Japan 1: Balance

I arrived in Tokyo on February 1st, after 16 hours of traveling from Boston. No delays or unexpected travel mishaps. I am staying with my friend Sachi and her family in Western Tokyo. The air outside is cold (30s and 40s), and on the first night I was here, Tokyo experienced her first snow of the winter. However, spring promises to be around the corner as plum trees are blooming, painting shades of pink and red against a brown back-drop. My last two days have been filled with Shinto Shrines, Buddhist Temples, the Edo-Tokyo Museum, gardens, a tea ceremony, an early morning visit to the fish market which sells tuna weighing in at approximately 100s of pounds going for 10s and even 100s of thousands of dollars, AND, lots and lots of food: Sushi, Udon, Ramen, plum wine, rice balls, mochi, the list goes on...Although the last two days have been filled with activity, I have taken a moment to reflect on my sights and experiences-which I share a piece below:

While touring the calligraphy section of the Edo-Tokyo museum, my volunteer guide says, "...you use to be able to tell a lot about a person from there hand-writing, but these days with the computer (he does the hand motion of typing), everyone is the same." My first impressions of Japan echos exactly this same sentiment-an extremely homogeneous society that is seemingly addicted to incorporating technology into every aspect of life, right down to toilet seats consisting of options such as "butt-spray," "woman-wash," "dryer," "high-water pressure," "low-water pressure," "water temperature," and the list goes on. On the surface, Japanese society seems to expect conformity to the extent that those who refuse are pushed to the peripheral; and with that conformity comes a set of mechanized actions such as an automatic formation of double lines while waiting for the trains and subways, and having mobile phones always on vibrate while on public transportation. I wonder, where does this adherence to unspoken societal rules come from? Perhaps it can be linked to the deep reverence for traditions and customs that are so ingrained in the Japanese collective mindset-the deep respect for the intricate movements of pouring tea in a tea ceremony, or the practice of self-discipline which carefully manicures bonsai trees and rake rock gardens, not reaping immediate benefits but rather, having to wait months, even years down the road. Perhaps the desire to conform is due to the fact that you do not want to do anything that will throw society "off balance," to negatively disrupt the fluid, consistent motions of everyday life that carries not only yourself, but others, through the day. Even during my short two days here, I have been able to witness this sense of maintaining balance: arranging a "dead" branch in with leaves and flowers to give balance to a floral arrangement, or eating warming foods with cooling foods to give a balance nourishment to the body. On a macroscopic level, it is amazing to me how this culture has balanced the incorporation of different influences while still maintaining a distinct Japanese-ness. As we were walking through Inari Shrine in Ueno park, my friend Sachiko informed me that the Japanese have a saying, "Birth by Shintoism, Marriage by Christianity, and Death by Buddhism."

(Pictures from top to bottom and left to right: １．Ｍｏｄｅｒｎ　ｍｅｅｔｓ　Ｔｒａｄｉｔｉｏｎａｌ：　Ｓｈｉｎｔｏ　Ｓｈｒｉｎｅ　ｉｎ　Ｃｏｍｍｅｒｃｉａｌ　Ｃｅｎｔｅｒ ;２. Signs of Spring: Plum Blosooms; 3. Homogenity: Shibuya Square; 4. NOW: Vending Machines; 5&6. Food; 7. Tuna at Fish Market; 8. 1000 paper cranes for Nagasaki and Hiroshima; 10: Prayers to Heaven: prayer notes at a Buddhist temple)

Goodbye::Hello

I have four hours left before I fly from Boston to Japan, on a one-way ticket, beginning the first segment of my six month journey. This past week, I have been busy "closing down" life in Boston, saying "good-byes" to close friends, and experiencing what could be considered many "lasts." You cannot have a beginning, without an end; last week, I said goodbye to a job where walking into work meant walking in to be greeted by friends; I said goodbye to a church which a mere year-and-a-half ago opened its doors and welcomed me in; I said goodbye to close friends--my new found family. You cannot have a beginning without an end. I said "goodbye" in order to say "hello" to a journey which has been at the back of my mind for a long time...a journey which I often found myself daydreaming about, a journey which has kept me awake countless nights.

Four hours, and I get to start this journey. I embark on this journey to see the world, to experience humanity, to become closer to God. I travel without a destination in mind, without a set route, or an itinerary. It is the journey itself that I am excited about--the plane rides, the train rides, the bus rides, the ferry rides; the opportunity to start in Asia, and make my way to Europe, seeing the landscape and the people slowly change as the environment changes. I travel to reflect on all of this change with hopes that I too will be changed.

Prehaps Rosalia de Castro put it best when she says: "I see my path, but I don't know where it leads.  Not knowing where I'm going is what inspires me to travel it." 

Best of Boston

As my time in Boston comes to a close, I want to take a moment to share my personal version of the “Best of Boston” (in no particular order of preference):

1.  Gourmet Dumplings (Chinatown-52 Beach Street)

Offering mouth-watering delicious cheap food, this small restaurant in Boston’s Chinatown is a gem! Whether you sit in the back corner right next to the fish tank where waiters will carefully reach over you to net up live fish to bring into the kitchen; or you sit towards the drafty and often crowded front of the room, your food will be amazing!  First timers, I recommend the pan fried dumplings, scallion pancakes, and julienne chicken wonton soup.   Split the meal by two people, and it comes under $10/person!  

