Kate Bobs Her Hair

And other tales of new beginnings and misguided self discovery.

Poor blog, left sad and alone to rot, nearly forgotten, on this poor corner of the internet. How I have missed you.

But in Japan, Spring is slowly turning into Summer and nothing is sad and forgotten. Today was the latest in a string of beautiful days and I couldn't be happier. I feel as if now, I am finally getting settled into a routine for the new year.

For most of the world, the new year is in January. The year turns ahead and we begin again. As if the changing of the calendar signifies the start of something new beyond just the date. It's that way most of our lives.

Or, in a different mindset, when we are younger, we say September is the beginning of the new year. Summer is dying, the world is cooling off, and we mourn the passing of the fine weather and the certain freedom that inherently comes with summer by starting the new year. Death of freedom to the rebirth of routine? It's very poetic.

But as with most things, as I've come to find many times before, Japan does it very differently. The new year in school, work, and most people's mind, is in April. As Spring first blossoms and the winter finally leaves us behind, we begin the new year.

There's something extraordinary lovely in the simplicity of that.

I've had people tell me that they have talked of changing the beginning of things, especially that of school, to September. The government wants to give the people of Japan a way to be more in tune with the rest of the world as we become an ever-growing global community. But the discussion never goes beyond talk for one significant and very crucial reason.

Graduation and School Entrance ceremonies must coincide with cherry blossoms.

It sounds silly, but for a brief two weeks Japan is beautiful. Everywhere you look is pink and blossoming. Normal streets become beautiful and natural scenery becomes extraordinary. It is the time of hanami, or picnicking under the numerous sakura blossoms. And for Japan, a land or stout tradition, it seems sacrilegious to have a beginning of the year not decorated lovingly and pristinely by mother nature.

Which I can understand, because my second cherry blossom season lost none of the charm of my first. There is a certain calming presence that comes from watching the pink petals fall. It's amazingly peaceful, and despite the reveling around you, can be very zen at the best of times.

Which was very important as I started my second year with my company. It was, as I said, the beginning of the school year and my company was no different. I learned a new schedule, a new set of school and classes, and got a whole new batch of students. In truth, I have a fantastic second year schedule with a great bunch of kids and adults. All of my kids are (so-far) well-behaved and my company class is a dream. I teach business-level english to three very successful and intelligent men I am most likely not qualified to teach. But I still feel very privileged to do so.

But easy as most of the change was, there were still the quirks of commuting and trains to figure out. And while I just now have it down, I am beginning to miss my old schedule. Which seems silly, for I don't miss the schools, just the commutes I took. I loved my Friday afternoon train rides out past Gifu, going past mountains and rice fields on a nearly empty three o' clock train. I liked my long Thursdays of traveling, using several forms of transportation, as I commuted across Aichi and Mie Prefectures to several business to teach.

But most of all, I miss the Meitetsu Line. It is the regional line in Nagoya, less regular, only written in Kanji, and with an insufferably confusing platform system. But I loved it for its imperfections. It was cheaper, easier to access, and the trains were a hell of a lot more fun.

If I can get to work on a train decorated with Pokemon, I call that a win in my book.

I've also been getting to know my city much better as I recently purchased a bike. It surprised me how utterly dependent on subway transportation I had become in the cold winter months, and now with my very Asian two-basket bike, I fly around Nagoya's streets as I get to know her a little better.

So it's a new year, with a new schedule, a new attitude, and a new haircut. About three weeks ago, I decided to completely lob off all my hair. Sick of the increasingly unmanageable tresses that were way past my shoulders, I went in on a Friday afternoon and told them to bob my hair.

The hairdresser looked at me with more than a little apprehension. I guess he thought maybe he had misunderstood; his english is practically nonexistent, and my japanese is very poor when it comes to situations of long description. I kept saying "A short hair cut!" while moving my hands in a wild pantomime of nonverbal instructions. He pulled out a photo book and laughed, a typical response to linguistic confusion. I finally pulled up a photo on my phone, and my varied explanations were understood.

The salon is a local place, only a few blocks from my apartment. I found it unexpectedly as I walked to the small train station just down the street. The place is clean but hip, and the cut is not very expensive. And I know I get the standard treatment. But the standard treatment here is above and beyond most places back home.

For example, a head, back, and shoulder massage are part of the package deal. When they shampoo, you get a head massage during as well as after. They massage your scalp, a scented hot towel on your face (of which you get a choice of scent). They then take you to a special chair where you hang over what looks like a bean bag as they massage your upper body. Shoulders, back, arms and hands.

It's unexpected, but delightful.

And the sink they wash you in is so different from the ones I've experienced back home. There is always a sense of discomfort to the ones in the States. As if my head is pulled back slightly too much, and I'm both choking and trying to hold my head up within her reach. But not here. Japan has an aerodynamical design that completely eradicates the discomfort of hair washing. I don't know how that did it, but we seriously need to import that information home.

And while he cut and styled my hair, I was impressed by the details her recalled from my life. I had been there once before, and yet he remembered where I was from, my job, and even my favorite kinds of movies.

Now that, my friends is service.

So I left with the shortest, but possibly one of the best hair cuts I've ever gotten. It was exactly what I wanted, and I was quite pampered in the process. I am still getting used to how short my hair is, but change is good.

New is good. And as I venture into my second year here, I look forward for what else awaits me around the corner.