You said you'd take me nowhere, I said that suits me just fine...

This city scares the shit out of me.
Browsed the remnants of the A-bomb dome yesterday. Elementary school children make chains of cranes in colors that now mandate more meaning. It's beautiful in the way the beautiful used to mean something. I love it.

Missing home. Missing Jason and Helen and too many names to mention. Saught comfort in a newfound Hiroshima crew. Fun, fabulous people. They took me in with open arms. I should probably now open my arms, eh?

Consumerism is the name of the game here. I'm so tempted to buy, buy, buy but want to watch my money so I can visit Matt, Mel and Owen soon enough. Golden Week is quickly approaching. CELEBRATE! Now we're cooking with gas.

Oh the sights I've seen. I love Okayama because it was my first taste of Japan, but I love the quiet bustle of Hiroshima. The clean streets. The fancy droves of midday shoppers. My apartment view is mountains to the east. Mountains to the west. Mountains, again north and south. How did I ever deserve such beauty?

I need to figure out my keitai and make my apartment my own and lesson plan for the next year. I should also enjoy Japan. I think I may make that my first priority.

I used to say, with regularity that Chicago was my disappointing lover.
I may now argue that Japan is a pretty impressive lover. Of course, there is better. But I'm just a bittle biased. :)

This lonliness will fade.
These streets will soon shout.

The alley I trash in

A braggarts blog.

I can say with complete assurance (in an uncontested dude off....):

my manager kicks your manager's ass.
my outgoing FT kicks your outgoing FT's ass.
my JT's could make soup of your JT's. (Miso maybe. Still tasty).
My apartment, well, it's probably comporable to yours...
My city, in way of Vegetarian options would annihilate your city (see Hiroshima: it's the bomb).

how did I ever get so lucky?

Am I making something worthwhile out of this place?

Am I making something worthwhile out of this chase?
I am displaced...

At home in Hiroshima. This city sings. It's less of a bustle than I expected it to be, but that is a welcome homecoming. The past two days have been quiet, and that's a far cry from the boisterous one week training session of constant companionship and Okayama flavor.

My apartment is lovely. It's small with potential and everything feels and smells new and foreign. My refrigerator, rice cooker, microwave and washing machine match (the Jazzberry series, so adorable with their matching purple and blue splash colors-yet made my different manufacturers?...) and my bathroom, shower room and kitchen are surprisingly roomy. The former foreign teacher left me a nice stock of books (she is literate, that one. I like her) and my manager chose a bedding set that isn't a filthy eye-sore. More like a modern, stylish art deco set. I think I'll like him, Mr. Manager.

I havent' seen much of Hiroshima yet. The first day I inadvertently consumed 4 Benedryl, with the intent to take 4 Ibuprofen - so I was both socially inept and sedated when my fellow teachers picked me up at the station. Funny, as in funny ha ha ha ha, I also drugged my fellow trainees, passing out Benedryl like chiclets (of which Japan has none). Joke's on them I suppose. It's a good thing humor isn't all that evident here in J-land.

I'd wax poetic about the cherry blossoms I browsed or have a small Kimmie freak out session gushing over the super too cute Japanese lunch box I purchased today, but I'll reserve these stories for posts to come.

For now, know I have found beauty and peace in these parts and will regale my audience with silly vending machine pictures and Mr. Roboto stories so soon.

Work tomorrow. Oh the kids. They can kill a man.