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.
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.
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