A Year In Atlanta: Home, Community, and Work

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Magic Is Something You Make

My journal cover exclaims, “Magic is something you make.” It has been a year and a week since I returned to Atlanta. The moments I recorded in my journal attest to the magic and mayhem of my making. The past week in review speaks to the efforts of the year. On Tuesday, April 11, 2023, I led 15 hungry cyclists to my favorite Indian restaurant in Decatur. That Thursday, I added a third bookshelf to the collection at my townhouse. On Saturday, by dumb chance and good luck, I spent an afternoon sailing Lake Lanier with friends. Finally, I joined local Bike Grid enthusiasts for a slow roll up Peachtree Street Sunday. The magic is ON, and I continue to cast a few designs forward.

Bikers Can Boat

On April 11, 2022, I shipped my collection of old journals and mementos from my ex-boyfriend’s apartment in Tokyo to my mother’s home in Tucker. Shortly after that, at customs & control in Narita, I turned in my Japanese residence card. Then, with both anxiety and goals as carry-ons, I set off to my hometown. My three-prong goals for Atlanta were: to make a home, participate in the community, and to do meaningful work. Here are my thoughts on a few critical magic milestones from this return.

1. Home

For the first five months of my return, I took up a garden-facing room at my mother’s house. Over the pandemic and in Japan, I had longed for an oven. Beyond that, my ideas of home were transformed by my experience going from a 1,100 square foot house (Bluffton, South Carolina) to a 200 square foot efficiency (Suginami-ku, Tokyo). The Atlanta I returned to was (is?) in a white-hot housing market. Things were expensive and going fast. I wanted something cozy and inside the perimeter.

Eventually, I bought a townhouse in a Chamblee-area community to store my books and souvenirs. In this complex, I can hear birds chirp from nearby woods while I drink coffee in the mornings. On the grounds in the rear of the property is a park that follows a creek that later connects to more water. This place is a great place to get my footing.

2. Community

In pre-COVID Tokyo, I was part of a thriving international community of ex-pats. My social silence grew as our gathering spaces and social outlets diminished post-Pandemic. I missed eavesdropping in the grocery line and making conversations with strangers. On returning to America, I looked forward to creating and being in community again.

Desi Decatur Ride

Through a CouchSurfing(CS) event last summer, I made friends with a group of the Atlanta cycling community. Through group riding here, I have found another sort of home. Atlanta by bike looks different. I began to appreciate the nitty-gritty needs for cycle infrastructure. On the Beltline, cruising through the newly connected areas of Atlanta, it is much easier to see historically underfunded areas in the grip of gentrification. My cyclist amigos share a sense of civic duty. We made good chit-chat with a city official on our Sunday ride. As we deepen community relationships through fun and advocacy, I suspect I will continue to appreciate the new takes on Atlanta.

 

 

3. Meaningful Work

When I left the US in 2017, I was tired of the direct services legal work I had been doing in southern Georgia (across the river from Bluffton, SC, where I lived at the time). Thankfully, the sabbatical from law practice (and respite from Trump) brought me a new way to examine my professional capabilities. From there, I found joy in teaching, coaching, and consulting.

Along the Beltline

Time in Tokyo also transformed what I dared to envision for Atlanta (granted, Atlanta may never be as progressive. It sits in red Georgia, after all.) Upon my return last year, I started attending seminars at the intersection of housing and justice. I volunteered for a conference where I met GSU Professor and Housing Scholar Dan Immergluck and got a copy of his book Red Hot City. Atlanta’s car-centeredness points to the complex interplay of transport, housing, and access. In another seminar, I crossed paths with an old Atlanta CS friend who was Dan’s student and just finished his master’s in urban studies. At such a seminar, I learned about the movement to Stop Cop City. Finally, through the right partnerships, I feel lucky to have identified work for a community-based small-scale developer in Atlanta bringing affordable housing to under-developed parts of the city.

4. Tough Stuff

One of the most challenging parts of my move has been the saga of my journals. Since age 7, I have intermittently written words in journals to deal with life, changes, and reflections. In Tokyo, I took on the task of reading and notating about 25 lbs of handwritten diaries. Unfortunately, those journals I sent from Japan last year did not make it to Tucker—thanks to the US Postal Service. Then, to add salt to the wound, my family lost three generations of jewelry in a burglary from my mother’s home around Christmas time. As I figure out how to carry these losses, I am grateful that I can still appreciate what is in front of me now.

Boats or Bikes?

From my complex’s backwoods, we can eventually get to Briarcliff Road. My family has lived on various parts of this road during our 30+ years in Atlanta. If you take Briarcliff Road and travel on it south, you can eventually see the changes brought about by the Beltline. In a sense, I rode back home without knowing precisely what it would bring.

Opening up to a breeze can refresh your room or your life. The capacity to restore is at the heart of my beliefs and hopes about home. To live as you dream requires determination. It helps to have supporters and to build in community. Reflecting on the intermittent roller coaster of the last year, I feel blessed to have found a warm sense of community. After long perseverance, I am engaged in work that I believe makes the world a better place. Finally, as I continue my personal mission of flourishing to the bounds of my human potential, I hope to make more time to write and share as I organize, educate, and empower.

Fun with Flowers

An Atlanta Story: Bikes Howling Into the Moon as Cars are Stuck

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The September Full Moon

At midnight on a late summer Saturday night, hip-hop music emanated from the traffic-jammed cars surrounding me as I traveled west along Edgewood Avenue with a bike posse. On my first group bike ride, I was both excited and nervous. This ride was supposed to make it across town and back (over 10 miles). Most car-driving Atlantans would be rightly terrified of biking this route. Car traffic, hills, and potholes are enough to scare the average Atlantan. While I was safely helmeted and well-lit, without the collective courage of this group, I likely would have stayed in the boring bar where I started my night. On my own, I could not have imagined cycling across Atlanta. But for that September Full Moon ride, I could have lived forever in ignorance and boredom in my own hometown.

Our motley crew comprised a ride leader on roller skates followed by cyclists of every race and age. We snaked our way through bumper-to-bumper clubbing traffic on Edgewood as onlookers stared at us. Occasionally, a cheerful drunk would greet us with a smile and a “HEY there!” More often, though, car drivers actively ignored us. They were stuck in gridlock; we cyclists were free to weave between lanes. This small gloat eased some of my tension.

