The Return

"Time may change me. But I can't change time."

David Bowie

Four months isn’t four years, but it’s enough to quietly settle back into a city for a second time. Living in Tokyo again after being there for 4 years more than 10 (!) years ago often felt like a strange form of amnesia. Station and location names sounded familiar, but the reasons remained a mystery. Specific neighbourhoods gave me the sensation of déjà-vu as I tried to piece together exactly why. In 10 years there were changes to be sure; changes in the city, in my friends, in me. Pinpointing those changes not only brought back memories, both bitter and sweet, but underscored the passing of time.

First, there were the obvious, surface changes since I'd left. I could now get a drink from a touch screen vending machines and pay with my train pass. Robots could answer my questions in cellphone stores (thanks Pepper). The old apartment buildings that used to be on Omotesando street, those beautiful, vine-covered buildings with a retro feel were, as promised, destroyed and replaced with yet another high-end shopping mall. Roppongi Hills became classier, (if that’s even possible), and the new subway line, a work in progress while I was previously here, was now a finished product.

Then there were social changes. A few more coffee drinkers and snackers on trains. More foreigners working in places like McDonalds and Seven Eleven. The adoption of 'black culture' was on the decline, and the rent-a-dreads had all but disappeared, not to mention the Yamamba girls. Yet the changes which had the biggest impact on me were the ones I found in my friends.

More than hearing "Irrashaimase! as I entered an Izakaya, or wandering aimlessly through the trendy streets of Daikanyama, what I looked forward to the most was reconnecting with the friends I had made all those years ago. Friends who I was still emotionally close to, but frustratingly physically far from. Week after week in one to one meet-ups in parks, bars, or restaurants I finally had my anticipated reunions. We talked about how much time had passed, the sad realization that we were getting older, and that we could no longer be Harajuku-hanging, Shibuya-Shopping club-hopping party people every weekend. We laughed, as we swapped stories about the same events remembered differently by each of us. There was a definite feeling of having come through something, and now we were looking at it from the other side. It felt good to know that our age, jobs, and relationship status may change, some things, some feelings, never do.

They say wisdom comes with time; well so does appreciation. I now realize that in my old Tokyo days, I rarely took time to appreciate the variety of food available there and stuck to what I knew. Consistently, I went back to the same areas, instead of exploring different neighbourhoods. I spent more money on alcohol, club life and generic clothing that could have been better used on travel, one-of-a-kind cafes or eateries, and locally designed or traditional clothes. My friends weren't the only ones who've changed.

The second time around, Japan was filled with brief moments which felt like pleasant daydreams; ones where I had never left and I was the same person I used to be. Only to have life give me a rude awakening with some harsh realities: Friendships end, desire fades, and people pass away.

Home four months, knowing that my love affair with Japan is far from over, I'm left to contemplate how I'll make it back, and how things will be different when I return.