Tuning

A Night at the Opera?

Today, I think I’ll give you a bit of context.

Snow-capped Mt. Ibuki, Shiga Prefecture’s highest peak, glows in the sunset. Views like this turn even a simple parking lot into something breathtaking.

Whenever my parents tell people their daughter moved to Japan, they always get the same response. “Japan? Really? Why Japan?” And most days, their guess is as good as mine. It could have been Italy, or England, or anywhere more familiar. I’ve wanted to see those places far longer than I’ve even thought about Japan. I don’t have family here, I didn`t study abroad in Asia, nor did I study international relations or Japanese at university like many of my JET Programme peers. I am nearly alone here, just as I was nearly alone after moving to France, then Pennsylvania, then San Antonio. Are we noticing a pattern?

Don`t worry, I am quite content! However, two big questions come to mind. First, why am I here at all? Second, and more importantly for you, why am I writing about it? Even on my happiest and most fulfilled days, these questions always bounce around my brain.

Two weeks ago, I shared with you my anxiety about beginning the year after so much change in 2023. But I had a unique experience last weekend that put my mind at ease a bit about both this year and Japan.

A friend of mine knows a group of women down in Osaka. They are older than us with kids in their late teens and early twenties. The women are lively and kind and keen to practice their English and help us with our Japanese. I met them for the first time recently when my friend and I were invited to a girl’s-day Christmas party hosted by one of them. Bottles of champagne were popped, delicious food was enjoyed, and the next thing I knew my friend and I were agreeing to attend the host`s son`s classical voice recital in Kyoto. Classical voice! I know something about that! So, ignoring my awkwardness about not really knowing this new friend (or her son) very well, I made my way to Kyoto on Saturday. The concert set-up was pretty typical: a beautiful piano, a high-ceilinged room for acoustics, folding chairs, and neatly folded programs all in Japanese. The music selection, a mix of art songs and arias from beloved operas by beloved composers like Puccini, Mozart, and Bizet, were nearly all familiar to me. I sat in that recital hall full of 100 people I could barely communicate with and will never really know, and I felt amazingly at home.

The singing was fantastic. As the music swelled around me, suddenly I was 6 again — sitting enthralled in my living room listening to my parents narrate the terrifying scene in Mozart’s Don Giovanni (when the villain finally gets dragged down to hell by ghosts and spirits) as the anguished voice of the baritone singer boomed through the radio speakers. Most kids don’t grow up with Don Giovanni as a bedtime story. But that was only the beginning of a musical life for me. The following years were full of violin lessons, voice lessons, piano lessons, music camps, recitals and concerts of all kinds, and hours upon hours of practice and enjoyment. I haven’t touched a violin in about five years, and the only opera singing I do now is in the shower, unfortunately for my neighbors. Sitting in the recital hall on Saturday though, I found myself turning to my past, and I was welcomed there.

Two hours of music, an intermission, and an audience-participation-required stretch break later, the performers wrapped up with a double encore. To my delight, the vocalists weren’t the only ones to show their talent! During an arrangement of the Japanese song “Look Up at the Stars at Night” (made famous in 1963 when it was covered by Kyu Sakamoto - video below), a chorus of voices, some quiet and some proud, rose around me from the audience. The singers at the front smiled as their loved ones joined them in song, and I’d be lying if I said a tear or two didn’t spring in my eyes. We were all among friends, even me. Music, like food, has the magical ability to bring people together through shared feelings and memories. I don’t know the full story of that song, nor do I know what it means to the people who sang it. But I do know how it felt to be there in the room and to feel like I was home.

It strikes me, now, that in the midst of challenge and change, I am seeking spaces and experiences that bring me a sense of belonging. Or maybe a sense of self. Probably both. When talking with my mom the other day, she mused “What really do I love?” Each day brings her closer to retirement and an opportunity to redefine who she is and re-focus on what she loves. I may be 33 years younger, but I am doing the same work. It’s not easy to create my own space here, but I have to do it because nobody else will! I have the chance to take what I really love and see it bloom in new spaces. Christmas dinner with new friends, a classical concert in Kyoto, and making potato-leek sausage stew or pasta on my funky Japanese stove all help me feel like me. I need that just as much as I need all the adventure.

So why am I in Japan? Why am I writing this newsletter? Japan happened to me slowly. It crept into my peripheral vision back in 2019 and grew clearer and clearer until it was all I could see. Maybe it was my growing desire for adventure after months of confinement during lockdowns. Maybe it was my childhood interests, like anime, coming back to life. Maybe I just like to travel. In his book The Science of Storytelling, Will Storr writes that “the cure for horror is story.” Now, my life before was by no means a horror. It was mostly great! To sound a bit cliché though, moving happened for reason, and I am ready to find it. I feel the concert of my life is about to start (or at least this act). All I need to do is tune my instrument and begin to play. As for the newsletter, well that’s the story, isn’t it?

So, there you are. Context. We can now move forward with new topics, questions, and ramblings to our hearts’ content. Thanks again for reading my silly post. If you found anything meaningful or relatable in it, I invite you to reach out. Drop me a message, comment, or email — I’d love to hear from you! And if you, like me, are in the process of tuning your metaphorical instrument, finding a home, and creating space for yourself, please remember that you’re not alone. I am learning that we are never too old to restart the process of meeting ourselves. I hope you can remember this too.

Until next time, cheers!

Ending Notes

Listening To: I, of course, have to share a link to the climactic scene of Don Giovanni! If you know the opera, enjoy! If you don’t, I hope it doesn’t scare you too much. It really is a wonderful story. As a side note, the Métropolitain Opera in New York is putting on what looks to be a fabulous production of Carmen right now. If you have the chance, please check it out in my stead!

Recent Eats: In the theme of home, I want to put you onto a recipe I found, made, and perfected while living in San Antonio. Marcella Hazan has a wonderful cookbook called Essentials of Classic Italian Cooking. While it isn’t the Italian cookbook I grew up with (praises to Cucina Rustica by Viana La Place and Evan Kleiman), it is one I love. If you have a long afternoon at home and need something to stick to your bones this winter, you should try out her bolognese. It takes about 4 hours to make but is worth every minute. The recipe can be found online. I hope making it will convince you to invest in her book though. I enjoyed this delicious pasta the other day with a nice salad and a glass of wine. As a bonus, I had leftovers for a week!