Along with the heat, enthusiasm began climbing out of me. Without the layers of car steel as separation, the bumping music sent electric pulses through my body. My Saturday night fever grew, and I felt part of the night’s clubby scene. My bike and I connected with the groove and felt like I was dancing along with the city.

A Night Ride from M+M

Watch for Plates, Grates, Poles and Assholes

That night, the road hazards that first presented themselves became more apparent. Car drivers seem either distracted, indifferent, or actively vengeful. As we made our way to the west side of town, the occasional smell of Mary Jane and intermittent car honks punctuated our ride. En route, we encountered a sharp left turn and an immediate incline which slowed us all down. A shiny red Dodge Charger got behind the slowest rider (me) and began revving its engine. The car was less than three feet away and intimidating. When I reached the top of the hill, the Dodge and I were waiting at the same red light. As we were stopped together, I told the driver NICELY that his revving was scary. He laughed and told me he was “playing.” Then, the light turned green, and the Charger rolled up his window and sped off. This driver was driving recklessly. I noted the license plate; the other cyclists were unphased. While he was wrong to drive like that, the flow of the evening was so good. The road called us onwards. I let it roll off me as we caught a pleasant downward hill into the west side of town.

 

Summerhill Mural

I recalled my high school prohibition from entering this neighborhood. It was not considered safe when I was growing up. Now, here in the West End, was another happening corner. A few cool venues caused slowed car traffic. A whole line of scantily clad ladies was waiting to get inside a club. Meanwhile, crowds poured from parking lots and meandered along sidewalks to bars and clubs. From my bike, the excitement was palpable. That first ride showed me my old town in a new way. The Beltline has impacted the city incredibly by connecting previously segregated parts of town. Now, there are open public spaces to hang out and chill. Walking paths meet with restaurant patios giving  Atlanta a lively and dynamic vibe. I notice this as I remember my readings about legacy residents being displaced by growing rents, especially in southwest Atlanta.

Full Moon Ride November- L5P

Helpful Humans

After we passed the new westside developments, our group found a monster incline around The Gulch. Here I got a real sense of group ride camaraderie. I was sure my clunker of a vintage Schwinn bike was malfunctioning. I found it lying around in my mother’s garage not too long ago. The bike needed TLC, just as I required instruction for going up hills. Oh my god, the HILLS in this town! As I struggled with matching pace with everyone else, I hopped off my bike to push it up the steep incline. A veteran older rider offered to help me. I dismounted and let him take a look at my gear settings. This form of volunteerism was both refreshing and encouraging for me. As I continued to ride, I noticed that there are many good bike Samaritans among the group rides.

No club, dive bar, or café could meet the zest of cycling through Atlanta’s entertainment district on a Saturday night. After the ride, I felt electric. Every cell in my body demanded I dance, move, groove. Thanks to this ride, I felt thoroughly connected and immersed in the city for the first time since my repatriation. While I developed my passion for bike riding in Tokyo, riding where I grew up is a whole new beast. Since that Saturday night, I haven’t seen the city the same way. Since then, I have been hooked.

Get out the Vote Ride (Midweek Roll)

Bikes with the Final Word

Atlanta does not immediately pose herself as a bike-friendly town. The tenor of car driving is aggressive and irreverent towards human life. The public infrastructure is entirely car-based. For the tiny bit of bike infrastructure, there is very little enforcement. Cyclists are left to fend for their own safety. While mutual aid and camaraderie are the natural results of being relegated by the car culture, the future is increasingly anti-car. Cars are pollutants, dangerous to pedestrian safety, and cost us a time tax. They increase the cost of street maintenance, take up too much parking space, and are expensive to maintain. As the city embraces more progressive demands from its residents, the gospel of bike life is spreading. Until then, Atlanta is a car town with an addictive bike habit.

 

On Boulevard NE and Edgewood Avenue

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Italy in the Rear View, Reminiscing to Fully Enjoy Travel: Part 3 of 3

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Teatro Alla Scala: Closed

In early March 2020, I found myself unwittingly in Milan as the pandemic lockdowns began there. I completed a three-week adventure through southern Italy, and Milan was the last stop on my way back to Japan. My former beau and I flew from Sicily to Milan on a Saturday, the last day domestic flights were allowed into Milan. Two days later, we were meant to fly to Tokyo. Those strange and glorious days left a memorable impression. Many other tourists had left Milan when the city-wide lockdown took effect. As we toured the city on bikes, Milan felt quiet and subdued. At that time, I had no idea that cross-border travel would become much more difficult. Three weeks after I arrived in Tokyo, the U.S. Embassy there sent out an ominous message asking Americans to either leave Japan or plan on staying in Japan indefinitely.

Take My Breath Away, Amalfi Coast

 

During this pandemic, then, I have been doing less suitcase packing and a bit more contemplation. I am grateful for my past adventures within this window of less moving. I mindfully re-live and rejoice in old travels. I am convinced that this capacity to feel gratitude is directly related to our ability to enjoy life in general. After my most meaningful trips, I am grateful for new experiences, intriguing trinkets, new human connections, and the chance to learn a new perspective. For me, this is the third way to enjoy travel fully. As I reflect and reminisce on travels past, I appreciate: (1) moments of surprise, (2) physical mementos, (3) human connections, and (4) perspectives gleaned. This after-adventure pause, with mindful gratitude, is a life-affirming practice.

Shortly after I returned to Tokyo from Italy, the Japanese began to take the pandemic seriously. I was asked to work from home. Social events went on hiatus. Restaurants closed early. Bars were completely shuttered; music venues went mute. With nowhere to go for a while, I reflected on my glorious Italian experience. I had planned well and found flow in my time in Italy. Now, I was in my third phase of travel joy: the remembrances.

 

1. Cherish Moments of Surprise

On this trip to Italy, I traveled with my British beau (the first boyfriend to join me abroad). On a few occasions, I observed our styles were different. I could eat at any time; he seemed never to get hungry. Eventually, Italian food broke his restraint. But our first (and only) spat during dating was based very squarely on the capacity to enjoy the moment.

