journey on

Sitting on the shinkansen (bullet train), staring out the window, as Fuji-san comes into view, trees, rivers and buildings blurring by in the foreground. I've witnessed foreigners jump up in excitement enough times, leaning over Japanese folks in the window seats, shoving their cameras against the glass. Strangely enough, Japanese people often do the same, although they are more subtle, and don't crawl into people's laps just to snap a photo - but I'll hear gasps and exclamations as they pull out their camera phones and snap away.


Fuji-san represents Japan, in all its glory. Even I, homegrown in the Pacific Northwest - home to some of the most majestic mountains in the world - feel a sense of awe when I see it. Mt. Rainier always captures me with its booming voice - a beast of a mountain that presides over everything around. Rainier feels wild and untamed, a mountain boasting its splendor. Mt. Baker is friendly - smiling over Whatcom County, shining on those few sunny days - inviting everyone to come out and play. Its presence is familiar, understandable, and trustworthy. The other volcanic mountains of Washington all have their own characteristics and feelings they provoke. Yet none capture the essence that Fuji-san offers, (likewise, Fuji will never be a beastly mountain like Rainier). Its song is subdued, melancholy, and humble, much like the traditional behavior and culture in Japan. The Japanese consider Fuji-san sacred. So I see Fuji, and I feel Japan - its heart. Those feelings sometimes become something I can't distinguish from what I feel - they are fast becoming ingrained in my understanding of Japan and the world.

History. Culture. Post-modernism. Japan was what it was and now is what it is, as it continues to change - holding onto parts of itself in the process, but allowing other parts to adapt, or being forced to simply because of the pace of this world. Japan is often accused of not keeping up, of not changing or adapting relations, or ways of thought. This is evident. Is it not understandable? When we are hit with change, with circumstances that force or require us to change, we often resist, hoping to hang on to the things that we think we are and define our identity. We don't always want to let go.

My time in Japan is fast approaching two years. My Japanese is improving, as it has suddenly taken hold as never before. My eyes and heart are seeing things even more clearly than those first days - taking in situations and events, looking at them through my Western eyes, but putting them through an Eastern view, a Japanese view, and adjusting, learning. I learn to distinguish, what equals culture and what equals humanity. What does it mean to be Japanese, or American. What does it mean to be human.

I never felt called to go overseas when I was young. There was never a pull or draw for me other than travel or perhaps school. Japan wasn't on my radar. Meeting my husband changed all of that, but coming to Japan changed even more. Meeting precious youth, learning their stories, feeling their pain. Realizing that my heart for children is the same no matter where I am, no matter what these darlings look like or act like - I still love them dearly. Seeing loneliness, heartache, and despair on a daily basis. Hopelessness. Helplessness. The feelings of people, of humans, who just want something meaningful -  want to be loved and appreciated. Want to know they can reveal who they are as humans, without fear of shame or rejection. People who feel the same feelings I have felt, even though we've grown up across an ocean, we connect over those very basic emotions and events that make us human.

I'm not Japanese. I didn't grow up in Japan, like my husband. Japan is part of who he is. Yet, my life here, though short, has influenced me in ways that every other place I've ever lived has. Parts of Japanese society have found their way into my psyche, causing me to look at things much more than simply my own Western lens, one in which I've always known. My most significant life events thus far have happened in Japan - becoming engaged and married. I've met wonderful people and made friends who mean as much to me as anyone in the States. Though I'm a foreigner, and though I often live in a bubble - in between the two - I feel that Japan is now part of me. It's part of who I am. If I ever were to leave, that would stay with me forever. I can't erase the changes. I've allowed myself to be open to Japan, allowing it to speak to me, listening to the voices of people - voices that aren't always audible or said, but voices I hear just the same. This is Japan, and this is my home. Just like Seattle, Bellingham and Montana before it. Places that are part of who I am and who I've become.

Sometimes, it's hard. It's hard to let go of the past - of those relationships that were once so dear. But so many fall away. This stage I'm in, I'm adjusting to Japan. My mind knows it's a place we'll be, at least for a little while. So I'm letting go of before. I'm letting go of the ties that bind me so closely to the U.S. - the ties that won't let me move much farther. The connections will always be there, they will always be a part of me and who I am. I know and realize more and more that being American is such a part of me, but I also realize more and more how I don't really belong, truly, to any one nationality. I know I'm American, but I know my identity is found in much more than that. In Japan I'm a foreigner, and that and being American go hand in hand here. So, a bubble - but to me that's a good place to be. I'm neither here nor there, but I'm in the place I need to be, in the moment I need to be in. Hanging on to the past has me tethered.

Not anymore. 

Cutting ropes is the only way to go forward, to live the life I'm meant to live, to change and become who I'm meant to be. Though I'm slowly becoming part of Japan, I also sense myself slowly becoming less a part of the U.S. I'm not who I was when I got on that plane almost two years ago, in fact, I'm surprised to remember her. Even from a year ago, I am different. Marriage has had a hand in that too. So much of who I am and was has been weeded out, changed, and adjusted - but for the better, or just differently. It wasn't surprising; I already knew it would happen.  I knew, as I strapped in and watched the Seattle skyline shrink and disappear, that I had left myself behind.


