Festivals & Homesickness

Arriving in Japan in the summertime, I have been taking part in the obligatory, highly-expected "foreigner comes to Japan and participates in the local culture via summer festivals" bit.  And yes, that involved me dressing in a yukata (summer kimono), which is generally supposed to be one-size-fits-all.  Of course, when you are a foreigner with, shall we say, slightly different proportions than the average Japanese woman, this results in retail clerks helping you try on the yukata while making "hmm... mmm..." sounds before hesitantly saying "Chotto chiisai..." (It's a little small).  This, in turn, results to be going into stores and buying things without trying them on, because I know I can MAKE it fit if I really try.

See?  It fits... okay.  Or, at least, it looks okay.  I had to do quite a bit of tugging and pulling throughout the day to keep from pulling a Claudette Colbert and flashing my thigh to passersby.

Besides the fact that it was a small-town festival and not nearly as crazy as the Uneme Festival, the highlight of the Hagi-Hime Festival was, I think, the screaming contest that took place.  The people putting it on kind of begged Celeste (and I definitely urged her) to enter, which I presume was because she was a foreigner.  Also, one boy took the stage and yelled out a kokuhaku (love confession) to a girl at the festival.  Michelle and I were standing near the girl and her friends, who immediately erupted into a chorus of "Eeeee!"s.  The girl herself was so embarrassed that she ran across the street with a friend, but came back a minute or so later.  I hope it went well.

On the homesickness topic, well, I'm kind of hitting that wall.  I am over the initial wonder of Japan, as well as the initial shock, but I am hitting the point where I truly miss things from home.  The sight of a person walking a large dog on the street is enough to make me want to burst into tears, because I miss my Cooper-dog.  I want something other than white bread, and I want lavender-vanilla fabric softener.  I want hair conditioner that smells like fruits, not like flowers, and cereal that comes in more than two types: corn flake and chocolate corn flake.  I want to read real books, not Kindle books.  I want pink Sour Powers, and to understand what cashiers say to me, and to go out for Tex-Mex with my family.  I want an oven to make Cookie Monster cupcakes.

Yet, all in all, I'm not really, truly depressed. I do certainly get sad on occasion; I miss things that range from the insignificant to the fairly important.  But I still don't cry as much as I did during grad school.  I am happy that I have chosen to have this experience, and that I have a family that supports me so much.  I am excited, because I know that I am going to grow so much as a person because of this experience.  I think I've already begun to.  And I know that this is just a part of moving to another country, and that I will adjust.

And, hey, I found out today that my holiday plans with the family are good to go, plus I discovered Japan's version of Nacho Cheesier Doritos at the grocery store yesterday.  If that's not proof that life isn't all bad, I don't know what is.