Boat Joy

After insisting that we should watch the sunset from the island of Syracuse (as opposed to returning to our Airbnb so he could send emails), a tense yelling match ensued. Finally, we agreed. We would NOT leave before the sunset. After this, he bought me a truce-gelato, and we walked along an ancient bridge toward a marina in the old town. By pure luck, my eye caught a boat captain rigging a small vessel to take out into the water. I inadvertently smiled at the captain, and he smiled back. Then, he signaled us over to join his voyage. In retrospect, this unplanned boat ride was one of the highlights of our trip. After our domestic tension, a boat ride was just the salve we needed. The captain was taking another couple around the island and into a few caves. We luckily tagged along. This memory ended up being one of our favorite moments. It reminded us how important it is to keep the eyes and the heart open during travel (and also in life).

2. Momentos & Knick-Knacks

Over the years, I have moved between many homes and apartments. Carrying about your things is an excellent reminder that less is more. When I travel, I tend to pack light. As a minimalist, I have become much more selective about the trinkets I bring home. From significant to small, my main criterion is that the item is relevant to the local culture. Eiffel tower key chains do not meet my definition. In some places, a sticker feels more appropriate than a knick-knack!

Naples Takes Art Seriously

One of my favorite things to pick up is local art. In Italy, there is no shortage of local arts and crafts. In Naples, hip street art adorns dilapidated buildings. Along a pedestrian path, we saw an artist selling her watercolor paintings. Both my boyfriend and I loved the style of her work. He purchased an image for each of us. Her work was unique, and I began to follow the artist on Instagram. This way, I could see the artist’s progression and keep a loose connection with our chance encounter.

Mermaid Floating in Frame

On the day before our return to Japan, I also picked up a pair of suede boots in Milan. Each time I wore them in Tokyo. I was grateful for the small splurge. Now that I am in Atlanta, I have framed my Napoli mermaid with blue and gold. In this small way, I remember my adventures. Both the boots and the art were chance purchases. Still, they have now morphed with meaning. It reminded me how lovely it was to prance around Italy before the pandemic changed our world.

 

3. Human Connections

“Do not talk to strangers” is easily the worst advice I have ever heard. Whether traveling, at a networking event or doing mundane errands, I love chatting with people. Many former strangers are now my friends. I believe each individual holds some unique perspective within them; it is a matter of talking through their reservations. Thus, when I travel, I become slightly more extroverted. I want to connect with locals and hear the inside scoop. In some instances, even after I have left a place, some of those human connections keep me in touch with an adventure.

Our Dinner Came from a Generous Heart

A caring stranger met us at lunch on our last full day in Milan. For our final restaurant meal in Italy, we went to a back-to-basics lunch café. Handmade pasta and simple ingredients with a classic feel were on the menu. As we chatted with the waitress, we learned we were her only foreign tourists in the last two weeks. We expressed our surprise about the lockdown and learned from her that restaurants in Milan would be closed after that afternoon. Our waitress inquired about the amenities at our hotel. She was genuinely worried about what we would have for dinner. On our way out, she gifted us dinner to go. She separately packed a container of pasta, marinara sauce, and fresh basil to prepare at our Airbnb. Her kindness and dedication left a warm glow. I followed her restaurant on Facebook afterward. Unfortunately, the café ended up closing down during the pandemic. But her act of kindness left long reverberations.

4. The Exchange of Ideas

The most important reason I love to travel is that I return to my `default` life with a changed perspective. For example, I learned a whole new way to live in Tokyo. For the first time ever, I found city living enjoyable! My quality of life was enhanced by being car-free. My lifestyle with a smaller home and more recycling was more sustainable. I left Japan eager to reform American car bloat and with a desire to promote pluralism through better design.

 

War Torn and Proud Naples

 

While my visit to Italy was much shorter, I still left with new ideas about thoroughly enjoying life. Naples, for example, was war-torn after WW2 and yet, it still holds on to the pride of its days of glory. Buildings partially destroyed stand tall. Graffiti, murals, and posters decorate and scream with fight and spirit. In the small town of Sapri, I noticed how couples walked the promenade in the late afternoon. They elevated the act of watching the sky change colors dressed in their Sunday best. In Milan, though restaurants were closed, Italians could not be separated from their pizza. A line of cyclists’ couriers waited for takeout orders in front of pizzerias.

Sweet Memories

This practice of keeping good memories in the front of our minds is a key to getting through tough times. Nostalgia, recollection, and appreciation can be a nourishing afterglow of travel. I have often noticed that good memories are essential for keeping us upbeat. In many moments, my moods ebb and flow. Having pleasant and meaningful travel memories makes looking forward to better days easier. Between frequently depressed people and those more resilient to the changing tides, I notice this capacity to reflect and enjoy the past. It is a practice I have keyed into and one I aim to hone.

 

Thank you for reading. May your travels also bring you sweet recollections.

Two Steps Towards Financial Freedom: On FIRE

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From August 2020 to May 2021, I was without a paycheck. This unhinging from salaried work was on purpose. I chose to resign from my steady paycheck job as a JET in 2020. Leaving a decent job at the start of a pandemic was a bold move. However, I had a financial cushion and needed new challenges. The next challenge I had lined up in HR fell through as hiring freezes took effect in Tokyo. In October 2020, I was offered an exciting law class to teach for spring 2021 at Temple University’s Tokyo campus. Teaching law has always been a bucket list item for me; I wholeheartedly accepted the assignment. Then, again, at the last minute, that elective law class was canceled too due to pandemic related-BS.  Instead of finding mediocre work as a replacement income, I readjusted my plans and left Tokyo for five weeks in the Kyoto/Osaka area. This surprise situation did not prevent me from working on my larger goal of freedom through financial independence. In 2021, I spent late winter and early spring in a refreshing break from Tokyo life by applying geo-arbitrage in action. While location independence is one step of my approach, the formula for financial independence starts with a mindset.

