i saw the film lost in translation last weekend. it was truly fantastic film, but also a wrapped-up-in-a-box-with-ribbon moviegoing experience (the two don't always go hand in hand). it left me feeling lonely — i wanted to continue to spend time walking around tokyo with the characters, seeing what they saw. the movie had this fuzzy, dream-like quality that brought the memory of foggy days spent strolling with headphones on. besides, when was the last time you saw hollywood product with my bloody valentine and squarepusher on the soundtrack? better yet (for me anyway), when was the last time i felt such empathy for a middle-aged man in crisis?
more than anything, though, the film made me anxious. i am flying to japan for the first in a little less than three weeks. my brother lives there with his family where they run a little business. aside from seeing the sights, i will be re-establishing a bond with my niece, and i will be meeting my nephew for the first time. i'll also get the chance to spend time with my brother's wife's parents, a generous and friendly japanese couple. seeing lost in translation reminded me of the custom in japan of giving gifts upon meeting respected individuals. small boxed objects of value, even better if they are difficult to obtain there, such as american small-batch liquors or shoes made of exotic material. i don't know why this makes me anxious, i'm usually a decent gift-giver. and i bow a lot, it's in my nature. i've been told by my brother that he will facilitate the development of my intimate relationship with sake. that's something i'm really looking forward to. my loved ones are also pushing me to eat fish at a real sushi restaurant. i've temporarily abandoned my vegetarianism while travelling a few times in my life, so it's really no biggie.
watching the movie also brought on a bevy of questions — will i be able to understand anything that people say to me? will old ladies on public transportation give me the death stare? do the toilets really talk? will i get to experience a japanese underground hippie trance party? will it be any different than a san francisco underground hippie trance party? what are the record stores like?
my anxiety surfaces when i look at the grand picture, the idea that i will be presenting myself to this country, this culture, without a safety net. i'm comfortable on my turf, inquisitive and adventurous on neutral soil. but this is an island, a foreign country. i've never been to asia, but i hear of the complete disorientation and loss of bearings which occurs when one steps off of a plane in a japanese airport. actually, i am looking forward to stepping into an all-consuming otherness. it's a shock to the system, much like getting out of the hot tub and running into the ocean or jumping into a cold swimming pool. it's awakening and life-affirming — while the mind reels, the body revolts, the heart races, the skin jumps.
it's the letting go that i've always had a hard time with. the "taking my hands off the yoke" part. ever since i gave up driving a car and became a permanent passenger in the cars of friends, i've been coaching myself on how not to be a backseat driver. i bite my nails a lot and fiddle with the radio if that's any indication. i'm hoping this trip relaxes my swimming brain and helps me sharpen my skills of observation. i hope i'm able to get free while i'm over there. re-align the chi and all that shit.
it's going to take a little practice, i think.
Posted by snackfight at October 1, 2003 03:23 PM