*all photos taken with my iPhone

thai-inspired salmon chowder

Writing. Write, write, write. Study. Study Japanese. The two things I focus on most of the day each day - the two things I need to focus on. So, things like cleaning, organizing, laundry, and gasp, even cooking and gardening get put on hold. Of course I still cook (although not as much as I was during the winter) and try to make sure my new container plants survive, but cleaning has fallen a bit by the wayside. I'm definitely more thankful than ever for a husband who helps out with so much around the house, even though he works all day too.

This makes me feel sorry for Japanese housewives though. Wives with a full-time job are still expected to do the cooking and cleaning for their families. Japanese women are generally surprised that David does so much around the house, whether it's he or I that tells them. Though I like a lot about Japan and the culture, there are some things that don't sit well with me, and the lack of egalitarian marriages is one of them. I'm grateful that I, as a foreigner, am not restricted to such cultural traditions. However, if my spouse was Japanese, chances are that he would expect me to take on the bulk of house maintenance and cooking, even though I'm not Japanese. This isn't always true, but in general, it's how men in Japan are raised, and expectations they are taught.

I'm also grateful that my husband is a good cook, and that he likes (or at least seems to sometimes) chopping up veggies. And willingly cuts up the raw chicken that I don't particularly enjoy touching. Then I often execute the cooking process and ensure the final product is something I'm satisfied with (and usually if I am satisfied with it, David loves it). Sometimes I will do everything and sometimes David does everything, but the majority of the time we both help get dinner finished so we can eat at a reasonable time. Plus, it makes our evening time fun when we do things together.

A couple months ago, when winter was still hugging us tightly and refusing to let go, we decided to make salmon chowder one day. I made it a month or so before that and it turned out well. However, this particular day we were lacking many of the ingredients for regular chowder, such as milk and potatoes. Rather than have David go to the store, I decided to use the coconut milk we had in the cupboard and the sweet potatoes sitting on the table. As I sauteed onions and pulled out ingredients, I let creativity take over. Sweet potatoes and coconut milk, why not go in a Thai direction? I began to add various ingredients that I used for pad thai and curry dishes, mixing, seasoning and tasting as I went. Then it all came together; I knew it was ready, and yummy. Upon the first bite, David almost fell over, claiming he was in food heaven.

I did a quick internet search to see if I could find any similar recipes, but to no avail. Had I really created something unique and new? As one who adores food blogs and cooking recipes from them, I never thought I would come up with something I couldn't find anywhere else. I am happy to cook what others have perfected (while sometimes adapting). Yet, this Thai-inspired salmon chowder came together for me rather nicely, and I had a few chances to improve it before sharing it with you. Oh, and one of the great things about this chowder is that you can make it as spicy as you want it to be, while adjusting seasonings to your particular taste (much like traditional pad thai, with fish sauce, sugar, etc). If you try it, let me know how it turns out!

Thai-inspired Salmon Chowder

Ingredients:

1 tbsp oil (I used peanut oil - I'm sure a neutral oil would work well also)
1 onion, chopped
2-3 cloves garlic, minced (more if small, less if large)
1 large sweet potato (or 2 small/medium ones), chopped into 1 inch or smaller cubes
2 cups chicken stock
1 tsp garam masala
1/2 tsp paprika
2 tsp dried basil
1 tbsp curry powder (I used regular curry powder, but feel free to try red or yellow curry paste, adjusting to your spice preferences)
1 - 1 1/2 tsp fish sauce

1 carrot (I used a fat Japanese carrot, so you may need to use more than one carrot)
1 cup coconut milk
1 1/2 tbsp creamy unsweetened peanut butter (omit sugar if you use sweetened peanut butter)
1 tsp dried or fresh basil
1/2 tbsp curry powder
1/4 - 1/2 tsp dried chopped chilis or chili powder (put in more to add heat)
1 tbsp sugar or maple syrup
1 - 1 1/2 lb salmon fillet, cut into one inch cubes (make sure it's skinless and boneless too)
1 1/2 tbsp lime juice

Heat a pot over medium/low heat and saute onions until translucent. Add garlic and cook until fragrant. Add potatoes and saute briefly, (but don't brown). Mix in chicken stock, garam masala, paprika, basil, curry powder and fish sauce. Cover and let simmer on low heat until potatoes are soft

Mash potatoes (use a potato masher or a fork) (they don't have to be completely mashed, just enough to give the broth a thick consistency). Add carrots and simmer on low heat until fork tender (covered).

Mix in coconut milk, peanut butter, basil, chilis, curry powder until peanut butter dissolves. Taste and adjust to your preference accordingly. Add in salmon and simmer on low (don't boil) 5-7 minutes, until salmon is cooked through. Mix in lime juice. Adjust any last seasonings, garnish with fresh basil if you'd like, and enjoy.

Makes about 4 servings.