2. South End Buttery (South End-314 Shawmut Ave)

A neighborhood coffee shop that offers great place to sit and unwind.  I have spent many Sunday afternoons at the Buttery reading, people watching, and chatting with friends

 

3. Franklin Cafe (South End-278 Shawmut Ave)

Simply put—a neighborhood bar that offers amazing gourmet food, a great beer selection and a wonderful atmosphere!  It usually gets crowded by 7:30 each night

4. Formaggio (South End-268 Shawmut Ave)

I like to browse the different cheeses, cured meats and other gourmet foods.  The staff are very generous when giving out samples and extremely helpful in sharing cheese recommendations. 

5. Boston Public Library (Back Bay-700 Boylston)

I have spent many many hours in here studying for the MCAT exam; however, aside from the great studying environment, the library is architecturally amazing! I often find myself taking study breaks and walking around the old library in awe.

 

 6. Old South Church (Back Bay-645 Boylston)

Come experience the majesty of God through the beautiful Sunday service at Old South!  The music is awesome, the people are amazing, and the church is extremely welcoming.  There is no better way to describe Old South than to say that it is an open church—open to people from all walks of life, open to a spirit of service to the world, open to a philosophy of social justice—it is a church that promotes that the love of God not be confined within church walls, but rather, be open to the world.

7. Commonwealth Books (Downtown Crossing-9 Spring Lane)

One of the oldest bookstores in Boston, this used book shop offers three levels of fun browsing and guaranteed good finds

     8. Jacob Wirths (Theater District-31-37 Stuart Street)

Friday nights, Mel plays the piano while you and 50 of your new best friends sing along to the music from songbooks--while drinking beer!

District 9

I went to the movies today, catching the 5pm showing with some friends after-work. Walking to the AMC theater next to the Boston Commons, I was trying to recall what I had heard about the movie--it was a movie about humans vs. aliens. Truthfully speaking, the genre of Sci-Fi movies does not generally spark an interest in me. However, a fellow co-worker explained it as a movie with commentary...hmmm, I thought to myself, that is a film technique that I have not seen yet...why not give it a try. So come Friday afternoon...I sneaked out of work early, walked to the movie theater through the muggy-ness of Boston weather, and sat down to enjoy the show...



Neill Blomkamp, the director of District 9, examines what it means to be human, and throughout the movie, asks his audience the same question. Yes, the movie is indeed about humans vs. alien...however, break down the definition of "alien" and Webster's dictionary gives us: belonging or relating to another person, place, or thing; strange. For the sake of the movie, these aliens are indeed extra-terrestrial species living on earth. However, the movie goes beyond that fact, showing that through the differences and strangeness, similarities do exist. Through countless scenes in the movie, Neill Blomkamp, shows his audience innate feelings, emotions and actions--both good and bad--that are common for everyone, human or alien. I do not want to give too much away, therefore, I leave it at that. The movie, in my opinion, represents a hyperbole of our current society. Coming from a background of international development, I cannot help but compare the common themes involved: an us vs them approach, taking differences to mean undeveloped, poor, uncivilized, salvages, and perhaps most importantly, a wall built between the aliens and humans....so close, yet worlds apart. Even though we live in a seemingly connected world with the ever-reaching world wide web, mobile phones, and transcontinental flights, differences in skin color, passports, and economics, among many others, still keep up worlds apart. This movie reminds me of the quote by Paublo Richard:

"We are aware that another gigantic wall is being constructed in the Third World,
to hide the reality of the poor majorities.
A wall between the rich and poor is being built,
so that poverty does not annoy the powerful
and the poor are obliged to die
in the silence of history."

Yet, there is hope! The recognition that we are more similar than we are different. One scene captures Neill Blomkamp's message the best. It is a scene when an alien child turns to a human and says, "we are similar." Sometimes it takes a child to point out a simple, yet often forgotten fact by 'mature adults.'

going up, and going down...

The past three days have been amazing! I am writing this entry, again from 32,000 feet, this time heading back to Boston--inspired, in awe, refreshed, and humbled.

During the summer of 2008, my buddy Drew came out to visit me in Boston. Unlike the a "trip in the city" that I planned for Drew last year, we both decided to head to Mount Rainier National Park in Washington for our 2nd annual reunion--turn off both of our Blackberries, enjoy each others company, and be out in nature...

The drive from Portland to Mt. Rainier National Park was breath taking...the mountains, tall pine trees, and lakes. We drove in Drew's blue Jeep to the tunes of Radiohead, catching up on each others lives. As the Jeep climbed 5,000 feet to Lake Mowich Rustic Camp Ground, we ascended into the clouds. After setting up camp, our first warm-up hike was for 4 miles to Eunice Lake, a lake formed by glacier ice--blue and clear, reflecting perfectly the mountains and pine trees surrounding it.

