Essay

The big move

By Maria Bromley

I usually feel the words of a story percolating in my head while lying in bed, like the scent of coffee in the morning from the kitchen. The thoughts flow in a warming and comforting way and I am eager to get to my computer or bedside journal and get them down. This story began in much the same way.

I recently went through the process of moving, one of the great stresses of life. We didn't move just down the road, but across continents. It was going to be a big change in our lives; moving from Tokyo, one of the most urban of all cities, to the suburbs of America. But we love change. It shakes things up and keeps you growing and moving forward.

Living abroad allows you to develop an appreciation of many different cultures and countries. It gives you a point of reference about everything from the funny English signs, to the food, to the beauty that may get overlooked by the locals. As a Canadian, moving to the United States was not going to be the culture shock of moving to Asia. But it was still a big change. I worried I may not even find anything to write about. But it's been a week and I'm already sipping on the brew of new discoveries.

After completely relying on my GPS while driving in Japan for seven years, I was worried that my brain-mapping skills may have become nonexistent. I was pleased to find that they came back to life when needed. I found I could navigate using my memory and, occasionally, a map. Except for one day when I decided to take a leisurely drive around and challenge myself. However, after two hours, I stopped at a coffee shop to get some caffeine and ask a police officer for directions.

This is how the exchange went. "Excuse me, could you tell me how to get to Hingham? I live in Hingham but can't remember how to get there."

The police officer smiled and politely gave me directions while secretly making a note to contact the local clinics and ask if they had lost any patients recently. I thanked him and explained that I had been driving for nearly two hours to find my way home. I then drove away and missed the first right turn he had instructed me to take. I imagined him looking at me and thinking to himself: "No wonder you've been driving for two hours, lady. You just missed the first turn!" I thought he may come after me in the cruiser with his lights flashing. But he didn't and, eventually, I found my way home. Next week I may venture even further, but I'll bring a coffee and a better map.

Shukan ST: AUGUST 24, 2012

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