unexpected changes

Some things have happened to me that make me question my whole being. If you know me, you know I have many vague opinions and a smaller number of strong ones. I have used this mix of preferences to generate a self-image. Since arriving here things have come to challenge these ideas and tastes. I guess that is to be expected with any new surroundings. Exposure to new people and new ideas should hopefully result in change. But I forgot what it feels like to not even know what I think sometimes, much less how to say it. There is also a number of physical changes. Changes in appearances but also in the way my body works. Probably from different weather and food. And stress followed by periods of mind-blowing joy.

We`ll start off with something simple. I used to hate combing my hair. I still don`t really enjoy it but for whatever reason, I started combing my hair almost every day here and there were some surprises hiding in my scalp. For one, my hair is getting a bit longer and with the hot weather, it`s started to fall out. I don`t have any bald spots but it`s very thin. So unless I comb it at home, I shed like a dog in public. Another surprise is that I hardly have to wash my hair. It stays clean for days.

Moving on to a more complicated topic which I really don`t understand, metabolism. How does this thing work? If I eat no meat, I don`t really have much energy the next day. But then I get strange bursts of energy that last for a few hours after not eating meat for days. Also, sleeping. I have tried and tried for months to understand how to get the appropriate amount of sleep. If I sleep for eight and half hours, it`s a safe bet. But eight hours, watch out. I wake up on the wrong end of the REM cycle and I`m pretty much a walking corpse. Seven hours is good, six hours makes me a mummy. But I can`t explain when I got four and felt like a million bucks the next day.

And to some of you, this next bit may be a bit shocking. It was for me. The other night my German friend Henning made his signature drink while we were having dinner with our Korean neighbors. I don`t know what you call it but it was delicious. I wanted more. But there was a part of me that cried, "No! You can`t drink that!" But I did. It was coffee. I have tried to like coffee many times. It`s a social drink that many of my friends like. Every time has ended in throat offending disaster. It`s always tasted like hot battery acid being forced down into my reluctant stomach. I can understand changing tastes, too. Henning`s style is pretty milky and frothy and coffee simply has never tasted like that before. He`s got a mess of mysterious contrivances he brought from Germany and I don`t understand the process at all. I have also been drinking canned coffee in certain situations. I do still hate this. The reason I drink these canisters of evil is because when something`s offered to you in Japan, it`s a good idea to accept it. That is, after declaring that you don`t want to trouble your host. But once that ritual is over, you shouldn`t be choosy. So if someone offers me coffee, I usually pop open the can and dive into the metallic, caustic tastes of heated canned coffee. Oh yeah, vending machines here have hot canned coffee. Gross.

I think most of these can be explained by such a vastly different environment. Even my vegetables were grown in different soil. I hear different words every day. Rooms are shaped different. People do things at different paces. Things are big in Japan that are small at home, and vice versa. All of these things should converge and create a change in the overtones of my whole being I guess. I guess I shouldn`t be that surprised. I guess I should be overjoyed! And I am!