Category: Pregnancy Journey

It’s almost midnight, but I’m fully awake. With my phone in my hands tapping letters on the screen, under the blanket.

I’m feeling guilty. I promised myself to not use screens before bedtime anymore. But here I am again.

In the silence of this night, I can hear my daughter’s breathing. And inside me, I can feel my ideas bursting. Something, I haven’t had for a long time.

Tonight, after reading A Long Way Home: A Memoir, I feel the need to open this blog again.

It’s hard to believe that my last post was two years ago! Nothing after that.

For two years, I was busy being a mother. A teacher. And everything in between.

This morning, I bought the book.Tonight, I finished it.

And somehow, the writer in me has once again awaken from a long deep sleep. I have been wanting to write something meaningful. But, time has passed, and no letter was tapped. No sentences were formed. Nothing is written.

Tonight is different.

Tonight, I am writing.

My sentences might not be perfect. The grammar might be off. Maybe , I just want to be me.

As imperfect as a human as I am.

We are now living in a world relying on artificial intelligence. Photos can be edited to perfection. Sentences are polished in seconds, and information is one finger tap away.

But with these “perfection”, we somehow lose the real “connection”.

Maybe writing doesn’t need to be perfect. It just needs to be done.

So tonight, under the blanket, to the sound of soft snoring, I tap letters on my phone—and finally, I write again.

Breastfeeding is hard in the beginning, harder in the end, and hardest when it’s over.

I literally cried silent tears tonight afte my little girl, for the fifth night, slept without breastfeeding. I felt the distance between us when she decided to sleep on her own under the blanket in a position she chose. Not in my chest nor in my shoulder, but on her pillow, cuddled on her side.

For many months I tried to stop her doing it. I complained that it’s painful with her teeth so sharp. That she’s too big for it already. I was trying to make her grow up and be a big girl but she won’t. She likes to be a baby. She likes to be carried. She likes the comfort and warmth.

And now, that she can finally sleep without it, my foolish heart is regretting. I want to nurse her again just like when she was a newborn. I should have not complained. I should have given it more willingly. Without making her feel guilty for wanting it at her age. Two years and eight months in our breastfeeding journey may be long to some people, even to me. But now that it is over, it felt short. It felt abrupt.

It is the end.Or I hope so. Or I hope not.

May 15, 2022. Two years, six months, three weeks, and two days, for the first time, my little one snoozed without the boobie in her mouth. She believed the story I made there was wasabi in my boobies and she won’t latch because of that. But after that, we were back to where we were. We continued on our breastfeeding journey with constant pull and push. I always tell her to stop already. That she is too big for it. That with her sharp teeth it hurts. But she won`t just let go like that. She likes to be a baby. To be carried in my arms like when she was just a newborn. She likes the comfort and the warmth it gives her. It is her most favorite part of me. It is her most favorite place to be close to me. It is also the easiest way to get her to calm down when she cries. When she gets sad or sleepy. It is a tool I used to get her attention and sometimes bribe her or scare her when she does something bad. I am not a perfect mom. And I do tell her sometimes `No more boobies for you`.

Now, July 16, 2022, Saturday, five nights have passed that she did not breastfeed anymore. It started when I went to the clinic and got medicine for my upset stomach. I told her she can`t breastfeed because I took medicine and the medicine is inside my boobies. I was surprised she did not hysterically refuse. Although she attempted to breastfeed a few times, she stopped trying when I reminded her about the medicine. She settled with hugging, touching, and kissing. This is the longest so far that she missed breastfeeding.

And tonight, I literally cried when again, my little one snoozed without me giving her the boobies. Instead, she hid under the blanket and slept on her side. I thought she was just playing hide and seek but she was not. She was actually trying to find a comfortable position to sleep.

I was hurt. I felt that she did not need me anymore. I miss the times her having to fall asleep on my chest. Those times when couldn`t sleep without the boobies. She is growing up and she can sleep on her own already. I was foolish for feeling that way. For many days and nights, since she became a toddler, I always complain when she breastfeed – It hurts. It`s too much. When is she going to stop? But now, that she stops, I want to go back again and nurse her and hold her in my arms.

Breastfeeding is hard. Weaning is hard. But letting go is the hardest. And moving on is a challenge I have to take.

I cried tonight and I am afraid that tomorrow, I might give in again and breastfeed her again. A part of me is telling, yes, it is fine. Carry her more. Hug her more. Nurse her more. But, my head says no. It is time to let go and let her grow and be a big girl already.

