, and curry rice, a series of questions were stapled to the forefront of my mind. If Gretchen was correct, would I ever transcend the state of "little gaijin girl"? What would that mean, was it essential to my happiness in Japan, and most importantly, was it what I really wanted?

To be continued.

Lisa, a.k.a. Jane, also hails from NYC and teaches at a local university. While she has yet to be perceived as plain, she is quite known for her imaginative philosophical tales and ponderings. She is also an artist, ginger and wasabi junkie and admits to watching Sex and The City reruns to ease occassional bouts of homesickness.

Please feel free to drop her a line at here.