Finding the Blue Flame

Nowadays, I think anyone can work towards financial independence. Many use online income streams to work on their FIRE (financial independence retire early) goals. I have experimented with a few such income streams. There were some moments last year when I lived off my savings. Instead of panicking, I found purpose in pauses between salaried work.

Trial By Fire

I prize freedom over money. Few things are as challenging for me as staying inside an office while the sun shines through a window. It is for this reason that I started to work towards financial independence. This idea was a revolution and a relief to me in 2009. For me, 2009 was a challenging year. I had just graduated from law school in mid-2008 and suffered from PTSD from my father’s sudden death a few months after my graduation. In 2009, the year after the 2008 mortgage industry collapse, the financial recession followed, and I was in a numb state of shock. I started my first full-time job as an attorney in both a personal and global crisis. Shortly after starting that job, I happened upon the 4-Hour Workweek while browsing Barnes & Nobles. The book profoundly changed how I saw money, work, and life. 

Zero Dollars

All in, for 2021, I made ZERO dollars of taxable income. As an adjunct professor of law at Temple University, the summer and fall semesters did not amount to much dough when I factored in the standard deduction. In fact, since I taught Fall 2021 virtually from the Americas, I could not even access the paychecks from Temple University that went into my Japanese bank account. How then did I manage to survive (or thrive, really)? These two key lessons helped me create a healthy financial buffer on my path to independence.

1. Stop Buying Stupid Shit

Spend My Freedom Away

Life is short. I enjoy it to the fullest. Though money does not buy happiness, money can support you to create moments of enjoyment. If you know yourself well (see #2, below), you know where you get the most bang for your buck. Once you know which expenditures bring you joy, hone in on & cut back on the places where your purchases are frivolous. 

For example, I seldom go to the movies. While watching Black Panther (the last film I saw in theatres), I fell asleep in the chair and needed plot updates from my friend. Movie-going isn’t for me. On the other hand, I love going to the ocean. I would instead spring for a weekend at the beach than a few nights of big screen watching. My approach is quite pragmatic, as well. I would rather drive a 10-year-old car to the beach than have five years of payments remaining on a shiny car. 

I have known many intelligent, accomplished, and high-income individuals with no savings and little self-control.  We live in a consumerist society. Everywhere you look, advertisements are vying for your attention and dollar. For many people, promotions set off psychological triggers and cue impulse spending. As you work towards financial freedom, it is essential to know your spending triggers. Sometimes it is as fundamental as knowing your own insecurities.

Many people get caught up in increasing their income. However, regardless of what you make, what you spend is what matters. I do not believe that austerity is required. Discipline is a muscle. It becomes stronger as you practice it. The first step towards discipline is to become aware of your spending habits. Make discretionary purchases that genuinely bring you joy.

Through practice, I have been good at reducing my recurring expenses. I am also very selective about how I use my discretionary money. In exchange for that, I (usually) have the flexibility to step away from work that does not interest or excite me.

Carolina Crash

By early 2016, I had ironed out a comfortable lifestyle in coastal South Carolina. However, after a traumatic relationship breakup and my general disappointment with politics in America, I returned to a sense of boredom. My WHY had changed, and I had to reconsider what I really wanted from life. I realized that working in a litigious and hierarchical legal culture was inconsistent with my more profound purpose. Though working in the law could provide a more straightforward path to financial independence, I realized I wanted to inspire a sense of global community through meaningful teaching and empowering others abroad.

Blue Ocean Depth

2. Know Yourself

Self-mastery and self-knowledge lie at the heart of any successful endeavor. Financial independence is no different. Therefore, it is essential to realize why you are moving toward financial independence. Specifically, what does freedom mean for you?

The income automation portion is difficult but not impossible. When I owned a real estate portfolio (with a partner), I was well along the way to financial independence. However, I struggled to find meaning in financial comfort without a larger WHY. Retiring early is not necessarily the purpose behind financial independence. My favorite part about time freedom is making space for self-growth. I aim to balance unstructured time with goal-getting and radical personal experimentation.

For a family, financial independence looks different than it does for a single lady. For many people, their day-to-day job is central to their identity. What they do is who they are. If the goal is to get away from salaried work, be firm in who you are outside of your career.

Sometimes people link their identity to what they can buy. Purchases to impress others are a classic rat race trap. Working for prestige over purpose can confuse your direction in life. Paul Graham’s excellent essay on doing what you love is a favorite in the Y-combinator start-up community. You have to look deep into your core in working to know yourself. Is there a higher purpose you are working towards? How will you relate to others who see the world differently?  What are your hobbies or interests that move you to go in that direction? It is essential to understand what you will do with your time.

As I move in that direction, I make very conscious decisions about what I want and how I pursue my goal. Working towards financial independence and turning down the typical 9 to 5 (or 5 to 9, really) is about controlling my own time. By taking charge of my choices, for example, knowing that I do not need a flashy bag to prove myself, I can accomplish the critical first half of the equation. My sense of self-worth is not tied to someone’s judgment. Since I know my WHY, I feel grounded in confidence and believe that I can manifest the right opportunities. I create the mental space for writing and inspire meaningful connections across cultural boundaries by choosing where I place my priorities.

As I return to the US, I have grown to know myself better. Knowing yourself means having faith in your capacity to pull off big goals. With that, I have found a heartfelt WHY. Thanks to my varied travel and life experiences, I have a deep sense of compassion for a global community of immigrants, travelers, and survivors. I wish to inspire others to lead a bold and authentic life through writing, coaching, and consulting.

Global Community Connection

How to travel Japan without being a douchebag

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A few days ago, I arrived in Japan to complete some errands before turning in my residence card. The entry procedures for returning residents are demanding. Casual tourists are not yet welcome. Still, I hear from blog readers and friends that Japan is their number one travel destination. To them, I dedicate this post. Eventually, Japan will open to tourists again. As I have recently re-arrived, these travel pointers are fresh in my mind.

The Exalted Mount Fuji, Pexels.com

The Golden Rule

There are many layers to visiting Japan. Most important for a traveler is the understanding that this is a high-context culture. It is a conservative society; people are reserved, and personal lives are pretty private. Keep this in mind while you move about here. Realize that your actions have repercussions on future travelers. The internet is full of people being assholes in Japan. I hope you are NOT a cringe-worthy westerner; we need no more Aaron Paul’s walking through Tokyo traffic. Essentially, think of the golden rule: don’t be an asshole.

