The Wanderer Settles Down

The Days
Inevitably, every day begins with waking up. I always clung to the fantasy that this time in Japan I would wake up before dawn, meditate on top of a mountain before skipping down to the morning markets to buy vegetables from a local farmer named Nakamura-san. Instead, I roll around groggily when my alarm wakes me up at 10 30am, and stumble into the shower before eating whatever is left over from my host familys breakfast.

If I have nothing to do that morning, I generally head to the library, my home away from home. Here, I read the paper, books on Japanese history and culture and a very relevant book titled `What Should I Do With My Life?`. Eventually, something drags me away from my abode, and I am on a train bound for some distant destination. The trains are fantastic - there are several different routes to get to the same place, and several different types of train travelling at different speeds and stopping at different stops, making getting somewhere in a hurry as strategically challenging as a good game of chess. Once I have actually decided on a train, I sit and read Manga like every other Japanese person, which I have grown to love in my time here. Except for the time when I was so absorbed in the story that I missed my train stop - then I ceased to love it for a while.

One of my frequented destinations is Vanessa`s house, where we play games in English for hours on end. Most English teachers research games and make at least a rough plan of the lesson - I usually just pretend I am a small child (its not hard for me) and do whatever seems fun. My work therefore consists mainly of building block castles and smashing them, selling pretend things at a shop, and hiding in cupboards. Vanessa also has a very good knowledge of death and funeral rituals it seems, as we end up burying a cat in the sand `coz um hes Christian`, and cremating Vanessas Buddhist mother who was innocently lying on the couch reading a book...it took me a while to figure out what Vanessa meant by `We have to fire mummy coz shes Buddha!`. When fun and games are over, I go to my old host familys house down the road to teach chemistry in English to my old host brother, who is currently attending an international school in Switzerland. Thats right my little tutorees, youve been replaced!

My schedule is hectic, so I set aside a time once a week to just sit down and take my mind off the various stresses of life. Well, a chance to sit with so much pain in my legs that I completely forget about the various stresses of life. Thats right...I am back at Eiheiji. Ok, so not the real Eiheiji, thats a little bit too far away. I found the next best thing, an associated temple which shares the same name and style of practice. You just sit facing a wall for two hours, mixed up with a little bit of walking and chanting. When you sit, you dont do anything in particular. Not trying to become a Buddha, not trying to meditate better than the guy sitting next to you, not visualizing a beach or a forest or going to one`s happy place...Just existence, and nothing else. Well, that is the ideal anyway - I tend to throw in a little bit of shuffling around on my cushion, and my empty mind is filled with noisy thoughts such as `what the hell are you doing here?`, `ow, ow, ow, ow` and `How much wood could a wood chuck chuck if a wood chuck could chuck wood?`. Still, by the time I leave I am glad I came, and I am drawn back to the old temple time and again.

The Nights
Like any hardworking man, my days generally end up at the pub.
Only a little bit of beer drinking though; mainly, I am restricted to the kitchen. I am the Igor to Doctors Dr.Frankenstein, and together we prepare delicious traditional English cuisine using flour, egg, spices and sausages. It is a very laidback place, and sometimes when we are doing nothing but staring at the walls I go outside to talk to the barstaff (two czechoslovakian girls and an Irish guy), or just enjoy listening to Beatles records. Who needs to pay for an airfare to Europe when you can just work at a pub in Shibuya?

Reheating is the true fun of it all, another mathematical game where I have to work out how to best use the two microwaves and two toasters to heat 5 different dishes, each with completely different reheating procedures, so that they all come out at once. I have learnt the golden rule of parsley (sprinkle it wherever possible), but am yet to make friends with the chip fryer since I spilt hot oil on my hand on our first acquaintance. I am gradually getting more independent in the kitchen, and yesterday all my studies paid off when I made a plate of chips all by myself.

The memory will be forever vivid in my mind...Doctor takes the order, turns in slow motion to look at me. He passes the peice of paper over to me, and silently speaks with his eyes...`This ones for you Nick`. I move into the kitchen as though in a dream, and with hands trembling with excitement, heat the oil and gently place the chips in the fryer. Is it too hot? Is the oil the right colour? Oh no! A broken chip! I look around for Doctor, but he is not there...I alone on this one. Sweat breaks out on my brow. Ten minutes later the flame is extinguished, and I limp out of the kitchen with a smile breaking out on my exhausted face and a plate of golden chips in my hand. I did it! I am a cook!

I hang up my apron just before midnight, and walk towards the station on streets paved with fashionable young things, most of them drunk no matter what night of the week it is.

I catch the last train home (filled with party-goers who couldnt make it till dawn), and generally just fall asleep with exhaustion like everyone else does. I walk home in the city twilight of 1am, strolling the empty streets with the twinkling of apartment complexes instead of starlight (there are three stars in the sky here, I counted). Some nights a dusky moon rises over the train tracks, other nights the softest mist of rain falls over my face. Some nights I am just left alone with my thoughts, reflecting on the day behind me and the months and years ahead.

A dog barks, a street light flickers, and I fall onto my futon to wait for the next day to come.