“By Myself”

My little one who is two years and eight months old as of writing, is always trying her skills and practicing her independence.

Her favorite line to say these days is “By myself”, telling me to let her do things by herself. If not, she will morphed into a disappointed, frustrated, angry little human and I have to let her restart things from where she wants it to be.

In the toilet, when I close the toilet lid and flush, she’ll be mad and say “By myself!” And she will open the lid again to close it again and flush it again. By herself.

When I turn on the faucet to wash my hands, she will say “By myself! And she will turn it off to turn it on again. By herself. The same with getting soap from the dispenser. She doesn’t like it when I put soap in her hands. She wants to do it by herself.

When I close the door upon leaving the toilet, the little human who follows me everywhere I go gives me a disappointed look and says “By myself!” And she will open the door again to close it again. By herself.

When I start vacuuming the floor, she will grab it from me and say “By myself!” And the war will start. I want to do it by myself too, to finish faster. And a vacuum is not a toy! The usual ending is we do it together until my patience lasts or her boredom strikes.

In the garden, when I water the plants with a hose, she will grab it from me and say “By myself!” And another war will start. Oftentimes she likes to over water some plants which I really don’t allow. Especially when she starts watering the house walls, the gravel, or when she points the hose higher she can wet things or people over the fence. The solution is we take turns by counting. I water the plants while I count 1-20 and then it will be her turn for another 20 counts but with my hands guiding her hands to which she doesn’t really like and she keeps saying “By myself! By myself! while trying to let go of my hands from hers.

She is trying her skills and so eager to do things on her own, yet she’s still too little she still needs me most of the time.

I Know How

She learned this phrase when I started praising her for what she does well. Or when she does something new. I tell her “Wow! You know how! With all big smiles and praise. At first, she copies the same exact line “You know how!” until I taught her to use ‘I’ instead of ‘you’.

She says “I know how” when she successfully completes her puzzles; when she buckles her stroller; when she puts on her shoes right, and I can’t remember the rest of the scenarios.

One trouble about gardening is planting without knowing the characteristics of the plant.

I fell in love at first sight and bought this “beautiful” tiny plant with attractive neon green leaves a year ago and planted it on the ground. I was happy with it all spring and summer until I noticed it was spreading and had extending runners. Once the runners touch the ground, it roots and form another plant. It’s spreading!!

So I removed it from the ground and discovered that the roots had already spread. I dug them out and moved some in the pot.

Now, it’s spring, I noticed that it’s back growing profusely. It’s scary! Even though it’s a beautiful plant but too much and too many of them spreading and invading other plants is a terrible sight.

I had a similar experience with mint. When we moved in our house, the garden was bare. My friend, a gorgeous Japanese lady, gifted me a container garden with beautiful flowers for our front door and a few cuttings of mint to plant in the ground.

After a few months, those innocent mint cuttings turned into a colony! Although they smell awesome, they are choking my roses and they started sprouting all over the space. I uprooted them and moved some of it to the rocky and not very favorable side of the garden for plants to grow. And guess what. It made a colony there again despite the condition. I had to uproot them and contain them in a pot.

Now, I still see them sprung from the ground from time to time and I just uproot them right away.

With this “beautiful” neon-green colored plant, which I found out to be ground ivy/creeping Charlie, also called grecoma in Japan, the trouble of digging them out has just began. But it looks like I can’t stop it from spreading since it has spread to areas I can hardly reach :-(.

Oh, well. I don’t know what to do.

( I found this in my draft folder and realized it’s looong been overdue. I am almost 9 years here in Japan already. Reading this took me to memory lane so before this “evaporates” or sleep again in the draft folder, let me share it to you. It is incomplete and unedited yet, but, oh well.)

2013 When I met Munakata, I met him

In March 2013, I had to move to Munakata where my new university was located. It was the university I had to do my major study and field research. I moved into a private apartment. Bigger and neater than the one I had before. I did not have to share the kitchen, I had my small one in my room.  But the university was smaller and the place, Munakata City, even they call it a city, is way much smaller and inaka (rural) than Fukuoka City. My teachers in the previous university warned me and my friend (who was under the same program as I was and went to the same universities) that our new university is surrounded by mountains and trees. They were partly wrong though, the university was not “surrounded” by mountains. It was at the foot of the mountain! We had to walk uphill towards the university gate and another uphill to reach the main building and stairs and stairs to reach our classrooms.