I initially came here on the JET program. The position carries with it the goal of forging bonds with foreign countries. Of course, this speaks to my attitude towards travel. I see meaningful travel as part of growing bridges across cultures. The way I see it, people in different parts of the world are simply brothers and sisters from another mother. See your visit as an opportunity to be a cultured traveler and an ambassador. To better understand how to interact in social situations, I recommend this excellent Etiquette guide for Japan.

For more specific tips, here is my list below:

1. Prepare to Love Public Transportation

Going the Distance

After working your way through the airport, you will choose to take a cab or public ground transportation. Sooner than later, you will need to take a train. Japanese trains are unlike their American counterpart; they are clean, punctual, and pleasant to ride. I recommend getting a chargeable IC or Pasmo card on your first opportunity. It requires a 500-yen deposit, and then you can charge it as needed. I would go ahead and load it with at least 5,000 yen (about USD 50). Pasmo also works with Apple Pay.

You will want to keep your card easily accessible as you need it to swipe into and out of the turnstile each time you change train lines. Also, even if you have a JR pass (see below), having credit on your card will make getting through non-JR train stations much more manageable. Finally, your vacation time is precious; avoid missing a connecting train because you had to buy an individual train ticket during rush hour (and had to wait in line behind a family of five foreigners who wanted to use exact change). Keep your card charged, and you should be good to go.

Being car-free was one of my favorite things about living here, and it is a fabulous way to get a natural feel for Japanese life. Lastly, along with the public transport note, a good pair of walking shoes are worth their weight in gold. Even with train journeys, a day of sightseeing can easily climb past the 10,000+ step mark. So make sure your feet are ready for the adventure.

2. Do your research

Early in my stay here, an American couple came to visit Tokyo. To help them plan, I asked Anne (name changed to hide embarrassment) what she wanted to do. She said, “Can’t we just do the touristy stuff?” Ugh, I am not sure what constitutes the “touristy stuff.” I would not choose to travel like that. However, if you value your time, make an effort to do some research. The city of Tokyo is akin to an enormous adult playground: red-light districts, temples & shrines, amusement parks, aquariums, shopping malls, and gardens and historical sites are spread out over 2,194.07 km.2 (Some estimates suggest it would take seven days to walk across the city. The breadth of options is no joke. Do the basics and know which rides you would like to take.

The Night Comes On, Pexels.com

How will you decide whether to get the JR pass or which phone service to get? Depending on the purpose and length of your trip, the best option will vary. For sorting out logistics, like which Wi-Fi plan to choose or good day trips into the countryside, I recommend the articles at Tokyo Cheapo. Don’t let the name dissuade you; it is not about being cheap. It is about finding value. Their pieces help you make good decisions through well-researched and thought-out information. For a calendar of shows and events, I would suggest TimeOut. Their knowledge of music, special exhibitions, and culture is spot on.

3. Stay a Few Beats Off-Center

Inokashira Koen, My Go-To Park on the Westside

Many people are very eager to get right into the thick of the Tokyo hubbub. I find myself overwhelmed by the intense urbanization of Tokyo. Although there’s so much excitement in inner Tokyo, some areas are almost too busy. If you are in Shinjuku, Kabuki-cho, or Harajuku, plan on constantly having noise and traffic around you.  

Since transportation is excellent, you can easily stay a neighborhood away and have a great time. So I would pick an off-center place to stay while you explore. For example, slightly off the center of Tokyo, I like the neighborhood of Nishihara or Yoyogi-Koen. Even further west is my old stomping ground around Kichijoji, with Inokashira park next to it. For me, that is a perfect balance of liveliness and a touch of nature. These residential areas have restaurants and nightlife. As a bonus, you will see children playing in the park and hear birds in the foreground during daylight hours.

4. Pay attention

Matcha Preparation, Pexels.com

The one way to be a douchebag in Japan is to be oblivious to the world around you. The Japanese love organization and procedures. There is a “right way” to do everything, from the tea ceremony steps to boarding the train, or standing in line. It would do you good to pay attention to those around you. When you sit down to eat a meal, notice how others around you are paying, ordering, and even behaving. If something comes off as disturbing other diners, it is not unheard of to be gently informed by the staff. For another example, you’ll notice that there aren’t many trash cans on the streets of Tokyo. However, if you buy something at the convenience store and consume it there or right outside, it’s easy to dispose of trash at that same convenience store. There are trash cans there just for that very purpose. Avoid throwing your trash on the street or shoving it into a shop’s window display. That is just douchebaggery.

If you are coming to visit Japan, these few pointers will help you make the best of your time here and avoid big faux pas. Enjoy the overwhelming and all-encompassing experience of this unique place. Your trip will leave you in awe and could even inspire a shift in your worldview.

I Do Not Cook In Tokyo

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In Tokyo, where both time and space are in short supply, eating out is a necessary luxury. The average apartment in Tokyo is small. Relative to comparable city dwellers, Tokyoites have the lowest square footage of any large city. The kitchens, then, are even smaller. Lack of counter space makes prep work itself an elaborate exercise. Usually, a single medium cutting board could fit over the top of a sink. Very rarely do average apartments have dishwashers or ovens. Multiple burners can be a rarity. Cramped cooking creates more trouble than just kitchen clutter. Smells quickly waft into living and sleeping spaces. In my former 200-square foot apartment, I used to plug in a slow-cooker and open the windows to vent. When comparing tiny apartment kitchens versus the world of dining options, homemade is no longer a pragmatic choice for working people.

Beautiful plating is standard.

Even if you have the time and disposition to cook, many choice ingredients are far-flung across Tokyo. Searching for a Marsala wine, for example, can quickly require an hour journey to a shop with irregular hours that may have just run out of their 3rd bottle of sweet Italian wine. Fruit is a sore spot for many ex-pats. If you find some appetizing fruit, the sticker shock will give you another surprise. A single mango can cost you $8 on a good day! So much for that little bit of garnish, you needed. The hustle and bustle of Tokyo is home to a great many fantastic ingredients. Making sure you can snag them when you need them is a different story. Add that to the time and energy and yen output, you may be looking at a long run about the city. Leave the cooking to the professionals in Tokyo.

