Visits from the Astonishing

Season's greetings! Something told me it was time to come back to Substack, so here's what's new!

There is something magical about being outside when the first snow of the year happens to arrive. It reminds me of those winter episodes of Gilmore Girls when Lorelai says the air smells like snow. It could be 40 degrees and sunny, but if she smells snow, it always comes. I thought I smelled it yesterday, though my weather app did not. I anxiously watched as the morning sun drifted behind dotted clouds and, eventually, a thick gray blanket. A few raindrops pelted down on teachers and students while the kiddos lined up to walk home. (Yes, walk, poor things.) Sure enough, the rain lasted only a moment before gusts of wind hit, flipping umbrellas inside out and freezing each raindrop into a thick white blob. A few young faces looked ahead nervously to the cloud of swirling white that quickly engulfed the neighborhood, but most charged ahead with glee. The fourth graders, in particular, seemed excited to practice “it’s snowy” with me as they rushed by. Even I had to clap my hands like the kids and giggle with my co-teacher, snow clinging to our hair and coats. The season of snow has arrived.

Snow settles atop Mt. Ibuki, December 2024

The joy was temporary. Hands red with chill and hair damp with snow, I said sayonara to the stragglers and returned to my desk for an afternoon of lesson planning and PowerPoint making. The sun came back, and life returned to the typical Thursday grind.

The last sixish months since my previous Substack post (egad!) felt more or less like yesterday’s snowy situation. Days full of sniffly elementary kids, paperwork, and flashcards with intermittent moments of the astonishing: a short yet unforgettable trip to Nagasaki in August, my return to Dungeons and Dragons in September, a small Halloween party in October, a long-awaited visit from my parents in November, farmers markets, coffee festivals, autumn-leaf viewing at mountain-side temples, teaching a lesson about American Christmas to a class of third graders who absolutely still believe in Santa Claus (they were very nervous to learn about the ‘naughty kids get coal’ tradition). These short interruptions have kept me engaged in Japanese life now that the honeymoon phase is officially over.

You know how it is. Something new begins with passion and possibility. The shine fades. We keep living: taking out the trash, commuting to work, and endlessly deciding what to eat for dinner. Moments of awe become less frequent; before long, we dream up new plans and futures with a misty look in our eyes.

As someone who can’t seem to stay anywhere or do anything for too long without the consequence of incredible boredom, this cycle is like a well-ridden train. It arrives on schedule, and I can anticipate most bends in the track. I notice sparks of dreams and questions as they come. I pick them up and examine each one. Do I love Japan? Do I want to live here on a little farm in the countryside forever? Will I leave next summer? The summer after? Will I move to Tokyo for city living? Kyoto? Will I abandon the Japan dream to move to Italy instead? How about Scotland? France again? Maybe I can work at a Japanese university! Ah-ha! I’ll be a magazine writer! Oh wait, perhaps I don’t have anything to write about. How does a PhD sound instead?

These Days is the title of my Substack, and it has always felt fitting. Well, these days, I am exploring seemingly infinite options. I am holding each door ajar to peek in at what could be. The ideas come and go, but each brings me a little bit closer to something, though I can’t say for sure what that something is yet. In the meantime, I go to school, make oatmeal and pour over coffee for breakfast, adjust the thermostat with the changing weather, and wait for brief visits from the astonishing. Perhaps there is some magic in this season of waiting. I will be sure to let you know.

Fall colors, grocery shopping at Japanese fish markets on the coast, summer festivals, temples, and Nagasaki fruit bus stops - scenes from the astonishing

Ending Notes

First, I will apologize for my long, long silence. It was hard to feel excited about sharing my life in Japan when said life had lost its gilt finish. What was there to say about my days once apathy set in? As it turns out, probably lots, though I wasn’t in the headspace to see it at the time. Thanks for your patience. I’ll try to give you the updates in my posts to follow, and, as always, I would love to hear how you are faring these days, so drop a comment or send a message if you please!

Listening To:

If you’re curious about my Spotify wrapped, that would make two of us. It was a weird year for me, musical experiences included. I am happy to share my wrapped playlist, top artists and songs, or even my thoughts on this year’s wrapped design (and thoughts I have). For now, though, I’ll leave you with something for the holidays. I have a handful of albums I listen to on repeat every year at this time. Here they are:

Songs for Christmas by Sufjan Stevens, 2006

A Charlie Brown Christmas - Vince Guaraldi Trio

Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer Original Soundtrack (the Burl Ives one)

Vivaldi’s The Four Seasons

jazzychrismas by lofi (in case you, like me, need a little lofi relaxation in your veins)

Tchaikovsky’s The Nutcracker - I like this recording by the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra because it also includes The Four Seasons - bonus!

Recent Eats:

I’ve already gushed about this to some friends here, but my family and I accidentally found amazing pizza in Kyoto. Usually, I am not one for the Japanese-style pizza - something about hot mayo makes me nervous. But VINAINO Kyoto is a tiny Italian restaurant owned and run by a Florentine right in the heart of downtown Kyoto, so I guess it gets a pass. A little tipsy from a few strong beers at Crafthouse Kyoto, we entered our ryokan one night with bubbly smiles and excitement to try everything the city had to offer. Our energy must have been apparent because a conversation with the hostess ended with us locked into an unexpected lunch reservation at VINAINO the following day (a fact I pondered with a sense of dread the next morning when I remembered our plan). I had no reason to fear though. Arriving right on time for opening, we got the full attention of the chef and his protege as they plated bruschetta, sausages, olives, and cheeses for our tasting, filled our glasses with wine, and toasted our pizzas to perfection in the tiny kitchen behind the bar. We chatted and ate, wholly immersed in the tomatoey, cheesy, crusty food. If it hadn’t been for the Japanese rice flour mixed into the pizza dough, we might have had a real shock to find ourselves in Japan instead of the alleyways of Florence upon leaving the restaurant. The owner told us that if we ever wanted to come back, we should make a reservation for lunch - they book weeks out for dinner – and follow their Instagram. If you’re in Japan. or plan to be in the future, I implore you to add this spot to your itinerary. I ate there over a month ago and still think about it daily. I imagine you’ll like it too.