Although I had to admit, the place was beautiful. Very calm and serene. No tall buildings. No busy people walking around every corner. It was very green with the surrounding ricefields. The view of the sunset that reflects on the river was stunning.  And the mountain where our school sits by the foot of it is a refreshing view all day. I loved to go cycling in the afternoon. I have enjoyed sakura viewing by tsurikawa (name of the river) in spring. I was annoyed by the loud cries of cicadas in summer. In autumn, the university trees changed colors and it was beautiful. I loved watching the red spider lilies lined up the edges of the ricefields. And came winter, although it does not really snow that much in Fukuoka area, the view of the mountain covered with fogs and sometimes snow was incredible.

This was the place I was trained to living on my own. To survive. I had a very funny experience with my friend. On our first night in Munakata we went to buy futons (beddings) for our new apartment. They were huge they would not fit on our bicycle baskets. We could not have it delivered that night since it was already closing time. No taxi around and we were helpless. We ended up carrying the futon from the store up all the way to our apartment by using the store`s pushcart in the late of the night.  That was more than a kilometer walk. I was mistaken to think that I could use in Munakata the excess garbage bags I had from Fukuoka. Each city in Japan has different garbage bags. I had to purchase again. I learned to carry things only men should carry and learned to assemble furniture (like that bookshelf for my new apartment and the bicycle I ordered online). I learned to order things online in a foreign language. I learned to take care of myself when I got sick and nobody was around to take care of me. I also learned that Japan is not what I thought after all. I trusted so much and got so overconfident that nobody would steal in Japan until my bicycle was stolen. Oh well. Lesson learned. Lock your bicycles when not in use.

This was also the place I was really exposed to traditional Japan. The elderlies in the neighborhood were very nice to us foreign students. They took us to many Japanese events and places. They took us to an island to celebrate tanabata (star festival) and took us to a neighbor`s house to do nagashi somen (flowing noodles in bamboo). We did blue-berry picking, joined community events and a lot more. The university as well took care of us. My American professor was very nice to me. He was the first author I met in person. He indirectly encourage me to write. I learned many things from him. He took me to Kobe to join JALT (Japanese Association of Language Teachers). The university staff also let us join a very traditional event where we wore kimono and joined the community parade for a traditional wedding, the Japanese teachers took us to the city to watch kabuki, and took us to a junior high school to join an open class. And this was the junior high I met my now, husband. During that meeting, we were just strangers. We were introduced by circumstances. We were brought by fate together to meet in a school with other foreigners in a foreign land. That was the start of how we’re being acquainted with each other.

2014 Say Hello to Tosu, first year as ALT

The first three months of 2014 were the last months of me being a student. I did my field research and finished my Teacher-training scholarship. My professor reviewed and signed my thesis. I was counting the days before leaving Japan. It felt unreal that after a year and a half I would have to leave the place I learned to love. I wanted to stay longer. There was also a part of me so looking forward to being back in my home country again after a long time. I would be reunited with my family and friends, meet former students and co-teachers, eat Philippine food I had been craving for so long. My sister who lives in Japan wanted me to stay and work in Japan but there were no job offers. The only one I went to have an interview with, I did not like the offer. The salary was low and it was in Miyazaki. Very far away and super inaka. But days before our closing ceremony at school and I was scheduled to leave Japan, I got a job offer as an Assistant Language Teacher (ALT) in Tosu. I accepted it right away since Tosu is located just by my sister`s place. She was very happy. And of course, I was more than happy. I could stay longer in Japan. That was a Saturday when I got the call. Tuesday was our closing ceremony and my flight back to Ph was scheduled Thursday. The ALT training was from Monday to Friday but with some arrangements, the company let me skip some days during the training and just cope up when I get back.

I was back in the Philippines on the night of March 27th, 2014, Thursday and the next day Friday I was in my elementary school to render my resignation. I was on personal leave for a year and a half but that time, goodbye was forever. I was too consumed by my fascination with my life in Japan that I did not think twice about leaving my home country, leaving my co-teachers, my friends, my students, and my family as well. I could not even do everything I wanted to do in the Philippines during my stay. I only stayed there for roughly three days and was back to Japan by Monday, March 31st, 2014.