The Japanese love Indian food

Dining out is really an elevated art in Japan. Tokyoites eat with their stomach and their eyes. Though it is hard to find foreign language skills, the palate is much easier to internationalize. Obsessed foodies can find pretty plates of high cuisine in nearly all city nooks. In addition to stupendously good Japanese options, Tokyo is an epicures delight of global foods. Popular options include Italian and Indian food. Looking for dinner in a well-developed, lively neighborhood often feels like searching through a treasure map. Hidden in dark alleys, specialist Burmese or German cuisine ask to be found. Ever trend-conscious, or even trendsetting, bubble tea joints are nearly as ubiquitous as Starbucks. Whether you desire fugu, mutton curry, or creamy gelato, some Tokyo shop has it.

Instead of spending your precious time cleaning for cutting space, collecting twelve different spices for murgh makhani, do the practical thing. Call your neighborhood Indian restaurant and make a reservation. Then, take a quick walk down the street, eat well, and return home. Your kitchen will be undisturbed. The rest of your home will smell like your funky vanilla spice candle instead of a Delhi-dhaba, and you can return to luxuriating, Tokyo-style.

Dessert Indulgence, anyone?

A Recipe for Meaningful Discussions

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Have you tried to get a dynamic and thought-provoking discussion going with a diverse group of people? Every time you interact, virtually or in person, with someone with a different cultural background, you have the chance to open yourself up. It is like flipping a coin. You could become offended, confused, or dismissive. Or you can use that opportunity to learn something new. Whether you are in a Facebook group, Zoom call with your remote office, or in a challenging board meeting, a few principles can help create the conditions for a meaningful discussion instead of discord.

To begin understanding a different worldview and potentially reach shared positions, establishing a safe discussion environment is the first step. With a shared purpose, mutual trust, the desire to listen, and mindfulness skills, diverse groups of people can come together to improve their understanding of new perspectives.

Down Home in Georgia

My life is riddled with experiences in contrasting world views. I was a high school student in suburban Atlanta, Georgia when the twin towers were attacked during 9/11. My family is a Muslim part of the Indian diaspora. Although I do not identify as Muslim, I felt sympathy for those in my community experiencing Islamophobia or marginalization. In the tense times after that tragedy, I saw countless instances where people missed nuanced points of view. Anger cannibalized the ability to detect or understand nuance.

Since then, I have been paying attention to identifying the optimal moments to exchange perspectives. My practice of law and work in litigation clearly showed how expensive it is to fight in courts instead of finding common ground. My interest in community organizing, conflict resolution, and ultimately, even travel, is grounded in hearing ideas that are different from mine.

Talk it Out.

Nowadays the headlines announce climate change, racial injustice, and divided national politics. There seem to be countless topics that could antagonize us. The basic principles I started to learn in Georgia laid the groundwork for my toolkit in learning to hear another person’s perspective. With shared goals, a safe space to discuss, empathetic listening, and mindfulness, we have the basic ingredients for a meaningful discussion.

1. Solutions, not Reactions

Around June 2020, shortly after the murder of George Floyd, the Black Lives Matter demonstrations went from an American concern to a global movement. In Tokyo, I became a moderator for the local BLM Facebook group. I shared a video of a prominent Atlanta-based rapper who consoled an angry crowd. People in Georgia were angry at years of abuse at the hands of police; they were ready to burn Atlanta again. The rapper reminded the crowd that they would not solve anything by burning down their own homes. He moved people’s attention, instead, towards a search for solutions. With his moving example, I called for any forum members who wanted to join me in discussing solutions. From there we started a smaller, informal discussion group. For the next six months, and onwards, we held regular discussions in which we talked through social justice solutions.

At the end of 2020, I proposed the idea of opening the group to new people. Our purely online discussion group had coalesced and formed its own sense of community. As we debated opening up to other people, we realized it would require an understanding of our implicit code of conduct. Our chat about our healthy group dynamics is where the idea for this article was born. Since then, I keep finding myself in the midst of great discussions where the objective is to seek solutions. Through this work, I’ve come to appreciate and identify the ingredients for a sincere, meaningful exchange of ideas. Beyond a search for solutions, we also must provide psychological safety, empathetic listening, and mindfulness within our group dialogues.

2. Fear Keeps People from Sharing

We started our discussion group with the knowledge that we do not know everything and cannot speak for everyone. As a group, we represented various passports, professions, and educational backgrounds. Together we sought an antidote to “cancel” culture. In our first group chat, I informally proposed that we be kind and patient with one another as we learn and grow in our search for solutions.

This established a critical baseline, the idea of psychological safety. We were not going to summarily shut someone down just for voicing an unpopular opinion. If someone is in an exploratory phase with certain ideas, they may be afraid their opinion will be seen as stupid or biased. A conversation in a psychologically safe discussion group can be a place to flesh out ideas.

People in a casual discussion are reluctant to fully share their thoughts because they are afraid that they will get chewed out for their opinion. If someone shares, “Most white people make me angry,” the speaker would very rightly be concerned that those words may be used against them out of context. When confronted with the prospect of an angry response, people shrink from their willingness to share. They do not want a fight just to feel understood. The labels of “racist” or not being “wokeenough carry a real social stigma. People are afraid their voices will be “canceled” if an idea is unacceptable. Furthermore, the biggest fear looming over anyone bold enough to share a controversial opinion is that they will be called a hypocrite if their perspective changes.

All of these concerns can be assuaged if people can be confident that they are sharing in a safe space. Ground rules for privacy and also for the style and tone we take with one another can ensure civility and a willingness to share.

3. Listen to Understand, Not to Reply

Early in our discussion group, as an exercise, we each took turns to share a moment that made us feel marginalized or dis-empowered. We listened to each other’s lived experiences and pain. For example, I shared how I felt in high school when someone casually informed me that non-Christians will inevitably go to hell. In turn, I also listened to the perspectives of a new immigrant facing racial discrimination in Canada.

