I walked into the condo and it smelled like America.

Do you know what I mean when I say "it smelled like America"? I'm not sure I can explain it properly. It's this unique smell that's fresh and cozy and infused with good memories from my childhood when I utterly idolized this country and treasured those first moments off the plane. It's the smell of clean, carpeted American homes, with closely cut grass and pantries full of Lucky Charms and bread that's impossibly soft. It's the smell of bright Saturday morning cartoons, fantastical meanderings through the Borders young adult section, and breathing in the bounty of Meijer.

That's the smell of America. Coming back to the country after 7 months it is heaven. I started the unpacking process the first night (then it stalled for about 3 days), and was appalled to find that my clothes all had an odd, basementy smell. I attributed it to my suitcases having been carelessly stored while I was in Japan until I found the clothes I had worn the day before. They hadn't been in storage at all and they still had that odd, sour scent to them. Complaining aloud, I tossed a shirt to Evan to see if he could identify the smell.

"That's the smell of Korea," he said.

"What?"

"That's how both of your apartments there smelled."

Korea had a smell? Korea smelled like this? Astonishing how repulsive I found it once I was out of Korea. I decided to forgo the massive laundry load, and the next day the smell had already begun to fade. My clothing has already adapted to American life.

I, on the other hand, have not.

I met Zina for coffee today in Kerrytown. It's the first time we've seen each other since high school and it was really great to see her. After we parted ways I walked over to State street to make a hair appointment. Walking though the streets of my old town was surprisingly nerve-wracking. I can't remember the last time I felt so conspicuous. An odd statement, coming from the curly-haired white girl who just spent the better part of a year in Korea. But in Korea, I was a foreigner - and obviously so. Foreigners can get away with a lot. We're not held responsible for conforming to society because we so clearly don't belong.

Suddenly I'm back in a society I don't stand out in. When people looked at me in Korea, I knew it was because I looked different. I stopped noticing the stares, and when I did catch one, all I felt was a little kick of pride. When people looked at me in the streets today I had no idea why they were doing it. Was I doing something wrong? Were my clothes out of style? Did they know something I didn't?

It's a bizarre form of culture shock that sent me scuttling back up north to hide behind condo doors. Baby steps. Baby steps back into this city that once belonged to me wholly.

Japan At Last!

I spent my 20th birthday in Paris with Evan. We went out for a fancy dinner and then took an impossibly romantic stroll under a fully-it Eiffel Tower and talked about our future for the first time. And he asked me to go to Japan with him. And I said yes.

That was when I started researching English teaching positions. Then Evan decided he'd rather stay in Michigan and I went to Asia without him and the whole things is a comical mess that I'd be glad to rant to you about in person. Just ask.

Anyway, here we are, finally in Japan together. Awesomeness.

Yesterday we landed in Tokyo, found our hotel, dropped off our luggage and headed out. WE ate greasy ramen at a local place and then made a beeline for Akihabara because I could not imagine starting our Japanese tour anywhere else. A whole area full of geeks, porn, bright lights and electronics, anime, manga, arcades...it was brilliant. Only in Japan. I even played a dollar's worth of Tekken 6 - as a pink-haired cyborg fairy whose special move was to pull off her head, hand it to her opponent, step back and giggle as the old head exploded like a grenade and a new one grew in. Girls dressed in elaborate French maid outfits handed out pamphlets for their cafes where you can go in and be called "Master." Back alley stores sold "orient dolls," eerily lifelike creations, most of whom were designed to look like little girls, all with odd, innocently-confused looks on their too-real, dead-eyed faces. And it was about 98% men shopping for figurines, comic books, anime-style costumes, S&M gear or blowing coins at the arcade on dating simulations, beat 'em ups, and gambling machines. Only. In. Japan.

Beyond that we didn't do much else of note in Tokyo. We're saving two days at the end of our trip for the real Tokyo tour. We took a bullet train to Kanazawa (well, part of the way), where Maggie met us at (where else?) a Starbucks. Which was offering Sakura-flavored everything! We're missing Cherry Blossom season by a few weeks, which is tragic. I'll have to console myself with a bright pink Sakura latter and a slice of fairy-like Sakura cake.

In the meantime, I'm delighted to be with Maggie again! And to see for myself all the wonders descibe in her blog, like the famous Peter Rabbit toaster and the blessed kerosene heater. Tomorrow we will laugh the rain in its face and explore the hell out of Kanazawa. Now I'm going to huddle beneath my electric blanket because damn Japanese buildings have no insulation and no heating. Good night!