First Culture Shock Meltdown

If there is anything more that I wish I had learned in college, it would be the practical things. I do not think I should've been given a college degree if I can't do some minor maintenance things around the apartment such as how to fix a flat tire, what to do if there is a grease fire in the kitchen, how to change my oil, how to check the circuit breaker when the lights go out, etc. Maybe there should be some kind of Life Skills certificate that we have to get in addition to our degree. Not that I want to pay for more hours of college credit... but I think it's a necessary bit of knowledge.

For example, today, I came home earlier than usual because I worked REALLY hard during the day so I could come back to my apartment in time to watch the high-ranking sumo bouts in the evening. Everything is going great: I have my snack, drink, frumpy clothes, start the washing, put away the groceries i just bought and all those domestic things. I was even going to cook a dish for supper that my mom often makes at home: sausage and broccoli. You see... I WAS...

I used the bathroom before heading upstairs and I noticed that it's running a little longer than usual. Then I heard splashing sounds. Not the rushing water of overflow but the pitter-patter of droplets falling. This cannot be good.

And it's not.

Water is dripping generously from the top of the tank and pooling onto my WOOD LAMINATE floor!!! Normally, I would call my Dad but um, hello?, it's 3am his time and I doubt he would know exactly what to do either. So first thing I tell myself is not to panic. I go outside to find the meter thing and maybe find a knob I can turn to shut off the water. I find it, it won't turn, it's too tight.

So I kinda start losing it, the way I start breathing shallow and fast. I run to my neighbor's apartment and ring the doorbell. She is the wife of a fellow Nishiko teacher and as a mother, maybe she'd know what to do. Yeah right, but that small difference of life experience might be in her favor.

She's not home.

Now I'm really getting upset. It's not as though I can call a plumber here and explain to him that my tank is overflowing and I can't stop it. So I try to call my supervisor... and my cell phone dies.

Tears start pooling in my eyes.

Two ladies are coming my way, walking their dogs and I ask for help in Japanese and mime gushing water and they both come over to help. One of them, blessedly, knew a little bit of English and she managed to turn off the water from the INSIDE by using a key instead of a screwdriver. The ladies offered to help me clean up but I couldn't ask for more so I bowed many, many times and kept saying thank you. I then moped up the floor and tried to calm down; I must've been on the verge of hyperventilating because my head was getting fuzzy and I was in a mixture of laughing and pre-crying.

So I started ANOTHER load of washing and I noticed I have some mail.

It was a postcard from one of my Mom's classmate's, Ta-chan. She was considerate enough to write a short letter in the basic Japanese alphabet form so I could read it, but I couldn't fully understand it. As I read it out loud, I began to cry: a big, long cry, the kind you can't control and then start wailing and then the sobbing and funny gulps and hiccups that follow.

I suppose this is what culture shock does to people. That hopeless feeling that I'm not in control, even of the most simplest tasks. There I was on the tatami floor of my bedroom, leaning back against the bed, sumo blaring on the tv, and sobbing over a postcard I couldn't understand; a mixture of gratitude for someone being so thoughtful to write me, someone so kind enough to help me with the plumbing, and an overwhelming sense of lonliness.

Please do not misunderstand me; I am so blessed to be here and am enjoying myself. There are highs and lows and this is just an example of an intense low. Hopefully the weekend will be brighter as some other JETs are planning to see the Batman movie. It would be my 3rd time, but I need to be people and new friends who can understand what I'm going through so I'm willing to pay for that.