This type of sharing was one of the greatest tools we employed in our discussions. In our sharing, we developed the capacity to listen empathetically. Instead of replying with justifications or excuses, listened with the purpose of understanding how that experience affected the speaker. We realized that empathy is a tool for good discussions.

If you are ever struggling to find a way to understand someone’s pain or sense of indignity, think of a time you felt wronged. Recall that feeling in a physical sense. Without intellectualization and justification, get in touch with how that moment felt in an emotional sense. Then, when you hear someone sharing their own pain, you can “call upon” your own feelings of that kind. At that moment, you have the potential to see how the world operates from another person’s perspective.

4. Apply Mindfulness

Using empathetic listening, and then building on that with mindfulness makes it possible to have a meaningful group discussion. The formal practice of meditation includes cultivating mindfulness. That tool is critical in good discussions as well.

A common mindfulness metaphor is to see our thoughts as a gushing stream or river. That stream often carries with it a constant flow of critiquing and judgmental thoughts. If we can be an observer on the banks of the stream of our thoughts, instead of judging, critiquing, or becoming offended by what someone else is saying, we can refocus our awareness on the other’s perspective. Doing so allows us the possibility of truly hearing what the other person is saying.

By curtailing your own thoughts, I mean that you put away your desire to be right. Keep a pulse on your own emotional reactions through mindfulness. While your own thoughts and feelings are a signal that something does not resonate, those observations can keep you from really listening, with ears and heart. By being mindful listeners, we can make the person across from us feel understood. When you have made some feel understood, you create the space for your own turn to share.

Every opportunity to engage with someone from a different background is a chance to learn. Having a curiosity about the reasoning behind another’s perspective starts from a place of mutual respect. While none of the above is new, I hope to see these kinds of meaningful discussions taking place more often. We close the door for understanding in discussions while we are angry or want to prove someone wrong. This attitude impedes our ability to understand motivations or have an exchange of ideas in dialogue.

If our objective is to vent or to prove that we are right, it won’t get us far. If, however, we are operating in a discussion to seek a certain common goal, and we are able to listen mindfully with our full hearts, there is enormous potential for mutual understanding. We all have the potential to build bridges and understand one another.

As online forums and Zoom meetings become the norm, the subtle cues of in-person, face-to-face interactions are unavailable. In times like these, using these dialogue tools becomes even more important. As our world gets closer and closer through globalization, travel, and technology, I hope varied groups online can apply these tools to nourish and join in on the many interesting discussions enjoyed in a pluralistic society.

*This is essay is a revision from my previous post on Medium.

Asking for A Friend: Do you Trust in Science? Or Nature?

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For two years now, we have faced an unexpected, unknown monster. COVID and its various forms have surprised and challenged all of us. Each of our lives is reeling from different interactions from the novel pandemic. In April 2020, the American Embassy sent a chilling email to Americans living in Japan. They suggested Americans leave the country immediately or hunker down for some indefinite period.

Initially, I chose to stay in Japan. My life in Tokyo was clean, low-tension, and bike-friendly; an excellent place to lay low. In Japan, ex-pats left, social life dried up, and the calendar became riddled with canceled events. New strands & COVID scares kept people home. I found new hobbies and took long, solo walks. As time wore on, the discomforts in my Tokyo life grew, as did a longing to see my family. In the early summer of 2021, when shots were available for Tokyo residents, I urgently took my first vaccine. Pre-Olympics, at least half of Tokyo was still unvaccinated. By August 2021, I was ready to face and see a different world. When I left Tokyo, I naively expected last summer to be the end of this conundrum.

Sunsetting

Hawaiian Shocks

Before heading back to the continental USA, I wanted to prepare myself for reverse culture shock and thought stopping here on the Big Island of Hawaii would help. Instead, when I first arrived in August 2021, I got a new culture shock. So many stores and restaurants here seemed oblivious to COVID. I went into a south island coffee shop with some acquaintances and nearly had a panic when I noticed no one was masked. I ended up stepping outside to keep my cool. Later on that first trip, we drove through Hilo where I saw a city block of anti-vaxxers holding demonstrations.

The few times I engaged in honest conversations with COVID deniers, I saw Swiss-cheese logic in place for the fundamentals of reasoning. For the sanctity of my surroundings, I did not push for agreements. Instead, I just started listening. In trying to understand and know this place, I noticed an aversion to the mainland. People moved to this remote island to find a place that is not America, but still is technically in America. I see a distrust of the government, disdain for nosy neighbors, and a strange disregard for science. Here, the appreciation for science is limited to the bounties of fruits in nature. This part of Hawaii island, the Kau region, also has an outsized share of poverty, hunger, and homelessness.

This island gave me an actual culture shock. A few words, overheard from my time here: —Why should I pay the DMV $200 to register my car? — I pay for snacks with my EBT, but will pay cash for the beers. — Let me advise you on cars, but I don’t believe anyone’s expertise on anything else.

Mask, eh?

Team Science?

Growing up in a family of doctors, I take a different attitude towards expertise—especially medicine. My mother, raising two children, returned to school to get credentialed to continue practicing medicine in Georgia. My sister and I were lucky. For minor coughs and fevers, our doctor-Mom could fix us up without visiting the clinic. Did the rest of the world forget that modern medicine has reduced human suffering, increased our lifespan, and sometimes improved the quality of that lifespan?

But, of course, American medical treatment is costly, bloated, and skewed towards a defensive practice of medicine. Perhaps the companion to our medical industry, the pharmaceuticals eroded some trust after all those ads suggesting you nudge your doctor into a prescription. After working towards better health in my own life, I hear the loudest and most extreme anti-vax voices growing in adherents from the sheer rage. I get the rage (there is so much to rage about: voting rights, a social safety net, women’s issues, climate change, to name a few), but I also have a certain respect for biology.

How Does This Even Work?

Nonetheless, our general knowledge of science is relatively low for an increasingly technologized world. Unsurprisingly, our health is poor, and as a country, we have suffered an enormous loss of life in the last two years. Ironically, the country still has to import doctors, engineers, and scientists to keep our high-tech industry competitive. Our attachment to the luxuries of technology only matches our distrust of science here.   At this moment, we can re-examine our lives. I love the audacity of Naomi Klein’s perspective in the Shock Doctrine. Can we use this moment to learn how we might re-align priorities? How about education, health care, and genuine housing equality. These factors undermining general public health come from poor public education, a distrust for science, and a disrespect for the government. The anti-vacciners seem to be right at this subset.