The following day, we got up at the crack of dawn to prepare for our ~16.5 mile hike. The sun was already shining, struggling to break through the dense layer of clouds that still engulfed Mowich Lake and our camp ground. We started at 5,000 feet, decended down to 2,500 feet, climbed up to 6,200 feet and then made our way back to 5,000 feet. The journey was breath-taking.

Throughout the entire hike, I could not help but think to myself what a humbling experience being in nature is and how this hike mirrored life. As Drew and I decended and ascended up and down the many 1000s of feet, through the clouds, and the and path traveled by so many travelers before us, I felt a mixed of emotions. There were times when I felt like I was in a scene of the Sound of Music wanting to dance, twirl and frolick among the wildflowers and clear mounatin streams. Then there were times I felt so small, so insignificant, so powerless, compared to the beauty and might of the nature around me. Additionally, I was constantly reminded of the saying, "the deeper the valley, the higher the peak." Drew and I went through several valleys during that hike...and in the valley, I would realize, "man, we are going to have to climb up again," and the climb up was a hard struggle, especially towards the end, but the view at the top was amazing. It mirrors life in a way--we don't appreciate the downhill until we have experience the struggle of the climb up. Moreso, sometimes among all of the foliage of the trees and shrubs at the bottom of the valley, we don't realize that there even is a peak...we are too busy just moving along, clearing the path, trying to find a way out. Then starts the climb up...it starts gradual at first, so we do not know that we are climbing...and it gets more rough, harder, but the thickness of the trees, shurbs and clouds still prevent our seeing of the peak. It isn't until we have reached the top, where the goal is in sight, that the 'distractions' clear, making way for the majestic peak...and still, the climb only gets harder--this time, through the snow, the rocks...sometimes on our hands and knees--we get to the peak. Once at the peak, we have the opprotunity to look back down the path we took--sure, from the top view point, we could of taken a different path, or done things a bit differently...but that doesn't matter. We are at the top, and we can reflect and realize that even though the view from the top is an amazing one, it was the journey up to the top that was better. {On this particular hike with Drew, I actually didn't realize that we reach the peak until our climb back down again...lol.}

For me this weekend, the journey up to the top was humbling. To see the majesty of Mount Rainer in the foreground, the beauty of the wild flowers, the greatness of the tall pine trees and the gracefullness of glacier formed lakes...and realize that I am but one, small entity in this world. Equally as important, the journey up to the top with Drew reminded me of the fact that as I was surrounded by the beauty and power of nature, I had a friend, a compainion, to live the experience with. And like the ups and downs of the trail, our friendship too has experience its fair share of trials...but during moments like this weekend which I would consider a "peak," I reflect back on our journey to this peak from freshman year of college when Drew and I first met and realize that for me, the connections formed with people are my "mountain peaks" in life, and it is these "connections" that have helped through the literal and figurative ups and downs of the trail.

32,000 feet

Location: AA flight from Boston to Dallas (32,000 feet)

Yes, that is right! I am 32,000 ft in the air and blogging! Who knew that wireless internet would be equipped on planes? Gone are the days when flying meant escaping email, work, and 'the world.' I think the nice thing is that it still comes as a shocker to some people, especially those 'on the ground,' that you are skyping, gchatting, or IMing with them in real time as you are flying. It is an amazing feat of technology: the ability to write this blog, share this experience, and see clouds beneath me, listen to the constant humming of the plane engine, and sit next to a completely random elderly man who is obsessed with the bricks game on his blackberry {seriously! how long can you really play that game? I am surprised his fingers can nagivate the little ball for that long}.

Until my next blog, over and out!

Home...one year later.

Its been awhile since I last blogged--over a year ago, if I remember correctly. I don't know when it happened, but one day I woke up and I just felt at home in Boston. Life started to have a routine, I had a community of friends that I could call up, I started to have favorite coffee-shops, restaurants, bookstores, and routes that I would call my own in this city. Reflecting back, I can't re-call when exactly that moment happened, it just did. Life happened. As the seasons changed...as the leaves turned colors, snow started to fall, and winter melted into spring, life happened, and took me along with it.

I reflect back and I am in awe of everything that has happened: trips to Uganda, finishing the dreaded MCAT exam, Medical School applications, moving into a new apartment, meeting new people, crazy dance parties, lazy Sundays in the South End, swimming in Walden Pond, rafting the Nile, the list can go on and on; but it all seems so small, minuscule, insignificant. Are these simply activities to do to fill time, to feel productive, to check off an imaginary list? There are times that I feel like I am simply living to go from one high to the next...seeking the next emotional thrill...constantly planning activities to fill time--to have something to do. And then there are other times when life feels so right, so perfect, so beautiful that I just want to freeze that moment in time, preserve it, to reflect on it another day {rarely does that reflection happen}. Why the dichotomy? I don't know. Perhaps it is the activities that builds memories, and with those memories comes sentimental feelings, and with the feelings comes connections with people, and with people comes a feeling of being at home.

So one year later, I finally call Boston my home--a place which conjures up sentimental feelings, feelings not due to the place, but to the people which makes this place home. Some can say that I found a home in Boston, but I like to think of it as I found people, which led me to feel at home.