Rediscovering Yokohama, Part I

Courtesy of nerdnomads.com

When you’re away from Japan for an extended period and return only as a savvy tourist, the lingering image is always glossy, umblemished, as unreal as this photo. 

That’s a mental keepsake and nothing wrong with that. But your vision clears up when you come down out of the clouds above Mt. Fuji back to daily reality.

The Rising Family™ returned to Japan nine months ago during the pandemic’s apex in the U.S. Since then, we’ve been adapting again to local norms. So far, resuming day-to-day life in Yokohama has shored up my confidence in our family’s world citizenship and flexibility. It’s also triggered a fresh bout of wanderlust, tempered only by an appreciation for all the great things about living here.

These days my children’s questions about the world ebb and flow as they settle back into the rhythm and rules of Japanese society. Nonetheless, the travels of the last four years continue to yield gifts in their language ability, personal development, and processing of new experiences from an international standpoint. That’s some major value added for life, along with all the neat s**t they’ve seen firsthand. 

Living in different places and among different cultures taught us all places are quirky and special and unique in their own way. Every place takes some getting used to if you live there for an extended time. Returning by chance to rent the same house in Yokohama meant the same neighbors, the same schools, and the same office, all of which has been trippy. Like going in reverse before we can move forward again. At first, it felt like little had changed in our part of Yokohama. There were only superficial differences in how things looked from when we left four years ago. I knew it was arrogant to think that we had changed but nothing else here changed that much, especially with the temporary social measures taken to combat COVID. The so-called “new normal.” Scratch the surface and there’s plenty that is different—and good.

Case in point, a day trip in early autumn to La Soleuil, a French inspired amusement park and family-focused space on the seacoast near Yokohama. We often went there with the girls during our first round of living in Yokohama (I call it “phase one”). Naomi, M. and I returned to La Soleuil with hopes of recapturing a bit of the past. But it became a classic example of “you can never go back” in the philosophical sense. We walked around; it was a beautiful day, plenty of young families having fun. Yet after an hour of the petting zoo, something she adores, Marina looked slightly dejected. Why so? I asked. “I’m too old for most of this stuff, I’m over it.” Sobering, bittersweet reality. 

The workplace experience has been similar. I re-entered my old workspace, one that’s been altered by remote work, new faces, and a new corporate reality. Things had naturally evolved. The edge was taken off my return to this conventional Japanese workplace by fortunately joining a team that is captained by a former supervisor of mine who I knew and respected, and who knew what I could contribute. I was not a “fresh foreigner” and could get back on the horse comparatively quickly. 

Typical workplace no-nos

I also like to think I rode out the occasional work culture nuisance with only minor kvetching. I remain thankful to be employed and for the opportunities my employer has given us.

But I still detest the train commute. Social distancing, my ass. But again the flipside is Yokohamians are fastidious about wearing masks and hand washing. Somehow it works.

Let me close with this: At work and play --for the girls at school, Naomi working a new part-time job, me at mine – we are back in the groove.  I’m hitting in the sweet spot. In my next post I’ll describe another episode that prompted a slump, and how I climbed out of it.

Yokohama dazzles the eyes at night.
Courtesy of Yokohama Board of Tourism 

The gift of wanderlust has consequences. You will never feel completely at home again. Part of your heart will always be yearning for Elsewhere. That’s the price you pay for the richness of loving and appreciating more than one place. But there is also beauty in the here and now, and from appreciating the good things that make each place unique and livable.

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