For me, it was an unforgettable come back. At that time, Cebu Pacific (low-cost flight) had no Manila-Fukuoka flight yet. My flight was Manila-Osaka and I booked another flight from Osaka to Fukuoka. My sister was hoping everything would be alright with the immigration knowing that my studies had already finished, they might refuse entry. But knowing that my visa was still good for two years (I had six months more to stay) I was confident I would be allowed to come back to Japan. And I was right. I had no problem with immigration. The problem was with my flight to Fukuoka. It was not until the next day (earliest flight) so I stayed at the airport (as poor as I was I could not afford a hotel and as scared as I was to get lost and miss my flight). I slept on the chairs in the waiting area with other waiting passengers and lined up the earliest time to make sure I was first in line. But when it was my turn, the airline refused my baggage because it was too big and overweight. I had to get out of the line and opened my luggage and tried to rearrange but to no avail. It was a little bit embarrassing knowing that there were many people around – passengers in line and airport staff. I could not care less. I had to do it. I had to line up again and settle to pay the extra weight but then again another problem exists. They don’t accept cash. Just credit cards which I did not have. My panic attack was on high. I thought I would miss my flight. If that would happen, I would be in a lot more trouble. I got my phone to call my sister but my phone was dead. Zero battery! I had to get out of the line again to find a power outlet and get a hold of my sister. She was my hero. I found one inside the toilet and contacted my sister and even though it was very embarrassing and not the best idea (but I thought it was at that time), I asked for her CC details. I could finally settle my baggage and my adrenalin was so high I ran to my boarding gate. I was so scared to be left by my plane I ran past all the passengers ahead of me until I got on the very first line only to find out I was still not late. I was so embarrassed with all those passengers I ran past. I looked like a freak.

When I got to Fukuoka, while inside the train to Munakata, the sight of the blooming sakura calmed my nerves. It was a beautiful welcome. I cried in silence. Everything happened so fast like lightning the past few days. I went back to the Philippines. Resigned from my job. I left again and came back to Japan.

With the help of my then friend turned boyfriend (now my husband), I moved my things out of my student apartment and kept it in his apartment for the meantime while I was in the Philippines. My company arranged a new apartment for me in Tosu, a fully-furnished apartment, and it was close to all my assigned schools. With the help of my sister and her Japanese husband, I moved all my things to my new home in Tosu.

My first year as an ALT was full of excitement, fun, and learning. I was so excited to be a teacher again. To be with children again. I had been a teacher my whole life and I didn`t know any other job I could do. I was again amazed by the Japanese way – how disciplined they were, how on-time they were in any given activities, how very dedicated and serious the teachers were. They work from dusk till dawn. Well, not all of them but most of them do overtime (and overwork). They go to school early and leave school (very) late. Almost everything was different. I was amazed by the school lunch system. We don`t have that. There was no recognition and every student was treated equally. In my country, we announce every grading who did their best – top one, two, three and so on. In March we award gold, silver and bronze medals to the top three students and ribbons to the best performers but not in Japan. Medals are for sports and they close the school year in peace and instead give instructions on how to spend vacation safely and wisely. I was surprised by how slow and simple I should speak English to be understood. Slow like nothing more than four words when giving instructions. “Sit down please.” “Stand up please.” “Write your name.” “Make a line.” “Open your books.” And you have to do these with accompanying gestures. It was frustrating but it couldn`t be helped. Shouganai as the Japanese would say. “We are Japanese. We are in Japan. Speak Japanese” as some anti-English students would say.

My love life was what they called LDR (Long Distance Relationship). My boyfriend lived in Munakata and I was in Tosu. The distance was about an hour and a half by train and about an hour by car. We met on weekends and technology made us keep our communication going. But it was not easy. There were times we wanted to stay together longer but we had to go back to our realities – to work. So the next year, I decided to work in a place closer to each other as much as possible or if not I would not be willing to work on that LDR thing – I was too old and done with that, I thought to myself. My sister wanted me to keep my post since my place was just a few minutes away from her but I knew I had to do something for myself. And so I did.