Biking By Shinjuku Station

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About four years ago, I boarded a one-way flight from Atlanta, Georgia to Tokyo.

Today, I fly out of Tokyo (after two COVID vaccines and one negative PCR test) and make my way to visit folks in the Americas. I will return to Japan in some months but still feel nostalgic leaving this place. Despite the Olympics debacle, urban life in Tokyo is surprisingly enjoyable. As a sweet ‘see you later’ I took a friend for fancy high-tea at the Peak Lounge last afternoon. We arrived by bike and parked just across the Park Hyatt. From the 42nd floor, the city sprawled in all 360 degrees around the three pyramid topped towers. We luckily caught a glimpse of Fuji-san as the sun was setting.

              This last evening in Tokyo epitomizes what I love about life in Japan. My daring blue mamachari has been my most reliable companion. After tea, we biked into Shinjuku to see the holographic cat outside of the JR east exit. Though I was biking around the world’s busiest train station, it felt refreshingly care free. Cars are cautious, and a few bike lanes exist. Compared to the United Sates, it is an absolute joy to move around in Japanese urban areas. Here, there are sidewalks, greenways, and crosswalks throughout the city. I have the choice to walk, bike, or use excellent public transport.

              Since I have been here, I cut my self-free from the responsibilities of car ownership. For 3 years, I biked from my apartment to work. The 10-minute morning cycle ride through Suginami-ku included two blocks of street traffic closed off to cars and made available for elementary and middle school students walking to school in the morning. The quintessential backpacks, cute yellow hats, and chatter put me in the right mindset for work. After teaching, I often headed to Inokashira park. The ride there was pure bliss. I pedaled along the Kanda River greenway which has one side reserved for pedestrians and cyclists. As I biked west, on one side was the river, and all around me, a near canopy of trees and flowers.

              The American cities I grew up in and lived in were always car based. Invariably, this made for urban challenges. I once tried to live in Atlanta without a car. As a pedestrian, I sometimes had to walk on tiny shoulders on busy main streets. There were inattentive SUV drivers that endangered my life on every prosaic walk.  As a law student in Baltimore, my experience driving was not much better. The Wire’s portrayal of Baltimore crime is spot on. After searching for directions on Google maps, I had to be careful not to park nor stop in dangerous neighborhoods. Property theft and car vandalism were common in the Inner Harbor area.

              Here in Tokyo, when I don’t bike, I can easily hop on the train. As I explore a new area, I know that I can roam free. I can be certain there is no risk of mugging, nor any need to be over vigilant for my belongings. There is a liberty in physical safety that is totally new to me. As a frequent traveler, this sense of security is transformative. I can enjoy the leisure of getting lost without worrying about my physical safety. It is immensely freeing to focus my mental energy on enjoying a place and becoming absorbed in city life. I notice the bonsai trees on tiny front yards, the torii gates before a shrine, and over-the-top window displays at boutiques. Without worrying ‘do I look lost?’ I can lean into a fun exploration of my surroundings. Anywhere I go, I can always count on a bus or train later.  I am confident that even from unknown neighborhoods, I will eventually make my way home.

              After nearly four years in Japan, I am convinced moving here in 2017 was one of the best decisions I have ever made. While Americans dug into their political partisanship and Trump helped push America to its darkest days, I knew I need a break from America. At the same time, I had little idea of what I would find here.  I wrote a piece for Verge magazine describing my minimal knowledge of Japan, but my enthusiasm for new experiences. Then, I did not know the magic of Tokyo. Being here has given me insights into myself, my adopted country, and the Americas which I watched carefully from abroad. Living in Tokyo has inspired a whole host of ideas on what city life can be. I hope that American car-focused cities look east for some inspiration.


Tokyo & The Olympics: Debacle 2020-21

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Hey Friends, Family & Fans,

Many of you have checked in on me to ask about the Olympics. This short post is for ya’ll.

The Olympic Rings Symbolize?

Actually, I share my 4th Japan-iversary, July 23, 2021, with the start of the delayed and maligned Tokyo 2020 Olympics. The series of scandals surrounding the Olympics is illustrative of bigger issues in Japan. Misogyny and pandering to the moneyed class is common place here.

Nearly 70% of the population here is unvaccinated. An almost equivalent portion do not want the games to take place. The city of Tokyo is on a sort-of lock down, and yet the Japanese government has allowed COVID positive Olympic crew to enter Japan. The welfare of Japanese residents barely goes into the IOC’s profit calculations.

This deeply anti-democratic approach makes me disgusted with the organizers of the Olympics. Yet, after four years here, I am not so surprised by Japan’s reaction. It seems that the worst of Japanese misogyny and work-to-death culture often fall on Japanese residents.

Thanks to my Twitter binge, I finally managed to get the second COVID vaccine two weeks ago. I followed some Twitter handles in the Tokyo community who were plugged into clinic information. There were irregular, continuous updates to follow the low down on which places had open vaccine appointments. Others here have taken a more sane approach. Most people are slowly coming around. While I wear a mask everywhere, I still do not feel comfortable in crowd places.

So, no, I will not be attending any ceremonies (even the residents of Japan were not allowed). Also, I will not be crowding around venues to try to peer in.

Many great articles have been written about the power dynamics between Japan and IOC. This piece from the Washington Post puts it well. The Olympics are pillaging Japan: https://www.washingtonpost.com/sports/2021/05/05/japan-ioc-olympic-contract/?fbclid=IwAR3pVMgWMD_dPqffaGCDlJgTGMrgb2EKM0YdKajkQd8fT6z5wNUspxxuaOk

The Olympic events are now ongoing, broadcasted all over earth. At the same time, the COVID numbers in Tokyo have been rising. As a resident of Tokyo, I am nervous. It seems that we are subject to a larger game. When the Olympics variant of the corona virus comes out, will the IOC be held responsible?