Essay

Leaving it all behind

By Samantha Loong

I become attached to things easily. If my favorite Pilot pen goes missing, I feel sad. When I discovered that my favorite coffee barista quit, I panicked. And in 2007, I felt a deep sense of loss when the Ito Family TV show finished its run.

So imagine my surprise when I managed to pack up and leave Japan after five years of living there. Five years might not seem like very much to some, but it is long enough to accumulate, and get attached to a lot of stuff.

I had a lot of stuff — clothes, books, knick-knacks and junk —I had to sort through before I left Japan. The act of going through each and every item, turning it over in my hands and deciding if it would come with me or not was often time-consuming and heart-breaking, especially when I had to throw something out or leave it behind. I'm a sentimental person, and it was even difficult to part with things like the kitchen utensils a former host mother gave me.

I left Japan once before when I returned to New Zealand after a year of studying in Osaka. During that year, I was unsure when I would return and had hoarded every possible item that reminded me of Japan. I shipped home things like ticket stubs, labels from drink bottles and receipts from karaoke sessions. This time around, even though there were no receipts, I was attached to even more stuff — things like my toaster oven, rice-cooker and my hairdresser. None made it with me to London, although several sushi-shaped cushions I bought from a 100 yen store have. I guess something had to give.

It has been almost two months since I began settling into my new home, and I'm wondering when I will feel homesick for Japan. It was not easy leaving, and I think I only truly realized that I was leaving for good when I handed over my alien registration card at the airport. I was fairly composed until that point, upon which I started to get a little teary-eyed, embarrassing both myself and the customs official. He smiled bashfully as he took my card with both hands and tried not to make eye-contact — he was probably afraid that I would want a comforting hug from him.

But maybe I didn't need that hug. Surrounded by sushi-shaped cushions, and having already located my nearest Uniqlo, Muji and supplier of natto, I think that no matter how well you pack, and no matter how much stuff you throw out, once you've experienced Japan and your head is filled with such wonderful memories, nothing gets left behind

Shukan ST: November 20, 2009

(C) All rights reserved