2015 Life-Changing Events

My last days in Tosu were a bit surprising to my schools and co-teachers. In the last school week of March, I got bad news from the Philippines. My dad was taken to the hospital and was in comatose. I couldn`t attend the closing ceremonies, which was also my last days in my elementary schools. I had to go back to the Philippines to see my father. It was at this time that I realized that not all who travel are happy and excited. Some have heavy hearts, sad and hoping. When I arrived in the Philippines, I went straight to the hospital. My mind was out I left my luggage in the taxi. Good that the driver noticed it and called my attention before I could ever enter the hospital entrance. My father was in ICU. It was terrible to see him there. The last time I saw him was when I spent Christmas and New Year with them, my family. It was also that time he met my boyfriend. When we left to Japan, he said to take care of each other. I gave him a hug which I usually don`t do. I spent my days in the hospital. It was so unreal. In the dawn of March 22, he passed away. And I was there in the room with my mother and with more than ten nurses trying to revive him. But that was that. Life left my dad cold in the bed. My dearest father was gone.

In few days, I was back in Japan. I accepted the job offer of my company to move to Miyawaka, about twenty-five minutes away from Munakata by car. If Munakata is inaka, Miyawaka would be the queen of inaka. There was nothing there. No train stations. No malls. One Mc Donalds. One big supermarket where everyone goes to. Buses come in like once in an hour. Many Japanese friends did not know where Miyawaka is until you mention the nearby bigger city of Nogata. Wild pigs or inoshishi crossing the streets is not a thing to be surprised and raccoons and snakes are regular sights. One day, while I was on my way to school, a snake dropped from nowhere right in front of me I almost stepped on it and scared me to death. There were many abandoned buildings near my apartment including a big supermarket which made it seem the place was hit by an apocalypse. But despite that, I loved my apartment room. I love nature and the view of the ricefield and the mountains by my glass wall was perfect for me. It was a haven after a tiring day of work. The nearby river park was also perfect for my strolling and cycling. In fact, the picture you see in the `About Me` section was taken there.

If there was one thing worth mentioning in my stay in Miyawaka, I would say it was the experience I had as an ALT. I was assigned to teach all kindergartens in that far-flung small city (there were five of them) and four elementary schools. I had to juggle all these schools in my monthly schedule. I had to visit the kindergartens once a month and once a week to the elementary schools. I was used to being observed by school and city officials and teachers as well. I was nervous at first but then they did it almost every week, I did not care at all. It helped me enhance my teaching skills. I learned how to adjust my teaching strategies to different groups of Japanese students. I learned how to work with many different kinds of Japanese teachers. Some passive. Some active. I had the experience to teach the smallest class I had ever have. That was in my farthest school. Very far I had to take two buses to get there. The inakaest school. One school has only eight grade six students and another kindergarten had only four. Those schools` populations were dying they had to close it for good the following year. That was how inaka the place was. One grade-six student told me he had to walk like an hour to get to school since he lived in the mountains and in winter when it snows, he could not make it to school. Coming from Tosu with about forty students in a class, I had a hard time at first how to teach a class with less than ten students. But after the first time, I knew what to do. Those students became better in English since they had all the time to participate in whatever activity we had. No excuses. Everyone had to recite and answer the Q and A. There were only eight of them anyway.

Another important event that happened in my life in 2015, was that I got married. Yes. My boyfriend and I decided to make it official. Nothing fancy, nothing extravagant. Just the papers. We gathered the documents and submitted them to the city hall and that was it. We were married.

2016 Back to Munakata Again

One year in Miyawaka was enough. Whether my company would let me transfer or not, I was completely decided to move out of Miyawaka and live with my husband in Munakata. My company originally planned to move me to Okagaki, a town next to Munakata. But in the end, it did not happen. Instead, they told me to stay in Miyawaka. I needed to get a driver`s license so I can easily drive to school. I enrolled myself in a driving school which cost me a lot of money. Well, that is how it is in Japan. I started schooling in the last week in January and got my license at the end of March. Although I could officially drive with my license released, I preferred to work in Munakata but under a different company. I felt bad that I had to leave my schools and co-teachers in Miyawaka but I had to.

In the spring of 2016, I worked in Munakata. New company, new co-workers, new-co-teachers, new students. I was back in the place I considered home in Japan. I recalled the times when I was there as a student. I missed my friend from Myanmar, who was now back in her country after our training had ended. Living in the same neighborhood as a student was totally different when I was a worker. No more sponsored trips and no more special invitations. I was a regular working citizen paying taxes. But it still was home for me.

In the winter of 2016, I had my wedding ceremony and reception in the Philippines

2017 Life of an OFW

2018 A House is a Home

2019 The Year of the Baby

 

Tonight, as I was searching for my research paper in my hard drive, I found an untitled document with the first line saying “nine months have passed and nine months…” and when I opened it, it was an essay, or more like a diary I wrote more than seven years ago. I can`t believe I wrote more than 3100 words in that diary. I must have a lot of time then or maybe there were just so many things that amazed me that I wanted to share and write. Here it is:

Nine months have passed and nine months more to go for my stay here in Japan. Halfway of my scholarship term. Since leaving my homeland, I cannot count the many great and first time experiences I have had for staying in a foreign land.

It was in autumn when I first came to Japan as a scholar and I fell in love with the season right away. It felt like I was in a western movie scene I used to watch when I was still in the Philippines. I was so amazed how the leaves changed colors from green to yellow, and after that to many shades of orange and then to red. I was mesmerized by the view of the falling leaves that hit the ground and cover it like nature’s carpet. It was the first ever autumn experience in my life. I have never experienced it in the Philippines, where it’s summer all throughout the year. In my country, trees are always green.  

The first time I saw a Ginko tree, I was with my friend, another international student from Myanmar, riding our bicycles on our way home from school. I was so amazed upon seeing its golden yellow leaves falling on the ground by the blow of the wind. We stopped and got off on our bicycles. It was so beautiful to ignore. We took a lot of pictures and even sat on the pavement to take a pose with the yellow autumn leaves carpeting the ground.

It was this time when I was still new to the place, a foreign place, that I use to go around the neighbourhood on weekends visiting parks and playgrounds. I took pictures, a lot of them. Pictures of my new surroundings and the beautiful autumn leaves. I could feel the cool and soft autumn breeze on my skin. The beauty of nature engulfed me and autumn season had become my instant favourite.

Not long after that, winter came, the season I scared the most. I have never experienced winter in my life. The lowest temperature in my city is around 24 degrees Celsius and for me that is cold.  I was told that in winter, the temperature could go down below zero. Below zero! Colder than inside a freezer. Definitely unimaginable for me. I could freeze and die, I thought.

It was cold in winter. Really cold for me. I had to wear thick clothes which I was not used to. I wore many layers of clothes, heat-tech stockings, a scarf, a hat, gloves and boots. It took more time wearing clothes than usual. And more clothes to wash, too. It made me look fat in photos. It seemed like nothing was good about winter. Except that I was very amused when, for the first time I saw my breath that was white in cold winter days. I wanted to take a picture of it to show to my family but I couldn’t with my low resolution camera. I tried many times but I failed to take a vivid image of that white, cloudy vapor coming from my breath. I was like a kid! It’s funny just by thinking I was doing that.

But, there was one thing I was so looking forward in winter. Snow. Yes. I was so excited to experience the first snow in my life. I used to always check the weather app to see when the first snow would come.  And when it finally came it was terrific. That moment was like a dream. An unbelievable sight! The morning the first snow was expected, I stood up by the window waiting for it like a mother waiting for his children to come from school. It was a Sunday morning when as I split the drapes open in my balcony, I saw some white bits of paper-strips-like thing floating in the air, and slowly as the wind blew harder, more of those white thing fell to the ground from the sky. And when I realized it was snow, that I had been waiting for so long, my heart beat fast and I wanted to scream for joy. I didn’t know what to do at first. Should I take a picture or a video? Should I go out and feel it? Then, I thought I should call my friend living two doors away from me to tell her of what was happening. However, she was still sleeping at that time and my call woke her up. And when I looked out the window again, the snow was gone, it stopped. It was just a light snow anyway. But days after that, the second snow was heavy. It turned everything around my apartment to white. Branches and leaves, roofs and roads, and the open ground of our dormitory park which is in front of my room had turned into white. A sea of snow indeed! And while I was enjoying the scene on the balcony of my room in the second floor, my dorm mates from tropical countries were outside running and playing with snow like kids. I saw them taking pictures with all smiles merriment with their eyes saying “Hey! It’s Snow! It’s Snow! We don’t have snow in our homelands, you know!”

Although I find snow to be so fantastic, I still don’t like winter. One mid-winter morning, my friend and I went out to catch up an early train going to the University we will soon be enrolling the next semester. We were just in our dormitory’s parking area ready to leave when I realized that I left my gloves in my room, but, because I thought it was alright without it and that the cap, jacket, scarf and boots I wore were enough to help me get through the cold morning, I shrugged my shoulders and left. We were riding on our bicycle going to the train station and before even reaching our destination I felt that my fingers were slowly freezing and later my hands became very painful. I felt that my hands would explode and I did not know what to do. My cheeks were also icy cold as we were cycling against the winter breeze. I kept on going but the station was still about two hundred meters away. That time I was crying inside of me but I pretended to be strong. It was too painful to bear. If only I went back to my room and got my gloves, it would have been a different situation. I could not be suffering like that. I thought that something bad would happen to me like maybe I would collapse or just stop breathing instantly. When at last we reached the train station and saw a vending machine, an idea came into my mind. I stopped my bicycle and hurriedly ran into the vending machine, searched my wallet for some coins and scanned through the products that said “HOT”.  Even though I don’t drink coffee, I pressed the button and out came the hot black coffee in can. I immediately wrapped my hands around it and it somehow eased the pain. Sigh! That was close to an emergency. Then, we properly parked our bicycle at the parking area of the train station located about fifty meters away from the main entrance.  Before we could even get back to buy our ticket, the hot can of coffee in my hands had become cold. We walked hurriedly again and got inside the convenience store just right in front the ticket counter and bought some small hot bag the Japanese called “Kaero”. Those little bags of “Kaero” helped me survived the icy trials of the cold winter days.

  Since then, every time I see a can of black coffee, I remember how tough it is during winter and how risky it is to forget little things I think are not important, which could put myself into danger or simply make an experience really unforgettable.

  Winter almost bade goodbye and spring was around the corner when we moved from Fukuoka City (the biggest city in Kyushu, Japan) to the farther and smaller city to the North, Munakata City. We had to move because we were assigned to attend two Universities. One semester (six months) in Kyushu University in Fukuoka City for the Japanese Intensive Course and two semesters (one year) in Fukuoka University of Education in Munakata City for our major study.  

  It was the night of March 1, Friday, another memorable date in my stay in Japan.  You will never know the things you can do until you are put into a difficult situation where you have no other choice but to be decisive and take the risk or even break the rules.

  Let me start it this way. With the help of my sister and my brother-in-law, we were able to transport our things from our previous dormitory to our new apartment using their car. It was big enough to carry our entire luggage, including two bicycles and a washing machine. We arrived at our new apartment at around two in the afternoon and after unloading all our things, I let my sister and her husband leave since I was too ashamed to ask for more help the fact that they had been helping us move out the other day. I thought I could handle the rest of the things with myself. So, that was it. After they left and after eating the burger and fries set we ordered from McDonald’s drive-thru, I started figuring out where to put things and how to arrange them to make my new little room homey as much as I could. My friend living in the next door also did the same. An hour or two later, representatives from the gas and internet connection office arrived simultaneously to set the registration and everything and with our handful skill of the Japanese language, all went well.  After the transaction, I and my friend decided to go to the nearest department store they called Mr. Max about a kilometre away from our apartment to buy beddings since the apartment we just moved in had no bed sheet, no pillows, no blanket, no warmer, nothing at all. Just bed. Unlike our previous dormitory that was all furnished. In our new apartment, we had to buy or else how could we sleep comfortably, especially that night. It was around five in the afternoon when we left our apartment and it took us hours to select and decide which beddings to buy. It was not that we were picky but the reality was that we didn’t know exactly what to buy and we were also considering our budget. Finally, after my friend said she got a bit headache of thinking which is which, she decided to buy the set beddings disregarding the price while I selected each piece of items with colors that coordinates. After paying at the cashier, the biggest problem that we realized that night was how to bring those big packs of beddings to our apartment since those were large they won’t fit on our bicycle’s basket. We could not even carry them with one hand. When we asked an employee if there’s a way that could help us carry those things, he directed us to the delivery section. It was almost the solution but after a few exchange of conversation with our tattered Japanese with the person behind the counter, we realized that the items will be delivered the next day and not that night as we wanted. So we withdrew our transaction and went out the department store waiting for a taxi to pass by. But not even a taxi came and the department store’s lights lit off one by one. It closed. Also, the cars parked in front of us slowly went one by one. If only I had the confidence to stop them and say “Hey! We need help! We need transportation. Please carry us to our apartment nearby.” But, I was not that desperate, or let us say I was not that tough to admit I was weak.  It was also impossible to ask help from my sister since she lives one-hour away from our new place. So we remained outside waiting, thinking and discussing for a solution what to do with our luggage with our tired body and empty stomach. We pushed our Mr. Max cart fully loaded of those big packs of beddings towards the brighter area of the car park. Then after a few steps, we pushed few steps more. Until we came up with a brilliant idea. “Why not push this Mr. Max cart with our luggage down to our apartment and leave our bicycle here in exchange. We will just push the empty cart back here and get our bicycle back.” We were laughing and doubtful at the same time when we thought of that. At first, my friend was hesitant because it would be too distracting and embarassing to be seen pushing a fully-loaded Mr. Max’ cart down the road at night and said “Dame to omou” which means “I think it’s not allowed”. But, I insisted. It was the only choice left and my tired body and mind couldn’t think of another way to resolve that helpless situation. So we started pushing the carts at the silence of the cold night. When we passed by the high-way, it was tolerable. No nearby houses to see us and most of the apartments were high and far enough not to notice us pushing. But, the shame started to slap at our face when we passed by the narrow and somewhat downward street near the train station going down straight to our apartment. We looked so weird pushing those carts with heavy loads having a hard time controlling the cart since the loads were too big to be able to see the steep road in front of us. The steel carts also made a very disturbing noise in the rough road that every time we push, it seemed that it would awaken all the sleeping residents of the apartments nearby. It was when we crossed the first intersection that my friend decided to quit pushing and instead suggested to carry the luggage with our hands, maybe because of fear and shame at the same time. So we made up another plan. She would go alone and carry her big pack of set beddings to our apartment while I will wait in the corner and take guard of the rest of the luggage and the two carts. So, she went, and I was left at the corner alone in the cold and dark night. At that moment, I realized how difficult it is to live alone in a foreign land.  And how difficult it is not to think in advance or plan ahead. Minutes passed and she came back. We carried all the rest of the luggage with our hands and left the two carts in the corner. From that corner, our apartment was about two hundred meter-far. We were laughing at ourselves while walking. We even took pictures carrying the luggage in a narrow weakly-lighted street. After several steps, and rests, we finally arrived at our apartment building. We were so hungry we had instant noodles for dinner right away. Although we wanted to rest, we could not because we still had to walk the carts back from where we took them which means we still have to walk a kilometre away. Going back to Mr. Max was even more shameful because the empty carts even sounded noisier than with loads in them. It couldn’t be helped so we went our way.  It was around ten in the evening at that time. The few people we happened to come across showed a surprised face seeing us pushing those carts. Finally, we walked past the narrow street and while on the high way we couldn’t stop laughing at ourselves while pushing the carts. We looked silly but we made it. We took the risk. We took the shame. We never imagined we could do a thing like that. We left the carts in front of the main entrance of Mr. Max and rode our bicycle back to our apartment feeling contented we were able to surpass a difficult situation. We slept that night feeling the comfort of our newly bought and self-delivered beddings. And that was how our night ended. From then on, we could never forget Mr. Max and March 1. The 3M’s of our student’s life in Japan. It would be better if we can give a nice meaning to 3Ms. Manly because we acted like a man when we carried those big things. Magnificent because the idea was somewhat unimaginable. And, Memorable because simply, how can we forget an experience such as that?  

There will be more memorable experiences ahead of us as we go on with our lives here in the land of the rising sun.

  It is rainy season as of this writing. We have to go to school five times a week with expectations of a strong wind and irregular light to heavy rains. Opposite to winter, it feels so hot this season at early mornings, hotter than I thought it would be and with rain showers starting to pour in the afternoon, it is hard not to catch Mr. Virus. He hit me once few weeks ago and it was tough. It was also one of my most dreaded things to happen while I’m here – to get sick while I live alone. But I also survived that. I took care of myself without the usual care I used to get from my mother at times I get sick.

The next thing I dread about is experiencing summer heat here. My Japanese friends said “Mada, mada natsu janai yo!” It’s not yet summer. Which means it will even be hotter months from now. “Demo, shouganai!” It can’t be helped. On the brighter side, I am looking forward for that time to come. For I am sure more experiences will be added to my list. Some more lessons will be learned.

  I would be forever grateful to God and all His people, the government of Japan for granting me this scholarship. The experiences I had and will have during my stay here will help build a new me. An empowered woman, an independent person yet never perfect. For nobody’s perfect.

  We will always be put into trials and difficult situations and it will be up to us to either sink or swim in the waves of life.